Chapter 1: Everybody Loves a Clown
Chapter Text
John Winchester didn't love me the way he was supposed to as a father. He left me like a baby in a basket in the hands of Ellen Harvelle after my mother burned in a tragic demon-induced nursery fire. John didn't want to protect a little girl from the horrors of the world, and when that little girl grew up to be a man, I found out that John Winchester was a transphobic, homophobic, garbage piece of shit. Now, John makes sure I only get to watch my brothers from afar, he makes sure that they think of him as a good father and a good leader, but I know the truth: He's just an asshole.
Ash comes into my room, waking me up while stealing clothes from my closet, but at this point, I’m not even sure if the clothes he grabs are mine or his. “Your brothers are here, and your dad’s dead.”
I don’t even have time to process what he’s said until he’s almost out the door. “Wait, babe, repeat that.” I rub my eyes and cough out the rasp in my voice, trying my best to wake up before he shoots out of the door again.
“John is dead and the boys finally got ahold of the voicemail of Ellen asking for that bastard’s help,” Ash rephrases himself in such a way that I shoot up with a mix and questions rattling around in my head.
“So, get ready and come into the front room. They still don’t know who you are, and I don’t think Ellen’s ready to let you tell them, but we could always use your help.” I don’t even get to ask him anything before he winks and lets the door close on his statement.
When I finally get into the front room, I see Sam alone at the bar, Dean and Jo at the window, talking and clearly flirting.
“Mom, Ash decided to wake me up. These must be John’s sons. Finally got the fucking message, huh?” I wiggle behind Ellen to get into the back of the bar and grab orange juice, pouring it into a stein Ellen slides toward me, our routine perfected over the years.
“Yeah, Sam’s looking at that folder on the clown case,” Ellen nods to Sam, cleaning our glassware. “Seems like a case he and Dean want to take on.”
I can read Ellen’s face, and I can imagine exactly what she’s left unsaid. I shouldn’t offer to go with Sam and Dean, and it’s unlikely they’d accept my offer anyway. She wants to say I shouldn’t tell them we’re siblings, that I shouldn’t open up that can of worms so soon after John’s death. The boys will come back eventually, and I can tell them then.
“Yeah, we got the message off Dad’s phone. Hello,” Sam awkwardly waves.
“Well, it’s nice to see you again, Sam. I’m Drew. We knew each other back when we were kids. When John came into the Roadhouse more often.” I say, watching Sam’s confused face and Ellen’s annoyed one.
“Huh, well, I’m sorry to say I don’t remember much of the Roadhouse or you, Drew.”
“It’s fine, Sam, most of us who’ve been in the business for this long don’t remember a lot beyond what kills what.” I shrug and move to the other side of the bar to help Ellen finish cleaning up, adding my dirty glass to the pile of dishes.
“Yeah,” Sam nods halfheartedly. “Dean, come here, check this out,” he says with more consciousness. “A few murders, not far from here. Ellen caught wind of them. Looks like it might be a hunt.”
“Yeah, it seemed like something somebody should check out. We haven’t been able to get away from the roadhouse long enough, and Ellen’s refused to let me go alone. Stay safe out there, and if you need resources, my journal has the hunts of more than half the regulars and a few of my own in it. I have a few ideas on what it could be, but I don’t know enough to really eliminate anything yet.” I move to check bottles for fruit flies, hoping that the boys will take the bait.
“So, what, we’re on the case, then?” Dean asks as he takes the folder from Sam.
“Yeah, Sam put you guys on the case. Killer clowns, but whatever it is can either disappear or it’s damn good at hiding from the fucking cops. Could be a ghost, but with the way that it’s tearing apart the victims, I’d look at other options as well. I don’t think the hunt will take longer than it’ll take Ash to get his program done. I know he doesn’t look it, but he’s wicked smart in the tech department. But like I said, I have a practical encyclopedia, so if you find more information, I’d love to know. You know how to get ahold of the Roadhouse, and I can help things go faster, more likely than not.”
“Why don’t you just come with us?” Sam asks and I can already tell that Ellen is going to try and shut him down.
“Drew, sweetheart, I didn’t send you out there for a reason,” Ellen answers before I can.
“Because you can’t dream of me dying. Three’s a hell of a lot better than one, but if you really don’t want me to go, I won’t be a bother.” I say, hoping the feigned sadness in my voice is just enough to gain sympathy.
“Well, how many hunts have you been on, kid?” Dean asks, trying to humor me and placate Ellen.
“Dude, we’re the same age,” I laugh, “but I’ve been on 20 total, 5 by myself. All successful. ten salt and burns, two werewolves, and a vampire nest. I dealt with a skinwalker, a witch, and like four women in white because apparently there are more highways with abused women near the Roadhouse than anywhere else. You’ve gotta guess what I’ve dealt with alone, though.” I smirk and lean on the bar.
Dean is the first to guess with “salt and burns,” but with a shake of my head, he whispers, “fuck.”
“Wait, was it the women in white and the vamp nest?” Sam asks, shocked at the possibility he’s right.
“Yeah, the vamp nest left me with a nasty scar, but I came out alive and conscious, so I can’t say much. I think that’s why Ellen doesn’t let me out anymore. Most women in white just want to go home, so it’s easy if you’re willing to crash the car.” I shrug, my smirk growing at their shock.
“Yeah, we had to learn that the hard way,” Sam sighs, rubbing his chest.
“Well, kid,” Dean says, clearly trying to egg me on. “It seems like you have enough experience. If Ellen lets you and you can get packed by the time we leave, you might as well tag along.”
I turn to give my best puppy dog eyes to Ellen, pleading with my hands in a prayer position. The annoyed nod of her head is all it takes for me to rush off, barely hearing her start the Don’t-Get-My-Boy-Killed talk with “You two better keep him safe.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me, a killer clown?” Dean asks randomly, causing me to jump out of my hunched position from researching. It seems like something so stupidly human, which is why a lot of hunters that come through the bar refused it, but there are parts of the case that I haven’t been able to get out of my head.
“Yeah, and from what I’ve read, dude, the fucking clown leaves the kids unharmed little orphans, but brutally murders the parents. Talk about trauma,” I say, flipping through my journal, moving tabs to the most likely monsters.
“Ripped the parents apart,” Sam nods along.
“And this family was at some carnival that night, right?”
“Yep, Cooper Carnivals, to be exact. And cops don’t know what the fuck is going on. The clown vanishes into thin air every time with no trace. Creepy, even if it is just some guy.” I lean over the bench to grab the drink I bought a few gas stations back.
“And the cops are saying the little kid’s story is just trauma, of course,” Sam says, punctuated by the clicking keys of his laptop. I’ve got to remember to ask him how he has access to the internet all the way out here. Maybe something to do with the phone towers or something.
“Well, I know what you’re thinking, Sam: Why’d it have to be fucking clowns?”
“Oh, give me a damn break, Dean. Don’t bring this up,” Sam sighs. He closes his laptop to give his full attention to the conversation.
Dean laughs. “You don’t think I wouldn’t bring this up? Dude, you still sob any time you see Ronald McDonald.”
“Well, at least I’m not afraid of flying,” Sam quips.
“Planes crash!” comes Dean’s exasperated response.
“And apparently clowns kill!” Sam responds, his voice going higher than Dean’s in annoyance.
“You guys do realize that planes crash a hell of a lot less than cars? It’d be better to fly everywhere than drive, and most of the time murderous clowns are just mentally ill dudes who snapped, and anyone can snap.” I say offhandedly, only to be met with a silent car and as I look up, I see that Dean is looking back and forth from the mirror at me to the road ahead, shocked, and Sam staring at me like I’ve grown a second head.
“Well, at least I can…” Dean trails off, realizing halfway through his sentence that he doesn’t know enough about me to be mean about my fears.
“So, Sam,” I start, switching the subject, “did you find out if the murders are repeats? Similar M.O. different time period?” I ask, taking notes in the Current Case section of my journal.
“Yeah, 1981, the Bunker Brothers. Three times, different locales, same M.O.” Sam dutifully reports.
“It’d be weird if it was a spirit though. Typically, they’re bound to a specific location. Even if the carnival was traveling, the spirit wouldn’t travel with them, they’d just relive whatever happened on those grounds.” I write as I speak. “So that might mean that it could be a cursed object with the ability to appear in a conscious ghostly form or some other thing.”
“Great, paranormal scavenger hunt.” Sam sighs.
Throughout the car ride to the carnival, Sam and Dean make small talk and big talk, none of which I attempt to be privy to. If they wanted me to listen, they’d involve me in the conversation. As they talk, I quietly take more notes on the case, eliminating and writing down the most and least plausible monsters.
I only tune back in when Sam says, “It’s what Dad would have wanted us to do.”
“What dad would have wanted?”
“Yeah, so?” Sam says, and I can tell that this isn’t the same Sam who I heard went to law school, nor is it the Sam that I know lost his loving girlfriend Jessica, it’s the Sam who just lost his only real parent and would do anything to get their approval one last time. Sam didn’t care what John said or what he did until John was dead, but all I want is one more moment to tell the man how much of a bastard he is.
“Nothing,” Dean shrugs, effectively cutting off the conversation so he can calculate exactly what Sam’s going through and exactly how to respond to get the reaction he wants. He’s still looking for John’s approval too, and I wonder how long it will take him to realize he’s been masking everything that should have made Dean who he was meant to be in search of that approval.
As we get out of the godawful minivan, a short woman dressed as a clown stares at Sam. Dean and I share a look before I smile at the woman and decide to keep moving. I’m used to this sort of thing.
“Did you get her number?” Dean asks Sam as we all keep moving.
Sam’s face falls as I let out another snort. “More murders?” He asks as we all notice the cops talking to a few performers.
“Two more last night. Apparently, they were ripped to shreds. And they had a little boy with them.” I wonder how Dean knows what they are talking about until I remember that our favorite activity used to be seeing how far away we could read each other’s lips before it became a game of telephone. He must have kept up the skill somehow.
“Who fingered the clown?” Sam says, almost out of the blue, and Dean and I look at him with what I can only guess is the same confused and appalled look, since Sam looks between us, equally as confused, and he just goes, “What?”
“Yeah, the clown apparently vanished into thin air,” Dean looks back at the conversation between the cops and performers. It doesn’t take long for me to scribble that down and file it away to research later.
“Great,” I say, dripping with sarcasm, “because if we’re looking for a damned cursed object, it’ll be like looking for a needle in a stack of needles around here.”
“Or a clown doll in a sea of clown dolls,” Dean responds.
“We’ll just have to scan everything for EMF then. It’s bound to set off something,” Dean shrugs. Now it’s time for Sam I to give him looks because wow, what an inconspicuous way to close the case.
“Hey, guys,” I get the boys’ attention. “There’s a help wanted sign. I used to swallow swords back when I should’ve been in college, so I’ve got experience. What about you?” I half-turn toward them, only partially expecting the same look we’ve been all giving each other for being stupid throughout the day.
“You used to…swallow swords?” Sam asks, and the look on his face is one of shock.
“Yeah, haven’t you ever had a mental breakdown and ran away? I feel like it’s a hunter’s child rite of passage?”
“Sammy ran away a couple of times. The last time he ran he went to college.”
“So, it seems like neither of you have any cool talents we can use,” I smirk, waiting for them to try and refute me.
Dean finally concedes with a shrug. “I guess we’ll just have to try to blend in a different way.”
There’s a guy throwing knives on our walk through the circus grounds, each one hitting the target, but none of them hitting the bullseye. I notice his sunglasses and realize that he’s blind, but I don’t have a chance to inform my brothers before Dean asks him, “Excuse me, we’re looking for Mr. Cooper, have you seen him around?”
When he pulls off his sunglasses, it isn’t just that he’s blind, he has no eyes at all, and I roll mine as Dean recoils into an apology.
“You think I wouldn’t give my eyeteeth to see Mr. Cooper? Or a sunset? Or anything at all?” The man practically growls, and I can see Dean floundering as another man who I believe has pituitary dwarfism walks up, seeing the commotion.
“Hey, man, is there a problem?” The small man asks as Dean flounders further.
My palm lands, annoyed and almost of its own volition, on my face as the blind man immediately responds with, “Yeah, this guy hates blind people.”
And, when I process just how much of a problem this will be if I don’t try to do damage control, I rush the words out of my brain. “I’m so sorry about this, these are my dumbass brothers. He’s just stupid, I’m so sorry. I wanted to join the circus and these two decided to tag along. I can swallow swords but all these two can do is wipe their own asses.”
“Yeah, it’s just a li-“ Sam starts before I interrupt him by kicking him.
“Please, for the love of all that is holy and unholy, ignore anything that comes out of their mouths, they’ve never seen anyone that isn’t a carbon copy of their own stupidity,” I beg, trying to smile through my annoyance and mild fear that my brothers might beat my ass when they get me alone.
“Brothers?” Dean says as he leans toward me in a whisper.
“Well, I thought it would work, and look at us, heading to the office, so I guess it did. Got you two dumbasses out of fucking trouble, huh?” I shrug before turning toward the noise of the door to Mr. Cooper’s office opening.
“You boys picked a hell of a time to join up. Take a seat,” Mr. Cooper says as he gestures to the seats of the room. One of the three is a godawful clown, while the other two are clearly from a stack in the corner haphazardly placed when knowledge of our arrival came. I can see the cogs turning in Dean’s head before he makes his way to a normal seat, but I can see Sam’s face fall in annoyance, so I use just as much speed to sit in the clown chair. I almost laugh at Dean’s face, only barely realizing that I’ve just joined in on what could be a lifelong prank war.
“We’ve got all kinds of local trouble,” Mr. Cooper says, ignoring our little spat about seating arrangements.
“What do you mean?” Dean and I ask at the same time, our first moment of twin telepathy in a long time, and it hurts to realize that only one of us knows.
“Oh, a couple of folks done got themselves murdered. Cops always seem to start here when that kind of stuff happens.” He sighs before continuing, realizing we are here for business, too. “So, have any of you ever worked the circuit before?”
I immediately answer, knowing that the boys won’t be able to create a sufficient lie. “Well, I did, for about six months a couple of years ago. I had a big mental break and ran away from home, from being a bartender, learned how to swallow swords, and just started learning some fire-work before my folks finally convinced me to head back. These two are newbies, but I’ve tried my best to talk ‘em out of it and they’re still here. I told them they might end up as a shit-sweeper or target practice.” I shrug. I see my two brothers look at me in shock, and I have to hold back a laugh.
Mr. Cooper nods before asking us, “You see that picture?” as he points to a picture on the wall of a man almost identical to him in black and white.
“You look just like him,” Sam says with a tone of sorrow. He is clearly missing John, and I can’t fault him. If I thought that man cared for me at all, maybe I’d be mourning him too. Both boys are missing our father in different ways, but I can’t help but wonder if they realize how far his rancidness reached into them and messed up their heads.
“He was in the business. Ran a freakshow until they outlawed them in most places. Apparently displaying the deformed isn’t dignified, so most of the performers ended up rotting in hospitals or asylums. That’s progress, I guess. You see…this place, it’s a refuge for outcasts, always has been. It’s for the folks who don’t fit in nowhere else. You two, you’ve got a chance at normal, you should go find yourself a couple of girls, 2.5 kids, and live regular. Just because this one ain’t got no chance at normal doesn’t mean you two have to follow in his footsteps.”
When we finally absorb the knowledge that this damned man has bestowed upon us, my brothers try to speak at the same time, and like all older and younger siblings, there is a clear order in the way they were taught to speak their thoughts with Sam winning the unspoken competition. “Sir, we don’t want to go to school, and we sure as hell don’t want to be regular. We want this.” And he says it with such conviction that I can’t help but wonder if he’s saying it for himself, or if he’s saying it for everyone else. What I know for sure is that he isn’t talking about the circus or anything near it. He’s talking about hunting, about whatever John forced him to learn that the poor kid tried so hard to break away from by going to college. The look Dean gives him only proves my suspicions, and it hits me that, no matter how hard Sam tries to get out when he goes to sleep at night, he thinks about what goes bump in the night and he’ll never truly leave the hunt.
“So, wait, you had a complete mental break and, instead of going on a hunt or something normal, you just, what? Went and joined the fucking circus?” Dean’s face shows his astonishment as we get our bags and put them into the shitty motel room.
“Well, yeah. The carnival was in town, and I saw this really hot person handing out flyers, and I kind of just, I don’t know, followed them to the end of the earth until Ellen and Jo found me, leotard and all brought me back. Well, they got Ash to bring me back.” I follow them into the room, putting my bags on the suspiciously stained, plasticized couch.
“So, are you two like a thing, or what?” Dean asks, picking the bed closest to the door, clearly due to the anxiety of being a big brother forced to protect his little brother.
“Ash and I?” I laugh. “I never really thought about it. When we met were both on a bender, and I mean, we never really started dating, but it’s kind of like…we’re each other’s rocks, our people. We don’t fuck, but we’ve taken showers together after getting beer or blood splashed on us, we don’t kiss…usually, but we fall asleep together more often than not. We can drink toe to toe. We send each other writing or coding to proof. We can’t tell whose clothes are whose anymore. It’s just sort of evolved into what it is. I think you’re the first person who’s actually asked.” And I was honest: I had never really thought about it, but I could say we were more than regular friends. Ash and I had become who we were with each other, and I don’t think you could separate us one from the other without a hell of a lot of backlash.
“So, you love him, huh?” Sam asks, so much softer when it comes to love than Dean. He really misses Jessica. Thankfully John and Ellen’s conversations about the boys always came back to me in one way or another, so at least I know the gist of the parts of their lives I missed.
“Yeah, of course I love him. I love Ellen and Jo, too, but I guess that’s different. That’s family. Ash is like, everything else, I guess. He’s family, but he’s just a different version of me and I’m just a different version of him. If we were born into the same family, I’d have to say we would’ve been twins,” and for a second, I look at Dean, wondering how long it will take him to realize the truth. “But I like it the way it is. It’s good,” I nod, smiling at memories of the stupid shit we’ve done.
The next day, we get back to Mr. Coopers, and I don’t even have the time to talk to Sam and Dean about our plan before I get dragged away by a woman signing to me.
“Hello, I’m Helga, I’m deaf, but you need to follow me, dear,” She signs, and I’m, for the first time since it happened, thankful I was cursed to be mute for three months because a witch decided to ding-dong-ditch her spell and I was forced to learn ASL.
“I’m Drew, hi,” I sign back, and her face lights up.
“Sorry, we’ll talk later, guys. I have to prove I wasn’t lying about the sword swallowing.” I say as I’m being pulled away.
“I just assumed that it was the other kind of sword you were talking about,” Dean says with a straight face, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Just wait, Deano, I’ll get you for that one later,” I say as I finally turn around so Helga no longer has to lead me, but I turn too early to see Dean’s confused look as he remembers that only I, or at least the me he doesn't know I am, got to call him that as a kid. I don’t even realize myself until I’m at the table, holding a false sword in the modality of a coat hanger.
Sometime later, Sam ends up approaching me, trash bag and grabber-arm in hand. I’ve already been forced into a tightfitting, flame-printed jumpsuit, my transness kept under the guise of language barriers.
“You look like David Bowie,” Sam laughs in greeting, and I can’t help but smile in annoyance.
“And you look like you just got done cleaning up shit. At least I look cool,” I shrug, wiping a bit of foundation off my hands and onto his jacket.
“Wow, low blow, dude. I came to tell you I found a fucking skeleton while I was cleaning in one of the storage tents.”
“So, you’re wondering if cursed-object-style spirits can be attached to their skeletons, or if that only applies to vengefuls. There’s bound to have been a few murders under the belt of this circus, it’s the lay of the land. I’ve never encountered a skeleton cursed like that, so it’s getting less and less likely this is a spirit. It’s still a line to examine, though. Why don’t you go find Dean and we can talk about it more tonight, okay?” I stop the conversation short as I see Helga waving me over again.
“So, what you’re fucking telling me is that I’m supposed to skip my performance to join your stakeout, possibly losing our connection to the circus and then fucking the job up?” I ask, finally out of costume, but still in makeup.
“Well, yeah, Bowie wannabe. The little girl saw the invisible clown and now we have to save her parents.” I can’t help but chuckle through my response.
“Well, at least I don’t look like I’m about to molest a teddy bear, Dean. I’ll come down to the stakeout once the performance is done, okay?”
“Just make sure you don’t look like a traffic cone and try not to be late. How do you plan to get there? You can’t just walk.”
“I have my ways, don’t worry about me.” I smile, once again noticing someone waving me away. This time it’s the clown woman we saw when we first came to Mr. Cooper’s.
Sneaking up behind Sam and Dean shouldn’t have been possible, but I couldn’t help but try.
“Guess what, Cooper used to work for Bunker Brothers during their clownpocalypse,” I whisper as I appear, causing them both to twist around and get ready to fight who they think is a bad guy. Once they realize it’s me and that I am not a threat, Dean throws his arms up in annoyance, gun and all.
“Come on, don’t fucking do that, we could’ve killed you or something.”
“Keep that down!” Sam stage-whispers as he pulls Dean’s hands back down.
I mumble an apology as I dive into my journal, flipping pages and writing notes. “So, I’m thinking that whatever the fuck is going on was brought on by Cooper, or maybe someone following him from Bunker Brothers. I just don’t know if he’s fucking corrupt or just damn stupid.”
Dean and I aren’t focused on the stakeout when Sam nudges us back to attention. A light comes on in the living room and the little girl from earlier comes to the door. We can’t hear the conversation that goes on before the clown enters the house, but we know we need to jump into action immediately. Thankfully, I learned military signs right along with ASL, because otherwise, I would have no idea what Sam and Dean wanted me to do. Following their orders and giving a few of my own comes naturally, and for a second, in the calm before the adrenaline rush I know is coming, I wonder how good of a team we would have made if we were raised together.
“Want to see Mommy and Daddy? They’re upstairs.” Before the girl can lead the murderous clown into her parent’s bedroom, Sam grabs her, and she immediately starts screaming. Smart girl, but not the best for our situation. I immediately think we’re fucked.
Dean shoots the clown in the chest, only for it to get right back up.
The clown pushes the boys away in the shock before jumping out the window, and I’m the first to follow.
I don’t realize I’m going to be the only one to do so until I hear the parents screaming at Sam and Dean. I don’t even get a sense of where the damn thing went before hearing the boys running to the van. I have everything on me, so I don’t even try to follow, knowing I won’t make it before they drive off, I just steel myself for the long walk to the motel.
“Hey, Ash,” I sigh as he finally picks up.
“What’s up, Drew?” I can hear him become muffled as he puts the phone in between his neck and shoulder. I clearly imagine Ash opening his laptop and beginning to type away.
“Well, the boys and I have a hell of a lot more information now. I’m walking back to the motel now. I’d say expect a call from them, too, but just tell them to fuck off and call me or wait for me to get there.” I duck into the trees as a car drives down the dirt road I’m on, almost dropping my phone.
“Go ahead. I’ve got a lot of your info on my computer.”
“We need to make that fucking program we talked about, babe, then flash drive it. We need a backup. But what we know so far is that this bitch is solid. The salt shell hit something. It seems to be able to turn invisible, and it seems to be able to change form, but I’m not sure if it's just dressing up as a clown or if it’s actually shapeshifting. I’m starting to think maybe Steven King had some hunting experience because this is starting to feel like It.” I almost trip on a root as I step back out into the ditch.
After a few moments, Ash has an answer. “Rakshasa.”
“Holy shit, yeah, why didn’t I think of that,” I say, finally under a streetlight to be able to pull out my journal. “Well, I have it marked as unlikely but plausible. Hindu, right?”
“Yeah, human form, cannibals, invisibility, can’t enter the home without being invited, bed of bugs.” I imagine Ash nods, listing off the bullet points.
“Yeah, he waited for the kid to let him in. Now we just have to figure out who it is. It’s likely Cooper but knowing the rule of hunting without all the info, I’d expect somebody else. Drink a beer on-for me, okay.” I cringe at the slip of tongue.
“Well, I’d love to do both, but you’re in a different town and all I’ve got to remember you by are your clothes. Get home safe.”
“Our clothes, Ash, our clothes, and gross. I’ll do my best, but you know how much I like bruises.” I smirk, wishing we could see each other so I could flip him off in person.
“Absolutely disgusting, goodbye,” Ash’s sarcasm drips through the phone even after his abrupt end to the call, and I can’t help but laugh.
“So, Ash said you had all the information we needed?” Dean asks almost as soon as I get into the room.
“Well, yeah. Rakshasa. It dresses up like a clown, feeds on the parents, then bounces. Easy to not get caught when you can turn invisible. They live in squalor, sleep on a bed of dead insects. Stephen King wasn’t far off. Rakshasa only feed every couple of decades or so, which lines up with the 1981 incidents with Bunker Brothers.” I fling my backpack onto the couch right before flinging myself down.
“And who do we know that worked both shows?” Sam asks as he hands me a beer.
“Cooper,” Dean and I say at the same time, only to look at each other like we’ve grown second heads.
“Maybe that picture of his dad was just a picture of him.” I begin to take notes on what we’ve learned so far.
“Well, how do we kill him?” Dean rummages through his duffle, taking note of all the weapons he has, but I know he doesn’t have the brass knife we need, nor do I.
“Legend says a dagger of pure brass. The blind guy keeps all the knives, and I think one of the sword-swallowing knives is brass, but I’d be wary of anyone in the carnival.”
“We should make damn sure it’s Cooper before we go around stabbing things into him.”
“Oh, you’re such a stickler for details, Sammy,” Dean says as he and Sam smile at each other. “All right, Drew and I can get the blade, you check if Cooper’s got bedbugs.”
“Hey, I’m so sorry to bother you so late at night, dude, but I wanted to get more practice in before my next couple of performances, could you let me into the blade trunk.” I finally catch up to him as the blind guy is heading to his little trailer.
“Yeah, sure kid, come on in,” the guy says, and I give Dean a confused look. He never lets anyone else into the trailer, much less a couple of newbies. The last time I asked, he just pushed the trunk out to his door.
When I open the trunk, it dawns on me exactly why he let us in. I pull out a clown wig and I can’t help but let out a shocked chuckle. “I knew the whole blind man thing was for show. Fuck!” I throw the wig back down and stand up. “You’re always checking out the fucking tiddy twins. Guess they had enough meat on their bones to whet your appetite, fuckass.” And in my anger, I turn around without preparing for retaliation. He drops his cane and pulls off his sunglasses before fading from view, his Cheshire grin the last thing to go.
“Come on, don’t be a pussy, dude. Alice and Wonderland? You could at least try to beat us up with some fucking dignity.” I try to listen for his movement, but before I can even try to catch the guy he punches me in the temple with just enough force to make me dizzy before he swipes my legs out from under me. I hit what I assume to be the edge of the trunk on my way down into the deep dark blackness of unconsciousness.
I wake up in the back of a car I’ve never been in before, and I jump up, ready to fight a bitch, but my head pounds and I lean back in the seat. “Well, fuck me sideways.”
I realize my brothers are in the front seat when I get handed a bottle of water and a bottle of pain pills.
“Hey, we’re almost to the Roadhouse. You were out for a while, Drew,” once I hand back the bottle of pills.
“Good, great, thanks, Sam. Debrief me on what happened when I was knocked out.” I search through my duffle on the floor for my hunter’s journal.
Sam refuses to give me the information, but Dean realizes I’m not going to give up trying to get it now. “Anything brass will kill the fucker.”
“What’d you fucking stab him with?”
“Sam stabbed him with a pipe in the clown-house,” Dean laughs, proud, and Sam looks sheepish about his feat of strength.
“Quick thinking, Sam. I’m glad you guys didn’t fucking die.” I try to hide the truth in my statement by doodling a circus tent on the Rakshasa entry.
“Glad you didn’t either, kid. We were afraid we’d have to bring your body to Ellen and I don’t think she would have let us leave alive.”
“Nah, you would have been buried right beside me.” I smile, closing my journal.
“You boys did a hell of a job,” Ellen says as she sits down three beers. “Your dad would’ve been proud.”
“Thanks,” Sam says shyly and Dean nods in acknowledgment.
Jo sits down on the other side of Dean, and I get the hint, slinking my way off the barstool, hugging my beer as if I’d fall and lose it, but Sam doesn’t even notice Jo.
