Flashpoint: Wayward Sons

Chapter 4

*Author's Note*

Hey guys! Finally finished this chapter, YAY! I believe I shall dedicate this chapter to DanniBsinger906, because if I waited any longer to post this, I'm pretty sure she would have tracked me down and killed me :) lol! Enjoy!

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Chapter 4

Dean got the uneasy feeling the minute he stepped off of the bus. It was like someone breathing on his neck and it only grew in intensity as he walked. It followed him all the way to the school's entrance, pronounced and unavoidable. He'd tried to shrug it off, but it had been an unsuccessful attempt. The feeling was too acute, too real and concerning. He couldn't explain it. He almost wished he'd turned around and gotten back on the bus. He could've let it carry out its route until it eventually circled back home and he could get off where he'd first gotten on, skip school and stay inside. Maybe that would have made the feeling go away. Instead he found himself nervously surveying everything like a mental patient, wondering why he felt so on edge. He pushed forward regardless. His responsibilities didn't go away just because he was a little antsy.

He was being ridiculous.

Today was supposed to be a relaxing day. The freshmen and sophomore classes were on a school trip. 1/3 of the juniors and seniors hadn't bothered to show up because of the dance. It was pleasantly peaceful.

So then why did Dean feel like he should be hiding?

The campus was bare and quiet. Classes were about ten minutes away from starting, and the few students who'd bothered to show up were not in the mood for conversation. As Dean carefully scanned his surroundings, he saw classmates passing each other without a second glance, barely mumbling a greeting to each other as they sauntered to their first class. At this hour, that was to be expected. Early birds were rare. The flow of students was continuous, if only slow and sparse. Overall, it was normal. He found nothing alarming.

Still, he hesitated, his hand hovering above the door knob. With one last uncertain glance over his shoulder, he stepped into the entrance hall, letting the door close with a loud thud behind him. He refused to admit that it made him flinch.

Even being inside the walls of his school, a place he knew prying eyes from the outside would not follow, did nothing to ease his frayed nerves. His stomach still churned. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't shake his discomfort.

His eyes wandered the rows of lockers lining the walls until he caught sight of Eric. The halls buzzed with muted activity and Eric was digging through his belongings, head popping in and out of his locker. He was in most of Dean's classes, and they were planning on studying later. It was a connection Dean latched onto in his state of anxiety. It was a familiar face, a comforting certainty. Although he didn't have a thing to say to him, Dean made his way over, resisting the nagging urge to look back. Paranoia didn't suit him.

"Hey," he said tentatively. Eric looked up and dropped the last book he didn't need into his locker. The hollow metallic 'thunk' made Dean jump, but Eric either didn't notice or was too kind to point it out.

"Sup Parker!"

"We're still on for studying later right?" Dean's voice wavered, almost unsure of himself. Eric eyed him with confusion, then humor.

"Yeah, why wouldn't we be? You're starting to sound like a worried girlfriend," he laughed.

Dean grinned, slowly starting to feel calmer, or at least convincing himself that he felt calmer. "Sorry man, I'm taken," he joked. Eric smirked.

"Yeah, Taylor would kill me." He shuddered, as though terrified, and Dean couldn't help but laugh. Just as he was starting to settle just slightly, his phone buzzing jolted him right back. He fished it out of his pocket, feeling the frown fall into place of its own accord. It was a text from Clark.

Meet me in the parking lot, it's important.

The feeling was back, clenching his stomach into knots. He wondered what could be so important. Something about the phrasing felt very un-Clarklike.

"I gotta go," he said a little absently, eyes tracing over the text message like he might somehow gather more information from it. When he dragged his gaze up, Eric's eyes were narrowed, suspicious.

"What's going on?" He asked. Dean shrugged it off as best he could.

"Nothing, Clark wants me to meet him. You know how he is." He laughed but it sounded panicky in his own ears.

Eric was studying him, clearly unsettled by his behavior, but finally, he let it go.

"Well, ok then. I'll see you later. Mr. Reinaldo is going to kill me if I'm late again." He closed his locker, adjusting his books in his arms. With a little nod of his head, he spun around and hurried off in the opposite direction.

Dean sighed, watching him disappear around the corner with a sinking feeling. He turned around, reluctantly opening the door and stepping back outside. The sun had disappeared behind a blanket of grey clouds that promised rain. The wind had picked up slightly.

Dean took a deep breath. The humidity was nearly suffocating. He lowered the zipper on his sweatshirt, hoping to relieve a little of the heat. He began walking to the parking lot, mentally noting how many of the students were no where in sight.

He tried to remind himself that he was only meeting Clark, not setting out on a one-man death march. When he reached the edge of the lot, he stopped. He hadn't come across Clark yet. He caught sight of the car, so he began walking toward it, telling himself that this wasn't nearly as concerning as he felt it was.

But Dean had never quite been capable of quieting his instincts, especially considering how often they proved true. He slowed when the alarm finally had the hair on the back of his neck standing up and the warning was racing through his veins like a second heartbeat. He came to a full stop, retrieving his phone from his pocket and holding it his hand for quick access.

He continued until he was standing at the car. He studied everything carefully. He didn't see Clark anywhere, but as he approached, he could still feel the faint heat radiating from the engine, indicating it had been used no more than ten or fifteen minutes earlier.

The longer Dean stood there, the more he was sure he was going to throw up. He zeroed in on something that was beneath the tire of the car. He crouched down and the blood drained from his face.
It was Clark's phone.

He reached for it, but he was abruptly yanked backward. He fumbled with his own phone as he landed on his back, but a pair of hands grabbed his shoulders and pulled him roughly to his feet, and it slipped from his hand. As the stranger pushed him against the car, he brought his knee up into his stomach, a move right out of the Sergeant Gregory Parker handbook. As the man doubled over, Dean scrambled to get out of the way, but a hand grabbed his ankle, pulling his feet out from under him. Dean let out a cry of surprise as he came down hard against the pavement. He started yelling, hoping that someone would hear him. No such luck.

"Shut up!" the man growled, attempting to wrestle Dean's arms behind his back. His voice was deep and raspy, filled with barely suppressed anger.

Dean fought relentlessly. Clearly the man hadn't expected him to resist him and that might have been the reason for his next move. Dean elbowed him in the ribs and wriggled his way out of the man's grasp. The man lunged at him and Dean felt the sharp pain. The man sneered. The last thing Dean saw as he blacked out was the blood soaked blade fall to the ground.