Chapter Two

The day started out as any other.

It was Lucifer's turn to take Dean to school, so he dressed as soon as he woke up and moved to the kitchen. He opened the mostly empty pantry and dug around until he found the remaining poptart from a pack that had been stuck in a Ziploc bag and filled a glass with water. He purposefully broke the poptart into uneven halves, intending on giving Dean the larger portion, before he went to wake him.

But Dean was already dressed and moving around his room. Lucifer sighed as he saw the dark circles underneath his brother's wide green eyes. They meant another restless night, probably filled with dreams of the violent death of their mother five years ago. Dean had been two at the time, but remembered the night vividly.

"Come get a bite to eat, bud," Lucifer said. Dean quietly followed his older brother into the kitchen and he ate the pastry without a word before making his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

"You ready?" Lucifer asked.

"Yeah," Dean said. "Can I ride shotgun in the Impala?"

"Sure thing, Deano,"Lucifer said with a smile, and Dean gave him the look little boys give their worshipped older brother. Lucifer was known for being cold to others, but Dean was his baby brother and he had to look after him.

The two brothers got into their car and drove to the local elementary school. "See you, Bubba," Dean said. Lucifer found it remarkable that he could look so cute using a nickname the older boy would be wanted for murder if anyone else used it.

"See you around three," he said.

Dean watched his brother pull away in the glass window as he made his way towards the building. He went into his classroom and placed his worn out backpack into his cubby and pulled out his homework from the previous night. His teacher, Mrs. Jakes, glanced up from her desk as she heard the uneven shuffle of his footsteps.

"How are you today, Dean?" she asked politely.

"Fine, ma'am," he answered quietly. No one else was in the classroom yet, and he found the silence oddly comforting, like the calm before a storm.

It had rained lightly the night before, so Dean was careful as he found a spot to sit beneath his favorite tree towards the edge of the playground. He opened the binder that he always brought and flipped through the pages. They were filled with drawings, all remarkable good for someone his age. But Dean was too shy to share them with anyone, and not even Alastair knew what the binder was full of. His pencil was only about four or five inches long, and fit perfectly into his small fingers.

He began working on a sketch of his brothers sitting on the hood of the Impala, all smiling or laughing in a way they hadn't been doing enough of lately. He had his eyes closed, visualizing the scene in color, with his real brothers instead of a drawing. He never even saw them coming, and barely felt the blow that rendered him unconscious.

When the first grader awoke, his hands were tightly bound behind him with zip ties, his legs were tied together, and there was a gag tied around his head and stuffed in his mouth. His head was pounding savagely, but he still struggled against his bounds, until he felt blood start to trickle down his scrawny wrists.

"Stop doing that," an unfamiliar voice ordered and a battery powered lamp turned on. Dean looked around his surroundings and recognized that he was in what appeared to be an empty wine cellar. The floor was covered in dust and it was several seconds before Dean looked up at his captor. It was a blue eyed teenager, who towered over him from where he was curled on the floor. Dean tried to speak, but the gag was secured tightly and all he did was spread the disgusting taste of the rag throughout his mouth.

"I'm going to take the gag out and give you some water, but you are not going to scream or even speak loudly, alright?" he asked. Dean nodded and the teenager slid the rag down his chin.

"I want to go home," Dean said, fat tears making their way down his face. "I want Bubba, and Allie, and Micha," he sobbed.

"Sorry, little man," the teenager said. "But my brothers say you've got to stay here. Try to stop crying, you'll get me in trouble." Dean managed to quiet his sobs, but the tears kept flowing. "Now let's try to drink some water."

He pulled Dean up a bit and held the bottle to his lips, tilting it back with a gentleness that was surprising for a kidnapper. A good bit of it mixed with the tears on Dean's face, but he managed to swallow some and the dark haired teen let him slump back against the wall.

"Who," Dean hiccupped, "are you?" His voice was slurred with pain, exhaustion, and terror.

"My name is Castiel," he responded. "I'm sorry about what we are doing to you." There was a thud from the ceiling and Cas glanced around nervously. "I have to go." He ignored Dean's objections as he secured the gag again and hurried out of the cellar.

"Is this Lucifer Natas?" a female voice came through Lucifer's phone. He had gotten the call a few seconds ago and recognized the number as Dean's school. Thinking that his brother could be sick or hurt, he lurched from his seat and into the hallway, ignoring his teacher's protests.

"This is Mary Winchester, the vice principal of your brother's school. I couldn't reach your father and you were listed as an emergency contact," she said.

"What happened?" Lucifer asked, all color draining from his face.

"Dean never came in from recess and his teacher went looking for him. She found his binder outside with blood on it," Mrs. Winchester informed him gently. "We pulled security footage, but all the cameras saw was your brother collapsing and a set of hands dragging him out of view. Can you come immediately?"

"Yes," Lucifer said once he managed to find his voice. "I'll- I'll need to get my other brothers, but we'll be there soon."

Mary bid him good-bye and hung up to join the search. Lucifer stumbled back into his classroom. The entire class looked up at him and even the teacher looked concerned at his shaking hands and pasty coloring.

