Fic: The Misbegotten, Chapter 4
Title: The Misbegotten, Chapter 4
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: John returns.
WARNINGS: Strong language. Slavery. Also, I need to warn you that this fic is a WIP.
Author's Notes: Happy Halloween!
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Though John had known when he'd seen the picture on the computer screen that the slave was not Sammy, he'd still been overwhelmingly relieved to see his son walking across the Stanford campus, free and unharmed. He'd stuck around for a few days, gathering information, making certain that nothing odd had happened to Sam in the time since he'd last seen him. That Commerce wasn't in any way involved with him, and most importantly that he was not in debt.
Now he was faced with another problem. Who was the slave? Why did he look so much like Sammy? Was there any way it could be a coincidence? Did John even believe in coincidence any more?
He pulled into Bobby's around 5:30 p.m. He stopped and took a deep breath before he knocked on the door. He was inexplicably nervous. And that irritated him. He brushed the feeling away and pounded on the door.
Bobby let him in and closed the door behind him. "You're late. Don't bitch if your food is cold."
"Where is he?" John asked, not in the mood for banter.
"In the kitchen, come on."
They entered to find Dean standing to the side of the table with his head bowed. Ordinarily a slave would kneel to his master's guest but since Bobby hadn't liked him to kneel any other time, Dean assumed he wouldn't approve of it now either.
John walked right up to him and raised his head with a finger under his chin. He stared into his face with an intensity that frightened Dean. He glanced over at Bobby.
"Kid, this is John Winchester. Tell him your name," Bobby said.
"Dean, sir."
"What?" John pulled his hand back like he'd been burned.
Dean wondered why his name caused such odd reactions. He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry sir. I said, it's Dean."
"Jesus," John shook his head at Bobby.
"Is that a hell of a coincidence or what?" Bobby grinned.
"Dean what?" John asked the boy.
Dean furrowed his brow. Slaves only had one name. "Just Dean, sir."
"Were you born a slave?"
"No sir."
"Then what was your name before?"
"It was always Dean, sir."
John was getting impatient. "Your LAST name."
"I - I don't remember, sir."
John sighed.
"Why don't you let the boy finish his supper before you start the interrogation, huh?" Bobby sat back down and resumed eating his own meal. He motioned for Dean to sit too. "There's more on the stove if you want to fix yourself a plate," he directed toward John.
"May I get it for him, Bobby?" Dean asked.
"He knows his way around," Bobby denied him. "Eat."
"Yes, Bobby."
John got his own food and sat down at the table with them. He and Bobby talked cars throughout the meal. Dean answered any questions put to him but didn't presume to enter the conversation otherwise. His master's guest made him anxious. The man was intense, and he kept staring at him.
After supper, Bobby sent Dean back out to continue his work on the engine block. Once they saw the light go on in the workshop, Bobby handed Dean's folder to John, who began reading through it.
"So, what are you gonna do with him?" Bobby asked.
"I'm gonna keep him, what else can I do?"
"Well, he's not Sam. I wasn't sure if you'd send him back."
"Even though he's not Sam, look at him." John lowered his eyes for a moment, the closest thing to shame Bobby's ever seen on the man. "He could be mine." John sighed and folded his hands on the tabletop. "I love Mary. To this day, I love her. But I'm not a saint, and I'm not made of stone. And, more than once, I was with a woman who reminded me of Mary. So, I'm no geneticist, but, I don't believe in coincidence either. Not this much coincidence, anyway. His eyes, they have that slant, like Sammy's. That's from my grandmother's side." John rubbed his hands over his face. "I didn't exactly keep in touch. I never paid for it, but these were hardly wealthy women. Who knows what could have happened? I never even thought of it before, but now, it's staring me in the face. I took care of my and Mary's children, but were there any others? I was careful, but I was also usually drunk. I have to find out who his mother was. I have to know for sure."
"That's gonna be tough when he doesn't even remember his last name."
