There was something seriously wrong with Dean. He couldn't quite put it into words or think it through but the way he was running after Emmanuel was utterly reckless and wild. He was possibly going to run face first into something but he didn't care. Dean could feel the wind on his face, smell the sweet scent of broken cornstalks as he sprinted, the serrated leaves leaving fine little cuts on the backs of his hands. Dean was a good runner, probably the fastest in the village, though he had never been formally allowed to enter any races. Emmanuel was a cunning one though and he was no doubt looping around ahead of Dean, taking advantage of Dean's inability to see which direction he was headed in. Dean knew his prey well however. Three things he was certain about Emmanuel. One, he would never willingly waste a good ear of corn that the Winchester family toiled to grow, so he would be staying on the dirt paths mostly. Two, with every chase, Emmanuel always ended up at the same place. Three, Emmanuel wanted Dean to catch him.
Sure enough, Dean soon lost the sound of Emmanuel's movements to the burbling of the village stream. Dean smiled and stopped. He stood still and listened very intently. There, to the East, he could hear Emmanuel's faintly erratic breathing. Dean lowered his head and with a sly smirk started walking the other way. There was a loud rustle, intentionally made to give away Emmanuel's position. Dean didn't bite. He turned and started an easy lope towards the west, relishing the speed and sense of freedom he got from running through the wild meadow.
The coolness of shade and a lifetime of familiarity told Dean that he had reached his destination. The oak tree was still full of leaves. Dean imagined how beautiful it must look, summer green still, standing in the midst of the golden meadow, surrounded by the autumn colours of the forest. This oak tree was special to Dean, though the other villagers avoided it. Story was that it was haunted, a rumour Dean took great care to exaggerate amongst his fellows. The less people came around here, the more this would be Dean's secret hideaway. Well, Dean and Emmanuel's. The tree was huge and evergreen, so strong and magnificent that it stood like a blessing from God. Even Dean's increasingly shaky faith felt reaffirmed in its presence.
Though it was October and the air cool, Dean was hot from his run. He stripped out of his coat, unbuttoned his vest and rolled up his sleeves. He left his jacket bundled up at the foot of the tree, then scaled its branches with practised ease. Dean sat in the huge fork dividing the oak's trunk, straddling the thick branch with his labour toughened thighs as he slowly leaned back. Once his back was cradled by the curve of the branch, he could relax into the sun warmed wood, splay his legs and pull his straw hat down over his face.
"Dean Winchester, you stray from the righteous path and lead me into temptation."
Dean smiled. Exactly like he expected, Emmanuel knew their chase would end at the oak, where they had played together since as far back as Dean could remember.
"Dear child, God does not tempt you beyond what you can bear." Dean said snootily, though he and Emmanuel were the same age.
"Give it to me, Dean," Emmanuel sounded quietly incensed. His voice was low and dangerous. Dean remembered how Emmanuel had always had a strangely melodic voice, even as a child. Now that they were adults, it had turned deeper, almost hoarse. Dean liked to listen to it so much that when it was Emmanuel's turn to read the sermons in church, Dean actually paid close attention.
"Give me back what is mine first," Dean said teasingly. Once upon a time, Emmanuel was Dean's shadow. Trailing faithfully behind Dean in every adventure, his hero worship more obvious than even Dean's little brother Sam's. As they grew older though, their relationship changed. They began to bicker over the smallest things, contested each other in every game, challenged one other to endless competition and vied for dominance. As of late, their ongoing friction often boiled over into physical confrontations. Dean had a feeling this was going to be another one of those occasions.
