nightmares06

CHAPTER 20: Delivery Boy

John moved quietly while Dean and Moira went back and forth, heel-toeing it across the kitchen. He pulled a water bottle from the fridge, setting it on the counter for later, and picked around for something Dean should eat. Iron, B vitamins, vitamin C… he kept these in mind as he gathered a small collection and transferred them to a cutting board.

Using a small knife, he chopped a peanut from a bag of trail mix left lying in a drawer. Small, yet rich in protein, iron and B vitamins. Then he sliced off a tiny section of cheddar cheese from a small block for a bit of dairy. Lastly, John recalled that he had been rather busy at the clinic before Sherlock had called him home; he hadn't had time to eat the apple he'd grabbed that morning. After retrieving it from his coat pocket, he cut a small slice and chunked it into manageable pieces for small hands.

Once that was all done, John transferred a bit of each onto a torn-off corner of a paper towel. He poured a bit of water into a bottle cap and slid it and the food carefully within Dean's reach.

Then John went to the freezer for a cold pack. After what Sam had gone through with the ice packs for his bruises, the doctor spent one of his days off scouring the internet for friendlier, less messy alternatives to ice. After finding something surprising, John went out and bought a bag of mini marshmallows to keep in the freezer. Apparently they absorbed the cold really well, and since they were soft they were easier to apply to sore or achy spots on the body. Dean wouldn't have to deal with the wetness of melting ice, and he'd have something sweet to nibble on later if he liked.

As strange as it was, it was a better option, in theory.

Tearing open the plastic bag, John fished one marshmallow out and quickly placed it in front of Dean before the heat from his fingers could pass into it. "Cold pack," he explained, fishing around a drawer for a fastener to keep the bag shut when he put it away.

Dean pushed himself up with a grunt, dubiously eyeing the offerings left next to him. “Marshmallow?” he questioned, picking it up. With a mental shrug, he held it to his forehead. “Oh, that hits the spot,” he declared, propping his elbow on his knee so he could stay sitting up.

“What is it?” Moira asked, prodding the side of the fluffy white cylinder.

“Trust me, it tastes good,” Dean said. “Reminds me of campfires and s’mores, and…” Trailing off, he realized he was talking about a past Moira knew nothing about. “You’ll have to try some,” he said, hurriedly covering up his mistake.

He took a bit of cheese, no energy left in him to argue against the food, and started to eat through the scraps. “Where’s my duffel?” he asked curiously, glancing around the countertop as he searched for a way to drink the water.

John's brow shot up. "Oh! Right, yeah, ah, one sec," he stammered, twisting the marshmallow bag shut and shoving it into the freezer. Then he hurried into the main room to fetch Dean's duffel.

Whether it was the unprompted urgency John had applied to the request or the fact that he'd had time to distance himself from his guilt, John had no qualms about picking up the tiny bag this time. He was just as careful, though, as he ferried the duffel back into the kitchen and put it down on the counter within Dean's reach.

"Feeling any better?" he inquired, sinking into the chair once again. He was glad that Dean had taken the cold compress and was eating some of the food without complaint.

Dean angled his head from where he was propped against the marshmallow. “Much,” he said gratefully, snagging the strap of his duffel to drag it closer. He pulled out a sheaf of tinfoil, and was trying to sort it into a cup, one-handed, when Moira snatched it out of his hand with a knowing look.

“Sit still and get better,” she snipped at him, quickly making the cup and scooping water into it. “You’re not doing yourself any favors by pushing it.”

“Thanks, mom,” Dean said tartly. “Who’s the oldest here again?”

"That'd be me," John pointed out, easily drawing attention to himself. He was steadily learning how to control his voice around the smaller folk, especially at close proximity. However, John supposed he couldn't prevent himself from being an overwhelming presence to them even at his quietest.

With a shrug, John went on. "And as a doctor, I have to agree with Moira. You need rest. And eat up, you're gonna have to replenish your iron and vitamins to get your strength back."

Dean gave John a flat glare. “You two,” he griped, pointing first at Moira then at John, “are not supposed to be on the same side!”

“Oh hush and eat,” Moira said, shoving the sliver of peanut into Dean’s hand while he was distracted. “Or I will get our parents and you can explain all this to them!”

Her threat hung in the air while Dean silently assessed his younger sister. Begrudgingly, he took a bite of the peanut, not calling her bluff. He knew poker, and he knew when to play it safe. This was one of those times.

“See?” he snipped. “Eating.” He made an exaggerated swallowing motion, then drained the rest of his water cup. He’d barely pulled it from his mouth before Moira snatched it from his hand for a refill.

John smiled, glad to hear some of Dean's snark returning bit by bit. In spite of everything, he was thankful that Moira was on his side when it came to helping Dean. He supposed, if she stuck around after they found Sam, he and she could reach some other form of common ground beyond their concern for the brothers.

The door to the flat slamming downstairs broke John out of his thoughts and shattered the delicate peace he'd achieved.

"John!" Sherlock called as he thundered up the stairs, eliciting a cringe from the doctor. Pinching his nose, he propped an arm against the back of his chair and turned to face the door that led to the landing, which Sherlock inexorably burst through.

"I've got a match! Now all we have to…" The gleam in his eyes and his triumphant smile fell under John's glare and the sight of another figure on the counter next to Dean. A smaller, female figure.

Sherlock shot John an affronted look. "I said to call me if something happened."

"This just happened!" John shot back defensively.

