Title: Dean is Batman, ver.1
Pairings/Characters: Dean, Sam
Rating: PG for violent images
Word Count: 1056
Summary: If Dean is Batman, than Sam is….
Two little kids sitting in a corner of the police station were bound to draw looks, Dean figured. Especially if they looked like they'd showered in blood. There was blood and tears and snot all over both of them. Sammy hadn’t lifted his head from Dean's chest since they were brought there. Dean hadn't let him go.
the man—all white and red—
A cop came and took them to a room, and asked them to sit. He seemed nice, in that way that's just not all that important.
Dean waited until he stepped out the room, then took Sam and put them both with their backs to the corner. Sam climbed back in his lap and Dean pushed his head under his chin. Sam's hair was wet, from sweat and from some of the blood not having dried yet. He was red-faced, and shaky from crying so much. Dean sure didn’t blame him, if Sammy wasn't depending on him, he'd be crying too.
After a while a lady cop came in with some water and a wet towel and a couple of candy bars. They probably sent a lady thinking they'd be more comfortable but
the man—all white and red—and the lady, all those—all that blood. Mommy—
Dean didn’t really care. Sammy for sure could give a shit. At least until the lady tried to touch him and then he screamed the room down. Inside Dean laughed, outside he glared at the lady and snatched the stuff out of her hand. What an idiot, didn’t she know better than to touch a little traumatized kid?
He tried to clean Sam up, working over Sam's face and hair with the wet towels. He got Sam's hands clean too, and then starting working on himself. He almost threw up when he realized how red the towels came away. Mom…Dad…Dean shook. They were orphans, now. They didn't have anyone—what would happen to them now?
Another cop came in, along with a lady with a sad face and a suit. She stood close to the table, but backed up a bit when Sam stared at her real hard. The cop asked them what happened, so Dean told him.
"It was a man, maybe two, and a lady. They had long…they stabbed, I mean bit, Mom and Dad. They…it was bad, they…"
Sammy started to scream again, so Dean hugged him really tight. "Sammy, be quiet now—I gotta tell them so they can find the freaks that did this, okay? Please Sam? They’ll make you leave if you don't quiet down, and I don’t want to be alone." Sure, it was blackmail, but Dean was at the end of his rope and Sam…Sam shut off the waterworks just like that.
"You need me?" he sniffed and Dean nodded.
"So much, Sam."
"Okay." Sam went still, just holding on to Dean's hand, trying to push himself a little bit in front of Dean, glaring at the cops the whole time. Dean ruffled his hair and looped his arm across Sammy's tiny chest.
He went on, told the cops how those freaks had had long, long teeth—
"You mean knives." The stupid cop said—didn’t even ask, just told Dean it was knives like Dean hadn't been there. Hadn't seen everything, same as Sammy.
Mom on her knees and the freaks holding her. White, white, dead faces, one of them bent over and biting through her neck—Dean won’t ever forget the sound of her pearls crunching, and the way pearls and blood spilled out of the man's mouth. All those teeth. Dad screaming no, no and then the lady freak tearing his neck in two, breaking it apart like a celery stick. Blood going up like a fountain and then Sammy falling down—
Dean thought then that Sam was dead. And then the things just made noises like they were having the best cake ever and Dean lay down on top of Sammy and hoped— The man—all white and red, and the lady, all those teeth—all that blood. Mom and Dad were dead and they were all alone. "They were teeth, not knives. I know what I saw."
The cops thought he was seeing things. At least they were nice enough not to say he was lying to his face. Or that he was crazy.
They feel asleep in that room, Dean with his back against Sammy who was sleeping with his back in the corner of the room, covering him good so you could hardly tell Sam was there.
The door opened, that sad-face lady in a suit sent a tall, tall, hard-faced man into the room. He looked them over; like they were something he might buy. Like they were a rumble sale, half-off on boys. Dean smiled at him, a little like the red and white man had smiled at Dean.
They were in the kitchen of an old house, drinking hot tea with a lot of sugar and milk in it, and listening to that hard faced man who said he was their grandfather. Dean wasn't sure about that, Mom or Dad had never mentioned anyone like him. But the tea was pretty good, if weird. Sammy liked it, and he liked the cookies the old lady gave them. She looked like she'd been crying but tried to smile at them anyway. Dean thought maybe she might be their grandmother. She looked so sad.
Dean's attention went back to the man who said he was their grandfather. He was saying, "You gotta grow up now, Dean. Your mom left this life because…well, that's neither here nor there now. All that's done with. What she ran from killed her. But you, Dean, you're gonna make those monsters pay. You’re gonna avenge your mom. And your dad, 'course, him too. You know what avenge means?"
Dean nodded, his eyes gone wide. Sure. Avenge meant…getting even. Like the man—Grandfather—said. Making bad guys pay. Like…"like Batman?"
Grandfather looked at him odd for a moment before his face cleared and a smile—sort of a smile—bent his lips up. "Yeah. Like that."
Dean nodded, 'course. Sure, that's why Sammy was with him. Because Batman's no good without a Robin.