Barely Human

    AND IT WASN’T DEAN’S INTENT TO SCARE THE BOY-! He’s lived the reality of being flung from childhood into a life of adulthood; the premature death of innocence and clarity. He would be no better than his father if he were to rob a child of their blessings; of their purity and their IGNORANCE. So hands fold, still, between bent knees; heavy fabrics breathe as he does; the rise and fall of layered chest. Head nods as information is taken in; a gentle sway; an open ear. He understands this, the voices; remembers the attempts for communication from Castiel before his arrival; understands and FEELS the confusion- there was nothing crystal about Angels, save for their view of their perfect world, of their perfect GOD. And this boy- oh, THIS BOY WOULD NOT FALL TO THAT. Could not fall to that.

    WIND BRUSHES THROUGH THE TREES AMIDST THE LULL OF CONVERSATION; a rustle of leaves along the grass; the vision of death under the premise of rebirth. Dean shifts his weight then; a balance on his right leg, and then his left, before he settles. “The voices, are they always loud?” And he knows this answer; knows the deafening cry of The Holy Word. “What makes you think they’re upset? What do they sound like?” Here, Dean NEEDS TO KNOW. Needs the confirmation of that same static; of the shrill call of the Angels- voices powerful enough to SHAKE THE EARTH. “Have they ever tried to talk to you before?”

   THE MAN WAS ASKING A LOT OF QUESTIONS about something Nathan wasn’t entirely sure he could explain. Staying quiet was Nathan’s normal choice of action when dealing with something he didn’t understand; both in school and at home. When his father was angry, Nathan stayed quiet. When his teacher asked about the differences between denominators and numerators, Nathan didn’t raise his hand. When police asked why he had run from them, Nathan stared at his sneakers. Silence was so much safer than speaking because words could get people in trouble. But... this was different. Someone was dead.

Damon was dealing with the others, which was good, considering she wasn’t really into the whole ‘torture first, ask questions later’ thing that was required when dealing with this particular brand of hunters. And plus, she’d heard the small heartbeat the second that they stepped foot onto their land. Caroline nearly tore the door off of its hinges as she stepped up into the camper, glancing around for a second before her eyes fell upon the small body into the almost smaller dog crate. Almost instantly, memories of a similar situation flooded her and she swallowed, nearly bolting for the boy.

“Hey,” She kept her voice soft, glancing at the cage and wondering what the odds were that it was vervained. But even if it was, she wasn’t just going to leave him there. “You’re okay now. You’re safe, I promise. I just need you to stay back for a second, alright?” She gave him a shaky smile and a calming nod before wrapping her fingers around one of the metal bars of the crate, yanking hard until it tore off the hinges and clattered to the ground next to her. “My name’s Caroline.”

   He crawled to the back of the cage at her approach. It wasn’t much of a distance and it didn’t make Nathan feel any safer, but it was instinctual to move as far away from perceived danger as possible. Tears were streaming down his cheeks and Nathan wiped them away with the sleeve of his shirt. Crying was a sign of weakness, and bad people always took advantage of weakness.

   IT WAS CERTAINLY UNUSUAL FOR DEAN TO WALK UPON A SCENE SUCH AS THIS. A boy beside what remained of an Angel’s vessel; a child in awe, in shock- a small boy who did not know better than to hide what he was. He was what some could call a miracle, what others would claim to be an abomination, what both sides would label DANGEROUS. It wasn’t that Dean didn’t believe him, so much that he didn’t know what to do. Leave a Nephilim to their own devices and… what? Monitor them until their powers WREAK HAVOC? Keep distance and hope they remain docile; keep an eye out, hands in pockets until somebody else finally takes them out? This boy was very well one of the last of his kind, and it looked as though he knew NOTHING OF IT.

   DEAN COULDN’T DO IT- WOULDN’T BE THE MONSTER HE WAS MADE TO BE. Not now. It would haunt him, seeing something so innocent and slaughtering it. He would see Nathan’s face in his mind; would remember wide eyes and small hands and remember that he was still a child. “Hey, it’s okay.” Blade was returned to the back of belted jeans, voice a light hush over the panic. “It’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you.” He was just a BOY! He was a kid, he was innocent, so human in the moment- “You said you heard her?” The man took a knee, the space between them enough to give Nathan room to move, should his nerves prompt him. “Were you close? Did you see anybody?” Did you see me?

   BLUE EYES FOLLOWED THE PATH OF THE KNIFE UNTIL IT WAS STOWED AWAY. He couldn’t forget about it though. It wasn’t like the kind of knives that stood in blocks on kitchen counters and seemed much more dangerous than the knives villains used in cartoons. Nathan’s friend Quinn had a pocket knife but even that paled in comparison. “Umm,” his fingers twisted into his shirt, curling so tight the skin went white before he relaxed his grip then repeated the motion. Again and again. He flinched almost unconsciously when the strange man knelt down in front of him, skittering back a few steps. But as they continued talking in a gentling tone, Nathan pressed closer, desperate for any source of comfort.

