Circus Arcana PART ONE

[eviltwin]

PART ONE



Jared was fourteen years old when his parents abandoned him to the streets. It only made a difference to him in that he had to find his own food and shelter, but there was no love there. They were rarely around and, when they were, Jared got none of their attention unless it was a mealtime. There was a neighbor that came around; she was the one he would miss the most. When his parents left, he went to knock on her door. There’d been no answer. He connected it with the disruption of the previous night, the noise of which had seemed to be the catalyst for his parents running away from him, and he decided that making himself scarce in this neighborhood might not be a bad idea.

He had gotten far enough by taking advantage of people’s pity, as well as their complete trust in a boy who looked four years younger than he was, but after three weeks and sixteen state borders he got tired of moving and decided to stay put. In retrospect, he wished he hadn’t. But, as they say, hindsight is twenty-twenty and nothing could have prepared him for what happened in New York.

He’d been searching through the trash at the back of restaurants for his dinner again and the newspaper he’d stolen that morning told him that it was a Thursday, towards the end of November. Thanksgiving, he thought. The restaurants would have been good and busy, he knew, and he was hoping for a decent meal tonight. But he didn’t get too far in his quest that night.

At a little after dusk, as he shuffled down an alley in Lower Manhattan’s Chinatown, Jared realized that he was not alone. He checked over his shoulder and saw nobody, but he could hear them. Months of watching out for himself had heightened his senses; he rarely slept the entire night anymore because of it. Pulling his threadbare coat tighter around his skinny frame, he quickened his pace. All thoughts of food were forgotten. He couldn’t defend himself if somebody decided to attack him, so the only choice was to run away.

He turned left between two buildings and could see the busy street at the other end. The glow of neon was visible from here, the smell of food strong. It made his stomach growl, but he could ignore the hunger for now. Mind intent on survival, he skidded past a dumpster and swung himself behind it, hoping to hide.

After a few moments of nothing, he dared to peek out and take a look.

Not one person, but two. A man, tall and stocky, dressed in dark jeans and a leather vest, and another, shorter man, who wore cargo pants and a hooded jacket. They were standing a couple of feet apart, and they looked ready to fight. Jared shrank back, but one of the men saw him. He growled something about an audience, and the other one promised him that he would make it quick.

Then something happened that Jared didn’t understand. Unless the taller man moved so fast that Jared had missed it, the punch he threw was invisible. Because Jared saw nothing, but the man’s opponent reacted as though he’d been thumped right in the gut. He stumbled back a couple of steps, bending at the middle, and Jared smelt something which reminded him of burning bacon. Then he flew back against the dumpster that Jared hid behind, and Jared scrambled away as the force of his body pushed it sideways several feet.

“Get out of here, kid!”

He shook his head, eyes wide as the wounded man was again lifted by an invisible force and slammed back down to the ground.

“Tell me where it is!” The demand came from Leather-vest. Hoodie shook his head.

“No!”

Jared wondered what ‘it’ was, and why it was so important that this man would die for it. Because it looked like a certainty that he would. He didn’t know what was at work here, but he desperately wanted to be far away from it. He just couldn’t convince his legs of that fact.

“You think that I care whether you live or die? With you dead it makes it harder to find, but not impossible. Save me some trouble and tell me, and I’ll let you live.”

There was a snort of disbelief in response to that.

“Then tell me, and I’ll make your death quicker.”

Jared shuffled slightly closer, though he had no idea why, and looked down at Hoodie. He had strange eyes, Jared thought. They shone as though the pupils had a tiny flame inside, and the color of them was not what he would call normal.

“I said get out of here,” Hoodie repeated. His voice sounded crushed, and Jared strained to hear him.

“Do you want me to call the cops?” Jared asked. It was the only thing he could think to say.

Leather-vest laughed at him. “They can’t help him now. No-one can. Scram, kid. Before I decide to blast you into oblivion, too.”

“What’s your name?” Hoodie asked, suddenly.

Leather-vest’s demeanor changed completely at that question. “No,” he started, moving closer to them. Hoodie’s breathing became more labored, and Jared thought that it sounded as though his ribs were being crushed. “No, no!”

“Jared, sir,” Jared answered, unable to take his eyes away from those strange lights in Hoodie’s eyes. He felt a hand on his arm, and tears sprang to his eyes without warning.

