Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or any of the characters affiliated with them. If I did, there would totally be a Hawkeye/Black Widow movie in the works. I also don't own Supernatural or any of the characters affiliated with them.

Author's Note: While I embrace constructive criticism remember this old saying if you choose to leave a review "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all"

Hi there! I know it's not been long since my last posting, so SURPRISE! This is a series of little oneshots that I originally posted on my tumblr - under the username aggie2011whoop - just for fun. A good friend of mine, who's also one of my betas, tag teamed this series with me :D Her username is Arlothia and she's awesome. I did this first part, she the second, me the third and so on. We've only got the first few parts ready for posting, so look for more later today! This is my first attempt at writing in the Supernatural 'verse and writing Dean, so forgive anything that seems OOC for him. I've been a fan of Supernatural for the last 10 years so I'm kind of excited to be working in that 'verse for the first time.

Second, the fanfiction contest I entered was extended. It originally was supposed to end last week, but the voting got extended to Wednesday (28th) at midnight pacific time. MANY of you have already turned out to vote and I thank all of you SO MUCH. The voting is finally in the homestretch so I'm asking anyone that hasn't voted that has a spare minute to please go cast a vote for "What No One Else Sees". It has a 3 vote lead last time I checked but I'd really like to extend that because it's been back and forth with the other top story for the past week. To vote, go to the link:

inkitt dot com / fandom

It says the contest is closed for submissions, but voting is still going on. You guys know I don't ask for this type of thing ever, and I won't ask again. Consider this fun little crossover series a thank you for your support and your votes. *hugs*

Finally, while this IS written in the Vantage Point Universe (if your new to my Avengers work, feel free to check out the rest of my works), it isn't, as of right now, actually part of VPU cannon. Meaning that it's kind of an AU to the VPU...so an AAU of sorts...anyway, enjoy!

Premise of the SPN/VPU crossover: When Clint was 13, he was picked up by the cops for truancy while the Carnival was traveling through New York State. He's sent to "Sonny's Home for Boys" and since nobody at the Carnival can prove they're his legal guardian and Barney is on a venue scouting trip in another state. Zane and Brit have no choice but to leave Clint at Sonny's while Marvi scrambles to use his contacts to get fake guardianship papers made. Brit warns Clint not to get himself into more trouble by running away. A couple of days into his stay, 16 year old Dean Winchester is brought to Sonny's after being picked up for stealing food (as seen in the Supernatural episode "Bad Boys")(I acknowledge that the years don't line up, but I'm just gonna roll with it) These are a few snap shots of their time together at Sonny's.

It was a farm, and the guy who ran it – Sonny – he, uh, you know, he looked after me.
Dean Winchester, "Bad Boys", Season 9 Episode 7

1995

Dean rubbed his wrists, still feeling the ghost of the handcuffs even though Sonny had removed them at least twenty minutes ago. The older man had given him lunch and then hustled him out towards the barn.

"Stall mucking."

That's what Sonny had called it. It was supposed to 'build character' and 'teach discipline'. Dean was pretty sure it was just an excuse for free, state-funded labor.

"This," Sonny shoved a shovel at him, "is a shovel." Then he pointed at a pile of dirty, soiled hay. "That is horse shit." He gave Dean a smirk and clapped him on the shoulder. "Use the first to get rid of the last. Any questions?"

Dean opened his mouth to tell Sonny just what he could do with his shovel and his shit, but was surprised into silence by a small pebble hitting him square in the back of the head.

"What the hell?" Dean spun around, hand going to rub the sore spot where the rock had hit and shovel rising defensively.

"Clint!" Sonny growled. "Get down out of those rafters before you break your neck!"

Dean lifted his gaze, searching the rafters now instead of the area right behind him. Sure enough, in the shadows, he saw a figure shift. A chuckle floated down to them as the small figure moved from one rafter to the next.

"Why don't you come up here and make me, Sonny?"