“Hey, Sam, you seemed to like coding, huh? I can show you some of the stuff Ash and I are working on. We’re trying to create a monster database from the information that passes through the roadhouse,” I tug his shirt and try to give him a get-the-fuck-out sort of look, but before we can even get to the back of the Roadhouse, Ash comes through the door.
“Where’ve you guys been? I’ve been waiting for you,” Ash smiles that smile that used to piss me off so much.
“We were working that job, babes. The clowns?” I meet him back at the bar and give him a hug and a small kick to the shin.
“Ow, fuck. Clowns? What the fuck?” Ash opens his laptop, almost ignoring me.
“You got something for us, Ash?” Dean looks half pissed, and I can tell he doesn’t even realize.
“Did you find the demon?” Sam asks.
“it’s nowhere around. At least, nowhere I can fucking find, but if this fugly bastard raises his head, I’ll know. I mean, I’m on it like Divine on dog dookie.” I can’t help but roll my eyes at his stupidity.
“What do you mean?” Sam asks.
“I mean, any of those signs or omens appear anywhere in the world, my rig’ll go off like a fire alarm.” He ends his sentence with a loving tap onto his laptop.
“Do you mind?” Dean trails off as he tries to grab the laptop and look at it himself.
Ash death glares at him, and I let out a small chuckle. “Dean, that’s his baby. I don’t think you want to lose a hand today, bud.”
“What’s up, man?” Ash asks as I lean over him and start to type up some new information on Rakshasa, almost rejoicing in the looks I can feel Dean and Sam giving me at the double standard I’ve purposefully produced.
“Ash, where’d you learn to do all this?”
“M.I.T. before I got bounced for…fighting.”
“M.I.T.?” Sam’s bewildered expression clearly surprised Ash even went.
“It’s a school in Boston,” Ash says as if that’s why Sam’s so confused.
“Okay,” Dean gives up on the conversation when he sees Sam’s frustration. “Give us a call as soon as you know something, okay?” He nods, clearly ready to leave.
“Si, si compadre.” Ash nods.
Dean takes one last sip of his beer before he and Sam head for the door. Ellen takes a moment, makes eye contact with me, and says, “Hey, listen, if you boys need a place to stay, I’ve got a couple of beds in the back.”
“Thanks, but no, sorry. There’s something I gotta finish,” Dean says, and I know a big part of that is his need to fix the Impala. He wants to fix his relationship with John, even though he’s dead.
“Hey, Ash?” I yell from the bar, popping four beers in front of four people all at once.
“Yeah?” He questions, calculating every play he could make at the pool table.
“You think they’ll be okay?”
“Yeah, they bottle shit up, but they’ll get through it. I’m surprised you didn’t tell them, honestly.” He shoots, only a few more rounds away from winning.
“I mean, the ruse I pulled during the hunt was that they were my dumbass brothers, so I’m surprised neither of them caught on at all.” I shrug, acknowledging an empty beer in need of replacing by taking it out of the hand it was being held in and going behind the bar.
“They’re stupid, you know this. You’re worse than them half the time,” Ash smirks.
“Well, fuck you too, babe. At least I…I have nothing.” I roll my eyes at him as I replace a man’s beer, getting just close enough to smack Ash’s ass as he shoots pool, ruining the shot by a millimeter.
“Hey!” Ash yells as I retreat to the bar.
“You’ll still win, bitch, shut the fuck up.” I flip him off with a smile.
Chapter 2: The Bloodlust of a Broken Man
Summary:
Sam makes a call to the Roadhouse and a freaked out Drew rushes to his brothers' aid unprompted and scared.
Notes:
This might be cringy as fuck but if you couldn't tell I have a habit of inserting little stupid things into this fic to make my heart happy, so Drew owns a Suburu Baja because I said so. Here's the wiki link if you have no idea what I'm talking about: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Subaru_Baja
Chapter Text
“Harvelle’s Roadhouse,” I hear Ellen speak as she picks up the bar phone and I make sure to pick up the work left behind while I eavesdrop. I sign who when I get a chance to turn toward her.
“Sam, it’s good to hear from you. You boys are okay, aren’t you?” Ellen checks in while confirming who’s on the phone. I wish I could hear the other side of the conversation, but I know she’ll share when she’s done.
“Yeah, shoot.” Ellen nods.
“Yeah, I know Gordon,” Ellen looks at me and I almost drop the beer in my hand, but I stop myself by sitting it on the table it was meant for. I apologize halfheartedly as I scurry back to the bar, my heart on the floor.
“Well, he’s a real good hunter. Why are you asking, sweetie?” And I’ve already got wheels turning. Where are they? How fast could I get to…well, anywhere? Why would they take the same case as Gordon? Are they okay?
“Don’t do that, Sam,” Ellen says, and when we make eye contact, I can read her face: Don’t you dare stop serving customers until I get off the phone. And for once, I listen.
“Yeah, and Hannibal Lecter’s a good psychiatrist. Look, Gordon, he’s dangerous to everyone and everything around him. If he’s working on a job, you boys just let him handle it and move on, okay?” Ellen’s voice worries me, her tone the same as when Jo tries to do something she doesn’t want Jo to do.
“No, Sam? You, you just listen to what I’m telling you, please,” Ellen pleads, and I hope that Sam takes her word, but with the look Ellen gives me, she already knows Sam, and especially Dean, won’t listen.
When she hangs up the phone, I’m rushing to ask her questions, “Why are they working with Gordon on a case?”
“I don’t know, but I’m worried about them,” Ellen says as she takes over the bar and nods to an empty stool right in the middle.
As I sit on the stool my second question comes. “Did he give you any idea as to where they were?”
“No, but I have a feeling you might know.”
“Well, last I heard of Gordon, he was in Austin, at least that’s where I left him. I’ll make the call, see if he’s still tracking who I think he is.” I slide off the stool with the fervor of a drunk man, adrenaline still running from the anxiety of hearing Gordon’s name in association with my brothers.
“If you get killed, I’m bringing you back just so I can kill you again, and I’m calling Ash when I get a chance,” Ellen yells as I go through the backroom door.
“Love you, too, Mom, and tell him not to rush, I'll be fine,” I yell back as I run to my room to hastily pack a bag for the second time this month, balancing my phone in between my neck and shoulder. I think about calling Ash myself, but he’s on a run, so I dial my second favorite vampire’s phone number and hope he answers the phone.
His gruff voice answers the phone with an annoyed and slightly confused, "Hello."
“Eli, hey, dude, sorry to bother you,” I rush my words out even faster than I'm shoving clothes in my bag. “Um, I was wondering if you guys were being tracked. I’ve been keeping up with you guys best I could, but Gordon has an awful habit of picking up cases wherever he can, so I haven’t been perfect at keeping up with him. I’d highly recommend booking it and getting out of there, but I’m heading that way. You guys still in Montana?” It’s where they've been for almost half a year, so I’m hoping for the best. We've thankfully been able to keep up with each other enough that I keep most other hunters off their tails and I know the second they know someone in the nest has gone bad.
“Yeah. It’s Gordon and two other guys. They’ve already killed two good members of the nest, and we’re getting pretty fucking pissed out here, but Lenore’s already packing up. I don’t expect this to end pretty, though. I’m going to have to leave her alone to go round up the rest of the bunch.” I can hear the worry in his voice, and I rush even faster, running through the list of things I need in my head before making my way out of the Roadhouse.
“Oh, it won’t end pretty, but I’m hoping that Sam and Dean can talk sense into Gordon enough that we can keep the rest of you dumbasses alive. Stay safe and don’t die again, please.”
“I don’t plan on it,” Eli says with confidence, and I can’t help but smile.
“Dumbass. I’m heading that way, I’ll see you when I see you.”
On the drive to Red Lodge, I’m practically self-destructing. I know the kind of man Gordon is, and if he gets wind of the weird shit going on with Sam, Gordon will kill him with no remorse. Lenore, Eli, and the rest of the nest could all die because one hunter doesn’t understand morality is a spectrum. I’ve met many a morally grey monster in my time, and I haven’t hesitated to kill, injure, and/or maim them when they’ve stepped out of line, but not a moment before. Lenore’s nest is the only hunt I never had to finish, but it’s also the one that left me with the nastiest scar.
Thankfully, when I pull into the motel I have just enough brain power not to rush in like a maniac, and I’m able to hear the tail end of Sam and Dean’s current conversation.
“What part of vampires don’t you understand, Sam? If it’s supernatural, we kill it, end of story. That’s our job,” Dean says, clearly angry at Sam for having the same realizations I had the first time I went on this hunt.
“Well, Dean, have you really never let a hunt go because they weren’t hurting anyone?” I ask before the conversation can escalate any further. When I lean against the wall of the motel, I, once again, scare my brothers enough they bring out their weapons and point them in my direction.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Dean’s gun is still pointed at my head, but Sam has already lowered his.
“I called Ellen. She must have sent him to check up on us.” Sam somehow embodies the sheepishness of a child who got caught sticking his hand in the cookie jar.
I see Dean’s look of anger and try to do damage control. “She didn’t send me out, I heard Gordon and came running. That man is his own monster if you ain’t careful enough. How long’s he been tracking the nest?” I try and scrape for answers without giving too many of my own.
“Why should I even fucking tell you, Drew? You come running like some kind of white knight and expect all the information we can give you? We don’t even know you and we sure as hell didn’t ask for your fucking help. We don’t need you, kid,” Dean sneers as he waves his arms around, and I can’t help but snort at his attempt to upset me.
“Dean, you can’t hurt me any worse than I’ve hurt myself, and you sure as hell can’t push me away by trying. I just want to make sure little old Gordy doesn’t fuck around and find out,” I sneer back.
“Find out what? He’s been on these vamps for a year, man, he knows what he’s doing.” Dean says as he starts approaching me, unintentionally giving me the information I need in his angered state. Gordon really never learned his lesson.
“Yeah, Dean? How do you know you can trust him, huh? You sure as hell don’t trust me, and you aren’t trusting Sam on this by what I’ve heard. Gordon is bad news, real fucking bad news. He’s turned himself into a monster all by himself, and I don’t wanna see the outcome of this hunt if he decides to turn on you,” I approach Dean, matching his energy in hopes of getting through to him. I can see Sam out the corner of my eye giving me a look like a lightbulb’s gone off in his head, but I don't have time to think on it now.
“Why do you think he’ll turn on us, huh?” Dean asks and I realize with a roll of my eyes that I’ve only riled him up further. “Why do you even fucking care? We met you less than a month ago! Is it because Ellen has some maternal instinct she’s decided to push onto us since Dad died? Is she pitying us? Is it something our dad said that makes you think you’re entitled to help us when we don’t even fucking need you? I’m tired of people thinking I can’t handle shit on my own. I can take care of myself and Sammy without the help of some stupid-ass bartender.” Dean’s fully in my space, poking at my chest, and when I glance at Sam he’s ready to try and break up a fight.
“Dean,” I pause and take a breath, trying to collect what dignity and civility I have left. “Dean, you’ve taken care of Sam and yourself your whole life, and I respect that. I respect that you can handle yourself against the world and against any case that comes across your radar, I don’t fucking doubt that one bit. But you don’t know me, you don’t know Ellen, and you sure as hell don’t know Gordon! That man, he’s more of a monster than anything I’ve ever faced, and you want to know why I think so? It’s because he’s still human. He has no remorse for anything he’s ever done. That nasty scar I got on that vampire hunt I mentioned last time we met? It wasn’t from a vampire. It was from Gordon’s big-ass knife because I got in his fucking way and he decided that I was expendable. I might be some dumbass bartender, but I know a hell of a lot more about what is going on here today than I do about making drinks. I’m not leaving this town until I make sure that everyone who deserves to get out gets out.” I’m poking Dean in the chest now, and Sam takes a step closer, so I decide to make one more jab before I walk away, trying to get a last word in, almost hoping Dean will get angry enough to throw a punch.
“You might have found some replacement for John in Gordon, but you really can’t see just how shitty of a replacement he is, can you?” I ask as I turn around and take a few steps back. In a second, I’m up against the wall of the motel, pinned just enough that Dean feels secure in his place in the world.
“You don’t get to say anything about John Winchester,” Dean spits out his words. “You have no idea what kind of man he was.” And it takes all I have not to tell him the truth, all I have not to spill my guts and ruin his day, because I know if I scream at Dean that John Winchester was my dad, too, he might just kill the entire nest in retaliation, might rampage through this delicate situation, and at this moment Lenore is more important than letting Dean know exactly who I thought John Winchester was.
“Oh, I have a great idea of what kind of man John Winchester was, Dean. He left a big nasty hole in your already dark heart, and it hurts so bad you can barely stand it, but Gordon isn’t going to fill up that hole, and no one you decide to fuck along the way is going to help fill it up either. I don’t give a shit about John Winchester, but even I know that trying to replace him with Gordon is an insult to his memory. John was a better man than Gordon will ever be.” Dean pushes me up against the wall again, just hard enough that I can hear my brain rattle in my skull, and I hope that I’ve gotten through to him.
“Shut the fuck up,” he says as he walks away, but I see his fist clench and I brace myself for the punch that follows.
Dean turns to Sam, “I’m going to that nest. You don’t want to tell me where it is, fine. I’ll find it myself,” and he storms into their motel room.
“Gordon?” Dean asks as he checks the room for the now missing man.
“You think he went after them?”
Sam turns silently checks on me as we both make our way to the doorway, and I shake my head and Sam nods his.
“Probably.”
“Dean, we have to stop him,” Sam pleads, and I take the opportunity to send a text to Eli: Gordon’s coming, I’d recommend leaving your belongings and running faster than you’ve ever run before.
“Yeah, we’ll see. Hand me the keys.” Dean holds his hand out.
“He snaked them,” Sam points to the table, and I let out a laugh because of course he did.
“Well, my truck is right here if you’d like to get there in time to save the day,” I point at the dingy Subaru Baja, sighing as I realize once again just how stupid the thing looks.
“I can’t fucking believe this, I just fixed her up, too,” Dean throws his hands up in defeat before pulling out a lockpicking kit and picking the lock of his trunk faster than I could have ever unlocked it with the key.
“So, this bridge all you got, Sammy?” Dean asks as he starts shoving hunting gear into a duffle bag.
Sam lays out a map he pulled out of his pocket, glancing over it and tracing it with his hands. “The bridge was four and a half minutes from their farm.” He really is a fucking genius, I think.
“How do you know?” Dean glances up at him, half-surprised but somewhat expecting Sam's thoughtfulness.
“I counted.” Sam starts tracing a path on the map laid out on the hood of the impala. “They took a left out of the farm, then turned right onto a dirt road, followed that for two minutes slightly up a hill, then took another quick right and we hit the bridge.”
“You’re damn good, Sam. A monster pain in my ass, but you’re good.” Dean says as he nods to my truck. I unlock the bed cover and hop in so I can shove stuff around to make room for Dean's bag.
As Dean slings his duffle onto the tailgate and pushes it into the bed, he finally realizes what he’s about to ride in. “Why do you have such a fugly truck, dude? And after giving us shit for the minivan?”
“I gave you shit on the minivan because I knew you drove the impala normally. This fugly truck was free from a rich guy I saved on a hunt. All legal and everything.” I pat the side before I hop out of the bed and lock it back up.
“Wow, maybe I should start taking more high-profile cases,” Dean thinks out loud.
“I almost went to jail," I snort as I remember how fast that went south and think, I hope this case doesn't go to shit. "The only thing that saved me was the fact that he was the doctor-son of the chief of police. Would not recommend.” I turn to Sam who’s just started folding up the map. “Dude, we gotta go. Anything else you need, grab that shit and come on.”
“Sam, Dean, come on in,” I hear Gordon from my spot on the other side of the wall and I’m thankful he doesn’t know I’m here.
“Hey, Gordon. What’s going on?” Dean asks, pretending to be cordial.
“Just poisoning Lenore here with some dead man’s blood. She’s going to tell us where all her little friends are, aren’t you? Want to help?” Gordon is ten times crazier than the last time I dealt with him, and I wonder if I’m partially at fault.
“Look, man,” Dean starts, but Gordon cuts him off with more unhinged rambling.
“Grab a knife. I was just about to start on the fingers.” It takes everything in me not to run in right then and there, especially once I hear Lenore whimpering as Gordon cuts into her. I know she’s innocent and I know that Gordon doesn’t care because she’s something he’s not, and that’s enough for him to deem her wrong.
“Woah, woah, woah,” Dean starts, trying to calm Gordon down. “Hey, Gordon, dude, let’s all just chill out, huh?”
“I’m completely chill,” Gordon answers with such conviction I clench my fists in anger. At least he understood how to deal with people last time we met, and some part of me feels guilty for being the most likely reason he's so much more fucked up now.
“Gordon put the knife down,” Sam pleads, hands raised as he slowly approaches.
“Sounds like it’s Sam here who needs to fucking chill.”
“Just step away from her, all right?” Sam says, covertly signaling my entry.
“Yeah, Gordon. Why don’t you just step away from her, huh?” I step into the barn and as soon as I see his face, I remember how bloody and bruised and fucked up we left each other.
“Oh, Drew, it’s you,” Gordon says in a complete monotone that makes every hair on my body stand on edge. “You here to tie me up again? I hope it’s more fun this time. Austin was rather…messy.” Gordon’s grotesquely innocent smile perfectly accents the big-ass knife he wields.
“But you’re right, you two." He turns back to Sam and Dean as if I was never there. "I really am wasting my time here. This bitch’ll never talk. Might as well put her out of her misery,” Gordon turns the knife over in his hand, using it as a mirror, “I just sharpened this beauty, so it’s completely humane.” And as Gordon turns to Lenore, both Sam and I jump into action. Sam gets to him first, Gordon puts the knife against Sam’s chest in retaliation, and I can tell Gordon’s completely willing to shove it all the way in if we try to stop him.
“Gordon, I’m letting her go.” Sam’s just trying to distract Gordon enough to disarm him. Of course it doesn't work because Gordon might be crazy but he's smart.
“You’re not doing a damn thing,” Gordon leans closer to Sam, and by Sam’s wince I can tell that Gordon’s pushing the knife in just enough to be painful.
“Hey, hey, hey, Gordon, let’s talk about this.” Dean starts, but Gordon never turns around.
“What’s there to talk about? It’s like I said, Dean. No shades of gray.” Dean starts to approach Gordon. I’ve already made my way behind Lenore, afraid to get any closer because I know if I make one wrong move Gordon would stab Sam with no remorse.
“Yeah, I hear you, and I know how you feel, Gordon,” Dean’s hands are still up in the air.
“Do you?”
“That vampire that killed your sister deserved to die, but this one…” Dean’s attempt to convince Gordon to walk away is cut off by the man himself laughing, and I can’t help but join in because I know exactly what Gordon’s about to say and just how much that turns the tides in our favor.
“Killed my sister? That filthy fanger didn’t kill my fucking sister, it turned her. It made her one of them, and so I hunted her down and I killed her myself.”
“You did what?” Dean says, shock evident in his voice and posture, imagining what he would have done in the same situation.
“It wasn’t my sister anymore, Dean, it wasn’t human. I didn’t blink, and neither would you,” Gordon sneers, and by the look on Dean’s face, he’s finally realized just how insane Gordon really is because Dean knows he would never make that decision if it were Sam.
Sam realizes exactly what Ellen tried to warn him about. “So, you knew all along then, huh? You knew about the vampires, you knew they weren’t killing anyone, you knew about the cattle, you knew about it all and you just didn’t care.”
I unconsciously hold my stomach as I speak. “Of fucking course he knew, Sam! I met him back in Austin at the beginning of his tirade against the nest. I had to mummify him in rope just so they could fucking escape. We both left with broken noses, but I left that fight a lot worse off than him.”
“Yeah, and Lenore here left town with a trail easy enough to follow all the way up to Montana. Stupid, if you asked me. A nest of vampires suddenly acting nice can only act nice for so long, and we’re supposed to buy the innocent act? Trust me, it doesn’t change what they are, and I can prove it.” In a second Gordon has moved from poking Sam with a knife to being behind him, putting Sam in a chokehold as he slices Sam’s arm. I remember being in a position just like that, but I was getting gutted in front of Eli rather than delicately sliced in front of Lenore.
In a moment of twin telepathy, Dean and I pull out our guns and command Gordon in sync. “Let him go, now!”
Gordon sighs, gesturing his knife dramatically as if he’s performing Macbeth rather than standing in the middle of a barn about to murder my brother.
“Relax, if I wanted to kill him, he’d already be on the floor. I’m just making a little point here.” Gordon makes sure Sam’s blood lands on Lenore’s face causing her to wince as her fangs extend, “You think she’s different? Still wanna save her? Look at her, they’re all the same. Evil and bloodthirsty.” Lenore only takes a moment before she’s able to retract her fangs and calm down, and I breathe a sigh of relief because no matter how long someone's been sober, they can always relapse, and a vampire on cow's blood is just a sober addict. I trust Lenore with all the parts of me I can, and I know that if she slipped up now it would be her only slip-up, but that doesn't mean I don't worry for her.
“You hear her, Gordon?” Sam spits as he steps out of the danger zone. “We’re done here.”
“Drew, Sam, get her out of here,” Dean commands, and the two of us nod. Sam picks her up and I put my gun away before grabbing the last of the boxes. Gordon’s attempt to stop us and bolt is almost comical as Dean waves his gun to remind Gordon of what position he’s stuck in.
“Nope, Gordon, you stay put. I think we’ve got some things to talk about,” Dean says, and I can’t help but smile at the parallelism we’ve created, happy that my brother doesn’t have the pleasure of sharing the same nasty scar I have.
“Get out of my way,” Gordon seethes.
“Sorry,” Dean shrugs, and I begin to walk backward so I can get a view of the show.
“You’re not fucking serious, Dean.”
“I’m having a hard time believing it, too, but I know what I’ve seen. If you want those vampires, you’ve got to go through me.”
“And me,” I smile as I reach the barn doors, “but you already knew that Gordy. And Dean, please break his nose again if you get the chance. His face scrunches up and he bleeds in just the cutest way.”
Gordon’s pissed off look gives me immense joy as I rush over to Lenore’s truck. Sam already has her in the passenger seat, so I put the box in Lenore's truck bed before closing the tailgate and rushing over to her.
“Lenore, I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t know he’d get here so fast. Do you want me to call Eli? He can drive you once we round everyone up, but I don’t want him coming all the way back here.” I’m already pulling out my phone before she gets a chance to nod her answer.
“So, you’re the reason he didn’t get the whole nest back in Austin,” Sam says his question rather than asking.
“He got three of her most loyal people before I could get him. Hell, I’m the only hunter who’s ever killed a bad egg in the nest. Pisses me off.” I lean against the truck as Eli picks up the phone.
“Hey, Eli, I’ve got Lenore here, she’s injured, so she probably needs some blood, but where would be best for us to meet? I was thinking gas station on fourth, but if you want, we can just meet wherever we meet on the way out. My bro-Sam will be driving my truck behind me,” I cringe and turn to Sam. He looks at me like I’ve just blown his head off, but I try my best to ignore it as I toss him my keys and nod toward my truck, “so I’ll be able to follow you guys out for I’d say about an hour out of town before we come back and pick up Dean.”
“Lenore’s hurt? Well shit, I’ve got one last group to get ahold of then I can meet you wherever, just head to the gas station and I’ll call when I find them.”
“It’s that group of hippie college students that got in that wreck, isn’t it?” I ask with a smile.
“Yeah, they’re probably getting high with the locals. If you could, swing by that barn and check up on them, okay?”
I look in the back of the truck. “Yeah, dude, sure. They’ll fit in the back if they need to.”
“Nah, they have their own car, they’ll leave together if you find them.”
“Of course, Eli. And thanks for keeping her safe.” I move to get into the truck and pat Lenore on the arm, sharing a sad smile with her.
Dean’s pacing when we get back, clearly worried that maybe Gordon was right, but Gordon’s smug smile melts into one of anger when he sees that we’ve come back unharmed.
“Did we miss anything?” I ask as I give Gordon a cold smile, wiggling his keyring around my finger, almost giddy with adrenaline once again.
“Nah, not much. Lenore get out okay?” Dean asks.
“Yeah, all of them did.” I approach the table in front of them and lean against it.
“Then I guess our work here is done. How’re you doing, Gordy? Gotta tinkle yet?” Dean is having as much fun as I wish I got to have back in Austin. “All right. Well, get comfy. We’ll call someone in two or three days, have them come out and untie you.” Dean hands Gordon’s knife over to me and I turn it over in my hands, mimicking Gordon's earlier actions.
“I think I’ll leave his keys; this seems payment enough,” I smirk as I pull his keys back out and throw them across the barn. “Oops, I might need to get that checked out. I’ve been having a lot of spasms lately.” I approach Gordon and kick him as hard as I can in the shin. “Oh, and there’s another one.”
I step back enough that he can’t lash out and I look at the big knife again, still red in a few places. “If you come after us or after the nest, I’ll make sure I’m the one who gets to rip you limb from limb, and I’ll pull out your heart just so I can watch it beat outside of your body.”
Dean and Sam both look slightly horrified as I stand back up and make my way out of the barn. I’ve dealt with enough of Gordon’s shit to know that he won’t forget us, but with a threat like that, I hope he’ll leave everyone alone for a while.
“Ready to go, Dean?” Sam asks as he watches me leave.
“Not yet. Well, I guess this is goodbye, Gordon. It’s been real,” and I turn to see Gordon and his chair fall to the floor. “Okay, I’m good now, we can go.”
Once we’re all outside the barn, I hear Dean say, “I wish we never took this job, it’s jacked everything up,” as I unlock the truck and sit in the driver’s seat.
“What do you mean?” Sam asks, not realizing that Dean’s never really had to think about the intricacies of when to kill and when to just monitor a situation.
“Think about all the hunts we went on, Sammy, our whole lives.” Dean leans against the truck and I lean out of it just enough to see him without falling.
“Okay,” Sam nods as he joins him.
“What if we killed things that didn’t deserve killing, you know? I mean, the way Dad raised us…” Dean trails off, and I take a chance to try and reason with him.
“Most monsters deserve killing, Dean. There’s no doubt about that. It’s why we call them monsters. Very few have the mental capacity or the opportunity to retain their humanity and mitigate the damage they do.” And when I say it, I think of Gordon and how he’s not even in the conventional monster category, yet he’s done so much more damage than Lenore’s nest could even imagine.
“And after what happened to Mom, Dad did the best he could,” Sam says with a glance in my direction. When we make eye contact, I know that he’s trying to send me some sort of telepathic apology and I can already feel cocoons begin to burst open in my stomach.
“I know he did, but the man wasn’t perfect. And the way he raised us…to hate those things, and man, I hated them, I still do. When I killed that vampire at the mill, I didn’t even think about it. Hell, I even enjoyed it, but now, now that I know he wasn’t killing anyone it feels…different.” Dean starts to walk around the truck to the passenger seat, leaving Sam to sit in the back.
“But you didn’t kill Lenore, Dean, you kept your wits about you and finished the case right.” I lean into the truck to look at Dean before moving to start the truck. I know that Dean would see the truth once he got to the barn, and Gordon forcefully showed it to him.
“No, but every instinct told me to. I was going to kill her; I was going to kill them all.” And Dean really means it, I know he does because all three of us have that anger bred into us. Even though John didn’t raise me, I still got that same anger and need to be right.
“Yeah, Dean, but you didn’t, and that’s what matters,” Sam leans between the seats, and I’m glad he has a bit of mom in him, too, and not just John.
“Thanks,” Dean smiles, not letting it reach the rest of his face.
“Don’t mention it,” Sam responds as he leans back to sit more comfortably.
“I’ll drop you guys off at the motel, you can get your shit out of my truck, then we can part ways, huh?” I ask as I pull out and begin the end of our adventure.
“That works for me,” Dean nods, “and thanks for coming. You really did help, and I’d apologize for being an asshole, but we still could’ve handled it on our own.” Dean smirks as he turns the radio on and begins his search for hair metal or dad rock.
“Oh, I know that for a fact, Deano. Honestly, I freaked when I heard Gordon’s name. I sped all the way here because all I could see was you and Sam getting gutted just like I did. And when I realized it was Lenore, I could just see all those innocent vampires dead for no goddamn reason except Gordon’s fucked up morals. The vamp nest I almost died hunting, it was Lenore’s, and it wasn’t because a single one of them hurt me, it was because Gordon thought I was a little too tight and friendly with them and he decided to cut me up in hopes they’d kill me or turn me so he could do it himself. Lenore deserves so much more than the hand she’s been dealt, and Gordon deserves so much less. I couldn’t just stand there when you two or Lenore could be in danger.” I almost choke on my words as I imagine all the horrible things that could have happened if this hunt went any further south.