“What did you do?”

He heard the cry of disbelief, of anger, but it sounded like it came from far away. His skin was on fire, but when he looked down at his own hand it looked perfectly fine. Then there was a pain like nothing he’d ever felt before, and it tore a noise from his throat that didn’t sound human.

“Sorry, Jared.” That was the last thing he heard before the world became so black that he thought he was dead.

Staring at his reflection in a cracked and dusty mirror, Jensen repeated the words he knew well to the rhythm in his head, working up the will to go out there and say it to their audience. Another half-full house, empty seats mocking him and his struggle to keep the Circus Arcana afloat and his performers fed and housed. They were a family, and he knew they wouldn't leave him no matter how hard the struggle got, but it didn't make life any easier.

He smoothed his hands down the sleeves of his shirt and buttoned the cuffs. He bent at the waist to fasten the heavy boots he wore, and when he straightened it was to find Chris between him and the mirror. He had known Chris for most of his life, so his sudden presence did not startle Jensen as much as it might anyone else. He'd almost expected it, in fact. Without a word, Chris picked up the cherry-colored ring-master’s coat and held it out for Jensen to thread his arms into. The leather was cool under Jensen's hands. He smiled almost grimly then as Chris handed him his hat, watched him put it on.

"We could give it a miss tonight," Chris said, finally breaking the silence. "Get drunk and pretend that nothing matters."

Jensen shook his head. "The audience is here now," he said. "And the show must always go on."

"Can you really call the few people sitting out there an 'audience'?"

"It'll get better."

"When we get a new act, it'll get better," Chris muttered. "You've been promising something new for weeks now. Jen, you gotta deliver. The peasants are restless."

"Don't let Danni hear you call her a peasant," was Jensen's only response to that. He patted Chris's shoulder and went for the door. "We'll get drunk later." He crossed the short distance between his trailer and the big top, entered the battered old tent and lifted his arms up, spreading them wide as he launched into his welcoming spiel. It was met with a scattered applause, and it took some effort not to let his smile falter, because, as he had told Chris, the show must go on.

The show was long over, and the performers were gathered in the ring, happy for now because of the wine in their hands. Jensen had tried to apologize to them all, to promise that it would get better, but Danni had told him to shut up, and Chris had poured wine into his cup until it spilled over the rim. Sebastian was to one side of him, with Cassidy balanced on his knee. Sandy and Gabe were to the other side, leaning against one another, both sleepy and exhausted from their performance. Jensen looked around at each of them as they drank, and talked shit and wondered just what it was that he offered that kept them there with him. They were so engrossed that they didn't notice the group of men gathering at the tent’s entrance.

Something made Jensen look up, though, and he swallowed his mouthful of wine and tried not to choke as he forced a smile. He got to his feet, aware that the easy chatter around him stopped abruptly as he did so. He felt Chris shifting as if to join him and held up a hand, shook his head. He approached the group at the entrance, pushing the heavy fabric further open as he stepped out.

“Gentlemen! What can I do you for?”

“You know what, Ackles. You owe us. Ten grand or we take everything you got.”

Jensen glanced back at the others, at Cassidy chewing on her bottom lip and at Chris cracking his knuckles with a meaningful look. Scared or furious, they couldn’t help him.

“I don’t have it,” he said, looking back to the gang’s leader.

“I’d better not be hearing you right. You borrowed the money, and we already gave you a month’s grace.”

Jensen knew they were right. He’d borrowed the money six months back; to pay for the new tent and to catch up on the wages he owed his performers. But he hadn’t made it back. It was impossible in this day and age. Nobody was interested in their queer little circus anymore. Street dancers and technology had taken over, and Jensen knew they had been left behind. They had nothing new, nothing exciting, and that was all people wanted every second of every day. Something they’d never seen before.

“So, when you say ‘everything I’ve got’…” Jensen’s head snapped sideways when one of the goons stepped forward and smacked him in the jaw with his meaty fist. He didn’t move, though, although Chris was at his side in an instant.

“Jen,” he growled, and Jensen raised a hand to placate him.

“I’m all right. Tell the others to fetch all their personal belongings right now. We have to go.”

“We can-“

“No. We can’t. It’s too late. I don’t have the money.” He turned back to the leader of the men outside. “I don’t have it. I’m afraid we’ll have to leave it at that.”

