She was missing again, Dean could scarcely pay attention to whatever the teacher was rambling on about. It didn’t make any difference, they wouldn’t stay long, all this stuff was so trivial. In a month or two it would be new people, new school, new state. Faith would even become another face. It was pulling at his mind...he couldn’t stay there he had to go find her.
He was fidgety until the end of class. Dean decided he wasn’t going to the rest of his classes, as long as he was around to get Sammy after he got out of school it would be fine. Sam’s school let out later than his school anyway. The problem was...Dean didn’t know where she lived. She always kept him from finding out some how. There was a bubbly brunette that worked in the office, a student assistant, that laughed a little extra hard when Dean was around and was suddenly very clumsy.
He moved quickly, as she’d just be leaving to go to her first class after working her first period in the Office. He caught her on the way out.
“Hey,” Dean internally panicked as he’d forgotten her name momentarily, outwardly he flashed her a grin, “Headed to class?”
“Dean…I’m a little surprised I didn’t have to check you in this morning...here on time twice this week,” her cheeks were pink but she grinned ear to ear.
“Well, ya know, I missed you so...I figured I’d drop by and see you anyway,” Dean looked her in the eye and before he realized it, her name popped back into his head, “So, how are you, Amanda?”
“I’m...good…” she was eyeing him suspiciously, “I feel like you want something but...I don’t know what you could want from me...but whatever it is just ask.”
Dean had to give her credit, she wasn’t stupid by any means, she stared down at him with curious hazel eyes, her legs far longer than they should have been, she had a good two inches on Dean, and he wasn’t short, he sighed heavily, “Am I that transparent?”
“Yeah...a little bit...if you want me to alter your attendance record...I can’t it’s turned in every morning before I leave,” she told him.
“No...it’s...nothing like that...um...this is kinda...just...don’t tell anyone?” Dean raised his eyebrows and gave her a hopeful look.
“Dean...what is it?” she said crossing her arms.
“Look...You know Faith right? I’m sure she’s been in here a lot?” Dean asked her.
“Not as often as you’d think, considering she rarely shows up...and when she does...she’s drunk…” Amanda pursed her lips and pushed her wire rimmed glasses back up on her face.
“Look...Amanda, she’s….going through a rough time, but...I think there’s really something wrong with her...I want to go check on her but I don’t have her address,” Dean said carefully.
“Dean...I…” she lowered her voice, “You know how much trouble I can get in for that?”
“Amanda, please? I think she’s in serious trouble,” he told her.
She ran a hand through her thick brown hair, “Dean she’s always in trouble, that’s kinda her thing.”
“Amanda, this is serious, I think she’s in danger,” the pleading tone in his voice left, giving way to a firm serious stare.
“Why not call the police?” she shot back.
“Because, I could be wrong, I don’t think I am, but...I just want to see if she’s okay, if I need to call the police, I promise I will, but I need to know she’s okay,” Dean replied putting a hand on her shoulder.
“Crap...Dean…” she sighed heavily and pursed her full lips, “Fine, wait here, I can look up her address really quick...and you didn’t get it from me.”
“I owe you,” Dean smiled wanly.
“You really do, and you better not be lying,” she narrowed her eyes.
Dean gave her a sincere look, as the smile faded “Not about something like this.”
She disappeared back inside the office and after a few moments she came back out with a slip of paper, “For what it’s worth, whatever it is, I hope you’re wrong.”
“Me too,” Dean said solemnly, he then kissed her on the cheek, and repeated, “Seriously, I owe you,” with that he darted off.
“Yeah, you do,” she called after him as the bell rang signifying that she was late.
As it turned out, she was three blocks away from where they were staying, but across the tracks. Across the train tracks was a shabier area. Houses a little more run down, likely to find some shady people. Dean however, could take care of himself.
Dean took a bus most of the way and had to walk another block. As he thought once in the neighborhood there were plenty of people hanging out in the street, a few people staring at him a little too long. In many places there were, very nice cars parked in the driveways of not so nice houses. Dean stared at the numbers until he stopped in front of a two story house, it didn’t look so shabby. It actually looked pretty decent, except the need for a paint job. There was no car in the driveway.