---

Euan leaned against the rough brick wall of the alley between the base of operations and the next building over, taking a drag from a cigarette. He'd angrily burned through the first one too quickly, so he made a conscious effort to savor this one.

Honestly, he'd had enough grief from Sam all morning, Dakota had no right to undermine his position in front of the little pest. He left Euan no choice but to take extreme measures to control their upstart newbie. The professor certainly wasn't about to. The guy was like a rock, never moving or showing any emotion. Euan was surprised to get such a vehement reaction out of the older man.

Shaking his head, he inhaled deeply to fill his lungs with nicotine and tobacco smoke. He frowned when he felt a telltale squirm from Mark as he shied away from the stench whilst inside his pocket. Knowing full well that the little fellow couldn't bear it, Euan pulled open his coat and blew out the smoke toward the inside breast pocket. A smirk played across his lips when he smoothed down his coat and felt the tiny spasms of Mark's coughs.

The control he had over Mark made it all worth it at the end of the day. It didn't matter that Euan was younger than Dakota. He'd only been twenty-three when he'd captured the twins himself, and it didn't take him long to come up with a brilliant idea and to get the higher-ups to agree to it. One could say that this entire division was formed based on his concept! This was all here because of him!

Not that that mattered to Dakota; nothing seemed to. And Geoff and any of the other grunts they sent over to be strongmen usually just took the mickey out of Euan for the ways he played with his twins. He did his best to ignore them all. At nearly thirty years of age, he was a genius, even if no one recognized it.

After he'd finished his cigarette, he spent quite a lot of time at a coffee shop down the street, letting the bitter scent within mask the smell of nicotine in his clothes. Once his head was cleared, he would head back to the base, perhaps go and send Mark out to find more.

He was just about to get up and throw away his coffee cup when The Imperial March blasted from his trousers. He fumbled in his pocket for his mobile, answering the phone to silence it without checking the caller ID.

"Euan Rummage," he answered, tossing his cup in the bin and hurrying out to the street.

The voice that came over the phone had an aristocratic air to it, a warm feminine lilt. “Euan, darling. Just the man I wanted to talk to. I think you and me have a bit more time to spend together before I leave for America. You’ve had more than enough of an opportunity to assess that batch I brought over.”

Euan's steps stuttered a little in surprise, but he kept on walking to avoid suspicion from his fellow pedestrians. This was certainly unexpected, and could either be very good or very bad for him.

"Miss Chandler," he breathed. "Yes, of course, ma'am, they're all set and ready for purchase. Too soon for buyers, of course."

“Mmm, yes,” Mina said, a purr clear in her voice. “I do so hope they bring in plenty. It’s not often that we see such youth in a catch like the little girl, and Bree is already acclimated to such a life.”

Bree, the only one in that group that had spent extended time in the care of a human, stuck out among the others in her cage. She was too different from them now, and did her best to keep away. Mina had noticed the behavior first when she accepted the sale for a paltry hundred thousand, and Euan and the others got to see it first hand upon delivery.

“I will stop by today to settle things then,” Mina said. “Expect to see me soon and I do so hope you have the second half of the payment ready before I have to leave for my flight.” Her warm attitude covered up an icy edge to her voice. She dealt with the American side of things, and often brought unexpected amounts of these ‘borrowers’ to sell.

"Absolutely!" Euan nodded even though Mina wouldn't see it. They had just received an enormous sum of money, straight from the top. From higher up than the higher-ups Euan had appealed to all those years ago. "It's all in, just waiting for you. Anytime you need to stop by, ma'am."

“Excellent.” The satisfaction was thick in her voice. “Expect me by within the hour, darling, and don't keep me waiting. Ciao!”

There was a click on the other end of the phone line as Mina Chandler hung up, cutting the conversation short.

Euan's phone remained at his ear for a while after Mina hung up. Catching himself, he quickly put away his mobile and quickened his step. The others needed to be informed of this at once.

"Mina's on her way!" he announced the moment he burst into their main area. Geoff and Dakota were sitting at the table, on opposite sides and ends of it, the former stuffing his face with his takeaway lunch and the latter quietly sipping tea out of a thermos. Right on schedule, the borrowers had been given their own food scraps less than half an hour earlier. Both the humans perked up at Euan's statement, in varying degrees. "She'll be here within the hour."

"I'll get the case ready," said Dakota, already heading into a back room where the safe was kept. Geoff, on the other hand, looked like a deer in the headlights with half a taquito sticking out of his mouth.

"Well? Get off your arse!" Euan barked, waving a hand at the mess that had accumulated around Geoff. "Get this filth straightened out! Place looks like a sodding pigsty! "

Inside her cage, Anita recoiled far into the back corner as soon as Euan was in sight. Despite the fact that he didn't seem to be bothering much with them, the human was a wild card that she could not even begin to predict.

The Americans in the other cage didn’t react as much, past the startled flinches from the volume of Euan’s voice. Christian directed a scowl at the door, recognizing the name Mina from the woman who’d bought them and brought them here.

Kara was sitting close to her father, hesitantly eating the food given to her. Both the men had given her a portion of their share, trying to help her gain weight. She was already small for her age. Being captured by humans was doing her no favors.

The rest of the food in the cage was left by Bree and Sam. The blonde girl hadn’t touched her share yet, and everyone was agreed that they should leave Sam to get whatever sleep he could. Sam had gone through more in his short time there than any of the others, and Christian thought the kid looked younger and more vulnerable than he should with his leg bound and bruises showing on the visible parts of his arms.

Will he be okay?

And Christian still had no answer.