Capricious (Supernatural)

Chapter 2

By the time the Winchester boys made it back to their motel- the only motel in the small town of probably only a few hundred- the sun was beginning to touch the horizon. Dean nodded at his brother, then picked up his phone and wallet from their place by the dashboard. He slid them into his back pockets as he climbed out of his car.

The Impala was locked as the boys made it to their room, opening the old red wood door to their part of the outside motel. Sam locked the door behind him, then left his belongings from his pockets. Dean reached for his wallet in his back pocket to do the same. 

It was gone. The tri-fold black leather wasn't in his pocket. And Dean knew he had grabbed it. He felt himself up to look for the wallet in panic, but didn't find it. The elder hunter took three quick steps back outside his hotel. He swung his head out back and forth quickly.

To his right, a woman with a grocery bag walked from her van to her room. To his left, a short figure walking quickly away. By the quickly-moving hunched-over posture, Dean knew it was the person walking away who took his wallet. And it looked like a kid.

"Hey," he shouted. The kid began walking faster, hands in the pockets of their black skinny jeans. Dean made his way towards the fleeing person with long strides, his fists tightened. "Hey, kid!"

The short brunet pulled the hood of their maroon hoodie over their head, walking faster, almost to a jog. Dean grimaced and followed, speeding up. "Hey," he shouted again gruffly. "Get back here!"

The person broke into a sprint. Dean followed quickly, elbows swinging by his side. The kid disappeared briefly around the corner, but Dean spun around the corner to follow. He caught up quickly- being nearly a foot taller- and dove.

Dean felt a small body and asphalt under him as he landed. His arms were pinning the kid to the ground on their stomach. The kid tried to struggle out, but Dean pinned them down. He turned the kid over on their back. 

"The hell is wrong with you?" He shouted. He looked the kid in the eyes. In reality, he couldn't exactly tell if the kid was a boy or girl. Either way, they couldn't have been more than fifteen or sixteen. Brown hair that was nearly black, pale green eyes, and skin almost as white as snow. The kid's face was a little sunken in, and had light circles under their eyes- probably a mix of malnutrition and exhaustion. Dean paused on top of the panting child, feeling a pang of empathy as he looked at them. 

"Get off," the kid spat in a higher voice than expected. 

"Don't go 'round picking pockets," Dean retorted with a scowl. "Get a damn job or something! Give me my shit."

"Get the fuck off," the kid mirrored Dean's grimace. 

"All right," Dean stood, but he pulled the kid up by their white t-shirt and maroon hoodie. He pinned the kid against the wall, beginning to feel them up.

"Fuck off," the kid squirmed away. Dean pushed the kid farther back. He felt along the kid's waistband. Something long and round by their side. He lifted up their shirt. There was a handgun. 

Dean ripped the handgun from the kid's waistband. "Really? What are you, sixteen, maybe? What're you doing with this shit? It's not a damn toy."

"Mind your own business!"

"Don't steal other people's shit." Dean frowned in frustration again, feeling around the rest of the child's waistband. He lifted up the shirt just a bit more.

Dean looked over to see the edge of a black design on the front of the kid's hip. The only thing he could think was Really, how the hell does a child like this get a tattoo?