John was reading through the provenance. "It says here he didn't become a slave until he was eight. Eight year olds know their names. He must be lying."
"Why would he lie?"
"I don't know. Did you give him the holy water test?"
"You think he's a demon?" Bobby laughed.
John made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a growl. "You can never be too sure."
Bobby shook his head. "I thought you just decided he was a bastard son."
"Don't call him that!"
Bobby frowned at John's sudden anger. ”Okay, okay, sorry. I did not give him the holy water test, but he walked under the devil's trap without so much as a pause. And he cleaned all my books, there are some volumes in there that would definitely burn a demon's hands."
John looked around. "It does look cleaner in here."
"I told you he's a hard worker."
"Hmm," John said, noncommittally. "Guess I'm gonna have to teach him to shoot. To hunt."
"You're gonna make him a hunter?"
"I don't exactly need a mechanic."
"Yeah, but, that seems a little . . ."
"What?"
"Well, he's a slave. I mean, he has to do whatever you say. And you'd be taking him into some very dangerous situations, isn't that kind of taking advantage?"
"When my boys were his age they could practically hunt by themselves."
"Yeah, but . . ." Bobby realized he was about to say, 'this is different', but in fact it was almost exactly the same. It's not like the boys had much choice either. Sam was certainly proof of that. "So, what are you going to call him?"
"What?" Then John remembered, 'Dean'. "Oh, yeah, right."
"I've been sticking with boy and kid, but you should probably let him pick a real name, or use his initials or something."
"Well if he can't remember his last name, I doubt he can come up with initials."
"Actually, you may have to come up with the name yourself. The boy couldn't even tell me if he wanted toast or not."
"So what? Maybe he wasn't hungry."
"No, I mean it's a slave thing. I think they tell them that they can't have opinions or something."
"Wow, a Sammy with no opinions. I can't even imagine it." Bobby gave John a disapproving look. John ignored him. He continued to page through the file. "Says he stole food."
"Yeah, but they had him on a starvation diet. You can't blame him."
"Especially not at his age. When my boys were in their teens you couldn't keep enough food in 'em. Dean would order half the menu and eat it all. Sammy could eat an entire box of cereal at one sitting. I was spending more on food than ammo."
"You're gonna have to buy him some clothes too. All he's got is what he's wearing. They even made him go commando."
"Jesus," John shook his head. He pulled out a paper. "It says here all we have to do is decide on a price, fill out this form, take him to a local government office, they'll correct his collar and give us a new provenance and it's a done deal."
"He cost three grand."
"What?!" John protested. "Three grand! Damn."
Bobby bristled. "I think it's pretty cheap for a human life, Winchester."
John looked at him then nodded once, acceding the point. "It's gonna take me a while to get you three thousand dollars, though." He thought for a moment. "I can probably get you about five hundred within a week."
"You'd better keep it. Get him some clothes first. See how much it's gonna cost to feed him."
"I'll send you something next month."
Bobby waved him off. "You know where I am. You'll get it to me when you can."
"I pay my debts."
"I know, I didn't say you didn't."
John got up, stretched, and got himself and Bobby another beer. "So, you wanna fill this out now?"
"Sure," Bobby shrugged and pulled a pen out of his pocket. It was finished in a matter of minutes. "Aren't you worried this'll put you on the grid?"
"Nah," John shook his head. "I used to fill out paperwork for the boys' school all the time. It's not like I'm wanted for anything. All this could possibly do is go to the tax records and owning him is like paying taxes, so I'm not worried."
"Speaking of the boys, what do you think they'll think of him?"
John glared. "I'll deal with that when I'm ready."
Bobby put his hands up in a warding off gesture. "It's your call. I won't say a word."
"I think I'm gonna go out there. Talk to him a little. See if I can get a read on him."
"You want the holy water?" Bobby asked, mock seriously.
"No thanks, I got my own." John went out the door, toward the workshop.
Chapter 5
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