Walt Versus Dean

BA Canon: No || AU

Timeline: 2005 (The same week Dean and Sam reunited in canon BA)


(Part 1 of 5 )

Take it in steps.

First, examine the room. Watch the shadows. Listen for breathing.

Wait.

Patience is key to survival. You must be willing to wait and analyze and decide if the risk is worth the gain.

Food does you no good if you get caught.

Stay alert.

No matter how certain you are that they’re gone, nothing is stopping them from coming back. Never drop your guard. It might be the last thing you ever do.

The maids don’t pay attention here. Your luck might hold up if they’re the ones that come in the room.

Might.

But there’s no way to ever know.

Those words were always on Walt’s mind. Some of the last words he’d ever said to Bree, and the words he now repeated to Sam ad nauseum. He was desperate not to lose another child to the humans.

For that reason alone, Walt was glad he’d caught Sam trying to sneak out that morning.

It was a good plan to check the empty room before anyone else checked in, but an odd feeling, the sense of foreboding, that trouble was waiting right around the corner for all of them, had made Walt tell Sam to stay with Mallory. He could help with her de-threading that she was working on.

Walt had gone instead.

And now, despite all his planning and watching and listening and waiting, he was in trouble.

Sam might already have been caught if he was the one in the room.

A massive boot hit the ground less than a foot from his hiding place, shaking the ground around him. He flinched back, knowing that all the human had to do was glance to the side. The chair leg he had darted behind in desperation to get out of sight offered no real cover.

He could feel the reassuring weight of his razor tucked against his chest, weighing down his jacket. It might not be as sturdy or as sharp as Sam’s beloved knife (a weapon that had been crafted with a skill Walt found himself admiring), but it would get the job done if he needed to defend himself.

As the human continued past his hiding place, walking into the bathroom, Walt peered around the leg of the chair. His breathing hitched in anticipation. The man was out of sight.

It was now or never.

Gone was any thought of watching or waiting. He was out in the open, far from cover. The distance he needed to run to get under that cover would barely be two steps for the human if he was seen.

He’d never win that race.

His legs tensed, then he dashed towards the looming dresser. The welcome darkness underneath beckoned him. No number of dustbunnies would stop him from diving into that darkness.

The floor started to tremble.

No, no, no! Walt hadn’t even made it halfway in his heartstopping run of desperation. He forced his legs to pump faster, desperately gasping in air. The soles of his boots dug into the worn carpet as he went.

“What the hell?” the voice boomed overhead.

He’d been spotted.

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