Jared hasn't grown up with many certainties in life. Just the one, really, and it is was that no matter how much he fucks up, however deep a hole he falls into, Jensen will find some way of swooping in and saving his ass.

The ass kicking he'll hand out on completion tends to vary depending on just how badly Jared screws up, but it is always a question of when Jensen will save him, not if.

It's why, despite the cuffs that keep him locked to the side of the armored van, Jared is comfortable enough to ask his jailers for something to drink.

"No beer?" He asks, gleefully indulging his love of winding people up unnecessarily. "I'll settle for 7up." He offers magnanimously, with a smile that is more a leer, and says exactly what he thinks of the douchebags holding guns on him.

He can't see their faces behind the reflective surface of their visors, but that had stopped creeping him out years ago. Now he just uses the opportunity to check his teeth for stray foodstuffs, not surprised when he finds nothing there - it isn't as if his diet is all that impressive. Or varied, for that matter.

"Shut your mouth, slave."

Now Jared has to roll his eyes at that one. Leave it to authority figures to hammer his status down on him over and over again, as if, by some off chance, he has somehow forgotten.

"Hey, you got anything to eat?" His belly chooses that moment to loudly announce his hunger.

The answering backhand is to be expected, and Jared grins around his split lip as they spit profanities with the casualness of people who think they have just picked up one more runaway slave.

Jared is a-okay with that.

Runaway slaves get it rough, no doubt, but Jared is pretty sure he'll get it a whole lot worse once they scan him into the system.

Not that he is worried: Jensen owes him a rescue any time now.

The longer they drive, the more relaxed his guards grow, and Jared's nerves remain as calm as ever.

Getting caught was a fuck up on his part, but what was he supposed to do? They had to eat somehow, and Jared will never been as comfortable with killing for his food as Jensen is. That's his problem, and no doubt Jensen will tear him a new one, but Jared will always prefer spending his time being carted between Detention Centers to the easy murder Jensen preaches.

Even if it gets him the cold shoulder every fucking time.

When the van suddenly swerves, and Jared bounces off the side like a ragdoll, he knows Jensen has come for him.

His boy's a good shot, and one to the engine is enough to kill the power that keeps the turbines rolling and the vehicle moving.

The commandos all check their weapons, a buzz in the air that speaks of anticipation and fear. They should be scared, Jared thinks, settling back for the ride. They aren't going to be walking away from this one.

It's all pretty quick - Jensen has years of experience when it comes to dragging Jared out the back of armored vans, and before Jared's counted to a hundred, his jailers are all in various stages of the deaththrows; bloody and mangled before any one them fired a shot.

Jensen's face is still Jared's favorite thing, despite all the efforts Jensen's put in to hiding his pretty. There's no masking the color of his eyes, and even when they are narrowed and brimming with anger, they are still the nicest eyes Jared has ever known.

"What took you so long?" He asks. He's playing with fire every time he teases Jensen, but it's always worth it. Jensen needs to lighten up once in a while.

He gets only a glare as Jensen climbs into the van.

It's been five years since Jensen started to shave his hair off, but Jared still gets a little shock every time he sees him. A part of him still expects Jensen to be the pretty, delicate thing he was when they were growing up, not this...thug.

"Aw come on, Jenny. Don't be pissy." Jensen is easily pissed, and people calling him 'Jenny' and saying he has an attitude problem have always been triggers, even if they might be true. Jared, naturally, uses them every chance he gets.

Jensen continues to glare, fishing around in the bloody pockets for a key to Jared's fetters.

"I was starting to think you weren't gonna come." A lie, of course, but Jared needs something to fill in the silence, which is why he usually ends up babbling.

Jensen kicks him in the shin as he crouches to free Jared, a pissed expression on his face that doesn't quite hide his concern. Jared lets Jensen pat him down, looking for broken bones or open wounds. He weathers the storm of Jensen's expression and tugs him in for a kiss.

Jensen punches him in the stomach in retaliation.

Clearly Jared is going to be on the metaphorical couch for a while.

"Don't be mad at me, Jen." Jared employs all his arsenal, puppy dog eyes in full beam.

Jensen ignores him and drags him out of the van.

Jared winkles his nose, the smell of blood only overpowering when he has fresh air to counter it. He's thankful for all those years he spent with Fred and Samantha, where the slaves sleep in the abattoir, and blood gradually becomes ingrained in your senses.

They run for a mile then hop on the first freight train that runs through the countryside. It's surprisingly easy to find a spot that is free of vagrants. Jensen looks suspicious, but he follows when Jared tugs him towards a corner, where it is dark and cool.

It will do them to the statelines, then they'll need to find someway of sneaking past the patrols. Jared's still determined that they make it to California, and he knows Jensen's not about to leave him to fuck up all on his own.

"Awesome." Jared grins, kicking back against the wall and relaxing. Jensen rolls his eyes and kicks at Jared's leg until he can wedge himself between Jared's back and the wall. He likes to be able to hold Jared against him, but Jared also suspects he needs to instinctively have something between him and the rest of the world - even if he always charges forward to face a danger when it presents itself.

Jared's an awesome friend, and he doesn't mind playing Jensen's teddybear, nor will he open his big mouth and tell Jensen he's onto him. Partly because he isn't entirely convinced Jensen won't stab him for it, just a little bit.

He feels the hilt of one of Jensen's many knives press up against his hip, and it is as oddly comforting as Jensen's gruff fussing.

His stomach rumbles, and Jensen shoves a hand into a pocket of the jacket that would be too big on a man twice his size, returning with two strips of jerky.

"You rock." Jared grins, tearing into the dried meat with gusto. Jensen nods, his sharp chin resting on Jared's shoulder.

It's about now, when they are both relatively safe and comfortable, that Jared will start telling a story, or singing a song.

He knows Jensen prefers songs, but it's hard to remember the lyrics, and Jared is always uncomfortably reminded of the way Jensen used to sing him to sleep when they were children. It's why he sticks with stories - Jensen never cares when he fucks up the facts or changes things half way through.

Jared does owe him one though, and Jensen's clearly still pissed, even if he is wrapped around Jared like a friendly snake.

So he sings the one song he always remembers and feels Jensen loosen up a little behind him.

It won't get a smile, but then nothing ever does these days. It's why Jared smiles for the both of them, and is the thing he misses most of all.

It's not that Jensen can't smile any more - he can, they didn't fuck that up completely - it just that he's shy. Sometimes Jared teases him about it and hopes that doing so makes it clear that he doesn't really give a fuck. Jensen's smiles are still the most amazing things in the world.

Jared has his own scars, far more than Jensen. He can just hide them better than the Glaswegian Smile that's carved into Jensen's face. They are the only two scars Jensen has from his time in a collar, and for a slave, that is pretty damn rare. Jared's back is knotted with white scar tissue, and that is the norm.

Jared burps has he finishes the last verse of the song. Jensen fishes the battered metal canteen they stole out of another of his pockets. Jared takes the smallest sip and hands it back. Water is an even rarer commodity than food these days.

They stay on the train until it gets dark, taking turns to nap fitfully. When they reach the state lines, Jensen shakes Jared awake, and they slip into the darkness, two lost slaves, neither seen nor heard.

Read the next story in the Confederate Verse Following the Tao to the extreme by SplashPink (A J2 Slave!AU)