He heard Chris sigh, heard him move back to the others and tell them they needed to make a move. There were no arguments, only a sad compliance from his fellow performers. Jensen hung his head as they filed past him, glad that they weren’t subjected to any physical attacks as they went. He would find them afterwards, or they would find him. He knew that without asking. For now, he had a goodbye to say and a beating to endure.

Stumbling along the edge of the canal, Jensen tongued at his bleeding lips and wondered what to do next. He would find the others soon, he knew, and they would look to him for some kind of plan for their future. But for now he wanted to be alone. He had just had his ass handed to him and then been left where he lay while the men took everything of value from his home, from his Big Top, and then set fire to what they couldn’t carry.

“You’re lucky to be alive,” one of them muttered, kicking him again as he passed by. Jensen didn’t hear him. He only held his head up enough that he could see his beloved circus burn to the ground. The image wouldn’t leave him be now, and there were tears in his eyes and a catch in his throat as he walked along, fingertips skimming the wall between him and the canal’s murky waters. The circus had been his dream and, once he had it, it had become much more than that to him.

He could smell the flames even now, even this far from the carnival, and he brought his arm up and covered his mouth and nose with the back of his sleeve. It wasn’t until he lifted his eyes that he realized that the stench of burning was happening right then, right there in front of him.

“Jesus Christ!” He sprinted forward and pushed the burning figure over the wall without a second thought, straight into the water. He gripped the wall with both hands and looked over it, his heart pounding as he searched for whoever was there. A head breached the water and arms reached out towards him. He clambered over the wall and grabbed at the person’s hands and pulled as hard as he could. He barely registered that his own hands were mildly burnt, although he would certainly notice later on.

It was a young boy, he realized, as he yanked him out of the canal. Jensen gasped for breath as he rolled the boy onto the towpath, turned him over to make sure he could breathe. He blinked down at him, looking him over, and then looked again because he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

“What?” He lifted the boy’s hand and turned it. The skin was flawless. Not a single blister marred it. “Are you all right?”

There was a quiet moan that wasn’t a word, and the boy opened his eyes. They seemed to shine with a weird light, Jensen noticed.

“What’s your name?” Jensen asked. And where the hell did you come from?

“J-Jared… My name’s… Jared.”

“Jared. Let’s get you up.” He wanted to ask if the kid could stand, but there seemed to be much less wrong with him than with Jensen. It was Jared that held him up when they both got to their feet, and he felt relief flood through him when he heard Chris’s voice calling his name from further along the path. He called out in return, and then they were all there. The only six people in the world that he cared about were there for him.

“Jensen, what happened?” Chris asked him, taking his weight as the kid handed him over. “What are you doing out here? And who are you?” he added, eyeing Jared with suspicion.

“I thought he… He was burning,” Jensen explained. “But-“

Jared held his hand out and a spark crackled on the surface of his palm, rolled over the smooth skin and then evaporated into steam.

“What’s happening to me?” Jared whined, suddenly, staring at his own hand. Cassidy was clinging to Sebastian, her eyes wide, and Jared’s gaze turned on her. “I don’t know what’s happening!” he said, more desperately. There were more sparks gathering on his skin now and Jensen knew, somehow, that they needed to calm him down or he would ignite once again, even though he was drenched. He grabbed the kid and pulled him close, wrapped him up tight in his arms, ignoring the pain from his blistered hands as he stroked the boy’s hair and told him that everything would be all right.

The Asylum was a bar that the Circus Arcana performers always visited when they were in the Old Town. It was, as the name might suggest, a very rowdy place to go, and that meant that it was a good place to be if you didn’t want people to notice you. Jensen slumped into a chair that creaked rather comfortingly under his weight, and the boy sat beside him. The others settled around the pair, save for Cassidy and Sebastian, who went to join the crowd at the bar to be served, and Jensen told Jared their names. Chris had Jensen hold his hands out, palm up, and Jared watched, his eyes open wide and wet with unshed tears, as Chris examined the blistered red skin. Jensen knew he’d been lucky. It could have been a lot worse.

Jensen winced when Chris reached across and touched a finger to his split lip, then moved to trace the outline of his black eye.

“Those assholes,” he muttered. “You should’ve let me deal with it.”

