Reckless [Dean Winchester]

22. A Crack in the Armor

22. A Crack in the Armor

I gasp as my eyes shoot open again. I could see it all so easily: his emaciated frame darting out into the road, trying to get to the other side; me holding his sister back so she didn't follow his example; my voice the loudest thing in my ears as I see the accident before my eyes; his sister's panicked cries as the scene intensified.

I should have gone in there, I should have been there with him as he died. But I didn't. I hid, with his sister, like a coward. I could have comforted him, but my fear of people stopped me. Fear, again, won over me.

I pull my arms tighter around Sophie, trying to give her some warmth. We're both shivering. At least she's asleep. She's content against my side, something she adopted since I saved her and her brother. They're both my children, adopted children of course. I've never been around kids much, wasn't fond of them. It's one thing to be around siblings, because they're blood. Other children, that's a different story. Now all I want is to protect Sophie, shield her from the dangers of the world. We lost Emmett, I can't lose her too. I'll be back to my lonesome self if I lose her.

I can't lose Sophie.

I can't leave her side to go fetch something to help us. I can't leave her defenseless again. I can always carry her with me. Pursing my lips, I gently rouse her. She groans softly.

"Come on, Sophie," I whisper. "I need you awake for one second."

"W-what are we doing?"

She helps me (very little) as I gather her in my arms. "We're going to find some place warmer." I have her head on my shoulder. She nestles against my neck, dirtying herself further under my blonde locks. "Maybe if we're lucky we'll find some place temporary."

"I saw them, Maxi."

"Who?"

"Emmett and Mommy." She yawns. "We were back in our old house, with our own toys and rooms and everything. We were happy."

It takes all my will power to not cry as I carry her out of the alley and onto the sidewalk. It's late at night, so few wanderers will be out and about. Less chance for someone to attack us. What would they want, anyway? All we have are the clothes on our backs and each other. We have nothing of tangible value.

"I miss them, Maxi."

"I know you do, baby." I smooth the back of her greasy head. "I know."

"Will I ever see them again?"

The lump catches in my throat. I don't want to lie to her, I really don't. But she's far too young to understand death as a concept, a fact of life. She hasn't hit double digits yet for Christ's sake!

"M-maybe," I say thickly. "We'll see."

Once Sophie falls back asleep, I let the tears fall and hope that she, along with anyone else that I encounter, don't see them.

***

Son of a bitch, I think sorely as I'm roused from my sleep. I rub my eyes that definitely feel sleep deprived.

This is my first attempt at sleeping ever since our case with the Greek titan, Prometheus (yes, I kid you not). Originally the case was investigated as a zombie case, but the man had got up and walked away as though he hadn't just got killed. It'd been just about Prometheus until his son, Oliver, somehow got the curse that Zeus originally bore on Prometheus. Oliver had been the only hard part about the case for me, he'd reminded me about the kids. And when he had died...I removed myself briefly for a time until he (like his dad) came back to life.