The voice was young, younger than Dean, but there was no mistaking the tone of sarcasm – it was, after all, a tone Dean was intimately familiar with.

"Boy, one day I'm gonna figure out how you get up there, then you'll be in for it."

Dean looked back at Sonny, surprised to see the older man smiling and to hear no hint of anger in his voice. Another chuckle floated down from the rafters, but as far as Dean could tell, 'Clint' wasn't planning on coming down.

"Don't mind him. He's half monkey." Sonny told Dean with a smirk. "Only been here 48 hours and already found every possible way to climb every possible thing in this place."

Dean looked back up at the rafters, but couldn't see the shadowed figure anymore.

"You just ate, so I don't imagine you'll be hungry until dinner – which is at 5:30." Sonny started towards the door, calling up at the rafters as he went, "Clint, either get your scrawny butt down here and help him or leave him be. No more launching projectiles."

Then Sonny was gone.

Dean weighed the shovel in his hands, searched the rafters one more time and then turned to the stall.

He felt his nose wrinkle of its own accord.

"This has to violate some child labor law."

With a sigh he got to work.

He felt the eyes on him the whole time. The mysterious 'Clint' watching him from the safety of the shadows. When the stall was finally clean, Dean set the shovel aside with a sigh.

He heard it then…wood creaking. He raised his eyes without moving his head and searched the shadows.

There.

He could see him. A small figure creeping around.

"You know, if I didn't know any better I'd load you full of rocksalt thinking you were a ghost…you're definitely being creepy enough."

The figure froze. Then abruptly shifted, swinging down to hang from the rafters by his hands. He just hung there, like the monkey Sonny had accused him of being, and stared at Dean.

"Nice of you to stay hidden until all the actual work was done."

The blonde boy cocked his head.

"What'd you do?" he asked bluntly.

"Stole something."

"Stole what?"

"A car."

Clint's eyes narrowed. Dean's narrowed right back. He knew how to read people well enough to recognize the same skill in someone else. Clint was practically looking into his soul, his gaze was so penetrating.

"You're lying," the younger boy finally stated.

"Prove it." Dean issued the challenge with a cocked eyebrow and a slight smirk.

Clint just stared at him with that intense gaze of his and then tilted his head in a show of surrender. Then without another word he swung back up into the shadows. Dean watched him scurry around in the rafters until he was just behind Dean. Then he just jumped.

"Holy -!" Dean took a startled step forward only to freeze when Clint acrobatically flipped through the air, tucked into an easy roll upon landing, and then casually flowed up to his feet like it was just an everyday thing to go jumping out of rafters.

Clint stood then and stuck his hand out.

"I'm Clint."

Dean found himself smirking. The kid was a daredevil, that was practically a certainty. Dean could appreciate that. After all…he could relate.

"Dean."

Dean quietly pushed his way into the barn, flashlight lighting the way in front of him.

"Clint?"

For a moment nothing but the sounds of the wind blowing outside greeted him. Then he heard wood creak.

"Dean?"

Dean angled the flashlight up as a now familiar voice drifted down from the rafters. But Clint was too deep in the shadows, Dean couldn't see him, not with the crappy flashlight he'd grabbed.

"Sonny sent me to try and talk you into coming inside." Dean spoke to the direction Clint's voice had come from. "It's supposed to storm."

"I'll be fine."

The response was predictable. Clint tended to brush off the worry others tried to direct at him.

Dean blew out a breath – looked like they were doing this the hard way – and jogged to the back corner of the barn.

He'd been here a week now. Yesterday, Clint had deemed him worthy to know his path up to the rafters. Dean had only barely made it up there himself yesterday and had nearly broken his neck coming down. He didn't know how Clint made it look so easy.

He paused once he was up in the rafters to catch his breath and steady his balance. Then he shined the flashlight around until he caught sight of a dark lump in the shadows.

Clint, as was usual at night, was sprawled out across one of the rafters like a jungle cat on a tree branch. He looked perfectly comfortable and was watching Dean in vague amusement.