“Why do you care so much?” Dean asks, and I glance at Sam in the mirror before turning back to the road.
“We wouldn’t have helped with the demon problem if we didn’t care about you two, Dean. Ellen, Ash, Jo, and I are all we have, and now you and Sam are all you have, but sometimes somebody comes along that we know we can trust, and we make sure to keep them safe when we can. You guys just so happen to fall into that category for me, for the Roadhouse, really.” I shrug, keeping my eyes on the road.
“You just met us, there’s no reason you should trust us.” And I can tell that Dean’s trying to prove to himself that no one else but Sam cares for him, and I shake my head with a sad smile.
“Dean, just because you don’t remember me doesn’t mean I’ve just met you,” I sigh, “Like I said, John used to come to the Roadhouse a lot, and he was one of the good ones. He might not have been the best dad to you two, but I know he instilled some damn good values in you. Ellen can see that, too. If she trusts you, so do I.”
“Sure, kid,” Dean smirks, but I can tell by the way he says it that he doesn’t believe me one bit, no matter how much the logical part of his brain tells him that it’s true.
“We’re literally the same age, dude, why do you insist on calling me kid?”
“You look like a twelve-year-old boy,” Dean’s smile only grows wider.
“And last time I checked, you look like you’re on death’s door.”
Once we get into the motel, Dean’s practically running to the room, but he pauses when Sam asks, “Hey, Drew, can I talk to you for a second?”
“Yeah, sure. I’ve got nothing but the road ahead of me.” I already feel the butterflies swirling as Sam shares a look with Dean and he goes into the motel alone while Sam settles into the passenger seat.
“You’re not Ellen’s kid, are you?” Sam asks, getting straight to the point.
I pause, doing my best to decide what course of action I should take. Should I tell him the truth outright, or let him get there on his own. I realize that mild evasion is the best option. "Not by birth, if that's what you're asking. She raised me, though."
“You said we knew each other back when we were kids, right?” Sam asks, still looking out the windshield like he’s pinning his thoughts to it.
“Yeah,” I nod, the butterflies growing strong enough that I feel like I might throw up.
“But dad never took us to the Roadhouse. Neither one of us remember it at all.” Sam shakes his head.
“You’re not entirely correct. He took you there once, or rather, took us there.” And it’s like the lightbulb above Sam’s head has exploded.
“You’re Dea-,” Sam starts, but I cut him off before he can say the name I buried a long time ago.
“Yep,” I sigh, the butterflies leaving me and making me feel emptier than before.
“You’re Dean's twin who dad said died in the housefire.” The shock is evident in Sam’s voice.
“Well, his first excuse was that I went to live with distant relatives. Then, when he started coming to the Roadhouse more often, he realized I had found my identity and decided it was easier to just say I had died. I suppose that little girl did die, John sure as hell thought so.” I shake my head, remembering all the screaming that happened the last time John and I talked. “I think he wanted me to be dead so he didn’t have to face abandoning me.”
“Who else knows?” Sam asks, always thinking of the logistical aspects of any new bit of important information.
“Ellen, Jo, and Ash. Some other hunters, too, I’d imagine. I’m surprised Gordon didn’t, in all honesty. John only really tried to keep it from you and Dean, I think.” I shrug, noncommittal because I know that John did his best to separate us, but I did my best to make sure everyone knew who I was. Some part of me feels bad in the moments I realize that I might have had some part in the isolation from the outside world John put my brothers through.
“Dean remembers you from when you were kids. He absolutely freaked when you called him Deano, but he hasn’t connected the dots yet.” Sam’s face shows that he finds it equally funny and sad that Dean hasn’t figured it out.
“And I think we should keep it that way for now. Let him figure it out naturally because he’s going to be just as angry if we tell him now as if we wait until he figures it out himself. You’re both still mourning the good parts of John, and if we tell Dean now, it will fuck him up, Sam. It’ll fuck him up real bad, and you need him right now.” For the first time since we’ve sat in the truck, Sam makes eye contact with me and I can see the cogs in his head turning behind his eyes.
“I don't like this, Drew, but I think you're right. If we tell him now it'll just make him angry and he'll lash out, make stupid decisions. You saw the way the two of you yelled and lashed out at each other last night, but I'm not gonna keep it from him. He'll put the pieces together eventually, and I won't stop him from figuring out who you really are." Sam shakes his head, and I wonder for a moment how Sam came out so good, so unlike the rest of us. I'm thankful that his head's screwed tight on his shoulders after everything that's happened to him.
I can feel tears welling up in my eyes as I nod at Sam. "I don't want to keep this from him, Sam, and I know you don't either, but there's got to be a better time than this."
Sam chooses not to respond, but the expression on his face says, There's never a better time. As he steps out of the truck, the finality of the situation hits me and I let the tears fall as they may. I’ve dealt with the pain of not being able to talk to my brothers for two decades and I know that once Dean puts the pieces together he’s going to run as far and as fast as he can from it, but that doesn’t mean I’m not afraid of the feeling.
Chapter 3: Dr. Badass and His Assistant to The Rescue
Summary:
Dean and Sam ask "Dr. Badass" and Drew for help with the newest Demon Child case. Sam and Drew have another brother moment.
Notes:
I really abandoned this fic for a while, huh?
Chapter Text
I’m cleaning glasses behind the bar when I hear Jo. “Just can’t stay away, huh?”
I hear Dean Winchester answer. “Yeah, looks like. How you doin’, Jo?”
And I relax. He seems at ease, but when I look up, Sam looks to be in more distress than I’ve ever seen him in. The glasses in my hands are placed delicately in the sink and I’m moving around the bar before Sam even asks, “Where’s Ash?”
“Sam, he’s back in his bedroom, I’ll go-” but before I can even offer, Sam is rushing away.
“Ash? Hey, Ash?” Sam knocks on the door so fast his hand is a blur, but I know my Ash and I gently push Sam aside.
“Hey, Dr. Badass?” I knock with a sigh, hanging my head, but my third knock is a soft tap on Ash’s forehead.
“Sam? Dean? Sam and Dean,” Ash pauses before looking in my direction, my fist still resting on his forehead. “Drew,” he smirks before he picks my hand off his head, interlaces our fingers, then lets our hands drop away from each other. I’m not even surprised by the fact that Ash is naked, but I am somewhat annoyed that he had the audacity to open the door all the way.
“Hey, Ash,” Sam stutters, his brain finally rebooting. “We need your help.” Sam is doing everything he can to not accidentally check Ash out, but Dean is simply trying to do it covertly.
“Well hell, then, I guess this means I’ll need my fucking pants, huh?” Ash frowns, not even waiting for an answer before he closes the door.
I turn to the boys and clasp my hands. “I’d say that went well. Give him time to get dressed and all will be right with the world once again.”
I move into position behind Ash, clear view of his computer, as he answers the vague question Sam asked. “Well, I got a match. It’s the logo from the Blue Ridge bus lines in Guthrie, Oklahoma,”
“Okay, great, but do me a favor and check Guthrie for any demonic signs, omens, anything like that.”
Now my brain has bells ringing all over the place, and each one brings on a new sense of worry.
“You think the demon’s there?” Ash questions.
“Yeah, maybe,” Sam shrugs. He’s avoiding telling the full truth, and I try my best to pretend like I don’t want to pick it out of him.
“Why would you think that?” I punctuate my false lack of commitment by leaning my head on Ash’s left shoulder and turning toward Sam.
“Just check it, alright?” Dean is quick to ask so I come to my own conclusions. This must have to do with the nursery fire and what happened to Sam and Mom. I can feel Ash frown and I match his face as he complies with the request.
“No sir, nothing, nada. No demon. My apologies,” Ash shrugs, subconsciously forcing me to stand up straight again.
“All right,” Sam’s gaze shifts to the rest of the bar a few times before he speaks again. “Try something else for me. Search Guthrie for a house fire. It would be in 1983, originating in the baby’s nursery exactly six months after their birth.” Sam glances up at me, then at Dean, and back to me. I can see on Sam’s face that he’s hoping Dean notices my immediate recognition, but Dean is too busy looking for eavesdroppers.
“Okay, now, that’s just weird, man. Why the hell would I be looking for that?” Ash’s shocked face turns to me and I shake my head, signing << don’t ask>> . I can already see Sam grabbing a beer for Ash, and I know that it’ll be payment enough from the boys but he’ll ask me about everything later. I can divulge much more without the prying eyes of my unknowing brothers and the eavesdropping patrons of the bar.
“Because there’s a PBR in it for you,” Sam pushes the unopened beer toward Ash’s laptop on the table.
“Give me fifteen minutes,” Ash sighs as he begins typing into one of his many programs.
I lean back down, open the beer, and take the first sip before handing it to Ash. “I’ll help, too, if you want, babe?”
When I get back, Sam and Dean have moved to the bar, leaving Ash alone to his work. There’s already another beer on the table, and I smile to think they decided to bribe me, too. I lean down, making sure Sam and Dean can’t see or hear me speak as I whisper, “You realize I have all the information you need in my files, right?”
Ash leans into me as if we are sharing a moment of affection, just as secretive. “Yeah, babe, but they don’t need to know that. Give it a few more minutes then we’ll say we have a match. Just give me the guy’s name.”
I don’t know how this man can speak and type at the same time, but I love him for it. “Andrew Gallagher, born in 1983.”
Sam and Dean don’t need me, not this time, so I’m not surprised Ellen takes the opportunity of their absence at closing time to corner me behind the bar. “Drew, what do you know about what’s going on with the Winchesters?”
I don’t try to hide anything from Ellen anymore. I learned a long time ago that it’s best to let her in on everything because she’ll find out eventually and be ten times more mad than if you just told her originally. Two’s a lot better than one anyway. “It’s about the nursery fire, the demon John and the boys have been hunting all these years, and what he might have done to Sam.” I sigh as we make our way into one of the darkly lit booths. “From what I can tell, whenever a nursery fire occurs on the day the child is exactly six months old, that’s a sure sign the demon was involved. I’ve tried doing research on demonic signs at the six-month mark for other kids, but there’s so much I can’t really delineate between demonic kids and happenstance. I have a list of suspected incidents either way, and Sam’s nursery fire is on top of that list.”
Ellen tilts her head, uncannily toeing the line between curious dog and caring mother. “So, your brother was targeted by the demon? Do you think he’s got something wrong with him?”
“Every other person I’ve confirmed is a part of the demon’s plot has turned fucking crazy or is heading in that direction, but none of them had what Sam had: Dean. Everyone else was abused or abandoned or both. None of them were hunters as far as I can tell, they were just regular, fucked-up people, and regular, fucked-up people, as we know, are a lot worse than monsters.” I start moving things around on the table so I have something to do that doesn’t involve hugging my stomach as phantom pains come back at even my own vague mention of what happened when I first met Gordon.
“I think Sam’s one of Yellow Eye’s favorites, and you know how Sam is about loyalty and following orders. I don’t think he’ll turn to the dark side, but I know Dean’s scared as hell will.”
Ellen leans forward to grab my hands between her own. “I trust your judgment, Drew. but please, please keep an eye on him, honey.” I can see it in Ellen’s eyes, she thinks that if this situation turns south, it’ll break all of us.
I turn my head down to the table before using it to push myself out of the booth, unable to look Ellen in the eyes when she’s got them full of pity. “We will, Ellen. Dean does his best, and I try to do what I can, too.”
Ash catches my attention by waving me over, his phone precariously tucked into his shoulder as he opens his laptop.
“Yeah, what’s up, babe?” I lean over his other shoulder to get a better look at the screen.
“Holly Beckett, who’s she?” Ash asks, sounding as if he’s talking to himself as he types, but his glance up at me tells me to answer.
“I make sure to step away from the phone before speaking so I’m not overheard knowing too much. “She’s Andy’s real mom. He was adopted; born when his mother was 18. The actual birth records are sealed, hard copy only, but tight clothes and a gay secretary mean I was actually able to confirm everything. Andy’s got a twin brother, but he wasn’t a nursery fire kid, so I didn’t really keep up with him all that closely.” My eyes go wide as a lightbulb practically bursts in my brain, things being confirmed I only hypothesized, and I lean in to kiss Ash’s cheek before running to grab my computer. If this case is heading where I think it is, I need to do some more digging.
Ash slides a drink toward me slower than the clock is ticking. It feels as though the two of us are the only people awake in the world as I furiously type into word documents and coding platforms.
“Babe, you’ll need to go to sleep eventually,” Ash whispers as he leans over me.
“Sleep is for the fucking weak, Ash. I’ve just had one million miniature epiphanies and I must collect and document each and every one as if it was a new species in need of diagnosis.” I continue to type, my eyes glued to the machine. I can’t remember the last time I blinked.
Ash sighs. “Drew, you’re starting to speak nonsense, and I’m well aware that your brain is probably working at one-hundred and ten percent capacity, but you need to go the fuck to sleep.” Ash has slowly moved to hold my body in a comfortable cage.
“Time?” I glance at Ash, barely able to see him after staring at the brightness of my screen for so long.
“It’s five in the fucking morning, babe. The sun is gonna rise soon,” Ash chastises, moving his hands down my arms.
“Then why go to sleep at all?” I glance at Ash again, and he takes the chance to move my hands from the keyboard and replace them with one of his own. It takes him seconds to shut the laptop down and close it with calm finality.
“Because if you don’t go to sleep I’ll beat your ass,” Ash smirks, as he coaxes me out of the chair and into a hug. We’ve done this many times, mostly when one of us is a little too drunk to move alone, but sleep deprivation hits the same way if you go long enough.
I start to giggle, high on lack of sleep, and whisper, “I’d like it,” before succumbing to the idea of curling under comfortable covers wins over getting research done and I nod, accepting my fate now lies within the land of dreams.
I hear Ellen call out Jo’s name as I walk from my room still in pajamas and wrapped up in a blanket. Ash is nowhere to be found, but I imagine I will figure out where he has run off to sometime soon.
“Go pull up another case of beer,” Ellen asks before making eye contact with me. She quickly signs for me to come over before she turns back to my brothers.
“Rough night?” Dean asks me, a smirk evident in his voice, trying to deflect the glare Ellen must be giving him.
“Stayed up late doing research, but I'll be fine.” I shrug as Ellen sends a glare to a whining Jo before she slides me a stein and I grab the orange juice from behind the bar.
Ellen turns to Sam and Dean, making sure they are both looking at her before she asks, “So, you wanna tell me about this last hunt of yours?”
“No, not really. No offense, it’s just kinda a family thing,” Dean says and Sam glances my way, thankfully well-timed with my moving into the stool next to him.
“Not anymore, it ain’t.” Ellen drops a stack of papers onto the bar. “I got this stuff from Ash and Drew. Andrew Gallagher’s house burnt down six months after he was born, just like yours. You think it was the demon both times, don’t you? You think it went after Gallagher’s family?” Ellen realizes Dean isn’t going to give her a straight answer, and she turns to Sam.
“Yeah, we think so,” Sam answers, and Dean is quick to whine and warn Sam from saying anything else.
“Why?” Ellen and I ask in tandem. I suppose it’s just a thing I do now rather than twin telepathy.
“None of your business.” Dean is quick to try and shut the conversation down, but Ellen is just as quick to bite back.
“Mind your tongue with me, boy.” She points her finger before going back to aggressively cleaning barware. “This isn’t just your war, this is war. Now, something big and bad is coming and it’s coming fast, and their side holds all the fucking cards, boys. At best, all we got is us, together. No secrets or half-truths here.” Ellen finishes and Sam shares another glance with me. We both know what secret we’re keeping, and I nod, hoping he understands that we still need to keep it a secret for the safety of everyone here. An explosion of emotion and shutting of doors isn’t what any of us need right now.
“There are people out there like Andy Gallagher, like me, and,” Sam pauses, uncomfortable with sharing this information with anyone outside of Dean or John, “we all have some kind of ability.”
“Ability?” Ellen asks, and Dean rolls his eyes with a huff.
Sam leans against the bar. “Yeah, psychic ability. Me, I have visions; premonitions. I dunno, it’s different for everybody. The demon said he had plans for people like us.”
Ellen leans against the bar from the opposite side. “What kind of plans?”
“We don’t really know for sure,” Sam says with another shrug. He glances at me and Dean again, trying to gauge our reactions.
“These people out there, these psychics, are they dangerous?” Ellen asks, and Dean is quick to answer her.
“No, not all of them.” Dean moves closer, crowding the bar into a claustrophobic space.
Sam is just as quick to be honest with us. “But some of them are. Some of them are very dangerous.”
“Okay, so how many of them are we looking at?” Ellen asks, and I sigh.
Sam glances at me again, begging me to divulge information, and I am a little surprised at myself that I can gauge his expression so well. I sigh as I move from my bar stool to stand by Ellen so we are all on even ground as I get ready to divulge half-truths as if they were full ones. “I suppose this is my time to shine,” I begin my speech. “When Ash first mentioned the whole demon thing, I did research to correlate the signs of nursery fires with other demonic incidents, because, you know, M.O. and all that, but I couldn’t really decode any significant correlations, so not much came of it. Once I got all the information you guys and Ash could give me, I was able to correlate Andy’s nursery fire and a break-in into Ansen’s home on the day they turned six months old. The break-in set off the alarm, but there were no demonic signs. A police report was filed, but that’s it. I tried correlating demonic signs and break-ins with the kids turning six months,, but I’m having to run them individually and then smash them together. Some birth records I can’t access, so I don’t think I’ll be able to give the real number until long after this is over.”
While I’m info-dumping, Jo comes back with the beer. “Jo, honey,” Ellen sighs.
“Yeah, mom?” Jo begins to set the beer down.
“You’d better break out the whiskey instead.”
After finishing the conversation with successful half-truths and full shots of whiskey, Dean and Jo end up talking in a booth while Sam and I stay at the bar.
“You’ve been doing research since you could code, haven’t you?” Sam asks after checking that we are alone.
“Obviously, Sam,” I sigh. “I already knew about Andrew. That’s why Ash was able to get the info to you guys so fast. I also knew he had a twin, but I thought the nursery fire was the catalyst. Now that I know for certain it isn’t, I’m running theories through the programs, but there are almost definitely people under the radar we won’t be able to trace.”
Sam nods, thinking over what I’ve said. I see the wheels turning behind his eyes as he completes some sort of mind puzzle.
“I wanted to watch out for you two as much as I could, Sam. I just couldn’t get too close, John wouldn’t let me. Now that we’re old enough to watch out for ourselves, it’s even more important to watch out for each other.” I nod back the rest of my whiskey as I slide out of my barstool and make my way to the bar sink. It seems as though Sam and Dean always find a way to come to the Roadhouse when it’s empty, When it’s the perfect time for Sam to corner me with my thoughts and Dean to corner Jo with flirtations.
“It seems as though John fucked us all up, huh?” Sam swirls the whiskey left in his glass before downing it.
“Yeah, I’d say so. He decided I was better off dead and he tried to make soldiers out of you and Dean. We might see him as an asshole sometimes, but I think you two have got to see the good in him somehow, otherwise, how many times will the thought: <<What if what I’m doing is wrong?>> will ring like a ping pong ball between the two of you.” I glance at Dean and I see what Jo will soon see, the lack of passion behind Dean’s eyes, the coping mechanism he’s developed for himself preying on the both of them. “We’re all grieving him differently.”
“I didn’t think you’d be grieving a man you barely met.” Sam tilts his head.
I snort. “Oh, I’m not grieving John’s death, Sam. I’m grieving the fact I won’t ever get to tell him off for how horrible of a father he was.”
Sam doesn’t take the time to argue, even though I know he wants to try and see the good in John, probably to appease Dean, he just sighs as he slides his glass toward me, another glass to clean. “Knowing the way shit works around us, you just might.”
Chapter 4: No Exit
Summary:
Jo swindles Ash and Drew into helping her with the unintended but definite consequence of pissing off Ellen. Jo finds out what really happened to her father.
Notes:
I have realized I'm just going to have to accept that I'm not going to update this regularly, so I hope eventually I'll get the story done the way I want. I'd love to apologize, but I know I'll just do it again.
Chapter Text
I’ve experienced many of the fights Ellen and Jo have had over the years. Most of them are about Jo wanting to go hunting, and this one was no different. I only get to hear the tail end of it when I finally get done with the delivery guys.
“Mom, I can handle my own ass on a fucking case, and if you don’t think I can, I’ll ask Drew and Ash to go with me!” Jo might be logical, but it doesn’t always mean she’s right.
“Don’t you dare take that tone with me Joanna Beth! You know good and well I don’t want any of you going out and getting yourselves killed!”
It's about this time I realize that if either of my favorite women realize I’m in the room, I’m going to either get murdered or dragged into some sort of possibly diabolical plot, so I use every ounce of stealthiness I have and make my way out of the back door.
Being safe and sound out and away from whatever Jo is planning doesn’t last very long, however, as only a couple hours later, she has me cornered away from prying eyes.
“Please, Drew, please,” Jo begs, looking me in the eyes and trying to pull my heartstrings with her widened pupils.
“Jo, I love you, I do, but I really don’t want to get murdered because I let you run out and away and all on your own.” I sigh and lean my head back into the comfort of the rough, wooden wall.
“Then come with me, it’s not like you haven’t run away before! Sam and Dean will both be there, we’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. ” Jo is so willing and ready to go on this hunt, and I can just see her dead or beat and I just can’t endorse her, no matter how much she begs and stabs.
“Ellen will drag any of us right the fuck back no matter who goes, Jo. It ain’t a good idea no matter which way you put it, and I know for a fact Sam and Dean can handle it on their own. I’m not helping you, Jo. I just can’t.” I push myself off the wall and away from Jo.
“Well, I’ll just fucking ask Ash, then. He owes me a favor anyways,” Jo says with all the energy of a petulant child. I know that she’s not going to let this go.
“Okay, Jo.” I give in only slightly. “If you need help with information, please ask. I don’t want to see you hurt, but I won’t tell Ellen. She’s going to figure it out, though. Don’t get killed until she can do it, okay?” I accept my defeat with a shake of my head.
“Don’t plan on it,” Jo says, happy to have beat me in whatever game she was playing.
“Where is she?” Ellen asks as soon as I set a box of bottles down to sort.
“I don’t know, Ellen. She doesn’t like to tell me where she goes.” I answer, honest to a degree. I don’t know where she is, just who she’s with and what she’s doing.
Ellen’s already grabbing the bar phone when she asks, “She went with Sam and Dean, didn’t she?”
I don’t want to get caught in any more crossfire, so I give a noncommittal shrug before continuing to restock and organize.
No hello, just straight to the pissed-off point. “Is she with you?”
“She left a note that she’s in Vegas, but I don’t believe that for a fucking second.” I can feel Ellen’s glare as if she can burn me to a crisp and read the flames, or at the very least crack me like an egg. Whichever brother is on the phone takes a long pause, likely arguing with Jo, long enough that Ellen ends up calling their name.
“Dean?”
“You sure about that?” Ellen asks, easily able to catch the lie but formulating a better plan than badgering the boys. I worry for my safety, but I worry for Ash’s more.
“Well, please, if she shows up, drag her ass right back here.” The bittersweetness in her voice makes my blood run cold.
“Okay, thanks, honey.” Ellen hangs up the phone before catching my attention. “So help me, God, if I find out that Joanna is with Sam and Dean and you know about it, I’m going to have all of your asses.”
"Jo made sure to keep as much information from me as she could, having already thought far enough ahead to make sure I didn’t have to fully lie for her. Half-truths seemed to be my new specialty. “Yes, ma’am. Las Vegas is the first I’ve heard of where she went, honestly.”
“You’d better not be lying to me, boy. Now, go on and finish opening up the bar, I’m heading to the back.” Ellen says as she is already on her way there. She’s about to dig her way to the truth and I realize that I better begin preparing for the wrath that comes next.
“Jo’s on the phone,” Ash says as he pulls his laptop from its bag.
“What’s she want?” Instead of asking him to put the phone on speaker, I just lean down and press my ear to the other side of it.
“She wants some information on the location they’re at, what buildings were around when, shit like that.”
“I’m still on the phone, ass,” Jo says, static-y from the wrong side of the phone.
“Well, just hold on a fucking minute, Jo,” Ash says as he types. I’m surprised she complies, but I don’t hear anything else until he says, “Moyamensing prison. It was built in 1935, but it looks like it was torn down in 1963. The apartment complex is built on the same ground they used to hang the prisoners. Capitalism over superstition, huh?” Ash glances at me, and I realize that, even though I wanted to stay out of this, I can’t, so I sequester myself to the idea of pulling my laptop out and helping Ash.
“Yeah, I know, Jo. You’ll remove all my teeth then my balls and make me ugly. Got it, thanks for the threat.” Ash sighs as he puts the silent phone on the desk. “Now we’re both fucked when Ellen finds out.”
“You mean fucked over, Ash. If we were getting fucked, I’d be much happier.” I open my computer as my ass sits in the chair across the tiny table.
I am shaken awake violently in the night, and even though I’ve spent a few years without the fear of being murdered in my sleep, I still pull a knife out. “What the fuck, Ash?”
“Don’t you dare take that tone with me, Drew Winchester,” Ellen says, spurring on a newfound inability to breathe.
“You let my daughter go off with your brothers on some hunt where she could get fucking killed. If a hair on Joanna Beth is hurt, I’m ripping you, all of you, to shreds, you hear me?” Ellen says, expecting an answer with another shake.
“Yes, ma’am,” I respond, hoping it’s what she wants.
“Get dressed. The two of us are going out there and if she isn’t in my arms by the time we land, you better help me get her back.”
All I can do is nod in my confused state. As Ellen moves away and out the door, Ash enters it.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, looking defeated.
“Don’t be. It ain't your fault, babe. I could've told Ellen as soon as Jo made plans,” I say as I push myself out of bed and into new clothes.
Sitting in a plane with Ellen when she is so angry she is mute is something I didn’t think I’d get to experience again after the circus, but here we are, landing in Philadelphia. If I wasn’t so scared, I’d stop to think about why Ellen let me go out on hunts so frequently and without supervision until Gordon, but sheltered Jo so heavily. And I’d more than likely have come to the conclusion that she wasn’t just protecting Jo, not really, not entirely. Ellen was, by keeping Jo out of the hunt, protecting the memory of her husband. I’d have come to the conclusion that in Ellen’s eyes, I was a Winchester the same way Sam and Dean were: we were the sons of the man that killed the love of her life.
“We are riding back with you,” is the first thing I hear out of Ellen’s mouth. No hello, no what the fuck? , just “We’ll talk about this when we get home.”
And no one argues. When Sam tries to get in the front seat, Dean, Jo, and I cringe. We end up in a formation equally as uncomfortable as it is safe: Dean drives, Ellen the front seat passenger, me sandwiched between Sam and Jo in the backseat. Only minutes into the drive, Jo is gripping my hand like a lifeline.
Always trying to lighten the mood, Dean falsifies a joking tone. “Boy, you really weren’t kidding about flying out were you?” But no tension is broken, Ellen doesn’t even move.
“How about we listen to music?” Dean asks, not realizing the cosmos planned ahead for the perfect joke. <<You’re cold as ice>> is cut off quickly by Ellen’s fast twist of the volume knob.
When Dean glances back, hoping for advice, Sam shrugs and I shake my head. He’s not going to get anywhere.
“Well, this is going to be a long drive,” he concedes.
The Roadhouse comes into sight just as Ellen’s anger bubbles over. She’s the first one out of the Impala, and she runs around the car as if she's a lightning strike. Jo doesn’t even get a chance to step out of the car before being pulled out, and she, thankfully, takes it in stride. Jo might not be good at picking her battles, but she’s good at picking her punishments afterward.
Dean decides that taking the blame for everything is his best bet, but I know better, so I stay silent. “Ellen, this is my fault, okay? I lied to you and I’m sorry, but Jo, she did really good out there. I think her dad would be proud.” And I cringe. Neither of them knows, and Dean doesn’t even realize how badly he just fucked up.
“Don’t you dare, don’t you fucking dare say that, not you. Now, I need a moment alone with my daughter.” Ellen emphasizes, making eye contact with each of us, ending with me.