“Yeah, boss,” Gabe interjected. “We could have seen them off between us.”

“So more would come looking?” Jensen asked. He shook his head. “It’s over now. They’ve destroyed us, so that’s the end of it.”

“We’ll get another tent, we’ll join another carnival,” Chris said. “It’s not the end, Jensen. You said it yourself, the show always goes on.”

“And we can’t do anything else,” Danni reminded him. She had Sandy draped across her lap and was holding her, rubbing her back in a soothing motion.

“That’s settled, then.” Chris nodded firmly, then turned his gaze to Jared who seemed to shrink back into his chair. “Now, onto the other very important matter of what the hell happened down at the canal? Kid, what do you remember?”

“I don’t… I don’t know.”

“Well, think hard about it. We can’t help you find your parents unless you tell us where you came from.”

Jensen was watching the boy with interest, and he saw the change in his face when his parents were mentioned. He saw the light flicker in Jared’s eyes and he reached over with his less damaged right hand and curled his fingers around the boy’s.

“We can help you,” he said, his voice quiet. “You just need to trust us.”

Cassidy and Sebastian returned then, dropped a heavy tray in the center of the table which held a large, unlabelled bottle and seven murky glass tumblers. Sebastian dropped a small cloth pouch onto the table in front of Jensen and he frowned at the soft clink it made.

“How-“

“We made sure to grab as much of the takings as we could before we left. There wasn’t much. Enough for food for a few days.”

Jensen felt Jared’s hand twitch in his at the mention of food and he looked at him again. The boy looked honestly scared, and very confused. Jensen leant towards him, lowering his voice again. “What were you doing by the canal, Jared?” he asked.

“No,” Jared replied. It was Jensen’s turn to feel confused.

“No?” he echoed.

“There was no canal.”

“Yes, there was. I pushed you into it. Because you were… You were on fire.”

“I know,” Jared said, finally meeting his gaze dead on. “There was no canal before. Now there is. I don’t know where I am. I was in Manhattan, my parents were gone. I was hungry and cold, and then…and then you pushed me into the water.”

“Manhattan? Where the hell is that?” Chris asked.

“New York,” Jared told him.

“Never heard of it.”

Jared finally looked away from Jensen and stared at Chris in disbelief. “What? But-“ He stopped, looked around, then back to Jensen. “Where am I, exactly?”

“Exactly? You’re in the Asylum bar in Cooper’s Alley. We’re in the Old Town.”

“And where’s that?”

Chris snorted. “Listen to this kid, will you? ‘Where’s that?’ You simple or something?”

“No, sir.”

“Son, the day I get called sir is the day I can’t bend to wipe my own ass. And that’s only if I ain’t dead first. The Old Town is the greatest city on the North Bank. Greatest city in the known world, if you ask me.”

“North Bank of what?”

Chris made a noise of disbelief and was about to go on until Jensen hushed him. He fell quiet, although he obviously had something to say, and let Jensen speak.

“Did something happen to you? Maybe a knock to the head, memory loss?”

Jared shook his head. “Nothing like that. I saw…there were two men fighting, and one of them wanted something from the other. He saw me, in the alleyway, and he said my name and then that he was sorry. Then he touched me, and I felt like I was burning. I think I passed out, and then suddenly you were pushing me into a canal.” He looked around at them all. “This doesn’t feel right. None of it does. I don’t think I’m…” He stopped, and bit his lip. Jensen squeezed his hand, ignoring the pain. “I don’t think I’m in the same world anymore. I’ve gone crazy, haven’t I?”

“No,” Jensen told him.

“It sure sounds crazy,” Gabe muttered.

“No, I don’t think so. It sounds like the truth. I was walking along by the canal, and he appeared out of nowhere. A boy on fire, you’d notice that, wouldn’t you? But one moment he wasn’t there, and the next he was. Like… He was just put there.”

“From where? Outer space?”

Jensen thought for a moment, and remembered something. “There was that professor a few years ago, wasn’t there? He had a theory that there were all these different universes alongside one another, all connected somehow, and all fundamentally the same, but completely different. Someone made a choice in one universe that they didn’t make in another and an entire world’s history changed. Professor Brom, or something. He got locked up for being a lunatic.”

“Says the man drinking in the Asylum.”