"You're so slow at climbing."

"I wasn't born with monkey in my DNA like some people." Dean groused as he made his way closer. He settled on the rafter across from Clint and shined the flashlight in his face, smirking when Clint winced and yelled in annoyance. "Why do you sleep up here anyway? Doesn't look all that comfortable."

"It's fine."

"That didn't answer my question…like in any way."

Clint pushed himself up to sitting so he and Dean were facing each other, knees separated by about a foot of open air.

"I don't like this place."

"Why? Sonny's great, food's good. Yeah, we gotta work sometimes, but it's not that bad."

Clint just shook his head and looked away. When he looked back, it was almost like a mask had settled on his face.

"I work at a carnival, you know."

Dean arched an eyebrow at the abrupt subject change.

"A carnival? You're a carnie?" He couldn't help it, he laughed.

"I'm a performer. I do tricks," Clint corrected firmly.

Dean tilted his head curiously. In the week they'd known each other, Clint had revealed almost nothing about himself beyond his affinity for climbing and his wicked good aim with…well, anything. Dean had a feeling that right now, the only reason for the candor was to divert Dean from their previous conversation topic. Familiar with diversionary tactics for his own reasons, Dean allowed it.

"What kind of tricks?" he asked.

"Archery." The grin that split Clint's face then wasn't contrived – it was nothing but pure joy.

"Like a bow and arrow?"

"Nice, you can define archery."

Dean rolled his eyes. Clint's sarcastic tongue was something he hadn't bothered to hide either.

"I'm really good with knives too…really good," Clint added with a smirk.

Dean felt his own mouth mirror the expression.

"I'm pretty good with a knife myself."

Clint's eyebrow cocked in challenge.

"I never miss," the younger boy insisted arrogantly.

Dean heard thunder rumble outside and felt the draft of cool wind blow through the barn. He could create a target in the bunk room in no time and he'd take the lecture about throwing sharp objects if it got Clint inside for the night. So he met Clint's gaze and issued his challenge,

"Prove it."

Dean watched Clint talk to a dark haired man in the driveway. Only they weren't really using voices. They were using their hands.

This was Brit.

Or that's what Clint had nearly gasped in relief when the man arrived a few minutes ago. He'd rushed out into the driveway so fast he'd nearly tripped on the stairs. Dean had watched in shock as Clint, who as far as Dean could tell never let anyone touch him, met the stranger with a bear hug to rival Sammy's best.

Then they'd started signing with their hands and Dean wished he'd payed attention when Sammy went through his sign language phase last year.

'What do you mean another week?' Clint signed.

'Marvi says the papers will be ready then and we can get you out.' Brit replied calmly.

'Where's Barney? Isn't he back yet?' Clint asked.

Brit sighed and rubbed his eyes before responding.

'He's busy.'

Clint felt his shoulders drop.

'You mean he found out I got picked up by the cops and he figures staying here serves me right.'

'Clint…'

'I don't want to stay here, Brit. I don't like it here.'

Brit's gaze hardened.

'Has someone hurt you?' Brit's gaze traveled up to the house angrily.

'No.' Clint insisted, touching Brit's arm to get his attention back. 'Just bad memories.'

Other than a night last week, when Dean had talked him into target practice in the bunk room, Clint had slept in the rafters every night to escape those bad memories. Even that night, though, he hadn't slept. He and Dean had stayed up all night, throwing knives and talking.

And Dean liked to talk. When he'd first let it slip what his 'family business' was, Clint had been fairly certain he was kidding. But a few joking questions met with deadly serious answers, had convinced him pretty quickly that Dean wasn't kidding. Ghosts, and a whole bunch of other terrifying crap was real. Dean and his family, they protected people…saved people.

Clint had found himself wondering what it would be like to have a job like that.

A hand gently squeezed his elbow, drawing his attention back to Brit.

