Title: Broken Children
Word Count: 1094
Spoilers: Ats post season 5, SPN post season 1
Prompt: Week 6 Make-Up (Roadhouse) Week 1 Weather
Characters: Missouri Mosley, Connor
Summary: After the battle in L.A Connor is left alone unable to go back to the life his father had created for him and a storm has hit when a woman named Missouri picks him. She is just the person to put him on his path.
A/N: Okay so this was orginally a one-shot entry for the weekly challenge over at spn_btvs, fortunately I can't keep it that way and this will be another one of my WIP (I have so many). Let me know what you think (that means REVIEW).
Chapter 1 Shelter From the Storm
The storm raged around him wind whipping his clothes tight to his body stinging in his face as rain poured down soaking the material drenching him in a cold he did not feel. He hated this feeling, this emptiness.
Lack of hope, lack of will, he was just so tired, so fed up with the crap heap that was his life.
He was soaked to the core but he didn’t feel it. Didn’t feel the goose bumps all over his skin or the way that skin had frozen.
He had thought he could make a difference. Thought somehow that he could change the tide. He was the Destroyer after all, once feared, now hunted. He had thought it was his time to be the hero everyone had told him he could be, the hero his father had been.
But he had failed.
When his father had told him to go he had left because he had believed that he had had something left for him.
A family that really wasn’t his.
A life that was normal and easy and boring enough to be safe.
But he couldn’t fit in that life. He wasn’t the same kid who believed that the things in the dark where a figment of his overactive imagination.
He didn’t know what he was.
All he knew was he had left when he should have stayed, he should have stayed beside his father and fought but he had thought that he could come in and play hero and go back to his dorm from and get some sleep before class.
Maybe he could keep living because he was all that was left. The dust that he had found in the alleyway still clung to his skin and he had seen the fallen body of a person he had once hoped could be his family.
They were all dead and he was running because he didn’t know what else to do.
He didn’t know how to be the champion his father had been because he had never had to do these things on his own. It was always someone else’s responsibility, someone else was always blamed for his failures but now all that was left was him.
Angelus had terrorized hundreds maybe even thousands, Angel had saved even more and now all that was left was a too skinny boy with floppy hair and fear in his eyes.
So consumed in his own inner meltdown Connor, super human that he was, didn’t hear the car that drove up behind him.
Missouri’s gift had come to her at a young age and like most who received such a powerful gift she abused it. She used it for her own self gain and it took a person more skilled in the ways of her new world to show her the appropriate way to use it.
She always thought of herself as having a handle on her gift but as she drove down the high way the second she saw that boy, lanky and huddled, she felt such an intense pain radiating off him she had to remind herself to breath.
Knowing what to do as she drew closer and more of the boy opened up to her she pulled in behind him and stepped out of the car yelling above the wind “Child, would you like a ride?”
The boy turned to her looking confused and Missouri nodded to her indicating for the child to get in. He shook his head and started to turn around and was stopped by the forceful woman who knew what she had to do “Boy I don’t have all night, hop in.”
He hesitated and slowly began to make his way over to her. Finally he reached the passenger door and slipped inside sinking into the seat and staring blankly out the window.
Missouri greatly fully got back in her car already wet from her couple of minutes in the rain. She looked over at the boy noticing he was soaked to the bone and his lips were turning blue but she knew at the moment he didn’t feel a thing.
He was hurting too badly to feel something like the cold.
She started driving again sparing a glance his direction to see him sitting so still, so quiet, truly unnatural for a child his age.
“I know who you are.” Missouri declared softly and when the boy jerked she turned her eyes back to the road “Don’t worry child I won’t hurt you. I have a gift, that’s how I know who and what you are.” He remained silent and she continued “I know you’re hurting but I know some people that can help you. You’re lost, don’t know what to do, and I think you’ll find a place with them.”
“Who are they?” he asked softly and his voice was roughed and laced with misery.
Missouri glanced over at him “They’re hunters, like yourself. Not as gifted of course but they get the job done. They’ve lost their daddy too,” she gave him a soft smile “you’ll do some good work with them.”
His eyes drifted away from hers to look back out the window at the storm that seemed to be lightening up and his voice was so soft she had to strain to hear him “I don’t think I can.”
Missouri grinned knowing things were falling into place “Nonsense child,” her eyes went back to the road and her voice was laced with warmth and amusement “now lets get you dried off and I’ll give those boys a call, I don’t want them to think I was giving them a drenched rat.” She knew everything would work out.
It had too, because the only place that boy had left was with people as impossibly broken as he was. She hoped that maybe together those children could start to heal, because a war as coming and broken things didn’t last long.