“Well, maybe he wasn’t so far from the truth. Maybe Jared has been put here from one of those other universes.”

“So how do we get him back to his own?” asked Cassidy.

“From what he’s told us, I’m not sure it’s a great idea to try doing that. You said there were two men fighting, didn’t you?” Jared nodded. “So what happened to them?”

“The one who touched me, he was dying. Almost dead. The other man was the one who killed him. He was angry when the dying man asked me my name. I think he was trying to kill him before I could say anything, but he wasn’t quick enough.”

Chris reached out to the pitcher and poured himself a large drink at that. “I am not drunk enough for this,” he stated, before tipping back the contents of the glass. “This is the craziest story I’ve heard all damn year.”

Jensen laughed. “About as crazy as a human fireball who doesn’t die? Doesn’t even show signs of it?”

Chris tilted his head to one side, conceding the point, and took a swallow of alcohol. “Yeah, about that crazy, I guess. So something tipped him over here. The guy who touched him?”

“He was saving something,” said Sebastian. “His attacker didn’t want him near Jared once he knew his name. He knew what would happen. Whatever it was that he wanted, he knew that if Jared was sent here then he would lose his chance at it.”

“We can always count on you to figure it out,” Chris said, raising his glass to the other man.

Sebastian smiled, sipped at his own drink. “That’s why you’re the muscle and I…I am the genius.” He glanced at Jared then and saw the look on the boy’s face. “How old are you?” he asked.

Jared looked up, and there were tears streaking his cheeks. “Fourteen,” he said, sniffing.

“I thought younger. You’re small for your age. Either way, it means that we cannot let you out alone on the streets. From what you’ve told us, I think the laws are different where you came from. Here, if you were found roaming alone with no home and no parents, you would be taken into The Service.” Sebastian looked at Jensen. “We need to take him into our care. Which means we need to look for work tomorrow. The boy needs food, so we will need the funds to provide that for him.”

“Sounds like a lot of things we need,” Chris said, scowling.

“A little understanding wouldn’t go amiss, either,” Sebastian retorted. “Imagine having no parents, no home, and being thrust into a world as different from what you are used to as you can imagine. And he has only seen the place at night. If he saw it at all.”

“Fine.”

“Also, quite aside from all that, you’re missing something rather important.”

“What’s that, genius?”

“Jared has something that we need.”

Jared looked alarmed at that, but Sebastian reached out and gave his arm a comforting pat.

“Nothing like that. But it seems you have a gift, and one that could entertain. And that is what we are here for, after all. To entertain. You could be the act that saves the circus, Jared.”

The suggestion was met with loud murmurs from around the table, and all eyes fell on Jared.

“It’s your decision,” Jensen told him. “But it looks like you’re stuck here now, and if we don’t take you in and put you to work, they will find another use for you. Take it from me, kid, if the Service gets a hold of you, you’ll wish you’d drowned in that canal.”

Jared looked around at all of them, and they watched him curiously, waiting for his decision. He said nothing, but nodded his head slowly. Danni gave a little cheer, and Jensen surprised himself, laughing quietly. Only Chris looked doubtful. Jensen nudged his old friend, asked him what was wrong.

“You’re all assuming that he can control it. Sebastian, how do you know it’s a gift and not a curse?”

“I don’t,” Sebastian admitted. “None of us do. But he’s one of us and that’s enough for me. Come on, drink up. If we leave soon, we might get a free bed at Abbey House.”

He didn't have much schooling, but Jared remembered seeing pictures from ages ago. Old, dusty black and whites, where people's faces were blurred, where their faces were unsmiling and serious. He felt exactly like he was stuck in one of those old photographs. Just like in the photographs, he saw plenty of horse-drawn carriages - big ornate vehicles with some sort of object? Gadget? on each side of the carriage. Jared wondered if they were engines of a sort. And if they were, what happened to the horses?

Amidst his wide-eyed wandering, he saw rickshaws powered by men in tall boots and clothing that seemed as tattered as his own. Men, and even a few women, sped through the streets on bicycles. The bicycles also had a kind of motorized air about them. Like they could spring into high gear at any moment, but remained powered by human.

The cars weren't as plentiful here, but the ones he saw were amazing. They sat mostly two or three people, had two large wheels in the front, and a third that had disappeared somewhere in the back end. Bulbous headlights, and an engine on the outside, the cars were absolute wonders. Their horns sounded strange - old, and like they had been submerged in water before being installed.