          “okay,  baby,  okay.  hey.”  he  gently  pries  nathan  away,  only  so  he  can  kneel  in  front  of  him.  fingers  move  to  card  through  his  boy’s  hair,  brushing  it  from  his  face.  guilt  has  twined  with  the  self  hatred  and  he  feels  like  he’s  going  to  suffocate.  he  has  to  fix  this,  make  nathan  happy.  nathan  deserves  all  the  happiness  after  the  shit  he’s  been  through.  and  look  what  a  shitty  job  taro  is  doing  at  giving  him  that.  “i  missed  you,  too.  so  much.  so  we’ll  stay  in.  i’m  all  yours,  okay?”  a  pause.  “how  about  this.  i  can  just…  magic  them  up,  okay?  and  we  can  do  whatever  you  want.  watch  tv,  play…  anything.  sound  good?”

          eleven  days.  okay,  so  it  could  have  been  worse.  that  fact  does  not  stop  the  desperate  self  hatred  tearing  apart  his  insides.  this  boy  deserves  so  much  better,  the  literal  angel.  taro  tenses  for  all  of  five  seconds  but  is  quick  to  meld  into  his  boy’s  embrace.  he  doesn’t  know  what  he  would  do  without  the  kid.  couldn’t  get  rid  of  him  if  he  wanted  to.  his  arms  move  to  curl  around  nathan  and  he  heaves  a  weary  sigh.  “i’m  so  sorry.  want  me  to  get  them?  or  do  you  want  to  go  out?”

          “h  –  how  long  was  i  gone?”  eyes  fix  on  young  boy’s  feet,  filled  with  shame.  it’s  not  the  question  he  wants  to  ask  but  he’s  terrified  of  what  the answer  to  the  other  may  be.  so  he  bites  his  tongue  on  it,  hopes  his  boy  isn’t  too  angry  with  him  for  disappearing  again.

@angelblccded // bc taro wants his kid

   Nathan didn’t know how to use a gun. Sure, it was easy, point and shoot, but he didn’t know how to check if it still had ammo. He didn’t know how to clean it, how to take it apart and put it back together again. He didn’t even know how to put the safety on. What he did know was point and shoot, and that was the most important part.

   The man before him was tall with dark hair and a weird wired baseball bat that had the child flinching back in terror, blue eyes blinking owlishly up at him. The gun in his pale dirtied hands seemed inherently wrong as the boy tried to keep it level.

   Elementary kids weren’t supposed to hang out with middle school kids. The middle school kids were cool, older. They didn’t want to be caught dead with kids who weren’t even in sixth grade yet. But Nathan was in fifth grade. He was ten now. Double digits. He would be in middle school next year. Besides, the middle school had a better soccer field.

   Which was how he found himself with his soccer ball in hand approaching an older boy. They were holding something in their hands and Nathan leaned sideways to peek around their back.

   Nathan was in a cage no bigger than a dog crate. It was small, but Nathan was small too. Still, after hours spent cooped up it was growing agonizing. The men outside had called themselves hunters; mentioning something about a big payday that had Nathan cowering away from them in terror. They sprayed him with water, cut him with a weird knife, and stuck him in the sun. They talked about wooden spikes and silver bullets. They sprinkled something called wolfsbane on his face until Nathan sneezed. This seemed to infuriate them and both men had stalked outside to argue. That had been HOURS ago.

   The woman was DEAD. Normally when ten year olds found a dead body, they sprinted away screaming, but Nathan couldn’t remember how to move his feet. Her eyes were closed with dark strands blown across her face from the light wind. A silver colored knife stuck out of her chest. She wasn’t bloody, but that wasn’t what Nathan was staring at. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the shape of huge wings BURNT into the ground beneath her.

  Nathan didn’t like the woods. It wasn’t because he was afraid of the dark. He wasn’t! ( Liar ). Ten year olds weren’t afraid of the dark and certainly didn’t chicken out on triple-dog-dares. If he did chicken out? Nathan wouldn’t be allowed to play with his friends anymore. Nathan was starting to think that wouldn’t be a bad thing. The woods were dangerous. Bodies were found all the time; burned, bitten, throats slashed, heads bashed in, there was even a girl who had been found in two pieces–– A twig snapped nearby.

  Nathan bolted. Flashlight and quest forgotten, the child sprinted back toward his friends, leaping over fallen trees and smacking twigs out of his face. Only, he hadn’t sprinted the exact same way he had come because suddenly an unseen root caught his foot and Nathan crashed, hard, knees first then chest, hands, and finally head. “… oww.” The boy rolled over and sat up, tugging at his pant legs until bloodied knees were exposed.

   BANG! Like a crack of lightning, something hit the earth and blew Nathan back across the field flipping head over heels. When he rolled to a stop the boy blinked away the dizziness and stared in confusion at the crater in the middle of his soccer field. What the heck was that? An alien invasion? A real life meteor? Hands braced in the muddy earth, soccer ball forgotten as Nathan pushed himself to his feet and ran over. He stumbled to a stop at the edge and wide blue eyes stared down at the man lying in a puddle of mud.