He approached the door and first listened quietly to see if he could hear any signs of life. It was silent, he even tried peering into a window, his view was obscured by thick curtains. He hesitated, his hand hovering at the door, before he knocked on it. No sound came from inside, so he knocked a little louder. He was about to try a new way in when the door opened just a crack.
“Dean what the hell are you doing here?” came Faith’s familiar voice hissing at him from the darkness of the house.
“Faith...I was worried about you…” Dean started, “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said curtly, “You can’t be here.”
“Well I’m already here...Faith...please come out, I just want to know that you’re alright,” Dean told her putting his hand on the door in case she tried to shut it on him.
“I’m fine, Dean please, leave,” she muttered.
“I don’t believe you,” he told her flatly.
“You have to go,” she insisted, trying to push the door shut.
Dean’s hand held it firmly and he even pushed it open more, when the light hit her Dean drew in a sharp breath. She wasn’t wearing long sleeves at the moment, just a long baggy tee shirt and shorts. Her skin looked like it had abrasions in various places on her flesh...bruises he hadn’t see before.
“You were lying before...weren’t you?” Dean asked softly but firmly.
“How fuckin’ dare you?” she hissed at him starting to draw back but he reached out and gently grabbed her arm.
“Were you lying about all of your bruises?” Dean asked calmly ignoring her angry outburst.
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talkin’ about,” she insisted.
“Did he do all of them?” he asked her.
She flinched a little and looked down, “Just go, Dean,” she mumbled.
He reached up and cautiously pushed the hair from her face, “Faith, I just want to help you.”
“You can’t,” she replied tersely, “If he finds you here, he’ll kill you.”
A cold gleam entered his pretty green eyes, “I’d like to see him try that.”
“Dean, please, just go,” she pleaded with him.
“Not unless you’re coming with me,” he said stubbornly.
He held out his hand to her, his eyes softening, “I won’t let anything happen to you, trust me.”
The sound of a car pulling back in made Dean stiffen, he didn’t look behind him, but at Faith whose eyes filled with a fear that sickened Dean. Faith who was always so bold. He wanted to meet that man that reduced a ballsy girl into a terrified child.
“Dean, you need to run,” Faith told him lowly.
“Nope, I think I’ll say hello, it’s only polite,” he turned from her to stare at the blond man that climbed from his car, his words cold once more.
The first thing he noticed was that he wasn’t very large, definitely decently tall, but he was clearly muscular, his cold blue eyes regarded Dean with his head cocked to the side and a halfway amused look on his face. He didn’t see any anger. He also didn’t rush he walked slowly up towards the porch but didn’t take his eyes from Dean’s.
“What are ya doin’ ‘ere boyo?” he asked casually as he stopped about seven feet in front of Dean to lean casually against the railing.
Dean had seen his own father armed, enough times to know that this man was carrying a weapon. Dean wished he’d have had the forethought to grab a weapon. Dean considered his options, he could play dumb, and he thought maybe that’d be smarter, but the words rolled from his tongue before he could stop them, “Oh...ya know, just...making sure you didn’t beat your daughter to death.”
He heard Faith suck in a breath, Dean ignored her and focused solely on the piece of shit in front of him.
He chuckled softly, no shock or remorse, and once again...no sign of anger, “And O’course Faithy wasn’t even polite enough t’invite you in fer a drink, she’s really got no manners,” he paused a moment then looked passed him at Faith, “Don’t be rude girl, let him it, it’s cold out.”
Faith stepped back reluctantly but kept her head down at the floor. Dean realized it was the same stance she took with his father as well. Dean really didn’t want the other man walking in behind him, but it didn’t seem as if he were going to move. He glanced at the man for a moment before backing into the house slowly. Dean hoped Faith would have told him if there was anyone else in the house, as he was walking in blindly to unfamiliar territory.
Patrick wandered into the house in a rather casual manner, “Faithy, grab a couple beers.”
“I’m good...really,” Dean replied tersely, it wasn’t that Dean didn’t drink...it was that he wasn’t going to drink right now.
“Have a seat Boyo,” he invited, though he himself didn’t sit.