There were other contraptions, the use of which Jared could not begin to imagine. Big bulky things, with open engines and giant bladed fans, spewing out black smoke into the air. Gaze tilting towards the skies, Jared saw more interesting spectacles. What appeared to be ships, hovering over the buildings, tethered to the rooftops with strong ropes. Giant balloons kept the ships afloat, tugged gently by the soft breeze.

The people were dressed just as strangely. Some women had big, bustling dresses with what seemed like a thousand layers to the petticoats. Other women had clothes that were cropped short or overly long, and Jared thought they were silly at first. But everything seemed to fit. There wasn't as much color as back home. Mostly dark reds, browns, blacks, and plums. Lots of stripes, tattered cloth, and worn leather. Many people had tattoos, visible on all parts of their bodies. Jared even saw one man with scrolling artwork climbing up his neck from underneath his clothes, stopping to curl around his ears and under his eyes.

“Wow,” Jared said softly.

Jensen smiled as he walked next to him. “What's wrong, kid?” he asked. “You don't have these things where you're from?”

“Well,” Jared said, falling into step with Jensen. “Kind of. Only not this...old.”

“Old?” Jensen chuckled. “This is top-notch stuff here.”

“Oh,” he returned, frowning a little. He didn't need to insult the only people that had offered to help him. “Sorry.”

Laughing again, Jensen reached out to him. He put his arm around Jared's shoulders and pulled him in closer. “It's okay, kid,” he said. “I'd probably think where you were from was pretty weird too.”

“I like it though.” And he wasn't just saying it to get on Jensen's good side again. He really did like this new world. The ornate buildings, the intricate modes of transportation, the clip-clop of the horses hooves and the sounds of people milling about, reminding everyone that the world was brimming with life.

Jensen was about to tell him that he was flattered, but his eye caught the unmistakable uniform of a Service agent. Dark grey, plain uniforms, and blue, trench-coat style jackets made them stand out like a sore thumb. Their duty belts were glossy black, filled with retractable nightsticks, high powered pistols, and handcuffs that were matte brown - looking almost rusty. Their boots matched the glossy black belts, and their helmets had brutal looking spikes atop them. Upon seeing two of the Service agents milling about nearby, Jensen's smile faded, and his arm clamped down tighter on Jared's shoulders. “Stick close to me, kid,” he said, not taking his eyes off the agents.

As if right on cue, the agents zoned in on all the carnie folk. They stepped in their path and held up their hands. “Hold it right there,” one of them said. He had a gold star on the left side of his uniform, signifying his high rank. Others had solid gold circles, the next rank, and others still had red circles on their uniform coats, the lowest rank.

Jensen looked at Gold Star and smiled. “Evening,” he greeted.

The man did not seem fazed by his smile. “Where are you going?”

“Abbey House,” he answered, making sure to keep his answers short and simple.

“Let me see your papers.”

Taking a deep breath and trying not to roll his eyes, Jensen dug into his pocket and produced a set of wrinkled, aged papers.

The agent took the papers and looked over them, a frown forming in his brow. “These aren't very well kept,” he said.

“My apologies,” Jensen said back. “They've been through a lot.”

“There are a lot of stamps here,” Gold Star noticed.

“Yes,” Jensen nodded, his smile now proud. “We're with the carnival.”

Gold Star met Jensen's gaze. “The one that burned to the ground?”

Reminded that his world had crumbled, Jensen's smile faded. “The very one,” he agreed with an annoyed nod.

Gold Star looked away, back down to Jensen's papers. He was silent for a few more moments, looking things over. Finally, he folded them back up and shoved them at Jensen's chest. “Who's this?”

Jensen took the papers, folding them haphazardly, glancing down to where the agent was pointing - right at Jared. “Oh, this...” He paused long enough to nudge the kid. “This is my kid brother.”

As if the agent didn't believe him, Gold Star poked Jared in the shoulder. “You his brother, kid?”

Jared didn't say anything, only nodding in return.

“Why doesn't he talk?”

Jensen put his arm around Jared's shoulders. “It's just the way he is, leave him alone,” he said, coming dangerously close to the line you never crossed with a Service agent. “He's had a hard time ever since Mom died.” He looked down at Jared and, when the boy returned the gaze, Jensen winked at him.

