Fic: The Misbegotten, Chapter 3
Title: The Misbegotten, Chapter 3
Author: Piratelf
Rating: R (for strong language)
Fandom: Gilmore Girls and Supernatural crossover inspired by, but in no way a part of the whatwekeep 'verse.
Disclaimer: Gilmore Girls and Supernatural belong to their respective owners, bought and paid for. I am not one of the owners, more's the pity. The AKB 'verse was created by poisontaster in her fic "A Kept Boy". This fic is inspired by that 'verse, though not a part of it.
Beta: Nadnewraid
Summary: Singer Auto Salvage and Winchester Baby-sitting Service.
WARNINGS: Strong language. Slavery. Also, I need to warn you that this fic is a WIP.
Author's Notes: Well, the muse still seems to be working on this one. If I finish it, I may post it somewhere else. Until then, it's only going to be here. If you'd like to know when it is updated, please friend this journal. Thanks! Also, I've decided to keep all of the characters in this fictional. "Master Harris" is the Jim Belushi character from Jared's appearance on ER. "Lord Gray" is Jared's character's father in A RING OF ENDLESS LIGHT.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
"Follow me." Bobby took him out to the workshop and handed him a clipboard and a tool box, then parked him in front of a '69 Chevy that had obviously been on the wrong side of a one sided fight. "I just towed this in yesterday. I want you to inventory it, list all the salvageable parts and their condition. Then, if you have time, start removing anything that needs to be rebuilt, list what's wrong with it and what it needs, and put it and the list in the workshop. Can you handle that?"
"Yes, sir, absolutely!"
"Good. I'll be in the workshop, or if you can't find me in there I'll be in the house."
"Yes, sir."
Bobby started working on rebuilding a carburetor, but an hour in he got a call from a hunter who needed some information on asuras, so he went into the house and began researching. Time got away from him, as it tended to when he was deep in research, and he didn't come up for air again until his stomach started really rumbling around two in the afternoon. He went into the kitchen to make himself a sandwich, and saw the vinyl folder on the table. He'd realized he'd forgotten all about the kid.
Dean was underneath the Chevy, absolutely soaked with sweat. He would have liked to have taken off his shirt, but then he'd scrape his back on the ground. Also, he'd really needed to use the restroom for about three hours. But he didn't dare stop working until he had finished the work assigned to him, unless his master told him to. He'd done badly enough as it was, he had no intention of earning a beating on his first day. Dean didn't know exactly what time it was but it seemed as if it was long after lunch time. Even after his huge breakfast, he had started feeling hungry again. He barely even noticed that though, he'd felt as if he was hungry all the time for two or three years now, since he started growing so fast. He was used to it. But his master had said that he'd have lunch, and he'd been hoping he could use the facilities then, as the situation was quickly reaching red alert status.
"Hey boy, you 'bout ready for a break?"
Dean scooted out from under the car as quickly as he could. "Yes, sir, if it please you."
Bobby looked Dean up and down. Dean was covered in sweat and oil stains. His knuckles were scraped and two of his fingers were bleeding. He noticed for the first time that the kid had no socks and the sweatpants were a bit short for him which had caused his ankles to be scratched on the gravel as he worked under the car. It was September, but the day was hot, fall hadn't quite arrived. "Kind of a hot day for sweats, isn't it?"
Dean had no idea how to answer that. Master Singer hadn't given him any other clothes, so he couldn't be criticizing his choice of attire. "If you say so, sir."
"I say so. Come on up to the house, we'll have some lunch."
"Thank you, sir."
"Can you knock off all the 'sir' stuff?"
"Yes, Master Singer, sorry."
Bobby turned back to look at the kid. "Master Singer?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. If he didn't like sir, he sure as hell wasn't going for Master Singer.
Dean dropped to a full prostrate position, ignoring the pain from falling so hard on the sharp little pieces of gravel. "Forgive me, Lord Singer." The guy sure as hell didn't look like a Lord, or live like a Lord. And Dean knew they had told him the form of address was Master at the Remands Center, damn it! He was going to get his first beating today after all.
Bobby was completely taken aback. "What are you doing?"
"Begging your forgiveness, Lord Singer." Dean tried to speak as clearly as he could, knowing his words would be muffled by his position.
"Forgiveness for what?"