"Mr. Natas, are you okay?" the teacher asked.

"I need to go," Lucifer said softly. "Please call my brothers' classrooms and tell them to meet me at the Impala."

The teacher was so shocked by the soft politeness in the normal obnoxious teen's tone that he didn't question him as he used his phone to call for the younger two Natases. As soon as the history teacher made the calls, Lucifer was out the door, racing for his car. As soon as his brothers were in he pulled out hazardously.

"What's going on, Luce?" Michael asked.

"Someone took Dean from school," the oldest boy said bluntly, still in shock himself. "They haven't told me anything but that and to come immediately."

The rest of the ride was silent as Lucifer weaved through traffic and pulled into a parking lot at the elementary school. All of the kids had been sent home, and the only other vehicles there belonged to police and faculty. The boys ran towards the closest officer.

"What's going on?" Alastair demanded.

"I'm not allowed to-" the officer started, but a man wearing a vest that said SRU interrupted.

"You boys are Lucifer, Michael, and Alastair, aren't you?" he asked. They nodded. "I'm Greg Parker from the police strategic response unit. Please come with me." They followed him a few yards away from the tree that everyone seemed to be focusing around.

"Where can we get ahold of your father?" the officer asked.

"He's out of town," Lucifer said honestly. "He's a mechanic so sometimes he's gone for a while when he's taking jobs that aren't nearby." The officer eyed their bony wrists which stuck out from the too short sleeves of too small shirts.

"Does he leave you boys with enough money?" Greg asked. Lucifer's spine went rigid.

"We're fine," he said insistently. "We just can't always reach our father. Now tell us what happened to Dean."

Officer Parker sighed. "Honestly, we don't know much," he said. "Your brother wasn't playing with the other children-"

"He can't," Michael said defensively, not wanting this stranger to judge his brother. "He was hurt a while ago and he can't even walk well."

"No one's judging him, son," Greg said gently, not taking offense at the teenager's harsh tone. "Do you boys know of anyone who's been giving Dean a hard time?"

The boys shook their head. "Dean doesn't really fit in," Michael said hesitantly, feeling like he was betraying his brother by giving the information. "The other kids will mess with him, but everyone who does it is in elementary school."

"Okay," Parker said. "I'm going to go see if my team has reached your father. You boys can either wait in the front office of the school, or go home and wait for us to contact you." Without a word, they all went to the front office to collapse in the stiff chairs that were kept their.

Greg went into the van where Spike was. "What do you have on his brothers?" he asked.

"A lot," Mike responded. "They've all been suspended from their school multiple times, Lucifer and Michael have both been arrested for assault, and they've all gotten in trouble for shoplifting, but never done more than a few days of time because of how small what they were stealing was. But it looks like they've either straightened out or gotten better at not getting caught, because there's been almost nothing in the past year."

"What were they stealing?" the Sarge asked. The tech savvy officer scrolled down.

"Over the years they've tried to steal bread, peanut butter, poptarts, canned food, soap, toilet paper, and small school supplies like pencils and erasers," he read off.

"What about Dean?" Greg asked.

"No criminal record, but- holy cow," Spike said.

"What?" Greg questioned, moving so he could see over the Italian's shoulder.

"He was shot nine months ago in a drive by shooting," Spike read, appalled. "He took a bullet to the leg and nearly bled out. It said he wouldn't have made it if it hadn't been for his brothers."

"Do you have anything on the father?"

Spike shook his head. "No credit card and uses a disposable phone. He doesn't seem to have a job, but may work in a small business. Teachers have complained that he never comes to parent-teacher conferences."

"Good work, Spike," the sergeant said as he exited the van and went into the school. The three brothers were quietly talking.

"When was the last time you boys saw your father?" he asked. The boys didn't answer so he continued. "You've all gotten in trouble for stealing food and necessities. He's never at you school conferences and can't even be reached when his seven year old has been kidnapped." He gave them all a look. "I need to know when the last time was that you saw your father."

"He," Michael started quietly, as if scared to raise his voice above a whisper. "He used to come around every few months to check up on us."

"He came to sign Dean out of the hospital when he got shot so they wouldn't call CPS, but left before we had gotten into the Impala," Alastair said. "We haven't seen him since."

"When did he first leave?" Greg asked.

"Four years ago," Lucifer said, his voice stronger than his younger brothers'. "It started out just a few weeks at a time and we got by from part time jobs I could do for bills, free lunch at school, and stealing what we couldn't afford. By the time they were old enough to work he was leaving us for months without the bit of money that he used to leave. Three part times jobs weren't enough money anymore."

"You joined a gang, didn't you?" Greg asked, seeing a reason that Dean could have been taken.

Lucifer shook his head, and looked at the ground to hide the tears that were starting to form. "Just tell him," Alastair chocked out, and Lucifer looked up to see that his younger brother had tears trickling down his face. "It could help Dean."

"I didn't join a gang, officer," Lucifer finally managed to say, tilting his head down in shame. "I started one."