“So, that went well, don’t you think,” I start as Sam, Dean, and I have escaped beyond the walls of the arena that is now the Roadhouse.
“No, I don’t think it did,” Dean answers.
“It never does. I’m sorry you two got caught up in everything.” I shrug my hands into my pockets as my brothers make themselves comfortable on the side of the Impala.
“Why is she so uptight with Jo and not with you, huh? From what you’ve said, she let you go on plenty of hunts but Jo’s got no experience, until now.” Sam asks as he folds his arms.
“Well, Jo’s the baby. I’ve got the deadbeat dad and she’s got the dead one.” I answer as truthfully as I can without revealing secrets.
“So you were worth less to her? That’s fucked up, kid.” Dean’s honestly a bit upset, and I try to deflect him.
“I was also better at sneaking out. And once she realized I could handle my own, she trusted me to stay alive, until I didn’t do such a good job of it.”
“The hunt with Gordon,” Sam nods toward the door as Jo storms out of the Roadhouse. Dean follows after she gives him a death glare. I know what she’s been told, I learned a long time ago, and I know Dean will do a better job of knowing what to say than me. I know that she wants him to say something, that she won’t talk to me unless she has to, and I resign myself to losing my sister temporarily to the knowledge that my father killed hers.
“It’s his fault isn’t it?” Sam asks as he watches Jo and Dean move out of earshot.
“John never was the best at teamwork.” I leave Sam to head into the heat of the Roadhouse, still boiling over from the argument had a few minute-moments ago. Ellen is fuming, but I think she’s punished us all with Jo’s newfound knowledge of what really happened between our dads. She doesn’t even acknowledge me, but I can’t help but want her to yell and scream about how awful we all are.
Chapter 5: Gutted
Summary:
Sam runs away from home and Drew grapples with himself, his beliefs, and his love for his brothers. Gordon makes a reappearance.
Chapter Text
My alarm is replaced with a rock song ringtone, and it takes me a little too long to realize that my twin brother has decided to call me. Ash tries to pull me back into bed as I sit up, but I swat his arm away.
“What is it?” Ash mumbles at the same time I scratch out a “Hello?”
“Is Sam there?” Dean asks, frantically awake, startling me even further.
“I just woke up Dean, I don’t know, honestly, but I can go check.” It’s still dark outside, gray light pours through a crack in the curtains.
“Please.” He’s scared. Genuinely scared. Have things gotten worse? I ask myself as I start out toward the bar. It’s empty, besides those of us meant to be here. Sam hasn’t made his way here yet, clearly, but I suspect he’ll make his way here within a couple of days.
“He isn’t here, Dean,” I answer as I head back to my room.
“Let me know if and when he shows up.” Dean’s pacing so fast I can hear his boots through the phone.
“What’s going on, Dean?” I rub my eyes.
“I asked him to stay low. He ran off, instead. I’m scared, Drew.”
“Scared for him or of him?” I move to one of the chairs in the corner of the bedroom.
“Both. I don’t want him to get hurt. I don’t want him to go dark side.” He’s freaked out enough to be telling me things. It has to be really fucking bad.
“He’s not a bad egg, Dean. It’ll be okay. If he heads this way, I’ll make sure to let you know.” I’m being honest, for the most part. I’ll try to figure out exactly what is going on before letting him know, but I’ll tell him eventually.
“Please do. Goodbye, Drew.” He doesn’t wait for me to respond before hanging up.
Ash repeats his original question. “What’s going on?”
“Sam ran off. Dean’s worried enough to let me on on things, so it’s got to be bad.” I get up and put my phone back on the nightstand.
“Okay, well, if he heads this way, it probably won’t be for a while.” Ash opens the blanket, and I can’t help but crawl back into bed.
I head out of the bedroom to hear Ellen let out a surprised laugh. “Don't get me wrong, Sam. I wish I could blame the hell out of you boys. It'd be a hell of a lot easier. Truth is, it's not your fault, Sam. None of it is. I want you to know that I forgave your daddy a long time ago for what happened to my Bill. I just don't think John ever took the time to forgive himself.”
Sam’s holding a go-bag, trying to crush his form into something smaller with a tense hunch.
“So, what really happened?” Sam asks, and I can’t help but cringe.
“So, why’d you really come here?” Ellen avoids the question by asking Sam another.
“I need help.”
“With what?” I ask as I make my presence known.
Sam is just as worried as Dean, although for different reasons. “We need to find all the people like me, the ones the demon affected. I thought you and Ash could help.”
“I thought you’d never ask. Give me ten minutes to wake the dumbass up and re-run the program in case there’ve been any changes.”
“There are only four people who match the whole profile. Nursery fire, born the same year as you, six months later, all of it, but there are a few who don’t have a nursery fire but do have some sort of break-in or omen occurrence at the six-month mark. I’d say start with the nursery fire people and work your way out, though.” I look up at Sam before moving my eyes back to the screen to continue typing.
“You’ve had the program running since those twins, haven’t you?” Sam asks.
“Nope, before that. I’ve had something like this running since I could code it. John, before everything happened, was a good enough dad to let me read his journal, although most of the regulars here would be considered good dads if that’s all it took. He just wasn’t a good enough one to tell you guys I was still alive.”
“So who fits the profile?” Sam asks, ignoring my jab at John.
“Sam Winchester from Lawrence, Kansas,” Ash chooses to answer, nodding to Sam before continuing. “Max Miller from Saginaw, Michigan, Andrew Gallagher from Guthrie, Oklahoma, and–” Ash pauses, uncomfortable, and the same information pops up on my screen, “–another name. Scott Carey.” He glances at me.
“You have an address?” Sam asks the both of us.
“I’m sorry Sam, but he’s dead. Buried in Lafayette, Indiana,” I answer, striking through Scott’s folder on my computer.
“When?”
“About a month ago. Stabbed, not much info on the suspect.” Ash answers for me as I keep typing, just a little too focused.
“Thanks, guys.” Sam gets up to leave, his beer now abandoned on the table.
“Are you going to tell Dean?” Ash waits for Sam to leave before claiming the drink. No wasted alcohol here.
“Only what he needs to know. He’s gotta figure this out himself, Ash, but I know what I’d want, and that’s some sort of lead.”
“Did you find him?” Dean doesn’t even wait for me to say hello after I answer the call.
“He stopped by.” I nod, even though he can’t see me.
“Where’s he headed?” Dean asks, and I sigh.
“Dean, he’s trying to figure himself out, and I know how hard that can be. He’s trying to find more people like him.”
Ellen walks over and holds out her hand. “Give me the phone.” I hand it over, knowing that she’ll do what I feel like I can’t.
“Now Dean, they say you can't protect your loved ones forever,” she pauses, looking at me before continuing, “Well, I say screw that. What else is family for? He's in Lafayette, Indiana.” After another beat, she hangs up the phone and hands it back to me along with another postcard. This time, it’s from the Grand Canyon, and I can’t help but laugh.
“She’s really treating this like a vacation, huh?” I shake my head and hand it back.
“I said not under my roof, and Jo made the decision she felt was right. I hope you’re doing the same.” Ellen looks me deep in my eyes, and I wonder if she’s trying to glean what I’m thinking.
“Sam deserves to know why he feels the way he feels.”
“And Dean deserves to know where his brother is and to keep him safe.” Ellen means more than she says, and I can’t help but sigh. She’s right, but I know the wrong decision is better in the short term.
“How fast can you get to Lafayette, Indiana?” Sam asks, no hello. It seems that none of us have the capacity to greet each other anymore.
“I’m at the Roadhouse. I could see how soon a flight could get me there, otherwise 10 hours minimum.” I start packing either way.
“Dean’s in trouble, and I think I am, too.” Sam is being honest and in a hurry.
“I’ll call and let you know how soon a flight can get me there. 4 to 10 hours, okay?” I’m rushing now.
“I have enough firepower. If a plane can get you here faster, take it.” He’s genuinely worried. Worried enough to let me use his shit. I’ve shoved enough in my bag to feel good about heading on a plane.
“I’ll be there.” I hang up the phone and shove it in my pocket before rushing around to find a functional passport and credit card.
As I’m heading out the door, Ellen yells from the bar. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
“The boys need me,” I yell, already halfway out the door.
“Don’t get hurt, Drew!” Ellen yells back as the door swings closed again.
“I have to go ahead without you,” Sam says as I call him as I step out of the airport.
“If both of you die, I’m bringing you back to fucking kill you again.” I threaten.
“5637 Monroe Street.” Sam hangs up the phone, and I once again rush with my carry-on strapped over my shoulder.
As soon as I get to the address, I see the door open and smoke lightly coming out the back door. I rush into the room, seeing Gordon on the floor, and I seethe.
“Was it him?” I yell into the other room. I can see Dean lunge for Gordon and I am close to doing the same, but I don’t know what state the man is in, so I stay far enough away to not get attacked in case he’s just fucking faking it.
“Dean, no,” Sam sighs as he grabs Dean to keep him from killing Gordon.
“I let him live once, I’m not letting him live again,” Dean tries to pull out of Sam’s hold.
“You realize this man has almost killed all three of us, right?” I ask Sam as I see what weapons I might be able to grab before Sam tries to pull me away, too. Gordon hasn’t moved and it would be easy to kill him with Sam holding Dean back.
“Trust me, Gordon’s taken care of.” Sam pulls Dean toward the back door and grabs me on the way, but not before I kick Gordon in the ribs.
Apparently, that was what it takes for Gordon to wake back up as gunshots come from the cabin seconds after we exit.
“Holy fuck, Sam. If you don’t let me kill this man right the fuck now–” I can’t help but reach for the gun that isn’t even in my waistband as the three of us dive for cover.
“Yeah, you call this taken fucking care of?” Dean’s just as angry.
“Just trust me okay?” Sam’s exasperated.
And I suppose we should trust him, because cop cars come rushing into the front yard of the decrepit building with uncanny, perfect timing, lights too bright and sirens too loud.
Once we get to the Impala, far enough away from the cops to not be connected to Gordon, I expect some sort of argument, but I’m only barely prepared for Dean to push me up against the car. It seems this is his favorite mode of communication.
“Did you fucking spill what we told you about Sam?” He’s in my face and I can’t help but cringe.
“Of course not, Dean. I don’t trust a single fucking hunter that comes through the Roadhouse. Especially not any of the ones that fucking work with Gordon. You know what that man did to me. If I didn’t trust–didn’t care about you and Sam, I wouldn’t have run here, gotten on a plane defenseless when he called.” I glance at Sam. “I wouldn’t have jumped on the first fucking plane I could. If I didn’t trust the two of you more than most people, I would have killed Gordon on the fucking spot, Dean. Ash, Ellen, and Jo wouldn’t have said anything either.” I don’t even try to push Dean off me, waiting instead for him to make the decision to do that himself.
Sam speaks up. “Dean, he’s helped us every step of the fucking way. Why would Drew have told anyone anything?” Sam glances at me and I can see the wheels turn in his head as he almost makes the decision to tell Dean who I really am, but he stops just in time.
Dean pushes me into the car as he pushes himself away. “How am I supposed to trust him? Any of them? Gordon said he had Roadhouse connections.”
“Dean–” Sam and I both start to speak, but I nod toward him and choose to shut up.
“Dean, you know hunters talk. You can’t think we’re the only ones who know what’s going on with the demons, any hunter with good pattern recognition who’s dealt with them would have heard about the coming war ,” Sam’s mocking tone is angry, but he stays in the logical part of his brain, knowing best how to reason with Dean, “and any demon with a brain would give them my name. Think, Dean. Why would Ellen, Ash, Jo, and Drew help us then throw us to the fucking dogs?”
Dean is clearly still dealing with newfound facts about our father. “Dad killed Ellen’s husband, Sam.” It’s a logical answer, but I know both of my families, and none of us are very logical when it comes to loyalty and love.
“And she forgave him, Dean. Dad just never forgave himself. The Harvelles have been the best assets and friends–hell I’d even consider them family–we could have asked for.” Sam glances at me, and I think we are both wondering if we should just tell Dean and get it over with.
I finally move forward, stepping away from the Impala and getting ready to hitchhike to the airport. “We wouldn’t have said shit, Dean. You can ask Ellen, call her even. Do whatever you want, but we are far from disloyal to those we care about. I’ve learned you can’t trust other hunters, and when you find ones you can trust, you hold ‘em as close as you can because one day, somebody’s gonna die, we all die in the end. Now, I’ve gotta find a way to get to the damn airport and get back home.”
“Kid, get in the fucking car,” Dean sighs, done with all of our shit.
I turn around, willing to follow orders this once. “Still the same age as you, Deano.”
Chapter 6: Hellboy
Summary:
We love the fact this man is so bad at passing out, such a silly guy. We get some Bobby time, we get some Meg time without bothering to question who Meg is (because I have a feeling Drew was probably informed of that endeavor by Bobby). Some minor Jo content. Hellboy the dog.
Chapter Text
“He’s gone again.” Dean Winchester starts yet another conversation with every socially accepted greeting simply lost from his vocabulary.
“I know, Dean,” I respond, twisting the leash in my hand around like a phone cord.
“How do you know? Is he there?” Dean’s frantic, just like the last time Sam left, and, in all honesty, I am too. I move to lean against one of the rusty vehicles in my vicinity.
“No Dean, I’m not even at the Roadhouse. I’m at Bobby’s. Steve Wendell, another hunter, his daughter called Bobby to go out and check on him, hadn’t called in three days. Throat slit, forced entry. The cameras did a good job of catching who it was…Dean, something’s really wrong, we have to find him.”
“Sam…killed another hunter?” Dean’s finally stopped moving on the other side of the phone, but it wasn’t for good reason.
“I don’t think it’s Sam, Dean. The footage is gone, don’t worry about that, but he wasn’t–he didn’t–it just wasn’t him Dean. Be careful, I expect him to call you soon.”
“What do you mean you don’t think it was him?”
“Just, everything’s all wrong. Just, please, be safe out there, and keep–” The dog begins tugging the leash, barking aggressively in the direction of a bird landing in its nest.
“Shut up, Hellboy!” I yell with the phone pressed against my chest. “Cool it!”
“When’d you get a dog?” Dean asks, momentarily distracted.
“When whatever’s parading itself around as Sam murdered a guy in his own home. Seriously, Dean, be safe. Don’t believe what you hear, but you better do a damn good job of pretending you do if he comes calling.”
“I will, Drew.” And once again, no goodbyes, which, for once, I’m grateful for.
***
“Don’t you let that dog inside the house,” Bobby yells from the kitchen.
“Didn’t plan on it, Bobby.” I turn toward Hellboy, named so by his now-deceased owner. “Why don’t you go sit on your bed, sweetheart?” I’m too afraid of the thing running off not to attach his leash to one of the porch supports.
“Why’d you even decide to keep the thing?” Bobby asks as he hands me a beer.
“Because Steve’s daughter Elizabeth can’t have pets in her dorm at college, and I’m not going to put the poor thing in a shelter, not right now. I’ll just have to break the news to Ellen or run away from home after I head back.” I set the beer back down after taking a sip, pushing it toward Bobby in disgust.
“The dog can’t stay here, that’s for sure.”
“I know Bobby, and I’ll be out of your hair once we find Sam and figure out what’s going on, I just have a bad feeling about this, too bad not to stay. I think we all consider you a second dad, and if I’m right about this, they’ll end up here.”
“And you think I can’t protect myself?”
“Bobby, you can protect yourself better than I ever could. And I can lie to just about anybody else but Sam Winchester. If I’m right, it’s better for me to stay right here and wait. At least, I hope it is.
***
After a few days, I finally get a call from my twin brother, updating me on the situation in the same frantic tone we seem to take with one another more often than not nowadays.
“Sam’s possessed and heading your way,” Dean rushes out.
“Good.”
I can almost feel Dean’s confusion. “Good?”
“Means he’s still predictable, that they’re playing a game and we’ve got more of the rulebook than they thought.”
“How are you not more fucking upset by this?”
“Oh, I’m crying and screaming on the inside, Deano, but I’ve learned how to bottle up my feelings and compartmentalize them from the best of the best. If you want me to be scared, I’m already there, don’t you worry about that. Bobby and I’ll be ready for the both of you when you get here.”
“You might want to call your sister,” Dean deflects.
“He found her, didn’t he? Is she okay?”
“Unharmed. Call her.” The phone clicks.
“Dean?” Bobby asks as he sits an actually drinkable liquid in front of me.
“Yeah. I was right.” I shove the phone in my pocket.
“Well, damn, kid. I’m sorry.”
“We’re hunters. Well-known hunters. This is just one more hunt to get through and a few more puzzle pieces to place.”
“You could try feeling your feelings for once, Drew,” Bobby says in a way that feels so uncannily genuine all I can think to say back is deflection.
“Pot calling the kettle black, there, huh?”
“Have you fed the dog?” A welcome distraction.
“Fed watered and cared for. Better than myself, honestly.” I look out the window of the too-crowded room, bumping my knees into the temporary cot underneath the windowsill.
“Get some sleep, I don’t think they’ll be here until morning.”
“They won’t, but I don’t think I can sleep right now, Bobby.”
“Neither can I. Why don’t you start a pot of coffee and bring me a beer, huh?”
“Yes, sir.” I nod as I walk into the kitchen, the moment of reprieve unwelcome, but dutifully accepted. I think my last moment of peace was had long before John Winchester died.
***
“It’s Jo, leave a message after the beep.” The quick voicemail isn’t unexpected, but it still hurts. We haven’t spoken since she found out what happened between our fathers, and I don’t blame her.
“Hey Jo, I just wanted to check in with you. I know you probably don’t want to talk right now, but I know what happened, and I’m sorry that I wasn’t there to keep you safe. I know you can protect yourself, but I assumed the role of your big brother long ago, and I don’t seem to be doing a great job at keeping any of my siblings safe, including you. If you still don’t want to talk, that’s fine, Jo, but I refuse to lose you, even if you want me gone.”
Bobby lets his presence known, likely having been there the whole time. “You’re a good brother to them, Drew. You’re the best one they could’ve asked for.”
“I don’t feel like it right now. A demon inside of my brother tried to hurt my sister, and my other brother doesn’t even know who I really am. It sucks, Bobby.”
“Maybe you should tell him, then.”
Bobby’s honesty isn’t helping. “Not when I can help, not until this is over, Bobby. If I tell him now, and I hope whatever demon is inside Sam doesn’t say anything, he’ll shut me out and I won’t be able to help. I need to help, Bobby.”
“Helping them and hurting yourself is just hurting yourself, boy.” Bobby takes a sip of his beer.
“I know, Bobby, but I think this is coming to a head, and I’ll be able to tell him soon.”
“You better, boy.”
***
“Sam!” Bobby yells loud enough for me to hear upstairs, happiness almost fooling me, too.
“Hey, Bobby!” The volume returns to normal, and it's almost hard for me to make out.
“So, what brings you?” Bobby asks.
“Working a job nearby, and thought I’d stop in and say hey.” The demon is a good facsimile of Sam.
“Well, where’s Dean?”
Sam laughs, a laugh that isn’t his laugh. “Holed up somewhere with a girl and a twelve-pack.”
“Oh, yeah? She pretty?” Bobby asks, coming into view just long enough to nod.
“You ask me, he’s in way over his head.”
I start making my way down the stairs. “He always has been, though, hasn’t he?” I ask as I enter the office room.
“Yeah, I can agree to that. How’ve you been, Drew?” Sam asks.
“Good. I pissed off Ellen, so I’m hiding out here for a bit.”
“What’d you do?” Sam asks as Bobby slides a beer to each of us.
“I sent Jo a case.”
“Sounds like she’s still worried about her.”
“She’s worried about all of us. It’s good to see you again Sam, under less scary circumstances.”
“I’d have to agree to that.” Bobby raises his bottle. “To John.”
“To Dad,” Sam and I say in tandem. When we take a drink, Sam looks up at the ceiling, more than likely looking for a devil’s trap, fully expecting us to have been informed of what’s going on. When Sam starts gagging, I’m relieved, in all honesty, and Bobby just sips his beer, unconcerned.
“What’d you do?” Sam repeats the question, his tone changing from jovial to angry.
“A little holy water in the beer. Sam never would have noticed, but then, you’re not Sam, are you? Don’t try to con a con man.” Bobby punches Sam with just enough strength to knock him out.
“I hate this,” I say as we start to move things around.
“We both do. I just hope this goes smoothly.”
“Me, too.”
***
We’re drawing the devil’s trap when Dean calls again.
“Did he-?”
I interrupt him, balancing the phone between my ear and shoulder. “We’ve got him, Dean. Still possessed. He’s out cold right now.”
“Thank you,” Dean breathes a sigh of relief.
“Don’t. We aren’t out of this yet.”
***
Dean slaps Sam awake. “Hey.”
“Dean.” Sam and Dean look up at the Devil’s Trap. “Back from the dead, getting to be a regular thing for you, isn’t it? Like a cockroach.” The demon tries to jab.
“How about I smack that smartass right out of your mouth?” Dean’s torn between being a big brother and a hunter, but he’s doing a great job of hiding it.
“Oh, careful, now. Wouldn’t want to bruise this fine packaging.” Sam jabs.
“Oh, boy, there’s plenty of other ways to hurt you, sweetheart.” I’ve moved to the corner of the room, and I can’t help the bubble of laughter that comes up when I spritz the demon with holy water like an annoying cat. It seethes, distracted enough by me that Dean tossing the bucket goes unnoticed until the pain sets in. The scream makes my heart flutter, and I have a hard time trying to convince myself it isn’t Sam right now.
“Feel like talking now?” Dean asks.
“Sam’s still my meat puppet. I’ll make him bite off his tongue.” They threaten.
“No, you won’t be in him long enough. Bobby,” Dean nods toward him. I understand why he trusts Bobby more than me to do the exorcism, but it still hurts I can’t do more to help.
Bobby reads from his personal hunter’s journal.
“See, whatever bitch-boy master plan you demons are cooking up? You’re not getting Sam, you understand me? Because I’m going to kill every one of you first.” Dean seethes, but it doesn’t seem to bother the demon. It moves Sam’s head back and lets out a howl of laughter. When I look over at Bobby, he’s confused.
“You really think that’s what this is about? The master plan?” Bobby starts up again and the demon keeps talking. “I don’t give a rat’s ass about the master plan.” Sam’s body turns toward Bobby. “Oops, doesn’t seem to be working, does it? I learned a few new tricks in my time away.”
“Bobby,” Dean and I speak together, me pausing and letting Dean continue, “This isn’t going like I pictured. What the hell’s going on, Bobby?”
And then I notice it. “Whatever’s inside him is locked in with that binding mark.” I gesture toward the offending mark on Sam’s arm.”This ain’t gonna be an ordinary exorcism.”
“What the fuck do we do?” Dean gestures wildly, just as confused as I am.
“I don’t know,” Bobby sighs before all hell breaks loose, pardon the pun. It takes only a little crack in the ceiling in just the right place to have us all flying, and I land in such a way I black out for a lot longer than intended. I’m soon being slapped awake by someone I only realize is Bobby by the way he speaks.
“Get up, kid. You’ve got a dog to feed.”
“What? Where is Sam?” I ask, worried about my brothers.
“He and Dean are in the kitchen, might wanna warn them about Wandell and Hellboy out there.” He nods toward the porch.
“Sure, Bobby, I’ll let them know.”
“Hey, guys,” I scratch the back of my head, nursing the bump.
“Finally awake, kid?” Dean asks.
“Wide. You two better watch your backs. I don’t think anyone’s going to get any real wind of Wandell. I’ll call his daughter and let her know we figured out it was a demon and that they escaped, and I’ve wiped any evidence it was piloting Sam, but who knows what kinda lynching his buddies are into. Don’t kiss and tell, alright.”
“I don’t plan on it,” Sam sighs, drinking more of his beer than he should’ve.
“Good, now I have a dog to feed, so I’ll see you on the road sometime, eh?”
“Yeah, Drew, we’ll see you soon. How’re you gonna break the news to Ellen?”
“I think I’m just going to show up with the dog, honestly. The worst she can say is get rid of it. There’s this nice couple that runs a shelter a few towns over that might take him if I can’t.” I look toward the porch even though I don’t have a good visual of Hellboy from here.
“I hope it all works out.” Dean pats my back as he moves to head out.
“Me too, Deano, me too.”
Chapter 7: One Fine Glass of Water
Summary:
Drew gets to meet our favorite Trickster for the first time. Hellboy is literally the sweetest dog ever.
I definitely didn't find this almost completed in first draft form on the day of publishing.
If you're wondering what I imagine Hellboy's breed is, I decided on Neopolitan Mastiff (Wikipedia - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Neapolitan_Mastiff), but I will accept things such as Boxer if you must. He is just big and large and cute and baby-coded.
Chapter Text
“Hey, Mom, how mad would you be if I brought a dog home?” I ask as soon as I walk into The Roadhouse, having left Hellboy in the car, windows rolled down, and air conditioning on.
“Bobby called ahead. He can sleep in bed with you, but he spends his days outside.”
Ellen points at me in such a motherly fashion I can’t help but nod. It’s a better outcome than I ever expected.
“Thanks, Mama. He’s a good one, I promise. I think he’s trained just as well to warn of sulfur as go get a duck.”
I rush out of the room again before I can hear Ellen’s damn it and see her smile and shake of her head at how excited I am.
***
“Okay, Hellboy, you can’t hang out in this area because this is the parking lot, and I know this is all new to you, so I’m going to probably keep you tethered for a while, bud, but I hope that, if you hang around, you can just sort of free-roam. If anything goes weird, you come get me alright.”
I hear the noise of a car pulling around, and move to meet them. Ash hops out of the shitty truck and the first words out of his mouth are, “Who’s the fucking dog?”
“This is Hellboy.”
“You’re keeping him, aren’t you.”
“I don’t know, Ash. He’s pretty and nice and cuddly and…maybe I’m keeping him.”
“And Ellen?”
“Already knows. He spends nights inside and days outside. He’ll have it made.”
Ash laughs. “I don’t know how you get away with this shit, Drew.” Hellboy moves to sniff Ash, and I can swear he nods in approval.
“I’m pretty.” I shrug, leaning down to pet Hellboy. The dog immediately moves to lick up the left side of my face, barely avoiding my eyeball.
“He seems to think so,” Ash says with a smirk twice as wide as Texas.
***
My phone rings three times before I pick it up, Bobby on the other line. I don’t even get to say more than hel- before he starts talking.
“Hey, Drew, the boys are on a case and they need some help. I’m picking you up, and you better not bring that damn dog.”
“He has a name, Bobby, but I won’t bring the dog. What should I pack?”
“The usual. They aren’t quite sure what the hell it is.”
“Gotcha. I’ll be ready when you get here.” I say as I hang up, rushing around to make sure everything I might need is in my truck.
I lean my head out of the bedroom door. "Mom-"
"Bobby already called. You're free to go. Say goodbye to the dog or he'll get mad at all of us." Ellen sighs, gesturing to the back door with the dishtowel.
After I throw my bag into the passenger seat of my truck, I lean down and kiss Hellboy on the cheek.
“You go find Ash if anything happens, okay honey?”
He responds by once again gunning for my eyeball with his gigantic tongue, this time almost reaching my brain through my left nostril.
***
I can barely handle my brothers talking about their investigation, only listening enough to mark off various monsters. I can barely handle the way they speak about aliens and weird horny women and whatever else they talk about. And half of my laptop is taken up by various books on caring for a re-homed dog.
“Okay, I have heard enough out of the both of you,” Bobby says in a voice that has me jumping out of my seat.
“You two showed up about an hour after that,” Dean finishes somewhat sheepishly.
“I’m surprised at both of you, I really am. Goddamnit, Sam, first off, Dean didn’t steal your computer.” Bobby starts, easily shushing the boys when they try to complain.
“And Dean, Sam didn’t touch your goddamn car.”
“If you two would’ve bothered to pull your heads out of your fucking asses, it all would’ve been pretty clear,” Bobby starts.
“What?” Dean asks.
“What you’re dealing with.”
None of us can come up with all that much, fumbling as Bobby waits for an answer. I don't even try to respond with what it can't be.
“You’ve got a trickster on your hands.”
“That’s what I thought,” Dean and I try to make ourselves seem more logical at the same time, but Sam immediately shuts us down with a look.
“You guys were the biggest clue. These things, they create mischief and chaos as easily as breathing, and you got so turned around and at each other’s throats you can’t even think straight enough to see what’s right in front of your fucking faces.”
