Beau knocked
on the door the next morning. John was
up and answered the door, letting his hunting partner into the room. Dean sat up on the bed next to Sam, his hair
going in every direction.
Beau brought
breakfast and sat down at the table with John.
He turned towards the boy on the bed.
“You and
your brother gonna eat with us, Dean?”
“Yes, Sir,”
the blond murmured and woke his little brother.
The four of
them sat at the table, eating scrambled eggs, sausage, and biscuits. Beau had brought coffee and glasses of
milk. Sam watched a cartoon on the
television, but Dean tried to listen. He
was scared about where they were going next.
John
muttered that the hunt had gone well.
Castiel,
sitting on the bed, almost choked.
Beau stated,
“Like hell it did. The boy made the
kill. He and the little one should not
have been there. If he had been left
with the weapon you gave him, both of your sons would be dead. You’re
a fool with your kids, John. I
won’t be hunting with you anymore. I don’t
want to be responsible for those boys.”
Dean held
his breath and shook. Would his dad be
doing this alone and leaving them in the car?
They would have died with the gun.
He looked at his brother as he laughed at the cartoon.
He jumped up
and yelled, “Don’t leave us in the car!”
John stood, “Dean,
sit down.”
“No! Don’t leave us in the car!”
The man
grabbed the boy and dragged him outside and shook Dean hard.
“I said to
sit down. You stop yelling. You’re scaring brother.”
“Don’t leave
us in the car!”
John slapped
his son. Castiel not thinking of what
was the correct thing to do, caused the man to fall backwards and strike his
head. Dean stood there, with moist eyes,
but no tears fell. He held his face
where his father’s hand struck him. He
ran back into the motel room and got Beau when his dad fell.
Beau took
John to the hospital. The man had a
concussion. He got money for the motel
room and cash for a few days for Dean and gave the car keys to the boy, telling
him not to let his father drive.
Dean walked
with the man to the door and Beau motioned for the child to come with him.
“I have
something for you, Son.”
He brought
out a nice Army duffel and gave it to Dean.
The boy looked at the empty duffel and back at the man with a question
in his eyes. Beau smiled and handed him
the silver blade.
“You were
the one to first kill with it. It’s
yours, Dean.”
“Thank you.”
“Call this
number collect, and ask for Bobby Singer.”
“Unca Bobby?”
“You tell
him that Beau said to come get you and Sammy.”
“Yes, Sir.”
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