“I’ll stand,” he said crossing his arms.
He shrugged slightly, “So...it runs in the family then? Lack of ability t’mind yer damn business? Does Daddy know yer here?”
“It’s more...concern for another human being that runs in the family,” then he shrugged, “What does it matter, if he does or not?”
Faith brought back two beers and set them down quietly opening one. Her hands trembled and she nearly dropped the bottle opener trying to open the second. Dean clasped a hand over hers and told her, “I’m fine,” of course there were many layers to that statement he was trying to make but she promptly drew her hand from his.
“Well ya see, it does matter, I warned yer father already, I think it’s only fair that I let him, and you know I am very serious,” He said with a smirk, he drew his gun from the waist band on his pants.
Dean’s mouth grew dry, shit, this was not how this was supposed to go. His mind nearly blanked in rage when he put the gun to Faith’s head. He knew that Dean was more likely to take a chance at attacking him with it aimed at himself...but not at her...Dean wasn’t sure if he’d really shoot her or not...and wasn’t even sure where he was going with this...but he didn’t want to take a chance.
“On yer knees girl, show the boy who ya belong to,” he purred wickedly.
Dean’s stomach lurched, “No way in hell...over my dead body.”
He shrugged, “That could be arranged,” he cocked the gun, “Faithy…”
Dean’s raged nearly blinded him when she indeed lowered herself to her knees. He shouldn’t have taken the chance with her life...but he couldn’t very well watch this happen. It was stupid...but he launched his body at the man, jumping over Faith, the gun went off but missed him, much to his surprise, the older man caught Dean by his shirt and slammed him into the floor. His sheer nearly unnatural strength surprised Dean, as he was yanked and slammed into the wall face first.
Dean was all ready to fight back once the surprise wore off but now he had a gun to the back of his head, the man was far too close for comfort. He was pressed against him and laughing in a throaty manner that creeped him out.
“Someone probably called the police ya know,” Dean tried.
“No...not in this town, they know better, even if they did, they police know better, someone’s probably on their way...not the police,” the Irishman told him, “You know...I could tear a pretty little boy like you up.”
Dean stiffened, there was no way in hell...that he was implying what he thought he was implying. Dean would rather be shot in the head. That thought made him flinch inwardly, as he wondered how many times Faith thought the same thing. It made him angry.
“Now...no worries I’ll only kill you if you make me, I’d much rather send ya back to daddy alive,” he sneered his lips brushing his ear as he spoke.
Faith was nearly panicked it was one thing for Patrick to do whatever he wanted to her...but not to Dean. Her father didn’t seem to be paying attention to her at the moment and she carefully reached for the cordless phone, before moving slowly and carefully behind the couch and quickly punched in the number for Dean’s house, and covered the earpiece as she heard John Winchester’s voice.
“Dean? Who is this?”
If she spoke...he’d hear her, but she had to take the chance, she whispered, “It’s Faith...Dean’s in trouble,” she breathed into the phone.
“Faith, what the hell are ya doin’?” She heard Patrick demand.
She hung up the phone and stuffed it under the couch, and peered out from behind it hoping he didn’t hear her actual words and just the sound of her whispered voice, “I…” she cleared her throat.
“Speak girl,” he growled his head turned to look at her.
“Pl-please…” she’d started but it seemed Dean saw his opening and took it.
He reached behind him and grabbed the barrel at the same time ducking, Patrick pulled the trigger and the bullet went into the wall. The sound was deafening, Dean’s ears rang, and the barrel burned his hand. He didn’t let go until his finger found the little switch to turn the safety on.
He drew his hand back leaving a little burnt flesh on the gun. He pulled the trigger again and it clicked harmlessly so he hit the boy in the mouth with it. Dean head butted him, and punched him in the solar plexus.
Faith watched in horror as the pair tussled around the house, furniture broke and crashed to the ground. The tumbled through the glass coffee table knocked over the TV. Her father grabbed a piece of broken glass in his hand, and once again...Faith panicked. He had Dean pinned down and he pressed the glass to his jugular.
“You really thought you could win this, Lad, You’ve got a thing or two t’learn,” he sneered down at him.