Dean and Sam have their own moments of realization as I type code into my laptop. At least this gives a good indication of what to look for next time. Another entry into the journal.
“It knows you’re onto it, and it’s been playing you like fiddles.”
“So, what exactly are these things, Bobby?” I ask offhandedly, still typing.
“Demigods, basically. Loki, Anansi, they're in pretty much every culture. They’re immortal, they create things, real things, right out of thin air, and they can make them vanish just as quick. And the victims fit the M.O. of a typical trickster. They target the high and mighty, absolutely love knocking somebody down a peg, usually with a good sense of humor.”
“So, deadly pranks then?” I ask.
“Yep. And they look just as human as you or me.”
Dean’s eyes light up with a moment of realization. “And what human do we know who’s been at ground zero this whole goddamn fucking time?”
Sam’s thinking face is akin to a sad dog before his eyes grow wide with a whisper of, “The janitor.”
***
What pisses me off is that the janitor, he’s fucking handsome. He’s blonde, short, and his ass is more perfect than any model could hope for.
“Sorry, I’m dragging a little ass today, boys.” He says as if he can read my mind, so I send a minor apology in his direction for my thoughts.
“Had quite a night last night.” His deadpan look in our direction, my direction, is too comedic not to giggle.
“Lots of sex, if you catch my drift.”
“Yeah, hard not to,” Dean rolls his eyes. “Listen, we won’t be long, we just need to check a couple of offices up on three.”
Dean gestures behind himself to Sam and me.
“No problemo, Deano.” The Trickster says around the sucker in his mouth.
Sam pauses, moving behind me, all part of the plan. “Sorry, I think I left my phone in the truck, I’ll catch up with you guys.”
“See you in a bit,” I wave.
“So, third floor, right,” the janitor asks, making eye contact with me instead of Dean.
“Yep. Thanks for letting us in.” I say, trying to be cordial to this frankly gross but profoundly beautiful man.
***
Sam holds the door open to the building, trying his best to reason with us. “Just because he reads the Weekly World News doesn’t mean he’s our guy. I mean, you read it, too, Dean.”
“I’m telling you, it’s him,” Dean says as he passes through the door.
“Look, I just think we need some hard proof, Dean, that’s all."
Dean takes a minute to think, trying to find out if there is really any hard proof as of yet. “And we’ll get it, Sam. Tricksters have a sweet tooth, any sugar up there?”
“Not even an Equal,” Sam shakes his head.
Dean can’t help but ask, “Are you sure you didn’t miss anything?”
“I don’t miss things,” Sam half-seethes.
“Oh right, because you’re Mister Perfect.”
“Are you really still pissed at me for what the Trickster did?”
I’m stuck on the outskirts of their argument, forced to observe a dick-measuring contest between the two.
Dean responds in true too-macho-man fashion. “You’ve been a tight-ass since even before the Trickster, Sam.”
“Dean, you realize he’s been fucking possessed?” I can’t help but butt in.
“You haven’t seen him, Drew. You’re not a part of this.”
I raise my hands in my defense and move toward the back seat of the Impala so they can bicker in peace.
It only takes a few moments for Sam to come with the keys to the Impala.
“Stay here with Dean. I’m going to the janitor’s house to see if I can find anything.”
“You realize if he’s the Trickster he’s on to us right? He’s been staring at us through the window this whole time,” I try to rationalize.
“Probably because he wants you, Drew. I don’t think he’s our guy.”
I shrug, knowing Sam won’t take no for an answer. “Do what you’ve got to do, I guess.”
When I approach Dean, he’s already pacing.
“Sam decided to strand me with you. Where do you want me?” I ask, knowing Dean’s thinking too much to do more than order me around.
“How about you go hang out in that computer lab on the first floor? The janitor will probably come looking for you once he sees you walk back in and you can probably get something out of him.” Dean’s smirk is punch-worthy, but I just nod and head back into the building.
***
The fact Dean’s right makes me want to punch him even harder.
“Well, fancy seeing you here,” the Janitor smirks, leaning against the doorway.
“Sorry.” I shrug. “They decided to start arguing so I fled the scene. Lied about having to do some more work in here.”
“You don’t have to lie, darling. I’ve ran into your kind before.” He approaches my seat, blocking me in and away from the door. I let out a silent fuck as I realize the position I’m in.
“My kind?” I feign innocence.
“Hunters.” His face is deadpan, minus the constant smirk. Goddamn, he’s pretty.
“Oh, uh-huh,” I nod. “Well, you’ve got me in a bit of a position here,” I raise my hands in the air. “Weaponless and alone.”
“I don’t believe you’ll be alone for very long, darling. If you’d be so kind as to follow me.” He gestures toward the door and holds out his hand. “I don’t plan on hurting you, sweetheart. You’re too cute for that.” He winks an almost ominous wink.
“But what about the others?” I comply, taking his hand in mine. It feels awkward, like a shackle more than a handshake.
“I don’t really want to hurt anyone, sweetness. I just want to live my life.”
“Well, you’ve been hurting people all this time? What’s the difference now?” I ask as he leads us toward the auditorium.
“I didn’t particularly want to hurt anyone, but you’ve got to agree that they deserved it. That it was funny.”
I choose to stay silent as he sits us down in the audience, giving us a perfect view of the stage.
“Now what?” I ask.
“We wait. Although there are plenty of things we could do in the meantime.” His suggestive tone is punctuated by him pulling my hand up to his mouth for a gentle kiss.
I almost laugh. “I don’t believe I want to add monsterfucker to the list of things I am just yet.”
“Well, then why don’t you tell me all the things you are so I can convince you otherwise.”
“Twin, hunter, trans, sword-swallower-stop smirking,” I hit his shoulder with my free hand, “I know ASL, I am apparently a dog owner now, and I really don’t like my–” I don’t get to finish my sentence as the door bursts open. The trickster covers my mouth with his free hand before covering my eyes with our linked hands, the latter being only for a brief moment as suddenly there are half-naked women on what appears to be a shitty porn set in front of us.
“We’ve been waiting for you, Dean,” the two beautiful women say in unison. They aren’t real.
“You aren’t real,” Dean stutters.
“Trust me sugar, it’ll feel real.” One of them says in the most porno voice I’ve ever heard, causing Dean to giggle out a nervous bubble of sound.
“They’re a peace offering, Dean.” The trickster interrupts, making me stand up next to him, showing our linked hands. I can see a look float over Dean’s face. It whispers I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you before it goes back into neutral. I hope he realizes that this really is all just a trick and I'm not particularly willingly holding hands with a monster.
“Well, you know I can’t just let you keep on hurting people.” Dean attempts to reconcile.
“Come on! Those people all got what was coming to them. Hoisted on their own petards, but you and Sam, Drew, I like you guys,” he raises our linked hands, and it feels more like a shackle every moment that passes.
“So treat yourself however long you want, just as long as it takes me to move on to the next town. And I promise to give this one back before I go.” He kisses my hand again, and it causes a half-disgusted shutter to run through my whole body. He’s pretty, but personality is everything, and I sure as hell am uncomfortable with his.
Dean thinks for a moment. “Yeah, I don’t think I can let you do that.” He shakes his head.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” the trickster pleads, “and you know I can.”
“Look, man, I got to tell you, I dig your style. I mean, whew,” he pauses with a chuckle, “and the slow-dancing alien—”
“One of my personal favorites,” the trickster interrupts.
“But I, uh, can’t let you go.” Dean brandishes the stake from his jacket as he says this.
“Too bad. I really did like you. Sam was right, you really shouldn’t have come alone. You left this lovely gentleman unarmed and unprotected!” He half-mocks Dean.
“Well,” Dean smiles, “I’d have to agree with you there. It wasn’t really the best idea I’ve ever had.”
In true comedic timing, whether this was a Winchester special or not, Sam uses this opportunity to rush through the door, Bobby following close behind. Both have stakes of their own.
“That fight you guys had outside, that was a trick?” The Trickster looks at all of us in turn, letting go of my hand for the first time in a while. I feel weightless.
I shrug while Dean smiles. I assumed they weren’t this stupid, and I’m glad I was right, but I’m a little too close to danger to really appreciate the beauty of their plan.
“Not bad, but do you want to see a real trick?” The Trickster asks as a masked man with a chainsaw quickly enters behind Sam. Chaos ensues, everyone being attacked but me. I’m handed half a sandwich.
“I think I should probably help them,” I sigh, taking a bite of the frankly delicious sandwich.
“Drew!” Sam yells before throwing me a stake of my own.
“At least let me finish the sandwich,” he sighs in defeat.
“I don’t think I can, honey.”
He practically pushes his chest into the stab of the stake before falling into the chair behind him, life leaving his eyes. The hairs on the back of my neck raise up in suspicion. It all seems a bit too easy, but he doesn’t move, nothing comes out of the shadows to kill us, so I force myself to take a deep breath and calm down.
As everyone approaches, Dean is the first to speak. “Everyone okay?”
We all confirm before Dean groans in pain, adding to the effect of, “Well, I’ve got to say, at least he had style.”
We all move around to thank Bobby, but he simply holds up his hand.
“Hey, save it! Let’s get the hell out of dodge before somebody finds that body.”
“Please,” I agree, ignoring the look Dean gives me. The flip between trust and suspicion is instant within him, but I can’t even fault him for it. I also can’t help my need to speak up for myself.
“The guy was hot but I wasn’t going to betray you for him.”
***
We all make our way to the car before Sam gets up the nerve to start an apology. My brothers are damn good at reading each other’s minds. Good enough to get Bobby feeling sappy.
“You guys are breaking my heart. Could we please just leave?” Bobby asks as he gets into the back seat. I follow along in silence.
***
When I get home, Hellboy and Ash are both in my bed, leaving barely enough room for me to crawl in beside them.
“Drew,” Ash asks, barely raising his head.
“Go back to sleep,” I sigh. I’m too tired to talk.
Ash nods, pats Hellboy’s chest, then tries to pat my stomach but misses horribly and gently slaps me in the face. At least I think it was an accident, but I can’t fault a sleeping man for his misjudgments.
Chapter 8: Breaking Bones
Summary:
Shit is hitting the fan, no spoilers, except to say I'm sorry.
Chapter Text
“Drew, this is fucking–holy–come here,” Ash rushes, gesturing for me to come into his room.
“What’s up, babe?” I shut the door behind me as Ash sits in his computer chair and shifts around.
“I found something on the radio waves.” Ash gestures dramatically toward his computer.
“What is it? I’m right here.” I already know that he means something about the whole demonic apocalypse stuff, so I don’t even try to ask any further.
Ash grabs my arm. “This is big.” He uses his free arm to gesture toward the paper by his computer.
Words are transcribed in a scrawled hand I’m all too familiar with. Azazel (Yellow Eyes), gate to hell, demon children, Sam, apocalypse. All words I don’t particularly want to hear but make a little too much sense.
“Fuck.”
***
“Ash, any news on the algorithm?” I ask as I enter his room and move to lean over his shoulder.
Ash shushes me, holding a finger up. This must be serious.
I can hear Dean on the other end of the phone Ash has cradled between his shoulder and ear, crackling through the speaker. “Ash, what do you got?”
“Okay, listen, it’s a big negatory on Sam–”
“Oh, come on, man!” Dean cuts him off, “You’ve gotta give us something. We’re looking at a three-thousand mile haystack here.”
Ash sighs. “Listen, Dean, I did find something.”
“Well, what?”
“I can’t talk over this line, Dean,” Ash says, almost frantic.
“Come on, I don’t have time for this!” Dean sounds just as frantic.
I grab the phone from Ash. “Dean, you need to make time, okay, please. This is fucking huge, okay. It’ll help us find Sam. Get here as fast as you can, please.”
“Okay.”
I hang up and hand Ash back the phone.
“Back to our regularly scheduled programming.” I pat Ash’s shoulder and kiss his forehead before moving out to the bar floor.
***
I’m bringing in a case of beers when Hellboy rams his head into my leg.
“Dude, not when I’m carrying stuff,” I chastise, but he ignores me and runs through the door.
“Outside during business hours, Hellboy,” I yell toward my four-legged companion. I shake my head. “Such a dumb ass.”
Ellen yells from the bar, “You know you aren’t supposed to let that damn dog in here during business hours.”
“He just ran in, Mom, I’ll get him out when I set the beer down.”
The case in its place, I move to find the monster of a dog.
“Hellboy, baby, you gotta go outside,” I say to the sniffing dog. He doesn’t listen. He freezes, looks at me, and sits.
“Fuck,” I sigh. I nod, hoping he understands.
“Mom,” I move toward the bar, sliding in next to Ellen. “We’re full out of pretzels. Can you run and go get some?”
“We have-”
“No we don’t, Mom, I just checked. Can you run and go get some for me?” I try to convey the danger we are in with just a look.
“Sure, honey,” she says, somewhat confused, but she sees the fear in my face.
“Thanks, Mom. I’ll see you later.”
Thankfully, the lull at the bar coincides with Hellboy’s alert, giving me enough time to run to the back and talk to Ash.
“Baby, I just got an emergency alert for a hunt, but Mom can’t go with me and she’ll kill me if I grab Jo. Can you get our go bags in the truck for me?” My eyes are wide, staring into Ash’s.
“What, what’s the-oh,” Ash stands abruptly. “I’ll get right on it.”
“Can I have your watch, babe? I don’t want to leave too late, and I think Hellboy might be a little antsy, so I think I’ll take him along. I’ll go grab him. Start the truck for me while you’re at it?” I throw my keys from the door over to Ash, who catches them ungratefully. I put a lot of fucking faith in this dog. Ash rips his watch off and throws it my way. I walk back out into the bar.
“Hellboy, you’ve gotta get back outside, baby!” I yell, trying to get his attention. I don’t know his release words, the covert words created for this exact situation, so I hope he will listen without them. He makes eye contact, but he doesn’t even move. I hope I have a bit more time.
“Sorry guys,” I say, touching a hunter nearby on the shoulder. I move toward the pool table, hoping to catch someone willing.
“Jimmy, darling, how much would I have to wipe off your tab to get you to wear this watch?” I whisper to one of the regulars who’s a little sweet on me. He’s not quite willing to come out yet, but he spends a little too long staring at me for me not to make that assumption.
“$50. No questions asked.”
“Lower than I thought. Deal.” I slide the watch on his wrist, only regretting slightly that I hope he dies in the chaos I expect to break out within the next few minutes.
Hellboy is still sitting in the same position, making eye contact with me. I sigh, resigning myself to what might happen next.
“Jesus Christ, Hellboy, out!”
He doesn’t move. The demons he warned me about do. I try one last time. “Hellboy, come!”
He doesn’t. I hear the truck start outside. Fuck. Hellboy moves toward me, but not past me. He blocks me from the ensuing chaos. A Molotov cocktail is lit to my right, thrown across my vision to hit a table on my left. Fuck. I try to grab Hellboy by the collar, but he doesn’t move. Other hunters go on the offense. Hellboy is too strong for me to try and grab him.
“Come on, Drew!” Ash yells from the back door.
“I can’t leave him.”
“You have to!”
I try one last time to drag away the dog I’ve grown too attached to. He doesn’t budge.
“Come on, Drew, leave him!” Ash yells, and I concede. I rush out of the burning building, thankful to get my family out, at least some of them. With one last look, I see that Hellboy has latched onto one of the demons, ripping at their calf.
***
“Ash, I left him there.” I realize what I’ve done and start to sob.
“He wanted to protect you, us.”
“How am I supposed to-how are we-Dean-” I deflate. It’s too fucking much.
“We’ll find Dean. We’ll tell him what we know. We’ll save Sam.” Ash promises.
All I can do is nod along, covering my face.
***
Later, at a motel just a little too far away from home, I’m finally able to breathe, lying down on a fully made bed.
“We need to call them.” I crackle out of my too dry mouth.
Ash sighs, moving from typing, sat precariously on the couch to sitting on the bed next to me.
“If we call them, it leaves a trail.”
“I know,” I sigh. “They think we’re dead.”
“That’s the point, babe.”
“That’s what John would have wanted.” I flip over on the bed, facing the ceiling.
“I know how much you hate him.” Ash leans down, moving to rest his head on my stomach. My hand unconsciously moves toward his hair.
My head twinges in pain. I’ve cried so much I must be dehydrated. Then, again. An oak tree, carved. Sam. I shoot up, unintentionally pushing Ash off my stomach.
“What’s wrong?” He asks, hand on the small of the back.
“I know where Sam is.”
“What?” Ash asks.
“One of the others with him must be psychic or something, I saw him. Someone sure as shit just sent me a message.” I rub the last bits of pain away, hand against my forehead.
“What if it’s a trap?”
“Only one way to find out.” I swing my legs off the bed.
***
The first payphone we find, I jump out of the truck before it even gets fully stopped. I shove coins in and dial the old, memorized phone number.
“What do you want?” Bobby’s voice swings suspicious, my number equally memorized.
“Dad, I’ve been wondering how hot it was gonna be in South Dakota for the family reunion.”
“Pretty hot as far as I can tell.”
“I was hoping to put my dog in one of those cute sweaters. I thought it’d be cold enough to get some good pictures.”
“The live oaks are real pretty this time of year.”
I hang up. If anyone, or any demon was listening, they’d figure it out just a little too late, at least I hope so.
“So, what’s the verdict?” Ash asks from the truck, now parked close by.
“Cold Oak, South Dakota. I was right.” I jump into the truck, snapping the door closed.
***
I jump out of the truck as soon as we pull up next to the impala. It takes me seconds to swing up into the bed, popping open the locked toolbox with adrenaline fueled anxiety. Ash takes the time to actually open the bed, grabbing things as I hand them to him and arranging them.
“No hello, Drew?” Bobby asks.
“Sorry, Bobby, just trying to breathe.”
“Yeah, after burning in a fire, I’d expect you to want a little fresh air.” Dean is angry, I can hear it in his voice. At what, I can’t discern.
“I had to make it fucking believable. My dog didn’t make it out, though,” I half-snap back.
“I’ve never been much for dogs.” Dean answers, honestly.
“Me either, but that one knew the difference between a demon and a friend, that’s for sure.” Ash chimes in.
“He warned you?” Bobby asks.
“Of course he did. Now, save Sam first, news second.” I say as I hand one last thing to Ash.
“Why not both at the same time?” Dean asks.
“Story is too long, Deano.” I jump out of the truck bed before grabbing a salt gun and slinging its strap over my shoulder.
“Don’t call me that.”
“What’s the plan?”
“Move in, get Sam, move out.”
“That’s not much of a plan,” Ash says.
***
“Sam!” Dean yells, finally having a sight line on our brother.
“Dean!” Sam sighs, body broken, wobbling toward us.
I notice that the man on the ground moves to grab something and move toward Sam.
“Sam, watch out!” I scream, just a little too late as I burst into a full sprint.
“No!” Dean and I scream in tandem.
The knife twists into my brother’s body, the man wielding it choosing to run away rather than face us. Dean gets there first, able to catch Sam as he falls.
“No, Sam,” Dean half-sobs.
I half-stop at Sam, but Bobby and Ash run past me, so I follow. Dean can handle it alone. He has for years.
***
When we come back to Dean, Sam is lifeless in his arms. I must deal with the loss of two of my loved ones tonight. I don’t approach, letting Bobby take the lead. His voice is too far away to pay attention to. I’ve only just gotten to know Sam, and now he’s gone. My eyesight tunnels in on the way Dean holds Sam against him. I’m stuck until Ash moves me toward the truck. I move mechanically toward the ugly yellow thing. Ash puts me into the passenger seat, buckling my seat belt. I can’t hear him trying to comfort me. I can’t hear anything.
Chapter 9: Hell Breaks All Men
Summary:
Deals are make, chicken consumed, gates open and shut, the end of an era, and the beginning of a new one.
Chapter Text
Everything is hazy, like radio static. My younger brother is dead. My dog is dead. Although I know this to be false, I still come to the next conclusion with all the logic of someone in shock. Everyone is dead.
I barely hear Ash on the phone with someone.
“He’s alive, Ellen, but he definitely ain’t okay.”
I tune out the rest, turning over on the motel bed, still made.
***
I don’t know how much time has passed, but suddenly a light flicks on next to me.
“Get up kid, your brother needs you,” I hear as I’m shaken awake. It’s Bobby.
“He’s dead.” I answer, not quite awake yet.
“The other one, idjit, now get up and take a shower. You smell like rot.”
“That’s exactly what he’s been doing,” Ash chimes in. I lovingly flip him off before making my way off the bed, stiff from staying in one position too long.
“He’s never needed me before.” I rub my eyes, sleep crowding them.
“Well, he sure as shit needs you now. Get your ass up.” Bobby hauls me up by the shoulders and steps out of the way.
“God, it feels like I’m being forced to go to school.” I pretend nothing is wrong, knowing it will hit me as soon as I’m alone.
“Well, you’re being forced to help your brother, so get your ass clean and suck it up.”
I nod. “Got it, Bobby.”
I start hyperventilating as soon as I close the bathroom door, but I power through long enough to get the shower started before the first sob escapes me. I have to be stronger than this. I am stronger than this. There is a time to feel, and this ain’t it.
***
I come out to Bobby gone and Ash sitting on the couch.
“He’s in his truck, waiting on you. You’re all packed. Go.” He looks up at me, still typing away.
“You’re not coming with me?”
“I’ve got to go find Jo and Ellen. Make sure they’re okay.”
“They always are.” I half-smile. “I hope they are.”
“Go check on Dean. He needs you now.”
I nod, take a deep breath. “I know.” I think I need him, too.
***
Bobby turns into a chicken shack on the way, ordering. The first words I’ve heard from him so far. After he grabs the food from the drive-thru, he puts it in my lap.
“Sorry, kid.”
“Don’t be, Bobby. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me, kid.”
“I don’t know what else to do.”
“We’re going to see if you can convince Dean to bury Sam.”
“What?” I turn abruptly to face Bobby.
“Dean’s holed up in a cabin, Sam’s body is laying out on a bed.”
“He doesn’t even know me, Bobby, how am I supposed to convince him to bury our brother?”
“Tell him you’re his fucking twin, you idjit.” Bobby doesn’t even glance at me, eyes focused on the road.
“I can’t do that Bobby. Not now, not yet.”
“You two are hurting. Maybe you should hurt together.”
“You know the first thing he’ll do when he figures out who I am is throw me out. He doesn’t have our dad to be mad at anymore. It’s just me,” I readjust into the seat, staring ahead once again.
“Kid, you have to tell him at some point.” Bobby glances at me, but I can’t bare to see the look on his face.
“I know.”
***
Bobby enters the cabin first, bag of food in hand. “Dean? I brought you this back.”
I enter behind him, silent.
“No thanks, I’m fine,” Dean says, not even looking at either of us.
“You should eat something,” Bobby sighs.
“I said I’m fine,” Dean bites back. He takes a swallow of whiskey long enough I wince.
“Drowning your sorrows, huh?” I ask, barely realizing I’ve spoken.
“Shut the fuck up.”
An awkward silence takes up space, Bobby chiming in. “Dean, I really hate to bring this up, but don’t you think maybe it’s time,” Bobby pauses, uncomfortable, “we bury Sam?”
“No.”
Bobby continues trying to reason with him. “We could…maybe-”
Dean, calm front before the storm, says “What? Torch his fucking corpse? Not yet.”
Bobby looks at me for help, but all I can do is shrug.
“I want you to come with me,” Bobby tries.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Dean, please,” Bobby pleads.
“Would you just cut me some goddamn slack, Bobby?”
“I just don’t think you should be alone, that’s all. I gotta admit, I could use your help.” I can tell Bobby is referencing both of us for different reasons. Dean snorts and I sigh at the notion.
“Something big is going down, end-of-the-world big, Dean.” Bobby tries.
I butt in. “Well, Bobby, I’m sorry to say it, but I think as far as we’re concerned, our worlds have already pretty much ended.”
Dean snaps. “You lost a fucking dog, and I lost a brother!” He leans in before turning away completely. “Let the rest of the world fucking end.”
“You don’t mean that,” Bobby tries. Dean stands, angry, in Bobby’s face. I move to stand next to Bobby, although I don’t imagine I can do all that much.
“You don’t think so, huh? You don’t think I’ve given e-fucking-nough? You don’t think I’ve paid enough? I’m done with it, all of it. And, if you two know what’s good for you,” Dean pokes a finger at my chest. “You’d turn around and get the hell out of here”
Bobby just shakes his head. I can tell he’s ashamed of Dean. Dean realizes this too and shoves Bobby toward the door. “Just go.”
Dean takes a second. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, but please, just fucking go.”
I stay resolute in my spot. Bobby turns. “You know where I’ll be.”
As Bobby leaves, I move to open the bucket of chicken and get myself a plate. I put the rest in the fridge. “Eat when you can.”
And I’m out the door, hoping he won’t do something too stupid.
***
“Bobby, he’s gonna do something stupid.” I set two beers down on the table in Bobby’s kitchen.
“I know.” Bobby sits next to me and picks up his beer. “You two are some of the most stubborn, headstrong people I know.”
“It usually works in our favor.”
“Not this time.” Bobby shakes his head
“I think it’s about time I call Ash.” I stand, beer in hand.
“Go ahead, kid.”
“You guys have got to stop calling me that,” I sigh.
“You are one.” Bobby raises his beer in a toast from across the room.
***
A knock at the door rouses me from my research upstairs.
“I got it,” Bobby answers from downstairs. I start moving toward the door anyways.
“Hey, Bobby,” Dean sheepishly introduces himself.
“Hey, Bobby,” Sam, upright and alive, repeats.
Bobby is astonished, confused. “Sam, it’s good to–good to see you up and around.”
“Yeah, thanks for patching me up.” Sam pats Bobby on the shoulder and moves into the house.
“Don’t mention it,” Bobby says before glaring at Dean. He’s practically vibrating with all the conclusions he’s come to.
“Well, Sam’s better, and we’re back in it now, so…What do you know?” Dean says a little too stiff. Sam glances at him curiously before looking over at the sound of my footsteps.
“Hey, Sam,” I wave as I walk down the staircase.
“Drew, good to see you again,” Sam smiles. I quickly come to the conclusion he has no idea he’s been dead.
***
“Well, we’ve found something, but without Ash here, I don’t have the laptop to decipher it much.” I say as I set down the paper map.
“What is it?” Sam asks.
Bobby takes over. “Demonic omens, like a fucking tidal wave. Cattle deaths, lighting storms, they skyrocketed from out of nowhere. All around here,” Bobby points to Wyoming, “except for one place, Southern Wyoming.”
“Wyoming?” Dean asks.
“It’s totally fucking clean, this one little blip. Like the demons are surr-”
“What?” Dean asks.
“I’m glad Ash sent Ellen back to The Roadhouse.”
Comedic timing finds itself blessing me as I hear the trademark sound of my ugly little truck pulling up outside.
“Speak of the devil and he shall appear.” I half-smile as I move to open the door.
Bobby calls over his shoulder, “Sam, could you take a look here and see if you can see anything I can’t? I have some more books I need to bring in. Dean, could you help me?” The two exit just as Ash and Ellen move toward the door.
I rush to hug Ash and Ellen in kind. “I’m so glad you’re all here. Don’t ask questions, just head on inside. Sam is alive, he doesn’t know that he died. Pretend everything is normal,” I whisper into Ellen’s ear as I hug her.
We all pile into the room again, Sam pouring over everything we’ve collected so far. He hands me a flask without even looking back.
“Holy water,” I nod, passing it off to Ash and Ellen. “Bobby’s rules. You know how it is.”
“Frankly, I would be worried if he didn’t,” Ellen says as she takes the first swig, handing it off to Ash. They both pass the test.
“So, did you bring what I asked?” I ask Ellen and Ash.
“Map and laptop. Gotcha,” Ash says, patting my shoulder before making himself comfortable at one corner of the table.
“Great. So, if I’m right about this-” I open up the map and set it next to our own, “fuck, I love when I’m onto something.”
***
“Okay, so, the map has those X’s, well, I’ll be damned if each one doesn’t fucking correspond to a mid-19th century frontier church, all of them abandoned, all built by Samuel Colt.”
“The demon-killing, gun-making Samuel Colt?” Ash asks, standing over my shoulder as I lean over the map, drawing lines on the one Bobby and I have already marked to pieces.
“And guess what else? They’re connected by private railway lines that create-” I pause to finish the last line, “this pattern.”