"I used the wrong form of address, Lord Singer, I meant no disrespect." Dean was thinking that his new master was a man who worked hard, physically, every day. He would definitely swing a strap harder than Lord Gilmore. This was really gonna hurt.
"Get up!" Bobby grabbed the boy and hauled him to his feet. "Now look what you've done." He took Dean's chin in his hand and angled his face to see the abrasions on his forehead, cheeks and chin. "Don't ever do that again, you hear me?" Bobby scolded him.
Dean was bewildered. But obedient. "Yes, Lord Singer."
"I'm not a damn Lord!"
"I'm sorry, Mas-, si- , uh," Dean couldn't think. There had to be some form of address his master would find pleasing. But he couldn't think of anything else. He'd never heard a slave call a free man anything else.
Bobby could see tears start to gather in Dean's eyes. The kid was just as confused as he was, and he was being way too hard on him. "Bobby," he said gently. "Just call me Bobby, understand?"
"Yes, Bobby," Dean answered.
"Let's get you something to eat." Bobby patted the boy's back.
"Thank you, Bobby."
Once inside, Bobby decided Dean should take a shower and clean his wounds while he made lunch. "I guess these are the only clothes you have, huh?"
"Yes, Bobby."
"Well, it's warm enough, I guess you can just walk around in your skivvies while these are in the washer."
"Skivvies, sir?"
Bobby didn't call him on the sir. "Yeah, skivvies, you know, BVDs, boxers or briefs, undershorts?"
"Oh," Dean said, then more quietly, "I'm sorry sir, um, Bobby, but they didn't give me any."
"They didn't give you any?" Bobby repeated, incredulous.
"No, Bobby. I'm sorry."
"So this is it? They gave you a pair of sweats, some cheap sneakers and a chain around your neck?"
"Yes, Bobby."
"Jesus," Bobby rubbed his eyes. "Okay, listen, you go and shower and I'll dig up a robe or something for ya."
"Yes, Bobby. Thank you, Bobby." Dean began walking toward the bathroom Bobby'd pointed out.
"Wait! Come back here." Bobby dug around in his pocket.
"Yes, Bobby?" Dean returned immediately.
Bobby finally pulled out one of the keys the Commerce man had given him. "I don't think you'll need this." Bobby unlocked the collar and removed it.
"Thank you, Bobby."
Bobby hefted it in his hand. "This sucker's heavy."
Dean wasn't sure what to say to that so he just nodded, then padded quietly to the bathroom.
Once Dean was washed and dressed in one of Bobby's old frayed robes, they sat at the table and ate roast beef sandwiches with potato chips. Bobby gave Dean milk instead of coffee and the boy seemed to like that much better.
"How'd you get into cars?"
"My first master, Master Harris, wasn't quite sure what to do with me, so he sent me to be trained and I scored high on the mechanical aptitude tests. So when I was sold to Lord Gray, he sent me to automotive education and mechanical training. Lord Gilmore bought me as a mechanic and I got all of my certifications under him, Bobby."
"But you like working on cars, right?"
"Yes, Bobby."
"Good."
"Bobby, should I go back to my work after lunch?"
"Dressed like that?"
"I haven't completed the work you assigned me, Bobby."
"I know. That's all right. You can finish it tomorrow."
"Yes, Bobby."
"How far did you get?"
"I've inventoried the interior, exterior and undercarriage, Bobby. I removed the engine block and listed what'll be needed to rebuild it. I put the inventory and the engine block with it's list in the workshop."
"Wow, that's a lot of work. Good job!"
Dean tried not to smile at the praise. It was only his job. He was supposed to do it well. But it was nice to think that he'd pleased Master Singer, finally. "Thank you, Bobby."
It was obvious that Dean had simply switched out 'Bobby' for 'sir' and Bobby hadn't heard his name so much in his life. It was getting a little annoying really, but Bobby didn't want to go through that whole scene again "What were you working on when I came to get you?"
"The exhaust system, Bobby. It's in bad shape."
"Hmm, well I'll help you out with that tomorrow."
"I can do it, Bobby." Dean said, with a hint of protest in his voice.
"I don't doubt it, but exhaust systems can be tricky, and messy."
"As you wish, Bobby." Dean was disappointed. He had wanted to complete the work he'd been given himself. He'd wanted to show his master that he could do something right.
Bobby wouldn't let him work any more that day, and Dean ended up falling asleep early on the couch.
