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Runaway

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This story is No. 10 in the series "Secrets". You may wish to read the series introduction and the preceeding stories first.

Summary: The continuing story of Angel Winchester

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Supernatural > Non-BtVS/AtS StoriesFaithWinchesterFR1319350459519 Jun 1119 Jun 11Yes
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, Buffy the Vampire Slayer or any of the recognizable characters found within. The only thing that's mine is the kid and the time spent typing!

~*~

“I’m going to kill her.”

Dean’s hands were tight on the wheel, knuckles white, fingers clenched as he drove. The black car roared like some great best bent on revenge Daddy, come get me, I think I killed him as it tore down the two-lane highway. Tires squealed as he turned into the rest stop. Beside him, Sam was equally tense, in part because he was worried about what Dean was going to do her voice on the phone, trembling but calm, giving directions to the rest stop and sounding about five years old when they reached their destination.

They should have expected it really. Never had there been a child who so thoroughly was her parents. Neither Dean nor Faith had ever taken kindly to being told to stay put away from the fighting, from the madness that was hunting and it was crazy, a little silly, even, that any of them had expected Angel to be any different.

When Dean told her it was time for her to stay behind, to live with Dawn in the house where she’d been born, the look in Angel’s eyes had been equal parts stubborn Winchester and angry Slayer. It was killing him an aching hole in his chest where his bright spot should be to leave her there, but Dawn was right Dean, she's 15, it’s time for her to get out, go to high school and figure out if this is the life she really wants and he forced himself to walk out of that house and do what was best for his daughter.

The phone call a half a day after he and Sam had left Oh, Goddess, Dean, she’s gone, she’s not answering her phone and no one has seen her had taken his breath, stopped his heart. They turned around, angry spirits in Jersey forgotten and headed back. Sam called Angel’s cell straight to voicemail, she’s got it shut off so we can’t track it and Dean pressed the gas pedal to the floor.

They’d driven for two hours strained, frightened silence when the sound of Guns N Roses Sweet Child of Mine burst from Dean’s cell. He was saying her name Angel, where the hell are you before he had the phone to his ear.

She’d caught a ride at the city limits, a young guy he wasn’t very big, Daddy, I was pretty sure I could take him if he got out of line in a pickup. They stopped for coffee about sixty miles down the road. Angel didn’t remember falling asleep I think he drugged my coffee but when she came to she was on the floor of a bathroom, jeans unsnapped, his fingers fumbling with the buttons on her shirt.

A hard knee to the groin just like you taught me and I thought he was gonna puke had her attacker on the ground. She got to her feet I just wanted to leave, I swear, just walk away and that would’ve been the end of it if he hadn’t grabbed her ankle.

Dean slammed the car into park and got out. Sam was already striding across the parking lot, long legs eating up the blacktop toward the blue pickup and Dean put a hand on the butt of his gun, reflexively.

“Angel,” he called dammit, his voice did not shake, searching the shadows for her.

A flash of movement caught his eye and the gun cleared the holster before he saw her face pale, tangled hair, stains on the knees of her jeans running toward him. He had an instant to thumb the safety on before she was there, arms around his neck, face buried in his shoulder. Her breath hitched in her chest and he clenched his hand in that tangled fall of gold silk, crushing her closer still.

“You’re okay, baby. You’re safe now,” he said to himself as much as to her.

“Dean,” he heard and looked up to see Sam, standing in the doorway of the bathroom. Sam’s jaw was clenched, eyes angry and Dean tucked Angel against his side a whisper over the phone line, I think I killed him as they crossed the parking lot together.

He was lying face down in the blood. It poured from his mouth and nose and the good-sized cut on his forehead. Angel’s fingers clenched on his jacket when they approached the boy looked about 19, maybe 20 as if he were going to leap up and attack Dean.

“He’s alive,” Sam said, quietly and something in Dean relaxed she hadn’t killed him and then he tensed again I’ll do it myself.

It was Sam’s cooler head that saved the boy’s life. They left him lying there on the filthy bathroom floor in a puddle of his own blood. Dean did take the time to stop and disable the pickup before they left, but didn’t inflict the bodily damage that he really wanted to. Angel tucked herself between the two of them in the front seat, cuddled against Dean’s side.

“Where are we going?” she finally said, quietly.

“Dawn’s freaking out. She needs to see you,” Dean told her.

There was a long silence before she spoke again.

“You can’t leave me there. I’ll run away again, I swear it.”

Dean heard Sam’s sharp intake of breath and sighed, clenching and relaxing his jaw a few times.

“Yeah,” he said, “I get that.”

“Good,” she said, laying her head on his shoulder. She closed her eyes then, securely surrounded by her father, her uncle, the smooth, cool seats of the Impala… everything she knew as home.

The End

You have reached the end of "Runaway". This story is complete.

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