Wear and TearDisclaimer:
I don’t own Supernatural or Leverage. That’s Eric Kripke and Dean Devlin, John Rogers, and Chris Downey. Author’s Note:
This was a prompt from Bite Sized Bits of Fic, an lj community. It became rather long, so it gets its own post. (Prompt: SPN/Leverage, John, wee!Sam, wee!Dean, wee!Eliot, John comes across a young Eliot Spencer)
There was a hole in the back of the kid’s shirt. Not like normal wear and tear, but like somebody had grabbed him and the threadbare thing had torn. The kid’s coat probably would have covered it if it wasn’t three times too big and obviously stolen, probably off of somebody’s clothesline. The jeans he had on were covered in stains of indeterminate origin.
John was focusing on the small details because, if he didn’t, the big picture would have him seeing red. The kid was thin, hair too long, and there were bruises in varying shades peppered down the side of face and around his neck. John Winchester was a hard man. He’d learned to keep himself to himself and worry about nothing except the hunt and his sons.
“Hey!” the store clerk yelled, causing John to jerk and nearly reach for his gun and the kid to drop the candy bar he’d been fingering. “Can I help you two with anything?”
John had two boys curled up in the backseat of the Impala, a stash of weapons that would get him serious jail time in the trunk, and the weight of the world on his shoulders. He wasn’t sure what possessed him to wrap a heavy hand around the back of the kid’s neck, ignoring the stillness that caused, and say calmly, “My son and I were just looking,” before hauling the kid out of the store.
The kid twisted away as soon as they got out of the clerk’s direct line of sight, snatching up a backpack that’d been tucked behind a trashcan, and eyed John like he was Chester the Molester.
John folded his arms as the situation kept getting clearer and clearer. “My kids are in the car. I don’t always work on the right side of the law. And I’m not always a good man. But I have never done anything to a kid, especially not what you’re thinking. If you want my help, you can follow me. If you want to keep going it alone, I’m not going to argue.”
John started walking and he wasn’t sure why he cared, why he was relieved to hear the soft crunch of gravel as the kid followed him, but he did and he was. He opened the passenger door and pulled the seat up so he could see the backseat.
“Kids ride in the back,” John said, looking down at him when he hesitated. Dean’s eyes had slitted open when the seat came up and his arms tightened around Sammy when he saw the unfamiliar kid beside his dad. “Sleeping back there’s certainly easier.”
The kid swallowed and, still clutching that backpack, crawled carefully in beside his boys, trying not to wake Sammy who snuffled a little at the jostling of the car. John settled the seat back when the kid was situated as far from the boys as he could get and still be in the backseat and gently slammed the door.
John cursed himself as he rounded the car because this wasn’t going to be anything but trouble. And
he was going to have to find another gas station to pick up a few essentials. He got in and started the car, though. He stopped just short of putting it in gear and twisted to look the kid over again.
“My name’s John Winchester. The little one’s Sammy and the older one’s Dean. I’m gonna need your name before this can go any farther,” John said, watching the kid’s face.
“Eliot,” he said after a second. “Eliot Spencer.”
Truth. The kid shifted to stare out the window and John turned around and put the car into drive. He’d worry about setting rules and all that other stuff later. Right now, he needed to find a gas station and something to kill, in that order.