“Is that what I think it is?” Dean asks.
“It’s a Devil’s Trap.” Sam answers.
“A 100-square mile Devil’s Trap, to be precise,” Bobby answers, setting even more books down on the overflowing table.
“That’s brilliant. Iron lines demons can’t cross.” Dean smiles.
“I’ve never heard of anything that massive,” Ellen chimes in.
“No one has,” Bobby responds.
“And after all these years none of the lines are broken?” Dean asks. “It still works.”
“Definitely,” Sam and I say in unison, causing odd looks all around. With Dean it’s more acceptable, apparently.
“How do you know?”
Sam nods toward me, letting me answer. “All those omens. Demons must be circling, but they can’t get in.”
“Yeah, well, they sure as shit are trying,” Bobby responds.
“What’s inside?” Ellen asks.
“That’s what we’ve been trying to figure out. There’s nothing except a cowboy cemetery in the middle.” I respond.
“Well, what’s so important about it? What’s Colt trying to protect?” Sam asks.
“Fuck…” Dean and I sigh in unison.
“What?” Ash asks.
“What if he isn’t trying to keep something out? What if he’s trying to keep something in?” Dean asks.
“That’s a comforting thought,” Ellen says sarcastically.
“Could they get through eventually?” Sam asks.
Bobby taps the map with all the conviction of a well read redneck. “This thing is so powerful you’d practically need an A-bomb to destroy it. No way a full-blood demon gets across.”
“No, but I know who could,” Sam responds.
***
Somehow, as a hunter, you find yourself in more graveyards than you can count, although you rarely bury your own. I suppose this is just another crypt to deface.
Inside the Devil’s Trap designed by Samuel Colt, it is uncannily ordinary. Nothing out of place, worn out graves sat beside new ones, and the crypt we are looking for dead in the center.
We all hide in our respective positions, logical and tactical, although I doubt we will truly get the drop on Jake.
“Howdy, Jake,” Sam says, our queue to step out of the shadows, although we have decided Sam should take the lead in luring Jake to his hopefully rather timely death.
“Wait…you were dead. I killed you,” Jake balks. And I imagine this is the start of everything falling apart yet again.
“Yeah? Well, next time, finish the fucking job,” Sam says, all too confident in the lies Dean has told him to buy a few precious moments.
Jake goes pale, like he’s seen a ghost, and I suppose he has, although he’s definitely seen much worse than that. “I did? I cut clean through your spinal cord, man.” He sounds as though he’s trying to reason with Sam, convince him to crawl back in the grave.
I can see it on Sam’s face, the realization dawning on him that he was dead. Bobby decides now is the best time to jump in before anything goes any further south.
“And if I don’t?” Jake asks.
Sam, barely faltering in his now partially false confidence, smirks. “Wait and see.”
“What, you a tough guy all of a sudden? What are you gonna do? Kill me?” A taunt, a jest, wrapped up neatly in his dirty fatigues. I wonder for a minute why he hasn’t thought to buy street clothes.
Sam’s smirk etches itself a little deeper on his face. “It’s a thought.”
“You had your chance, you couldn’t do it.”
“I won’t make that mistake twice.”
Jake begins an almost hysterical laughter, causing Dean to almost blow a gasket.
“What are you smiling at, you little bitch?” Dean asks Jake.
“Hey, lady, do me a favor and put that gun to your head.”
It’s a request we don’t expect to work, but Ellen, trying with all her willpower to not listen to the command, raises her gun to her own temple.
Jake begins the typical villain monologue, and I start to raise my gun at him, but Sam just closes his eyes, a covert not yet that I reluctantly listen to.
“See, that Ava girl was right. Once you give in to it, there’s all sorts of new Jedi mind tricks you can learn.
“Let her go!” Sam is angry now, smirk turned quickly to a grimace.
Ellen, through a will of her own, shakes out a simple request. “Shoot him.”
“You’ll be mopping up her skull before you ever get a fucking shot off,” Jake threatens. “Everybody drop your weapons, except you sweetheart,” Jake requests, and we all listen, frustrated.
“Okay, thank you.” Jake turns around and pulls the Colt out of his pocket. While he begins unlocking whatever was definitely meant to stay locked, Dean and Bobby grab Ellen before she can shoot herself. Four shots ring out, all landing in Jake’s back. Sam leans over Jake’s slowly dying body as Jake begs for his life one last time. Sam doesn’t listen, and I can’t help but smirk, although his next display of violence is overkill. Three more shots enter Jake’s body, leaving Sam more bloody than he was when he died at the hands of the now, thankfully, dead Jake.
As we all move toward Sam, we can’t help but give him looks with varying degrees of sadness and hope etched into our faces.
Bobby and I move to examine the crypt, watching as it unlocks on its own. “Fuck,” we say in unison.
“What is it?” Ellen asks.
Reading the engravings is easy after all the research I’ve done, but Bobby is first to answer. “It’s hell.”
Dean rips the Colt from the crypt before Bobby yells out, “Take cover, now!”
We each find a tombstone to take cover behind as the doors of the crypt burst open with the fervor of a gas explosion, and the black mass of demonic entities traveling without human bodies to bog them down rushes out to freedom. The Devil’s Trap should hold them in, but with so much force behind the demon smoke, the seal breaks, unleashing demons onto the world in numbers likely never before seen. The apocalypse is one step closer.
“What the hell just happened?” Dean yells out.
“That’s a devil’s gate, a door to fucking hell,” I yell in his direction.
“Come on, we’ve got to shut the gate!” Ellen yells, staying ducked down as she makes a move toward the crypt.
I make a move after her, only to duck at the sound and flash of light that comes with a lightning strike. When I turn around, there’s another person, or demon rather, in the cemetery with us. Dean no longer has the Colt in his hand.
“Boys shouldn’t play with daddy’s guns,” The Yellow Eyed Demon taunts before shoving Dean hard against the closest tombstone with the demon-typical telekinesis, leaving Dean stunned.
Everyone else has made it to the crypt, trying and struggling to close its door. Sam notices only seconds after I do that Dean is down. Yellow-Eyes smirks at Sam’s reaction.
Sam moves toward Dean and I move away. I’m better used trying to close the crypt while my brothers try to fight the demon that killed our mother.
I hear, but don’t see, one of my brother’s smack against a nearby tree, barely hearing the conversation happening behind me. I’m proud of you…Sammy’s back in rotation…You call that deal good?
I fully tune in, hoping to find out the deal Dean made.
“Well, it’s a better shake than your dad ever got. You really never wondered why, huh? I’m surprised at you. I mean, you saw what your brother did to Jake, right? That was pretty cold, wasn’t it?” Yellow-Eyes chuckles. “How certain are you that what you brought back is 100% pure, unadulterated Sammy?”
“Don’t call him that!”
Ghosts begin rushing their way out of the gates, people who’ve made deals but not yet turned themselves into the smog that becomes of a truly tainted soul. One of which appears to be my deadbeat father. I hear someone tackled behind me, and some part of me realizes that John is a better father dead than he ever was alive.
We all push a little harder on the crypt doors. I no longer care about the conversation behind me. It isn’t worth being distracted.
A shot rings out, Yellow-Eyes is dead, the doors to the crypt finally close, and I watch as my father’s ghostly form glances my way, still clearly disappointed. He shares a tender moment with my brothers as Bobby rests an arm on my shoulder. He was always a better father, really he was my only father. John walks into a stereotypical white light and I feel an uncanny sense of dread. That bastard doesn’t deserve heaven.
Bobby, Ellen and I approach the smoking body of Yellow-Eyes, astonished that this chapter of our lives is, well, not really but kind of over.
Dean chuckles. “Well, check that off the to-do list.” He’s trying to defuse tension. It works. Sam smiles.
“You did it,” Sam pats Dean on the back.
“I didn’t do it alone,” Dean rests his hand above Sam’s on his shoulder.
“Do you think Dad really-do you think he really climbed out of hell?”
I almost butt in, but Bobby shakes his head.
“The door was open. If anyone’s stubborn enough to do it, it would be him,” Dean shrugs.
“Where do you think he is now?”
“I don’t know.”
“I kind of can't believe it, Dean. I mean, our whole lives, everything, has been prepping for this, and now I-” Sam lets out a laugh, “I kind of don't know what to say.”
Dean smiles. “I do,” he leans over the body of Yellow-Eyes. “That was for our mom, you son of a bitch.”
Bobby holds onto my shoulder as Dean and Sam move to the Impala.
“He has a year,” Bobby whispers. “Tell him the truth.”
“Bobby,” I hold in a sob as a turn toward him.
***
After we give Sam and Dean some time truly alone and out of earshot, Ellen makes her way over first.
“Well... Yellow-Eyed Demon might be dead. But a lot more got through that gate.”
“How many, you think?” Dean asks.
“A hundred, two. Either way, it’s a fucking army,” I respond.
Bobby glances at the three of us. “Hope to hell you boys are ready, because the war has just begun.”
“Well, then,” Dean smirks, opening the trunk of the Impala and throwing the Colt inside, “we got work to do.”
***
There aren’t many photos of me in existence. At least ones I have access to. Many of my childhood photos burned in the fire that killed my mother and supposedly killed me according to my shitty father. Mall photo booths are surprisingly cheap and produce a rather small series of photos, the kind that fit well into a small box.
Graveyard dirt is just as easy to acquire, although it’s useful to be kind enough to ask for permission before you just steal it from some poor guy named Gary whose family thought he was a loving father.
Finding a crossroad that is in the middle of nowhere enough I won’t get run over, but close enough to civilization I won’t have someone holding a shotgun to my head is the hardest part. I’m rusty at digging graves, but the skills still stand for the small hole I dig to fit in the even smaller box.
“Well hello there,” a rather attractive English accent answers my call. What is with demons and their need to act like they’ve gotten the drop on you.
“I’d like to make a deal.”
Chapter 10: Seven More Problems to Deal With
Summary:
Demons abound in this newfound war. Seven come together. A new friend (or foe?) approaches. We don't get to meet them yet.
Chapter Text
“Oh, another Winchester making a deal.” He is smirking like the cat that caught the canary, or rather, the demon that caught the hunter. “I hope you understand, darling, that you can’t exchange your soul for your dear old twin’s. It doesn’t quite work that way.”
I’m still crouched down, having barely put the dirt over the box. “I don’t expect it to.”
I stand, just a bit taller than the man before me. He’s a little overweight and bald, at least in this form, but in reality he’s just a mass of smoke hiding behind human eyes.
“Then what do you expect, love?”
“I want you to put John Winchester back in hell.”
“Not that dog of yours back in your arms? You really want dear old dad back in the pit?”
“No, I want my deadbeat dad to be back in hell where he belongs.”
“I’d say that’s a tall order, but I don’t think Heaven really wants the bastard either. You know how this works. I’ll even give you the full ten. Call it a favor.”
“One.”
“Hm?”
“One year.”
“Came into this world with your brother, want to go out the same way, huh?”
“Someone’s got to drag the both of us back out, eventually.” I move to raise my hand for a shake on the deal.
“Oh, no, darling, this takes something a bit more, shall we say, intimate.”
“How intimate?” I cross my arms over my chest.
“Just a simple kiss and you wish the rest of your life away to put your father back in the hole he dug for himself.”
“You’ve got a deal,” I say as I step forward and pull his head toward mine. The kiss is all teeth and nose, but it’s over. The deal is struck.
“Now, a simple peck would have done, love.” If he wasn’t a heartless demon, I’d think the look on his face was just a little bit starstruck.
“Go big or go home,” I shrug.
***
Ash and I have sort of moved into the upstairs of Bobby’s house.
Usually Ash is the one to wake me. He’s insisted the king sized bed be pushed up against the wall so that we have more work room, but it’s just a tactic to make sure I’m actually moving through the day. Instead of crawling his way to the bottom edge of the bed to get out, he crawls over me, making a direct line for the en suite of the master bedroom Bobby insisted we take.
Bobby doesn’t really live in his own house. He’s a ghost, still living and breathing, and I can see it in the wallpaper.
Today, Bobby wakes me, Ash still curled against my side like a rash.
Bobby grabs my shoulders, waiting just long enough for my confusion to turn into soldier-like intuition.
“Get up, we have a case.”
“It couldn’t wait a few more minutes?”
“No, we’ve got to go and catch your brothers up before this turns to real dog shit.”
“What about Ash?”
Ash half-stirs next to me, trying to pull me back against him, missing the warmth.
“We need someone here in case we need info the internet won’t give us, Drew.” Bobby knows we’ve been scanning his books into a hard drive, but we haven’t taken the information and made it properly searchable yet.
I nod, eyes closing, mustering the energy to pull myself out of the bed.
***
Bobby rings Sam once we’ve been on the road for about ten minutes. He doesn’t know I’m the same sort of ticking time bomb as Dean, no one knows, not yet.
“Hey, Sam.” Bobby starts once the call is picked up. I can’t pick up on the other end of the phone call, only bits of static reaching my ears.
“What’cha doing?”
“You buried in that book again?” The book he took from Bobby’s right before they left again. I can almost visualize Sam’s grimace at being caught. “Sam, you really want to break Dean free of that demon deal, you ain’t going to find the answer in a book.”
“Kid, I wish I knew. So, where’s your brother?”
“What?”
“Well, you boys better pack it up. I think I finally found something.” I already know most of the something, Bobby having dropped his research in my lap before I even got out of bed. Omens, crop failures, cicada swarms, all converging on one Lincoln, Nebraska.
***
Bobby and I wait for Sam and Dean at the farmhouse swarming with more cicadas than it should be. We sight the Impala, Sam and Dean just a second before they sight us, and Bobby decides to forgo hellos.
“So, we’re eating bacon cheeseburgers for breakfast, are we?”
“Well, I sold my damn soul. Got a year to live. I ain’t sweating the cholesterol.”
“But you will get the meat sweats, Deano.” I smirk. I’ve only got a year to live right along with him, but you don’t see me trying to get fat and sassy.
Sam pipes up, trying to get us back on task. “So, Bobby, what do you think? We got a biblical plague here or what?”
“Well, let’s find out. Looks like the swarm is ground zero.”
Dean reaches the door first, pounding on it in hopes of getting an answer, as if we didn’t already try that. “Candygram!”
The only response, same as before, is the noise of cicadas. Dean easily picks the lock and opens the door, letting out the stench of decaying human remains.
“Fuck,” I sigh, covering my nose with the collar of my shirt.
“That’s awful,” Sam agrees.
“That can’t be a good sign.” Dean is first to enter, and we follow suit, guns drawn.
Bobby and I move in one direction while Dean and Sam move in the other. We meet at the source of panicked screams, coming from a television screen across from which sit the bodies of a family of three, quite long dead.
“What the hell happened here?” I ask, covering my nose yet again with my shirt.
“I don’t know,” Bobby responds immediately. We found no evidence of foul play and no suspicious omens besides the same droning cicada noise.
“Check for sulfur.” Dean begins to make his way around the room. We search windowsills and dust mites with little luck before a faint noise catches my and Dean’s attention at the same time. He lets out a noise, quiet enough to be misheard as the TV before signaling that he’ll check and we should follow behind.
I take up the rear of the formation, quiet as a mouse, hoping it’s not another world-ender.
Bobby recognizes the people in front of us.
“Isaac? Tamara?” Bobby asks in shock. Issac has easily knocked Dean to the ground, Tamara having surrounded him from the other side. Sometimes I wonder how we’ve all survived this long.
Tamara, who I vaguely remember from one of the rare, quiet moments in my teenage years where I ran from Ellen into Bobby’s arms, when we were both still angry at the hand we’d been dealt, not numb enough yet to really make sense of it all-Tamara speaks first.
“Bobby, what the hell are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same.” Bobby lowers his weapon, but none of us move to pick Dean up.
“Hey, Bobby,” Issac says, almost sheepish at the fact he downed a friend and not an enemy.
“Hello, bleeding here,” Dean states, raising his arm for the drama of it all. Issac is the one to pick him back up.
I move down the steps. “Well, I’d love to stay and chat, but if I have to smell the scent of fresh death any longer, I think I’ll throw up, retire, and dig my own grave all in that order, so, why don’t we find literally anywhere else to be.
Tamara asks, “What did you find in there?”
“Nothing, as far as we can tell. No traces of sulfur, no signs of struggle, but that’s for a crime scene expert to tell me later. I saw their last name on their mail in the kitchen, so I can put in a call to the coroners, have them do all the work.”
“Smart thinking,” Bobby nods.
“And all it’ll take is a call later and, likely, a bit of sweet talking to get the rest of the information.” I pull out my phone and move away from the group and the lingering smell of death so I can make the call while they make battle plans.
***
The call later is to a lovely girl named Jenny. Not my type, but I’m clearly hers. She chats about her day just as much as the case itself. She actually asks to go out for appletini’s later, and I wonder if she doesn’t swing the opposite way for a moment.
“Jenny, if you’re as lovely in person as you are on the phone, I’d love to get appletini’s with you later. When are you off next?”
“I’m not off again until next Saturday.” I can hear the pout in her tone, but I want to keep her happy in case I need her again later. A part of me feels bad, but it’s easier to be nice to people and lie about your reasons when you know or hope it’ll help the whole.
“Lovely, I really hope I’m in town. I move so much for work I never really know when they’ll pull me away on the next case.”
“I was worried about that. Maybe we can keep in touch so I know when you head this way again. I’ll text you sometime!”
“Of course, I’ll text you, too, darling. Or call, whichever comes first.”
I hang up the phone with a smirk, not because of appletinis, but because this case just got the definite stamp of weird.
Sam and Dean give me weird looks.
“What? Flirting once got me into the archives of a library that had several key-card access only doors between me and a 1700s journal of a supposedly deranged man who was actually being tormented by a-it really doesn’t matter, What does matter is the fact that the family out on that farm died of dehydration and starvation. They just all sat down to watch TV and never got back up again. No signs of foul play at all, no struggle, no violence, nothing.”
Bobby states the logical, what really confounded poor, uninitiated Jenny. “But there was a fully stocked kitchen just yards away.”
“Right,” Sam nods. “What is this, some sort of demon attack?” He turns to me, hoping that I have any ideas, but I shrug and turn back to Bobby. He’s encountered more demon activity than we ever have.
“If it is, it’s not like anything I ever saw, and I’ve seen plenty.”
“Well, what now? What should we do?” Dean asks.
“Uh, we’re not going to do anything,” Issac says, excluding us from whatever plans he has.
“Huh?” I ask, simply wanting him to clarify out loud that he wants to split the party.
“You guys seem nice enough, but this isn’t fucking Scooby-Doo, and we don’t play well with others.”
We’re in their home, so I bite my tongue, refusing the urge to bite back.
“Well, I think we’d cover a hell of a lot more ground if we all worked together,” Sam tries to convince them.
“No offense, but we’re not teaming up with the damn fools who let the fucking Devill’s Gate get opened in the first place.”
“No offense?” Dean half-bites out.
Tamara chastises Issac with, “Isaac, like you’ve never made a mistake.”
She’s clearly the more logical of the two. We were going in half blind trying to stop this from happening. At least we tried.
“Oh, yeah, yeah,” Isaac starts getting truly heated, “locked my keys in the car, turned my laundry pink, but I’ve never brought on the end of the fucking world.”
Dean lets out a chuckle that is really more predatory than comedic. “All right, that’s enough.”
Isaac keeps going.
“Look, there are a couple hundred more demons out there in the world now. We don’t know where they are, who they are, or when they’ll strike. There ain’t enough hunters in the world to handle something like this. You brought war down on us, on all of us.”
Tamara realizes this isn’t worth it and starts to pull Issac into another room. “Okay, that’s quite enough testosterone for now.
When they’ve finally left the room, I let out a breath I didn’t quite realize I was holding.
“Our queue to go?” I ask, ready to get out of this one little tiny part of our metaphorical Dodge.
***
Crime scenes get weirder and weirder when you hunt the supernatural. This one is no different. According to the very not-great police officers who believed I was FBI with a flash of my very (good) fake badge, this woman was killed over a pair of heels.
I notice Sam makes his way inside with Dean, and upon looking back out toward the crime scene, I notice the nametag of one of the techs. It’s Jenny. Might as well, I think.
“Well, I suppose you really are just as perfect in person,” I put on the best smile I can muster.
“Drew?” Jenny lights up. Her dark hair is pulled back into a perfect ponytail, and her glasses are just as perfectly clean, although they slightly fishbowl her golden-brown eyes.
“In the flesh.”
“And in a suit. I’d say you know how to clean up, but this is your everyday life, huh?”
“I actually know how to dress down. Wait until you see me in a t-shirt. Then, you’ll swoon.”
“It’ll have to wait until this town stops acting like a c list horror movie.”
“I would have rated it a solid B, but to each their own.”
“I think we should forgo the appletini’s and go straight to movie marathons because if you consider getting your head bashed in for a pair of shoes by a literal stranger B list, you haven’t lived.”
“Maybe not.”
I look up to notice that Bobby is giving me a glare. He thinks I’m flirting for real.
“Well, Jenny, it’s lovely to see you in the flesh, but I must get back to the case. Interview witnesses, all that.”
“And I’ve got to interview the dead,” she jests.
I hear the tail end of Bobby talking as I walk up to my brothers. “...holy water on her just to be sure, nothing.”
Dean shrugs. “Maybe she’s just some whack job.”
“If it was an isolated incident, sure, but yesterday just makes this one big coincidence, and coincidences are usually our kind of job.” I point out.
“No sulfur, nothing?” Sam makes sure to clarify.
I think for a moment. “Neither crime scene had even a rotten egg, but we can get access to the security cameras.” I point up toward one of the cameras, giving it a little wave.
***
We all hover over Sam, me trying my hardest not to reach over him and press buttons.
“Anything interesting?” Dean asks.
“I don’t know yet. Might just be a guy,” he fasts forward just a bit, then a redheaded man approaches the blonde woman, “or it might just be our guy?”
“Yeah, no one grabs your shoulder like that unless you’re flirting or lying. I don’t think it was flirting.” I lean over to pause the video. “Guess we should figure out who he was or if anyone else has seen him.”
***
“So, are you going on that date with Jenny?” Sam asks as we try to ascertain who this demon has possessed, if it is a demon.
“I mean, I might. I just don’t like the idea of leading her on either way.”
“Either way?” Sam asks before he realizes what I mean.
“Sam,” I sigh.
sam realizes exactly what I mean. Being a hunter is only a third of the problem. “Oh, sorry.”
“Don’t be, Sam. You’re fine. I also prefer men, so I’m pretty sure I’m a triple threat against Jenny.”
“You never know. We don’t get a lot of happiness in this line of work.”
“Nope. But I can give you a little. Walter Rosen.” I turn my screen slightly toward him, not wanting to accidentally unplug this ancient library computer.
***
“You really thought it was a good idea to scare the shit out of them?” I ask as I slide my way into the Impala behind Sam.
“That’s not funny!” Dean answers for him.
“Yeah, right, okay. John Doe’s name is Walter Rosen,” Sam tries to deflect. “He’s from Oak Park, just west of Chicago. Went missing about a week ago.”
“The night the Devil’s Gate opened?”
“Yep,” I respond.
“So you think he’s possessed?” Dean asks.
“Well, it’s a good bet. And the demons out of the gate could do all sorts of craziness. Including touching them and turning them into looney tunes murder machines."
“The demons we let out,” Sam chastises himself, but we don’t have a change to shut him down before Dean spots Walter.
He moves to get out of the car before Bobby can stop him. “Wait a minute. We don’t know what to expect out of this guy. We should tail him until we know for sure.”
“Oh, so he can kill someone while we sit here with our dicks in our hands.”
“We ain’t no good dead, Dean. We’re not making a move until we know what the score is.”
“Sadly, Bobby, I don’t think that’s an option anymore.” I point toward Isaac and Tamara entering the bar behind Walter.
“Damn it!”
We all approach the bar, hoping we can defuse this before it starts, but it’s locked. Bobby and Dean slam themselves against it in hopes it will open.
“Demon Rule Number One, lock the fucking doors,” I sigh. “Rule Two is to slam people against the walls and hold them there, unless murder is more fun for them.”
My brothers and surrogate father turn toward me, shocked at my calmness.
“What, I spent my formative years compiling the journals of every hunter that came through the bar.”
“Except when you fucked clowns with swords,” Dean says as he tries to kick in the door.
“I swallowed swords and never once fucked a clown. Also, how much does a headlight and or windshield cost, Bobby?”
He throws the keys my direction, still trying to get the door open. I’m thankful two great minds think alike. By the time I’ve got it started, they are all running back toward me, entering the car like we’ve practiced Car Battering Ram maneuvers before.
With a screech of tires and a cringe, we’ve made our way into the bar. I stay behind the wheel, hoping I can back this thing back out before we all get murdered.
“Get in the car, Tamara!” I yell. There’s so much noise I don’t know if she’s even heard me, too much blood and water being sprayed across the windshield. I pop the trunk as Dean approaches with Walter in tow, still struggling.
Suddenly, someone is yelling go on repeat and I rush my way out of the bar, thankful that for a moment we have survived.
***
We make it back to Issac and Tamara's panting our way through the fear and adrenaline still left over. I move on autopilot, someone having told me, “Watch the trunk,” while they prepare the house. Walter is still trying to bang and scratch his way out, but that paint is pretty impenetrable, sadly for him, great for us.
I follow behind as Sam and Dean drag Walter into the now Devil’s Trapped living room.
“So, when are you going to tell him?” Walter asks.
I laugh. I don’t ask what he’s referring to. “Eventually.”
I sit down on the floor, just outside of the Trap. I can tell Walter is curious, but thankfully Bobby walks in ready to torture the guy.
“So, ready to talk?”
“I’ll talk to him,” Walter gestures toward me.
“Of course you will, I’m cute. Will you answer without the whole torture business because that’s so boring?” “Maybe.”
“How about a villain monologue?”
“Nope.”
“Damn. Okay, so here is what we definitely know. Not enough. You’re clearly not a low level demon, so, what exactly do you do?”
“You really haven’t figured it out, have you?”
“The family chose not to get up until they died. The shopper lady was really…envious. Fuck! Bobby, would you be so kind as to bring me my laptop.”
“I’m not your maid,” he chastises as he moves toward my bag in back of his car.
“You figure it out that quick?” Walter asks.
“Well, you must know that I spent most of my time reading hunter’s journals rather than hunting myself. Not many hunters have the brains to do all the research on everything ever, so they come to me. I do the research, I get their notes.”
“And what notes do you have on me?”
“Hopefully, a pdf scan of Binsfeld’s Classification of Demons. Must confirm I’m not an idiot.” I send Ash a text, asking for it. He is quick to send over the chunk of files I need, telling me to check my email.
“Well, I’d like to refrain from giving my opinion on your intelligence.”
“Lot of mixed signals, huh?” I ask as Bobby comes back in.
“Stop fraternizing with the demon,” he sighs as he sets my bag down, still choosing to leave me alone with the guy. He trusts me enough not to be stupid, but he knows I love to talk.
“Ooh, we’re fraternizing now?” Walter asks.
“Nope.” I pull my laptop out of the bag without looking.
I have to dig through several folders before I get to the actual document I want. I make a little noise of triumph as I pull it up. Thankfully, Binfeld really liked illumination, so every title of every section has a dedicated page. Man must have been making bank back in the day.
“The Seven Deadly Sins,” I say aloud. “I’d assume you’re Envy?”
“You might actually be smart,” Envy, previously Walter, teases.
“Bobby,” I yell across the house, hoping they are keeping Tamara in check. She’s emotional and likely wants to die just like Issac.
“What?” He yells back.
“I figured it out. Binsfeld. Seven Deadly Sins as actual Demons!” I close my laptop and sit it down.
“So, what is it you want?”
“Come on, you really don’t have that figured out already?”
“Business or pleasure?”
“We’re free, I’m just celebrating.”
“Some people crochet, you…” I pause, waiting for his answer. I don’t realize Tamara has entered the room, Bobby, Sam, and Dean behind her.
“Like to see people’s insides on their outside.”
Tamara sneers. “I’m gonna put you down like a dog.”
Envy giggles, hysterical. “You really think you’re better than me. Which one of you’ll cast the first stone, huh? What about you, Dean? You’re practically a fucking walking billboard of gluttony and lust.”
Dean is fully aware of what he’s doing, unopposed to the assessment.