“Yeah, right,” Gold Star sighed. He glanced back at his fellow officers, making a show of rolling his eyes. “We should see his papers too.”

“Come on,” Jensen chuckled. “In what other universe would I claim this as my brother?”

Gold Star just smiled, sarcasm dripping from the grin. “His papers.”

Jensen nodded, panicking inwardly. Jared had no papers. How were they going to explain that? They couldn't, and that meant all of them would be taken by the Service. He leaned down and opened Jared's jacket. He patted down the boy's pockets, talking to him in a gruff manner, pretending he was trying to keep their conversation private. “What did you do with them?”

Jared was quick enough to catch on. “I don't remember,” he answered, helping Jensen ruffle his clothes. “I think I forgot them.”

“What did I tell you about forgetting them?” Jensen almost snapped, sounding quite believable.

“I'm sorry,” Jared said. “I didn't mean to.”

Smiling, Jensen straightened and looked over at Gold Star. “Can we have just a minute? They're here somewhere.”

Gold Star frowned and sighed, acting as though he was so tired of the same-old story. He waved Jensen off to the side and asked for Chris' papers instead. Jensen watched them for a moment. Chris was being overly nice, personable to the point of insanity. The last thing Jensen heard before they turned to corner to the alley, was Chris asking how someone became a Service agent. He shuddered at the thought.

Jared thought for sure that Jensen would stop and say more to him, but he didn't. Instead, they took off at a jog, Jensen's hand clutching Jared's coat. “Wait,” Jared said to him, trying to keep up.

“Shut up,” Jensen said, his gruff voice returned. “We have to get you out of here - fast.”

“What papers were they talking about?”

Jensen stopped to peek around the corner to the next street, scanning the crowds for any further Service agents. “Everyone has to have papers here.”

“Like a passport?”

Jensen looked down at him, a furrow in his brow. “Sure, kid,” he agreed. “Come on.”

“What about the others?”

“By the time Chris is done with them, they won't remember us,” he said. “One of his many talents. But that doesn't mean they won't recognize us if they see us again. We'll meet them at Abbey House. We just have to take a little different route.” He gazed up and down the road again, trying to make sure the coast was clear. As he looked, he was suddenly aware of how warm Jared was. He could feel the heat rolling off the kid. Turning, he looked down at him. “Hey, you okay?”

Jared looked up at him, seemingly unsure. His eyes had that strange quality to them, one Jensen remembered from the night of the mysterious fire. “I guess.”

Kneeling before him, Jensen made Jared turn to face him, head on. “Tell me the truth,” he said. “Right now.”

He looked defeated. Jared hung his head. “I'm scared.”

So, it seemed emotions were part of the trigger for whatever the hell it was that happened to the kid. Smiling, Jensen touched Jared's face. “It's okay,” he said. “Look at me. Do I look worried?”

“You're scared of those guys,” Jared pointed out.

“Not scared,” Jensen lied with a shake of his head. “I just hate everything they stand for, kiddo.” He smiled again, his eyes glittering in the waning light of day. “Now, do me a favor. Take a deep breath. Calm yourself down, okay?”

Jared nodded. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly.

Jensen watched him, nodding when Jared met his eyes again. “Better?”

He nodded again. “My arm hurts.”

“Okay,” Jensen said. “As soon as we get to Abbey House, we'll check you out, okay?”

“Okay.” Jared watched Jensen stand tall again and was about to follow him into the busy city street again, when a thought occurred to him. He tugged back on Jensen, grabbing his hand. “Hey! We shouldn't go to that house if those guys know we're gonna go there.”

Jensen curled his fingers around Jared's hand and smiled. “It's okay,” he said. “They won't go to Abbey House.”

“Why not?” He started to walk when Jensen did, keeping up with him.

Jensen shrugged. “Maybe because there's too many of us? I'm not sure. They might go there and wait outside, but they won't come in. We'll be safe.”

Maybe he said that to put Jared at ease. Maybe he was telling the truth. Either way, Jared stopped asking questions and followed Jensen to Abbey House in silence. His mouth didn't move, save for an occasional “wow” at something he saw. The sights of the city were still so amazing to him. He wondered what other magical things this place had in store for him.

PART TWO