John couldn’t possibly get there fast enough, Faith steeled herself and moved carefully from around the back of the couch and picked up a broken table leg. He’d pressed forward a little on the glass cutting Dean’s flesh. Faith drew her weapon back and hit him in the back of the head. He head snapped forward and he whirled around to stare at her, it was the first time the real anger showed on his face. She froze in place.
There were footsteps on the wooden porch, too many to be John.
“Patrick!” came the voice of another Irishmen as two men pushed open the door guns draw.
“In ‘ere,” he replied, “Since yer ‘ere, give me a ‘and will ya?”
They seemed to relax when they saw it was two kids, one of them being his. One of them grabbed Faith by the back of the neck and shoved her for the couch. He then plopped down next to her, and threw an arm around her in a friendly manner.
The other moved to Patrick’s side, Patrick was peering back down at Dean, his own hand bleeding from how tight he clutched the broken glass, “I just need you to dump his body somewhere very public, when I’m finished with him.”
It didn’t take John long to get in the car after the cryptic message from...Faith? He wasn’t far but if there was a problem he couldn’t barge in the front door. John moved around back with his gun drawn. He peered through the window and saw her father and two other men, fury seeping into him when he saw that Patrick had Dean pinned to the ground. Dean wasn’t moving to fight with him but he couldn’t see why. He knew right then, if he wanted to continue his work in Boston, he’d have to kill all three of them, and take the kids to Bobby’s.
He lined up the shot through the window, two quick shots and the lackies were dead, Patrick dropped to the ground groping the ground for his gun. Dean nearly forgotten, his eyes on the shattered window but John was nowhere to be seen. Until he kicked in the back door. Patrick had grabbed his gun and aimed it, but Dean picked up the same table leg Faith had hit him with and hit in again in the side of the skull with all the strength he could muster.
“Dean, take Faith and get out of here, now, ” John growled his eyes fierce.
Patrick blinked rapidly the world lurching for the first time, as he tried to shake off the blow. He was trying to push himself to his feet when he was hauled upward by the back of his neck, only for his face to meet John’s knee. He grumbled curse words in a language John thought was Irish. John was going to shoot him...he most certainly intended on hitting him until he stopped moving.
Dean tried to grab Faith but her eyes were wide, her face splattered with the blood of the man that had been sitting next to her, he was now slumped over on her dead. She trembled, her eyes were transfixed on the fight.
“Faith...come on,” Dean tugged her arm, but she didn’t budged.
“If she won’t leave on her own, carry her out for all I care just get her the hell outta here, Dean,” He snapped as Patrick tackled him into the wall, and through it, the drywall not holding up for the likes of those two men.
Dean nodded and did indeed scoop her up, she didn’t protest, she actually wrapped her arms around his neck and he carried her out bridal style. He gritted his teeth against the pain of the cuts and bruises that littered his body as his mind wondered how often she felt like this, and just simply ignored it. He stroked her hair softly muttering that it would be okay.
Sam wasn’t home from school yet the house was quiet but the lights were on indicating that John had dropped what he was doing and left. Faith squirmed out of his arms and silently nudged Dean into a chair.
“What?” Dean asked complying but giving her a weird look.
“Need to bandage you up,” Faith told him.
“Me? What about you?” Dean huffed indignantly.
“I just...need a shower,” she muttered.
Dean nodded, “I’ll get you a towel so you can take a shower, and rest, don’t worry about me I can bandage myself up,” he told her.
Faith reached out and took his injured hand gingerly, flipping it over to examine the burn from the gun, her finger brushed over the cut along his neck. His lip was split and he was pretty sure his jaw was dislocated, his eye was bruised, and his body hurt.
“I’m sorry,” Faith muttered to him.
Dean reached out with his virtually uninjured hand, and tipped her face upward, “This isn’t your fault, Faith.”
“I…” she started and her shoulders slumped a little, “...um...where’s the shower?”
Dean sighed a little and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and led her up the stairs to the shower. He grabbed her a towel and silently went into the bathroom and ran the water for her. He handed her the towel and shut the door behind her as he stepped out, going downstairs to clean his own wounds.