Envy lets out another giggle. “And Tamara, all that wrath,” his tongue clicks, “It’s the reason you and Isaac became hunters in the first place, isn’t it? It’s so much easier to drink in all the rage than accept and face what happened all those years ago.”
Tamara slaps Envy, anger twisting her face. He smiles. He was hoping she’d do it. Dean and Bobby have to pull her back. Envy shakes off the pain.
“My point exactly. And you call us sins. We’re not sins, man. We’re just the personification of natural human instincts. You can repress and deny us all you want in order to please your God, but the truth is, we-you’re all just animals. Horny, greedy, hungry, lazy, violent little animals. And you know what? You’ll be slaughtered like animals.” Envy turns to look out the window. “The others, they’ll be coming for me.”
“Maybe, but they’re not going to find you because you’ll be in hell.” Dean pauses, letting the statement take effect. I don’t think Envy realizes we’ve closed the gate. “Someone send this clown packing.”
Tamara steps up. “My pleasure.”
I step out of the house with my bag before the screaming can start. I hope Walter will be okay after all of this.
***
After a moment, Bobby, Sam, and Dean join me.
“I don’t think we’re going to have to worry about hunting the other six,” Bobby sighs.
Sam, inquisitive as ever, asks, “What does that mean?”
“I think maybe this joker is right, they’re going to be hunting us, and they ain’t going to quit easy.” Bobby crosses his hands over his chest, leaning against the porch railing.
“You guys, why don’t you take Tamara and head for the hills? I’ll stay back, slow them down, buy you a little time.” Dean would sound so logical if it weren’t for the fact his statement is utterly suicidal.
“You’re acting insane, Dean. Just forget about it, we’ll figure this out together.” Sam chastises. Bobby and I nod in support.
“There’s six of them, guys, we’re fucking outmanned, outgunned, and we’ll be dead before dawn if we don’t come up with a plan.”
“Look,” Sam sighs, “if we’re going down, we’re going down together, all right?”
“Agreed,” I nod.
“Well then,” Dean realizes we’re staying, “let’s not make it easy for them.”
A gust of wind shakes the house for a moment, so we make our way back in.
“Demon’s out of the guy,” Tamara says as she enters the foyer.
“And Walter?” I ask, trying not to peak into the other room, already suspecting.
“He didn’t make it.” Tamara has no feeling behind her voice. She, psychologically, thinks Walter and Envy were inherently tied. They were not. Viruses are not the host, parasites are not the host, demons are not the host.
***
We prepare. We prepare as though this is the apocalypse and we are going to die. We believe that it is. Dean is loading shotguns with salt, Sam is filling flasks full of holy water, Bobby and Tamara pour salt lines in other rooms. The lights flicker, stop, and start up again. The old radio in the living room sparks to life, scratching through an oldies channel.
“Here we go,” Dean sighs, cocking the shotgun and standing up in one fluid movement.
“Tamara!” A demon possessing Issac screams. “Tamara, help me, please, help!” It continues to beg.
“Well, they sure know who the weakest link is.” I peak out of the window, seeing Isaac pretending to be in genuine distress.
“Tamara, I’m hurt bad! Baby, I got away, but I need help! Please!” He begs more. He bangs on the door once, twice, a third time.
“Baby! Why won’t you let me in? You left me back there. How could you? We swore, at that lake in Michigan, remember, we swore we’d never leave each other!”
Tamara has unconsciously moved closer to the demon inside of Isaac, now back in the room with us.
“How did he know that?” She asks through tears.
“Tamara, it’s hijacking his brain. Stay steady,” I try to calm her, like a bull about to charge.
“You’re just going to leave me out here? Let me die?! I guess that’s what you do, huh? Like that night those things came to our house! Came for our daughter! And you just let her die, too.”
That sets Tamara off, I see her pulling out the stake, but I’m too far from her to stop her. In a second, she’s out the door, salt lines broken, tacking Isaac down the steps.
“You’re not my fucking husband!” She plunges the stake deep in his chest. He was already dead so I can’t fault her for finishing the job a second time.
It takes only a second for the other six demons to attempt to rescue their seventh. Bobby takes care of Sloth, Dean takes care of Lust, but most of the demons Greed, Gluttony, and Pride will go after Sam. I’m supposed to back him up.
Gluttony, instead, turns himself to me. “Darling, are you sure this is a good idea?” He asks, nothing for me to consume in his hands, and chugging holy water would only hurt him.
“Nothing I ever do is a good idea,” I respond, raising the flask of holy water and wondering, for a moment, how well it would work if I put holy water in a water gun instead.
“You seem awfully distracted,” he tries.
“Oh, I wonder why.” I continue backing up, hoping I’m heading in the right direction, trying my best to get underneath a Devil’s Trap without him noticing.
“There are so many reasons, how about we start with all the secrets you keep.”
“Come on, man, not tonight. That’s so not the vibe. I’d rather you convince me to drink bleach or something.”
“Maybe I could convince you to consume yourself, huh? Autocannibalism is all the rage these days.”
“I think you have autocannibalism and masturbation confused, Mr. Gluttony, sir.”
“Just Gluttony is fine,” he says as he runs into the invisible wall of the Devil’s Trap.
“Sorry, doctor’s orders,” I shrug, thankful to have memorized several exorcisms. Gluttony’s meatsuit does not survive the removal of the demon himself. Another casualty of this newfound war. Another face that will haunt what little dreaming I do.
I hear crying and cursing from voices I don’t think I’ve heard before, so I leave Gluttony’s meatsuit upstairs for a moment.
“Survivors?” I ask quietly into the sudden, temporary calm.
Bobby, holding a sobbing girl, previously Lust, holds up two fingers. Previously Sloth, now a simple, heavyset man, sits cursing quietly on the couch. He startles easily as I sit down on the other end of the couch.
“Do you want the truth?” It’s all I can think to ask.
“I don’t know what to believe.”
“Do you want the truth?” I ask again.
“Yes,” he sighs, putting his head in his hand.
“Monsters are real. They don’t live in your closets, they aren’t just mentally disturbed people, although those exist, too. Monsters are real, ghosts are real, pretty much all of it. You were possessed by a demon from the dark ages.”
“Santa?”
“Technically, no, not as far as I can tell. No jolly man giving presents, but I’m pretty sure Krampus exists. It’s a toss-up.”
“Fuck.”
“I know.” I pause, thinking how best to phrase this. “Are you going back to your old life?”
“I think it’s the only option.”
“I’ll give you my number and a charm. Keep both on you at all times. If you ever suspect something hinky, don’t hesitate to call.”
“And what if I’m wrong.”
“Then you have someone who believes you on your side and I can make sure you’re doing okay.”
“Okay.”
“I don’t know how far you are from home, but feel free to spend the night here, or I can drive you to the hotel we stayed at. I still have a room reserved, and tomorrow I should be able to drive you back home.”
“You’ve done enough.” He isn’t sure if I’m one of the bad guys or not. Smart, but wrong.
“I’d like to help you.”
“Okay.”
***
His name is Nathan, or at least that’s what he tells me. I don’t imagine he has the wherewithal to lie. I set him up in the sleazy motel for the night, planning to pick him back up at 10AM, enough time to let him sleep and burn the dead.
Tamara insists on setting up Isaac’s funeral pyre by herself. I help carry the bodies from the corner of the porch where we left them last night and the shallow grave we’ve dug to salt-and-burn them in.
I half remember Sam’s story from last night when he asks Bobby, who looks worse off than us, “Bobby, that blade she had, what kind of knife can kill a demon?”
Bobby fully believes Sam, as do the rest of us, but I worry for who that woman was or what she could be.
“Yesterday, I would have said there was no such thing.”
“I’m just going to ask it again, who was that chick? Actually,” Dean pauses, “the more troubling question would be, how come a girl can fight better than you?”
Sam laughs. He knows his worth. “Three demons, Dean, all at once.”
Dean slaps Sam on the shoulder. “Whatever it takes to get you through the night, Sammy.”
“The most troubling question,” I start, “is what else have we let out?”
Everyone pauses, trying to think, feeling the guilt.
Dean lights a match, then the rest of the book before tossing it into the pyre. We stand watch, reverent and afraid the fire might spread.
***
“See you gents around.” Tamara opens her car door, stepping in, leaving the home she’s known for the regular hunter’s life. She won’t settle down until she’s dead.
“Tamara?” Bobby catches her attention. “The world just got a lot scarier. Be careful.”
“You, too.” She nods, and off she goes.
Bobby and I move toward his truck.
Bobby stops before he opens his door. “Keep your eyes peeled for omens. We’ll do the same.”
“You got it,” Dean nods.
“Wait,” Sam stops us. “We can win this war, right?”
Bobby and I don’t know what to say, so he thinks for a moment of how best to placate us.
“Catch you in the next one.”
***
“We’re fucked, aren’t we Bobby?”
“This is a lot worse than Yellow-Eyes. A whole lot worse.”
“I know.”
Chapter 11: Scanning the Yellow Pages
Summary:
A jump-cut through the end of 2007. Each section of time has it's own mini-title.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
***Dealings Discussed***
Ash and I have been scanning and logging all of Bobby’s books, trying to find a loophole in Dean’s deal and get ahead of whatever demons have come up through the gate.
Sam constantly calls, trying to see if we have any updates while searching his own leads.
I hear Bobby’s voice a few rooms over.
“It won’t work, Sam. It just won’t.”
He’s on the phone with Sam, again. Another call about Dean. About me, too. They just don’t know it yet.
“We didn’t get the translation wrong, Sam, we have four of the smartest dumbasses I know working this.”
Bobby shuts his phone with a loud click and a whispered, “idjits.”
“Everything okay, Bobby?” I ask as I flip another page and press another button. I’m not sure how Ash achieved finding the scanning equipment, but I hope a library isn’t missing it.
“Your idjit brothers and their dumb decisions.”
“All of us trying to save each other, never thinking about anything else, huh?”
“You’ve got that right,” Bobby comes into the room with three beers, all open.
“We’ll figure it out somehow, Bobby.”
“And what if you don’t?”
“Well, then we figure that out. Don’t burn bridges we haven’t even crossed yet.”
Ash raises his beer in toast. “Damn straight.”
***Rascal of a Rabbit***
I used to sleep like a baby, but now, even Bobby stepping on the wrong board downstairs wakes me with a start. I hear the tail end of his conversation on the phone.
“You touched it? Damn it, Sam!”
And I’m back asleep. If Bobby needs me, he’ll wake me up.
***
Bobby definitely didn’t sleep last night. The smell of coffee wakes me up a few hours later, at the same time Ash untangles himself from me.
“A case?” Ash asks, rubbing his eyes.
“Something with Sam and Dean, I’m sure. I’m surprised Bobby hasn’t woken us up yet.”
“That’s what the coffee is for.” Ash crawls over me and promptly falls on the floor, almost taking me with him.
***
By the time we get downstairs, Bobby is already on the phone again.
“John’s lockup?” Bobby makes eye contact and puts the phone on speaker. “Yeah, I knew. Hell, I built those curse boxes for him. Now, listen up, you have got a serious problem. That rabbit's foot ain’t no dime store notion, Sam. It’s real Hoodoo, Old World type stuff. Made by a Baton Rouge conjure woman about a hundred years ago.”
Sam’s tinny voice comes through the other side. “It’s a hell of a luck charm.”
Bobby sighs. “Kid, it’s not a luck charm. It’s a fucking curse. She made it to kill people, Sam.” Bobby gets more agitated. “See, you touch it, you own it. You own it, sure, you get a run of good luck to beat the Devil, but you lose it, that luck turns. It turns so bad that you’re dead inside a week.”
Sam’s cockiness comes through the phone. “Well, then I won’t lose it, Bobby.”
This obviously sets Bobby off.
“Everybody fucking loses it!”
“Well, then how do we break the curse?”
I signal Bobby to breathe in and out. He shakes his head. I’ll take it from here.
“Hey, Sam. I’m not quite sure we can.”
“Hey, Drew.”
“Let us look through the library and make a few calls. I’m tight with one of the tourist psychics down in New Orleans. She’s the real deal, so she might have insight.”
“How do you know so many people?” Sam asks.
“I spent my teen years running away from everything I knew.”
***
I call Dean, finally having made some headway in the case.
“Deano, good news. We found a pretty heavyweight cleansing ritual that should do the trick!” I put the phone on speaker.
“Drew, that’s-that’s great, except,” Dean pauses, “except Sam, uh, he lost the foot.”
“He what?!” Bobby and I ask in sync.
“Drew, Bobby, hey, listen. This hot chick, she stole it from him. I’m serious. In her mid 20’s, and she was sharp,” Dean is trying to ramble his way out of this one, “you know, good enough at the con to play us. And she only gave the guy she hired an alias. Luigi or something?”
“Bela Lugosi?” Ash asks, palm landing on his face.
“Crap,” Bobby sighs.
“Bela Lugosi? That’s cute,” Dean’s sarcasm bleeds out.
“Bela Talbot’s her real name.” Bobby takes the phone off the table, moving toward the kitchen for a beer. “Crossed paths with her once or twice.”
I follow Bobby into the kitchen. Ash speaks next, yelling from the library. “I’ve heard of her, never had a reason to run into her. She deals in objects, not hunts.”
“So, not a hunter?” Dean asks, tinny voice blurred through the phone.
Bobby answers. “Pretty fucking far from it, but she knows her way around the territory. She’s been out of the country for a while, Middle East last I heard.”
“I guess she’s back,” Dean snarks.
“Which means some seriously bad luck for you.” I take the offered beer out of Bobby’s hand.
“Great.” Dean’s voice is somewhat faint, like he’s raised and dropped his hands to the sky.
“But if it’s Bela, I might know some folks who know where to find her.” Bobby hands me two beers.
Bobby and I have already made our way back into the library/office. Ash is still scanning books. I hand off one to Ash, kissing his cheek.
“Your brothers are two of the stupidest smart people I know.” Ash taps his beer to mine.
“And I’m the third.”
“Damn straight.”
***Sam the Computer Man***
Days later, hunt successfully completed, and Dean down the price of all those scratch offs, it’s time to get back to business. Dean and Bobby are in the living room, doing weapon maintenance while Ash, Sam, and I are researching.
“Anybody else get hits in Ohio?” Sam asks.
I run a quick search through the omen program to make sure. “Nothing super abnormal, but there is some dry lightning, barometric pressure weirdness. And…there we go. I hate when it doesn’t check the news without prompting. Anger management issues, church suicide, hobby shop suicide by cop? You got that?”
“Yep.”
“I hate when you’re better than the program.” I smile toward Sam. “Might want to go talk it over with the dads.”
“At least he doesn’t father you.” Sam is quiet enough that I know Dean doesn’t hear.
“He never got the chance. Now go, before I find a hunt on the beach. Then I’ll have him running around in a speedo.”
“Ew, on my way.”
After a minute, Sam and Dean make their way back into the library.
“We’re on our way to Elizabethville, Ohio,” Dean sighs.
“No bikinis?” Ash asks.
“Maybe next time.” Sam pats Dean on the back.
“Call if you need anything,” I look up from the laptop. “I’ll try to find some more lucrative hunts for you, Deano.”
“You’ve got to stop calling me that, kid.” I can tell Dean’s teasing, so I don’t bother biting back. He’s given in just a bit.
***
Sam and Dean don’t call. At least, not before our mysterious woman reappears.
“Come on, the Colt’s shootable and you two need some fresh air. If I looked in your lungs right now, they’d be all ink and paper.
Ash and I both grab our own pistols, assuming this is a shooting range style outing, and we help Bobby set up bottles and other miscellaneous junk to shoot.
After Bobby lets off a few shots, mystery woman appears.
“Cute piece.” She surprises us.
“Fuck,” I curse, training my gun onto her, Bobby and Ash doing so in almost perfect time.
“Who are you?” Bobby asks.
“It won’t stop a demon, if that’s what you think.”
“You could’ve answered the question,” I say at the same time Bobby asks, “How the hell would you know?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” She’s sarcastic, blinking her eyes into the inky blackness of demonhood. “Call it an educated guess?”
“Of course, a demon,” Ash sasses.
“Well, ain’t I lucky, then? Found a subject for a test fire.” Bobby aims right at her heart.
“Luck had nothing to do with it. But, hey, by all means, take your best shot.” The demon poses, arms outstretched, the perfect target. Bobby hesitates, wondering if she’s telling the truth, and why.
The demon sighs in exasperation. “Are you going to stand there like a pantywaist, or are you going to shoot?”
Bobby shoots, hitting her square in the chest. All she does is look down at her chest.
“Ouch. That smarts a little.”
“What do you want?” Bobby asks, unsure how to proceed, cautious to a fault.
“Peace on earth, a new shirt, all sorts of things. Now, do you want me to help you out with that gun, or not, huh?” She turns from Bobby to me. “And, darling, you can call me Ruby.”
***
All four of us end up in the library, refusing to be alone with Ruby. She’s working on the Colt, with Bobby’s close supervision, while Ash and I continue going through Bobby’s library.
“You know, your brothers are going to need help on this one, sweetheart.” She glances up at me then back down to the Colt.
“I kind of gathered that, with the whole helpful demon showing up to save the day routine you’ve got going.” I continue my flip page, press button, check scan routine.
“You’re still suspicious.” Ruby states as fact.
“Why wouldn’t I be. Everything I’ve been taught has demons being pure evil, Ruby. I suspect you have some ulterior motive at hand, and until I have truly proven otherwise, I’ll be suspicious.”
She gives me a look, one that tells me she knows I made a deal and she could spill, but she isn’t. That doesn’t make me any more or less suspicious of her. It’s just a fact of life. Most demons know, and any number of them will spill when given the chance.
***
“Finished. Let’s go.” Ruby says after about an hour of fiddling and cursing.
“Alright. You know, if Ellen knew how often you were putting me in harm's way, Bobby, she’d have you on a spike by now.” I put a bookmark in the book I’ve been scanning.
“That’s why you’re staying here.” Ruby answers.
“Fuck that,” I stand, almost knocking my chair over in the process. Ash, standing nearby, moves to put a hand on my shoulder.
“Maybe it’s better we stay here, Drew. We can get more books scanned in, babe.”
“He’s right, kid,” Bobby starts. “You’re better used here. I’m not even sure if this is a trap or not.”
“She’s smart. She’d try killing you on the third date.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, darling. Now, come on, before the Winchesters become the Winchester.” Ruby moves out of the room, expecting Bobby to follow.
“Fuck, go ahead Bobby, I’ll stay here and lick my wounds.” I fall back into the seat behind me.
***
“This is bullshit, Ash. I feel like a teenager again.”
Flip pages, press buttons, check scans.
“If you run away to the circus again, I’m coming with.”
“There isn’t even a circus to run away with anymore, babe. I just wish I could help.”
“You’re literally helping right now, dumbass.”
“I’d rather be kicking ass.”
Flip pages, press buttons, check scans.
“You get knocked out on like half the hunts you go on, Drew.”
I can’t fault his logic, so I pretend to be angry and move to grab a beer.
***Highway to Hell***
I wake to my phone ringing. It’s Sam on the other line.
“Drew, is it true?” Sam’s angry, so I untangle myself from Ash and try to sneak my way outside, heart hammering in my chest.
“Hold on Sam.”
“No, because if this is true, then I might just have to kill you myself.”
“Okay, Sam,” I make it past Bobby, actually asleep on the cot for once, or at least pretending to be. “What’s wrong?”
“You made a deal.” Sam’s cold anger sends chills down my spine.
“Fuck,” I try to be quiet, I don’t want to wake anyone. “Sam, please.”
He cuts me off. “No, this isn’t fucking fair. How can both of you be so fucking stupid?”
“I can’t, I don’t. Sam, I don’t know, Sam. It just felt like the right thing to do.”
“No, the right thing to do would have been helping me figure out how to fucking stop Dean’s deal from going through, not make your own. What’d you even ask for? A few inches.”
“Sam.” He’s trying to hurt me, as much as I’ve clearly hurt him.
“I can’t lose both of you. I just found you.”
“We’ll figure it out, Sam.”
He hangs up, still clearly angry.
“What was that all about?” Bobby asks, two beers in hand.
“Sam. He’s scared, Bobby.” I can’t lie, but I don’t have to tell the truth.
“We all are. Now, I might not sleep worth a shit, but you sleep like the dead, now, drink this on the porch like we’re a normal family, then get your ass back in bed.”
***Ding Dong, the Vampire Hunter is Dead***
Dean calls this time. “Hey, Drew. Have some good news for you.”
“You’re not going to hell?”
“Nope, haven’t figured that one out yet. Gordon Walker’s dead.”
“What?” I can’t help but smile. “How?”
“Some fucked up vamp turned him and Sam ganked his ass.”
“Hallelujah, Deano. I’ll let my vegetarians know the good news.”
“See you next time, Drew.”
***
“Eli, my beloved, how are you?” I ask into the phone, flipping burgers in a pan.
“Delightful. Glad you checked in. Everyone’s doing great. We’ve moved into this little bit of Canada where there’s rarely anybody, no hunters of either kind so far.”
“Perfect. I have even better news for you. Gordon is dead.”
“What?” Eli chuckles. I can hear him move the phone to his shoulder and yell, “Lenore, Gordon’s dead!”
“Some vampire in New York turned him as payback and Sam and Dean got to him before he could get to them.”
“Lovely. I’ll send them a fruit basket.”
“Sam eats like a rabbit, so I bet he’d love it.”
***Christmas on Borrowed Time***
Christmas at Bobby’s is simple, a tree he digs out of storage, somehow, and ornaments from his old life decorate the tree, along with a few superstitions. He lets us help decorate, which I am somewhat surprised by, although most of our help is him putting us on the roof to put the lights up and make sure they all work.
“Ash, if I fall off the roof, make sure to bury me in warm clothes.”
“You’re not going to fall off the roof or die anytime soon.”
“Sure, buddy, sure.”
***
Okay, now, we’re going into town, and each of us picks a gift for the other two, alright,” Bobby says, throwing my own keys at me.
“All in separate vehicles.” He throws a separate set of keys at Ash.
“We are not to cheat. You two can’t cavort and get me gifts together.”
“Yes, sir.” Ash and I nod and stand. It’ll be good to get out.
I go to the liquor store first, hoping they have Bobby’s favorite whiskey, pulling out a credit card in someone else’s name to pay the somewhat hefty sum.
Next, I find one of those sleazy computer repair stores. I plan on getting an external hard drive for Ash. I open the door and get hit with such a strong smell of weed I wonder if this isn’t a smoke shop, too. The bell over the door signals to whoever works here to open the office door, and I realize, no, he’s just hotboxing the damn place.
“Need help?”
“External hard drives.”
He just points to a shelf against the wall and moves to sit down behind the front counter.
I find one still in its original packaging, and sealed. I hope this guy isn’t smart enough to fake it.
***
I’m the first home which I’m only a little surprised by. I’m usually the one Bobby sends into town anyways. Ash likes to linger.
Bobby comes home next, within the same hour I get home. Ash takes another hour after that before he appears. By that time, Bobby has instructed me to put the presents under the tree and start helping him cook. Everything is going to go perfectly, just this once.
***
I’m not sure how Bobby hid an entire ham from us, but he achieved it and achieved cooking it to perfection. When we finish eating, he instructs us to sit down together in the living room. One at a time, we pass out our gifts to the other two.
Bobby receives my gift of whiskey and Ash’s gift of a new hat.
“What’s wrong with the one I have on?” Bobby asks, mostly in jest.
“I think it needs a wash, Bobby. It’s got a salt line strong enough I don’t think a ghost could touch you.”
“Oh, shut up.” Bobby switches hats without another word.
Oldest to youngest, I go next. Bobby has gifted me an intricately carved piece of wood on a chain.
“A luck charm without all of the getting ganked at the end of it.”
“It’s beautiful, Bobby.” I put the charm around my neck before moving to Ash’s gift, a polaroid camera, a few scrapes showing its age, but with a couple packs of instant film enough to last at least the year.
“How the hell did you find one of these?” I didn’t think he knew where the good thrift store was, nor did I want to ask how much he paid for all this.
“I looked.” He just smiles, smart enough to have not loaded the camera for me so that I couldn’t catch his stupidity quite yet.
Ash opens Bobby’s gift first, a case of beer, and lets out an excited whoop. When he opens mine he lets out an equally excited whoop.
“You two are the perfect family I could’ve asked for.”
“Damn, don’t get sappy on us,” Bobby says.
“He’s secretly a big old sap, Bobby.”
“Hey, don’t tell him that.” Ash bumps my shoulder with his.
***Ruby Tuesday***
I’ve taken to sitting out on the porch at night when I can’t sleep. Usually Bobby joins me with a bear, but the lights flicker, and I know it’s Ruby before she even has a chance to sit down on the rocking chair next to mine.
“Your brothers are quite angry with you.”
“Just the one. You haven’t told Dean, otherwise he would’ve gotten here first to personally kill me, revive me, and kill me again for all the secrets I’ve kept from him.”
“But I did tell him what I’m about to tell you.”
“And that is?”
“Every demon I’ve ever met was human once. Most of them have forgotten what that means, or even that they were. That’s what Hell is going to be for you, forgetting who you are.”
“And that’ll happen to us, too. I get it, I know. I just can’t leave him now that I’ve found him.”
“But you’ll leave everyone else?”
“I guess so. I’m also guessing your talk with Dean included a lot of help me get Sam ready for this war without you.”
“Yeah, it did.”
“But not me?”
“I’m betting he isn’t going to be speaking to you anytime soon, with the whole crossroads demon giving up the ghost on you.”
“Me either.”
“Now, get some rest. You won’t have much of it in Hell.”
“Any tips for when I end up down there?”
“Say yes.”
And with that, Ruby is gone. I’m surprised to still be alone for the minutes I sit on the porch in her wake, but I realize how cold I am and make my way back inside. Bobby’s up reading when I walk through the kitchen to the back staircase.
“Go to sleep, dad,” I tease him.
“I’d say the same for you, kid, but you look like you’re headed that way.”
“Get some sleep, Bobby, we all need it.”
Notes:
If you're wondering what kind of polaroid camera Ash got Drew, here is the wiki page. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Polaroid_Land_Camera_1000
Chapter 12: Dreamweaving
Summary:
Dreaming has never been so scary. Bela has never been so nice. What a nice trip we all go on.
Notes:
I'm going to be so honest, dear readers, I'm posting these much quicker after the initial writing than I used to, and it is due to a desire to hold myself accountable for working on projects I've started. If you were to gander at my other works, you will see that I am trying to do that with multiple works I had previously abandoned. One day this work will flow as though it was all written in the same tone and voice. Today is not that day.
Chapter Text
Bobby, just like Ellen, refuses to let me go on a case with him.
“Bobby, two or three is a whole hell of a lot better than one.” I tell him as I watch him pack a go-bag.
“Somebody has to keep the business up and running.”
I can’t tell if he’s referring to the wrecking yard outside or the series of phones attached to the wall inside for when a hunter needs an out. I don’t ask.
“But, Bobby, what if something goes wrong?”
Bobby turns, and I walk around him so that we’re facing each other again.
“I’ll call.”
***
I hear my phone ring from the other room, having gone to grab a beer for Ash and I. Ash picks up.
“Pennsylvania? That’s where Bobby is.”
“Okay, I’ll send him that way. You sure you want me to stay here?”
“Sure, okay,” Ash says, almost dejected. He hangs up the phone and turns to me.
“Bobby’s in the hospital in Pittsburgh. Your brothers want you to go up there and help.”
“Well, he did say he’d call.”
***
I meet Sam and Dean at the motel room Bobby was staying in. Nothing looks immediately out of the ordinary.
“So, he just fell asleep and won’t wake up?” I ask as I poke around.
“That’s what they’re telling us. Completely unresponsive.” Dean answers. “Did you know what he was hunting?”
“No, he didn’t want any help this time, not yet anyways. And guys, it looks like there’s nothing here.”
Sam moves toward the closet, turning on the light. “Here we go,” he says, pushing all of the clothes away.
“I guess he didn’t want to freak the maids out,” I shrug. I move to skim everything on the board. “Silene capensis. Dr. Walter Gregg, 64, university neurologist…went to sleep and didn’t wake up.”
“Sounds familiar,” Dean says. “Looks like the hunt started hunting him. You guys stay here, see what you can find out about what Bobby knew, I’ll go look into the good doctor myself.”
After Dean shuts the door, Sam turns to me, “So, how many inches?” Sam asks, and by his tone, he isn’t making a joke.