'Just another week, Clint. I'll come get you as soon as Marvi gets the papers, I promise.'

Clint nodded. He could do another week. Dean…Dean made staying here easier.

He and Brit said goodbye and he watched the man get into his car and leave.

Clint didn't go back into the house for the lunch he'd left, he headed to the barn instead.

The sound of a banging screen door alerted him a few moments before jogging footsteps brought Dean to his side.

"No moping, buzz kill…come on, Sonny said we could go to the lake as long as I don't let you drown."

Clint grinned.

"Race you." He took off.

"You cheater!" He heard Dean take off in pursuit.

Clint had never seen the scars on his back but for one quick look in the mirror when he first came to Carson's, back when they'd still been healing. He'd never looked again after that. Because of that, he often forgot they were there. And when he stripped off his shirt to prepare to dive in the lake, he didn't give the scars a thought.

It wasn't until he heard Dean's curse that he remembered them.

A hand grabbed his arm and jerked him around.

"Who did that to you?"

Clint pulled his arm out of Dean's grip roughly and forced himself to take a deep breath. Brit had told him back in the beginning, not to give the scars power, unless he channeled it into something positive. He hadn't learned how to do that yet…but he had at least learned not to feel fear every time he thought about them.

"It's nothing."

"Doesn't look like nothing." Dean's voice was angry and heavy with something that sounded like concern.

"It was a long time ago," Clint insisted. It wasn't that long…only three years…sometimes it felt like yesterday. But, on the good days...on the good days it felt like a lifetime ago.

"Clint, these guys at Carson's, did they do it?" Dean demanded sharply, green eyes intense and worried all at once. Clint knew in that moment, without a doubt, that if he said 'yes' Dean would do something about it.

"No, it was before Carson's." Clint admitted quietly.

"Who? Give me a name."

"No."

"Tell me who did it so I can go kill them" Dean ordered.

"No!"

"Dammit Sammy!"

Clint drew back, startled. Dean looked just as shocked.

"I'm not your brother, Dean. I'm not Sam." But for the first time he found himself wishing he was. That he had someone like Dean willing to do whatever it took to keep him safe. Brit cared about him, would defend him, but Brit didn't have it in him to cross that line. It scared Clint sometimes to think that maybe he did. That maybe, if he ever got the chance, he'd take his own revenge on Phillip Jacobs.

Dean deflated.

"Doesn't mean you don't need looking after too."

Clint smirked, clawing at his defenses and building them back up.

"I look after myself."

And he did and always would.

He didn't understand why Dean suddenly looked like he was the only person in the world who actually got it.

What he didn't know, until much later in his life, was that Dean 'got it' because Dean had always had to look out for himself too.

"I'm serious, Clint, you ever need anything, ghostly or otherwise, call this number." Dean handed a slip of paper to Clint as the blonde boy stuffed his slingshot into his back pocket. "That's my Uncle Bobby's place. He can find me and I'll come help you out."

Clint took the paper and shoved it in his pocket with the sling shot. He looked past Dean to where Brit waited in the driveway along with a pretty blonde girl Dean was dying to hit on. But he didn't think Robin would understand.

"Take care of yourself, Dean. And ask Robin to the dance, she'll say yes."

Dean smirked.

"Of course she will, it's me asking, isn't it?"

Clint just rolled his eyes and then gave Dean a serious look.

"I may not be so easy to find…don't got a phone number to call. But if you ever need me, send up a hawk-symbol or something…light a fire for a smoke signal…draw a purple X on your window…" Clint smirked and shrugged. "I'll come riding in a white horse and save you."

Dean laughed.

"Take care of yourself, Clint."

Clint smirked.

"Always."

End of Part 1!

Hope you enjoyed it! The future parts jump around in the timeline, but there'll be a year labeling where we are in the timeline. It doesn't exactly match the VPU timeline, but as I said its essentially an AU of the VPU. :D

Look for Part 2 and 3 later today and please go vote!

inkitt dot com / fandom