The next morning they worked on the exhaust system until noon, with Dean wearing a pair of Bobby's work gloves, one of his T-shirts and a pair of his socks. They took a break for lunch, at which time Bobby taught Dean how to use the washer and dryer, and put his sweat pants in to wash again. As they sat at the table eating baloney and cheese sandwiches, Bobby told Dean his plans for the rest of the day.
"I have to go into town and do a little research. You stay here, and stay in the house, understand?"
"Yes, Bobby."
"I'll put Rumsfeld on the chain in front, so if anyone comes, he'll let you know."
"Rumsfeld, Bobby?"
"Oh, yeah, that's my dog. I forgot to introduce ya. He's been sleeping under the tree out near the fence all morning. Lazy ass. You like dogs?"
"Yes, Bobby."
"Good." Bobby finished his last bite and stood. Dean stood as well. "No, no, sit and finish eating," Bobby told him.
"Yes, Bobby." Dean did as he was told.
"Eat what you want, do what you want, just stay in the house, don't answer the phone, and don't let anyone in. Understand?"
"Yes, Bobby."
"I'll be back in about four hours."
"Yes, Bobby."
When Bobby did return, he almost turned around and walked right back out. His house was clean! Clean like it hadn't been in years. That's not to say it was uncluttered. No, in fact everything was exactly where it had been. Except the dust. And perhaps the stacks of books were slightly more orderly. And possibly a few stray papers had found their way into a neat stack. But the windows were clean, and the walls looked freshly scrubbed, and the devil's trap on the ceiling was positively gleaming. "Hey, kid? Where are ya?"
"Here, Bobby," Dean stood at the doorway of the kitchen. He was once again dressed in his sweats.
"What did you do?" Bobby asked.
"You said to do anything I wanted, Bobby." Dean answered, hesitantly.
"And you wanted to clean?"
"I wanted to be helpful, Bobby."
Bobby shook his head, smiling. "Well, this is helpful all right."
"I put everything back right where it was. So you should still be able to find everything. But if you'd like I could organize, or at least alphabetize things, Bobby."
"NO! No, no, no, this is fine. This is just fine. I have my own system, and I don't really want you messing with this stuff on your own anymore, okay?"
"Yes, Bobby. I'm sorry," Dean bowed his head, and remembered just in time not to kneel.
"You haven't done anything wrong, son, " Bobby put his hand on Dean's shoulder. "I just want you to be careful around here. I have some things that could be dangerous, all right?"
"Yes, sir, I mean Bobby."
The next day, both were in the workshop, Dean beginning to rebuild the Camaro engine, Bobby still working on the carburetor, when John called.
"Hey John, how's Sam?"
"Made the Dean's list again. Finished last semester in the top ten percent of his class. So he's fine, just like I thought." If Bobby thought he'd gotten that information from speaking to Sam, rather than from breaking into the registrar's office, that was no business of John's.
"The kid got here a couple days ago. I knew he wasn't Sam as soon as I saw him."
"Yeah? What's he like?"
"Well, quiet for one."
"That was your first clue."
"Hard worker, though. Knows his way around a car."
"You put him to work already, huh?"
"Didn't know what else to do with him."
"Well enjoy it while you can, I'll probably be there tomorrow around 5."
"Just in time for supper, huh?"
"These things just tend to work out for me, Singer, what can I say?"
"Mooch."
"Grouch."
Bobby ended the call. He was glad to hear that John was still coming. He had taken into account that Winchester might not take the kid, now that he knew he definitely wasn't Sam. Might, in fact, want to just remand him right back where he came from. But Bobby had known, from the first time he looked into the face of this scared, starved, lost looking boy, that he could not let him die in a sewer or a snuff film. And if that meant he would have to be a slave owner for the rest of his life, then he'd bite the bullet and do what he had to do. Still, though it had been nice having the kid around, and he'd been a huge help, Bobby was used to being alone. And he didn't have near the experience with boys that John had. Sure he'd had the Winchester pups around the place plenty of times, but that had tapered off a lot during their teen years. For instance, it was obvious that the kid needed new clothes. But was he still growing? His file said he was 6'2 already. Should he buy them a bit big, or what? Shopping wasn't Bobby's favorite activity at the best of times. Shopping for someone else sounded like a nightmare. He'd been thinking he'd have to do it anyway if Winchester didn't show before the week was out. Now he could avoid the ordeal all together. By suppertime tomorrow it would all be John's problem.
Chapter 4
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