“You really want to know, Sam?”
“Yes.” He stops pulling paper off the wall and places it on the nearby table before giving me his full attention.
“John Winchester is back in Hell.”
“What?” He’s angry, of course he is, and I probably shouldn’t have told him, I should have made up some lie that would have placated him, but at least one of us deserves to have the full truth all out there.
“I made a deal that our father who art escaped to Heaven get his sorry ass back into the hole he belongs.”
“You know what his deal was, right? The reason he was in hell?”
“No, Sam, I don’t. We didn’t speak.”
Sam is close now, close enough I wonder if he’s going to take a page out of Dean’s book and shove me against the wall.
“To save Dean. Dean was dying and John made a deal to bring him back.”
“There’s a lot of psychology there, Sam. I’m just following it along to the end.” I take a step to the side and Sam lets me go.
“No, you’re taking the shortcut instead of holding out for me. I’m going to lose both of you if we don’t figure out a way to stop the deals.” He puts his hand on my shoulder, stopping me from getting too far.
I place my hand on top of his. “I know, Sam. I can’t apologize enough, but it will all come out in the wash, somehow, someway. We’ll keep at it.” I give him a wimpy smile. “Now, let’s figure out how to fix Bobby.”
***
“Fuck,” I sigh out, finally remembering something. “Silene capensis, African dream root. Dreamwalking.”
Sam turns his body toward me, shifting some of the paper on the bed around him, “Dreamwalking?”
“Entering other’s dreams, poking around in their heads, controlling their dreams from the comfort of your own bed. I’ll get together some of my notes and send you to go find Dean. Fill him in.” I start moving around, collecting the papers Bobby already has on the topic and finding some loose paper to write on the back of. Sam just sits and waits as I move around him, fast and scared.
“Don’t want to see Bobby, do you?”
“Nope.”
***
Sam and Dean enter the room, no hello, just Sam blurting out, “We called Bela.”
“Talbot?” I ask.
“Obviously.” Dean sets his jacket on the empty chair next to mine, which Sam promptly moves to one of the bedposts before he sits down next to me.
“Why?”
Dean sits on the edge of the bed facing us. “We’re going in.”
“In?”
Sam takes up the mantle. “We’re going to use the dream root to get into Bobby’s dream so we can ask him what the hell happened.”
“That’s not very smart of you.”
“You’re coming, too.” Dean says, smirking.
“Why?”
“You spent a lot more time with Bobby than we did. You might get through to him better.” Sam tries his best to convince me of their logic.
“I don’t want to do this, but I’ll do it for Bobby.” I wiggle in my chair, trying to find a comfortable position in this uncomfortable situation.
“The only problem,” Dean starts, “is that Bela didn’t want to help us.”
“You could have led with that, Dean.”
“But you might not have said yes to helping us.”
“Obviously,” I sigh.
***
Dean sends me off the the Doctor’s lab to try and find any information on where he stored the root, and I get a call halfway through my search.
“Bela brought it,” Sam starts off.
“She said no, what changed?”
“Bobby saved her life, apparently.”
“I call bullshit, but I’m on my way. See you soon.”
***
Sam brews the drinks for us, according to the Doctor’s specifications. I definitely do not want to do this. I take the glass handed to me with a gesture of cheers.
“Should we dim the lights and synch up Wizard of Oz to Dark Side of the Moon?” Dean asks, stalling.
“Why?” Sam asks, half-smiling.
“What did you do in college?” Dean asks, holding his drink with an iron grip.
We both look at Dean with incredulous looks.
“Can’t forget this,” Sam pulls out an envelope. When he opens it, little bits of hair are inside.
“We have to drink Bobby’s hair?” Dean asks.
“That’s how you control whose dream you’re entering. You’ve got to drink some of their, some of their body.”
“Well,” Dean shrugs, “I guess hair of the dog is better than other parts of the body.”
“Bottoms up,” I raise my glass and clink with theirs.
We all swallow the bad taste down.
“Feel anything?” Dean asks after a moment.
“Nope.” Sam and I shake our heads.
“What about you?” I ask, and Dean shakes his head.
Suddenly, a thunderclap causes the bottom to fall out of the clouds, rain pattering the window with a loud and uncomfortable force.
“When did it start raining?” Sam asks.
As we all move toward the window, the scene shifts, we’re in Bobby’s house, the rain is moving upside down, and with a blink, it becomes the fireplace that’s meant to be there.
“I sure as hell feel something now,” I move, avoiding almost tripping over the couch next to the fireplace that definitely wasn’t there before. “We’re at Bobby’s now, so I imagine he’s somewhere close.”
“How do you know that this is Bobby’s?” Sam asks.
“Add about a lifetime’s worth of clutter, and dust.” I gesture wildly toward the room in front of us
They both nod in understanding.
“Now, let’s go find Bobby.” I trek toward the archway, hoping that he’s somewhere in the house and we don’t have to go outside in the weird rain.
“I’ll head outside,” Sam nods, doing the opposite of what I was thinking.
“No, we should all stay close, we don’t know all the rules.” I try to stop him.
“It’ll be fine, just look around inside. We have to find him.” Sam moves toward the front door anyways, and all I can do is shake my head.
“Does he listen to you?”
“Not really.”
Dean moves toward the kitchen and gestures for me to move upstairs. At least I listen.
***
The lights begin to flicker and I hear a door slam downstairs, so I move down in a rush, seeing a woman who wasn’t there before. I move for my gun, but it isn’t there, and I’m glad I don’t because I realize who the woman is, recognizing her from well hidden photographs at the bottom of boxes at the back of bookshelves.
“She’s my wife.” Bobby’s half to tears.
“Why did you do this to me?” She asks, hardened even through the perfectly styled hair and clothes.
“I’d rather have died myself than hurt you,” Bobby tries to reason with her.
“But you did hurt me. You shoved that knife into me, again and again. You watched me bleed, watched me die.” She’s crying, angry tears. I don’t think she’s noticed me yet, and I’m not sure Bobby has either. Dean glances up at me, but I put my finger to my lips in a shhh gesture.
Dean tries to reason with Bobby. “She’s not real.” Dean grabs him, trying to ground him as best he can.
“How could you?” Karen asks.
Both Bobby and Karen are in tears now.
“You were possessed, baby. You were rabid, and I didn’t know what I know now. I didn’t know how to save you.”
Karen turns from sadness to anger, “You’re lying. You wanted me dead! If you’d loved me, you would’ve found a way!”
Bobby shrinks into Dean, he’s sobbing, scared. He can barely get through a sentence, an, “I’m sorry.”
“Come on!” Dean tries to snap him out of it.
“Bobby,” I say, all eyes turning toward me. “Sweetheart, she isn’t real, this is all a dream.” I try speaking to him like a child, but he clearly doesn’t get it. Dean notices Karen turn back toward them and begin rushing them, so he drags Bobby into the next room. I run toward the other entrance, trying to avoid Karen. Thankfully she stays at the door, ignoring me.
All of us are panting, Dean still holding onto the door. “I’m telling you, Bobby, all of this, your house, your wife, it’s just a nightmare.”
I move to secure my entrance with a chair while I search for something for Dean, speaking loud enough they can hear. “He’s right, Bobby, it’s all some sort of sick, twisted joke someone’s playing on you, and you need to snap out of it, and quick.”
I finally find a piece of wire and wrap it around the door handles, giving Dean the chance to run to Bobby.
“I killed her,” Bobby cries, and I can feel another piece of me break.
“Look at me, Bobby, look,” Dean tries so hard not to break, “You’ve got to snap out of this now! You’re not going to die. We’re not going to let you die. You’re like a father to me. You’ve got to believe me, Bobby, please!” Dean pleads.
“I’m dreaming?” Bobby asks, finally catching on.
“Yes! Now take control of it!” Dean smiles.
Bobby moves toward the door and takes a breath. Suddenly, everything stops. When I unbind the door, Karen is no longer in the kitchen. She’s nowhere in sight.
“I don’t believe it,” Bobby sighs.
Dean and I struggle to breathe, adrenaline still pumping through our systems.
“Believe it. Now, would you please wake up?”
***
All of us wake with a sudden start.
“I’m never doing that again,” I say after picking myself up off the floor. “Now, let’s go find Bobby.”
“And the guy that tried to beat my ass.” Sam sighs, nursing his shoulder.
“What?” Dean and I ask in tandem.
“The guy that’s doing all of this tried to kill me. He’s one of the test subjects. Said Bobby went after him.”
“Yeah, because he murdered people?” Dean’s voice shoots up, shocked at the audacity.
***
Bobby is sitting up in his hospital bed, comfortable, surrounded by all the papers we collected from his room and our own investigation.
“Hey, Bobby,” Dean tries to broach the topic with Bobby, “that stuff with your wife?”
Dean waits for Bobby to look up at him, “that actually happen?”
“Everybody got into hunting somehow.” Bobby turns back to the papers, trying to make sense of them.
“I’m sorry.” Dean says.
“Don’t be sorry, Dean. If it weren’t for you and Drew, I’d still be lost in there. Or dead.” Bobby looks at both of us in turn. “Thank you.”
Sam comes in, finally done searching for the kid. “Stoner boy wasn’t in his dorm. My guess is he’s long gone by now.”
“He ain’t much of a stoner,” Bobby responds, moving to find the kid’s picture in the files.
“No?” Dean asks.
“No. His name is Jeremy Frost. Full-on genius. Hundred-and-sixty IQ which is saying something, considering his dad took a baseball bat to his head.” Bobby searches through the pile again, finds another piece of paper, and hands it off to Sam. “Here’s Father of the Year. He died before Jeremy was 10.”
Sam hands the paper off to Dean. “Looks like a real sweetheart.”
“Injury gave him Charcot-Wilbrand. He hasn’t had a dream since.” Bobby responds, taking the paper back from Dean.
“Until he started dosing the dream drug,” Dean nods.
“Yep.” Bobby starts to reorganize some of the papers into a useful file again.
“How’d he know how to dig up your worst nightmare and throw it at you?” Dean asks.
“Hey, he was rooting around in my skull. God knows what he saw in there.”
“Yeah,” Sam nods. “How’d he get in there in the first place? Isn’t he supposed to have some of your DNA, hair or something?”
“Yeah, before I knew it was him, he offered me a beer. I drank it. Dumbest fucking thing.”
Dean’s face goes pale. “Oh, I don’t know. It wasn’t that dumb…” He trails off.
“Dean, you didn’t,” I sigh. Sam and I give him an incredulous look, Bobby following suit.
“I was thirsty?” Dean tries.
Sam, angered by Dean’s stupidity, says, “That’s great. Now he can come after either one of you.”
“Well,” Dean starts, “now we just have to find him first.”
“We better work fast, and coffee up,” Bobby sighs, “because the one thing we cannot do is fall asleep.”
***
Bobby, Bela, and I sit in the motel room, each one of us pouring over our respective devices. Bela has a ouija board, I have my laptop, and Bobby places a receipt in the book he’s currently reading to pull out his phone to call Sam and Dean.
Dean is loud enough I can make out, “Tell me you got something!”
“Strip club was a bust, huh?”
“That was our last lead.” Bobby sighs. He turns toward Bela.
“Don’t yell at me, boy. I’m working my ass off here. We all are,” Bobby snaps at whatever Dean’s anxiousness has spit out of his mouth.
“Drew, could you take the tarot cards?” Bela asks, holding the offensive deck up.
“You sure?”
“Yes. Please. Hopefully they respond to the clown.” She waves the deck toward me.
“I’d be mad if you weren’t half-right.” I move toward the bed she’s set up on and grab her deck. I shake them out, trying to get rid of any energy that isn’t helping.
“Sometimes the spirit world is in a chatty mood, and sometimes it isn’t.” Bela shrugs.
“She’s got nothing,” I hear Bobby whisper to Dean.
I try shuffling the deck, thankful it’s receptive to both of us. “Anything?” I ask, hoping some cards fall out. Nothing, no matter how sloppily I shuffle. Not even a dropped card.
“Bela?” Bobby asks.
A non-committal noise comes out of her mouth while we both try to focus.
“Why’re you helping us?”
I glance over to see Bela smiling, and a card falls out when I’m not paying attention. The Tower. I shake my head and whisper a gentle, “Thanks, asshole,” to the deck.
“Bobby, I’m surprised you don’t remember.” She’s still smiling.
Seven of Swords. I sigh. They aren’t talking about Jeremy. Bobby still doesn’t recall.
“Flagstaff?” Bela asks.
“Oh, yeah, right, Flagstaff,” Bobby stares, still not understanding.
Bela turns to me, and I silently hold up both cards, shaking my head. “I think I’d be better off at the computer.”
There’s an edge to her voice. “I think so, too, Drew.”
I shake the deck again before handing it back to her.
“You know, I only did two weeks in the tarot tent while they taught me how to swallow swords, right?” I ask as I sit back down.
“You’re smart enough to remember.” Bela bites back.
***
“Sam and Dean haven’t come back,” I note when I notice the time. Bela has moved her things from the bed and has a laptop out. I don’t know if she’s actually helping or not.
“I know,” Bobby starts. “I bet they’ve gone and done something stupid.”
“Stupid is what they do best, and, honestly, it usually ends well.” I respond.
***
“Hey, guys?” I start as I step into the motel room Sam and Dean share. “Have any of you seen Bela? She’s not in her room.”
Dean holds his phone up. “And she’s not answering her phone.”
“She must’ve taken off,” Sam shrugs, as though that’s no big deal.
“Just like that? It’s a little weird.” Dean asks.
“Yeah, well, if you ask me what’s weird, it’s why she helped us in the first place.” Bobby sighs.
“I thought you saved her life?” Dean asks.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Bobby asks, confused.
“The thing in Flagstaff.”
“That thing in Flagstaff was an amulet. I gave her a good deal, that’s all.”
Dean and Sam both look like fish out of water. They can’t fathom that Bela was lying about that. I’m not entirely sure why when they know her track record.
“You boys better check your pockets,” Bobby says, and my brothers both do it literally, while I head over to the safe.
“Not literally, idjits.” Bobby sighs.
“It’s gone,” I say, standing up and stepping back from the closet safe. Dean approaches the closet, not quite believing me.
“The Colt?” Sam asks.
“Bela stole the Colt.” Dean says, kicking the safe shut.
“Damn it, boys!” Bobby curses.
“Pack your crap.” Dean looks toward Sam, and I’m already ahead of him, moving toward the room I temporarily shared with Bobby to shove things in my bag.
“Why? Where are we going?” Sam asks, as if he doesn’t already know.
“We’re going to hunt that bitch down, and you’re coming, too.” Dean refers to me, as if I wasn’t going to force myself into the case anyways.
Chapter 13: Loser Queer - Mystery Spot
Summary:
How hard is it to watch your brother die again and again? How bad does it hurt?
Chapter Text
“Do you two even understand just how difficult it is to find Bela when she wants to be found?” I ask, pulling my shoes off to put my feet up on the back seat of the Impala.
“That’s why we should take this case I found.” Sam waves his set of papers in the air.
“I think, personally, that it’s fucking bogus, so I will be trying to find Bela.” I hold up the tarot deck she suspiciously left at the bottom of my bag. “Maybe these will have some sort of answer for the clown.”
“Huh?” Dean asks, realizing my feet are on the seat and knocking my leg.
“She does her research. There’s several dead carnies who would spend days talking about me.”
“I bet.” Dean waggles his eyebrows in the rearview mirror.
“Not like that,” I slap his shoulder. “In my prime…nevermind you’ll just keep turning it into a dirty joke and I would much rather talk about whatever bogus case Sam found.”
“It’s not bogus, it’s suspicious.”
“Suspicious, my bad.” I say, shuffling the deck, catching a card with my leg before it falls under the front seat. The Wheel of Fortune, reversed.
“Well, that’s just rude.”
***
I wake up on the pull out couch to “Heat of the Moment” by Asia playing uncomfortably loud.
“Rise and shine, sleeping beauties,” Dean yells, already wide awake and tying his shoes.
“Dude, Asia?” Sam asks, halfway to sitting up. I roll over, groaning.
“Come on, you love this song and you know it.”
“Yeah, and if I ever hear it again, I’m going to commit a homicide,” I say into my pillow.
Dean responds by turning up the music, and when I look to glare, I glance at Sam, and the amusement on his face is too good to stop, so I just accept my fate.
Sam is first to take up the bathroom, and I’m next, leaving Dean who’s already done everything but brush his teeth to use that fact against us, gargling loud enough I believe I could hear him several states over.
“Whenever you're ready, Dean,” Sam says, tapping his foot. I lean over to tie my shoes and when I stand back up, Dean is holding up a black bra.
“This yours?” Dean asks Sam before turning toward me.
“Nope. Probably Bela’s.” I shrug.
“Oh, so you spent the night with her instead of Bobby, then?” Dean’s eyebrows raise and his face moves into that annoying smirk.
“Don’t swing that way, Dean.” I move toward my bag.
“Oh, so you swing my way, then?” Dean asks, waggling his eyebrows yet again. Sam chokes on his own spit, and I can’t help but laugh and laugh hard. I have to grab the couch to make sure I don’t end up on the floor.
“No,” I get through laughter, shaking my head, “I most definitely do not swing your way.”
“Damn,” Dean says, as though I’ve truly wounded him. He turns away, back toward his bag. “Bingo,” he says, finally finding his gun and putting it in his waistband. “Now, who’s ready for some breakfast?”
“Definitely, Deano.” I nod, letting him lead the way.
“You’ve got to stop calling me that, kid.” Dean shakes his head.
***
The door of the first dingy diner we could find dings as the three of us enter, and it’s just as busy as you’d expect in the morning.
“Hey, Tuesday, pig in a poke,” Dean notes as we all slide into the booth.
“You even know what that is?” Sam asks, knowing Dean saw meat and special and got excited.
“You boys ready?” Our waitress asks, Doris.
Dean goes first. “Yes, I’ll have the special, side of bacon, and a coffee.”
I go second, “I’m easy, Doris, just get me the same, please.”
She smiles at me acknowledging her name, and turns toward Sam.
“Make it two coffees and a short stack,” Sam says while he glances over the menu.
“You got it.” Doris takes our menus and scurries away with the speed of someone who is perfectly fine in their job.
“I’m telling you, Sam,” Dean starts, “this job is small fry. We should be spending our time hunting down Bela.”
“Okay, sure, let’s get right on that. Where is she again?”
“Shut up.”
“Look, believe me, I want to find her as bad as you do. In the meantime, we have this.” Sam says, pulling the thin file out of his bag.
“Alright, so the professor?” I ask, trying to keep the peace just a bit by leading Sam on and ignoring Dean.
“Dexter Hasselback was passing through town last week when he vanished.”
“Last known location?” Dean asks.
“His daughter says he was on his way to visit the Broward County Mystery Spot.” Sam hands over the flyer he found on his walk to the diner. It’s essentially gibberish except for Where the laws of physics have no meaning written at the bottom.
“Three coffees, black, and some hot sauce for the,” Doris suddenly gasps and the hot sauce is a pile of shards of spicy glass on the floor. “Whoops, crap, sorry, shit. Cleanup!” Doris says in a flurry, turning toward the kitchen to get the attention of whoever is supposed to clean it up.
***
As we walk down the street, a dog barks at us as we pass by, but it doesn’t attempt to approach any of us so we just keep moving.
“Sam, joints like this are only tourist traps, right? I mean, you know, balls rolling uphill, furniture nailed to the ceiling, they’re only dangerous to your wallet.” Dean says, taking the flyer back from Sam as we walk toward the location.
“Okay, look, I’m just saying, there are spots in the world where holes open up and swallow people. The Bermuda Triangle, the Oregon Vortex…” Sam can’t think of another suspicious hole.
“Broward Country Mystery Spot?” Dean asks, full of sarcasm and sass.
“Well,” Sam shrugs, “sometimes these places are legit.”
“All right, so if it’s legit, and that’s a big-ass if, what’s the lore?”
Suddenly I collide with a girl, not realizing she was in front of me. She’s carrying a stack of papers she somehow keeps in her arms. “Shit, sorry,” I whisper, trying to catch up with my brothers.
“Sounds a little X-Files to me,” I hear Dean say as I finally catch back up.
We have to walk briefly into the road to avoid two movers trying and failing to fit a desk in the door.
“All right, look, I’m not saying this is really happening, but if it is, we gotta check it out, see if we can do something.”
“Alright, alright, we’ll go tonight after they close, get ourselves a nice long look,” Dean decides.
“Why not go during the day, first? We’d be able to tell what’s different in the night.” I suggest.
“You just want to go to the Mystery Spot.” Sam says, shaking his head.
“What’s a little fun?” I smile, but he continues shaking his head. I concede. “Okay, we’ll go at night.”
***
Everything about the Mystery Spot is a tourist trap. Neon green and black spirals paint floor to ceiling in a dizzying patterns. Everything is upside down, poorly glued and nailed and screwed to the green and black spiral above.
“Wow, uncanny,” Dean sarcastically shines his light on an ashtray full of fake, resin-ed ashes and painted cigarettes.
“Find anything?” Dean asks toward Sam, holding the EMF reader not even giving a response.
“You have any idea what you’re looking for?” Dean asks.
“Um…yeah…totally,” Sam says, definitely lying. Dean and I raise our eyebrows skeptically.
“No,” Sam shakes his head.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Someone asks from a distance, and I freeze, whispering a holy shit under my breath.
“Woah, woah, woah, we can explain,” Dean holds up his hands, and I follow suit. The guy is holding a shotgun, and he seems willing to shoot.
“You robbing me?” The guy asks, likely the owner.
“Look, sir, nobody’s robbing you, please, calm down,” Sam says, and Dean takes the opportunity to try to move around the owner, but he notices and turns back toward Dean.
“Don’t move!”
“Just put the gun down,” Dean tries, freezing in place.
The gun fires, buckshot landing all across Dean. Holy shit. Sam rushes to Dean while I stay standing, frozen, confused. The owner turns toward me. “I didn’t, I didn’t mean to,”
“Call 911!” Sam shouts while the owner continues to fumble with the gun.
“Now!” Sam shouts again. The owner just moves away, frightened of his own doings. He drops the gun and it fires a second time, barely grazing my shoulder. I fall, hearing Sam beg Dean to stay awake.
“Dean, Dean, not like this, no, no, no.”
***
I wake up on the pull out couch to “Heat of the Moment” by Asia playing uncomfortably loud.
“Rise and shine, sleeping beauties,” Dean yells, already completely awake and tying his shoes.
“Dude, Asia?” Sam asks, halfway to sitting up. I roll over, groaning.
“Come on, you love this song and you know it.”
“Yeah, and if I ever hear it again, I’m going to commit a homicide,” I say into my pillow.
Dean responds by turning up the music, and when I look to glare, I glance at Sam, and the amusement on his face is too good to stop, so I just accept my fate.
Sam is first to take up the bathroom, and I’m next, leaving Dean who’s already done everything but brush his teeth to use that fact against us, gargling loud enough I believe I could hear him several states over.
Neither one of us react, staring, an uncomfortable feeling of Deja Vu running through us.
“What?” Dean asks us, confused.
“I don’t know,” Sam says at the same time as shrug.
“You two alright?” Dean squints, trying to determine if we’ve developed some sort of illness.
“I think I had some sort of weird dream.” I scratch my head.
“Me, too,” Sam says.
“Yeah? Clowns or midgets?” Dean asks.
“Neither.” Sam and I say in tandem.
***
The door of the first dingy diner we could find dings as the three of us enter, and it’s just as busy as you’d expect in the morning.
“Hey, Tuesday, pig in a poke,” Dean notes as we all slide into the booth.
“It’s Tuesday?” I ask, confused. Yesterday was Tuesday, wasn’t it?
“Yeah,” Dean nods.
“Really?” Sam asks.
“Obviously. Did you two knock your heads or something?”
The waitress, Doris, takes this time to interrupt. “You boys ready?”
Dean goes first. “Yes, I’ll have the special, side of bacon, and a coffee.”
Sam and I share a look, this has happened before. I shake my head, just going with the flow. I go second, “I’m easy, Doris, just get me the same, please.”
She smiles at my acknowledging her name, and turns toward Sam.
“Um, nothing, thanks,” Sam says while he glances over the menu.
“Let me know if you change your mind.” Doris takes our menus and scurries away with the speed of someone who is perfectly fine in their job.
“I’m telling you, Sam,” Dean starts, “this job is small fry. We should be spending our time hunting down Bela.”
Sam and I both stare after Doris, uncomfortable.
“Hey,” Dean snaps in our face, trying to get our attention. “You two with me?”
“What?” Sam asks. “Huh?” I turn back toward Dean.
“You sure you’re feeling okay? No cooties?” Dean asks.
“You really don’t…” I start at the same time Sam says “You don’t remember any of this?”
“Remember what?”
“This, today, like it’s happened before?” I ask.
“You mean like Deja Vu?”
“No, like it’s really happened before?” Sam asks.
“So, Deja Vu,” Dean reiterates.
“No, forget about Deja Vu, I’m asking you if it feels like we’re living yesterday all over again.”
“Okay, how is that not how Deja Vu works?”
“Groundhog Day?” I try.
“Time loop?” Dean asks.
“Yes, Dean, like we actually lived it before.”
“Three coffees, black, and some hot sauce for the,” Doris suddenly gasps as she drops the hot sauce which Sam is able to grab it before it becomes a pile of spicy shards of glass on the floor.
“Nice reflexes,” Dean nods. Sam and I share another look. Something is deeply wrong.
***
“Guys, I’m sorry, but I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” Dean raises his hand.
“Okay, look, yesterday was Tuesday, right?” Sam asks. “But today is Tuesday, too.”
“Yeah, no, good, great, you two are totally, like totally balanced.”
“So you don’t believe us?” I ask, finally taking advantage of the sidewalk widening only to run into the blonde girl again. “Shit, I’m sorry,” I say as we continue walking.
“Look, I’m just saying that it’s crazy, you know, I mean, even for us, crazy. Dingo ate my baby crazy. Hey, maybe it was another of your psychic premonitions,” Dean suggests.
“Only problem with that is I feel it, too, Dean.”
“Maybe you’re psychic, too.”
“Never had a psychic bone in my body, Deano.”
“And anyways,” Sam starts, “it was way too vivid. Okay, look, we were at the Mystery Spot, and then–” Sam stops with a jolt.
“And then what?” Dean tries to get him to continue.
“Then I woke up.” Sam doesn’t want to say the truth, that Dean died in his arms yesterday, or today, or whenever.
We pass the movers again. They still can’t get it to fit.
“Wait a minute! The Mystery Spot, you think maybe it–” Sam pauses, excited and confused.
“Maybe what?” Dean and I ask in tandem. We briefly glance at each other before looking back toward Sam.
Sam just sighs. “We’ve got to check that place out. Look, just go with me on this, okay?” Sam asks.
“Alright, alright, we’ll go tonight, after close, get ourselves a nice long look.”
Sam and I both freeze. He’s the first to speak. “Wait, what? No.”
“Why not?” Dean asks.
“Um,” Sam stalls, “Let’s just go now, right now, business hours, nice and crowded.”
“My God, you’re a freak.”
“Dean,” Sam tries.
“Okay, whatever, we’ll go now.” Dean concedes.
Dean walks out in front of us, checking both ways before getting violently slammed with a car from the left.
“Dean!” Sam rushes toward him.
The guy from the diner leans out of the car. “Everything alright?” he asks.
“Dean, no no no,” Sam begs. “Come on! Dean! Dean. Dean.” Sam continues.
I can see the light fade from Dean's eyes.
***
I wake up on the pull out couch to “Heat of the Moment” by Asia playing uncomfortably loud.
“Rise and shine, sleeping beauties,” Dean yells, already completely awake and tying his shoes.
“Dude, Asia?” Sam asks, halfway to sitting up. I roll over, groaning.
“Come on, you love this song and you know it.”
“Yeah, and if I ever hear it again, I’m going to commit a homicide,” I say into my pillow before snapping into a seated position. Dean responds by turning up the music. Sam looks at me with a look that says not again.
“Dean, what day is it?” Sam asks.
“Tuesday? What, did you go on a bender after I fell asleep?” Dean asks as he moves toward the bathroom.
“No, Dean, neither of us did, but yesterday was Tuesday.” I throw the shitty blanket off my legs and stand.
“Nope. Monday. Today is Tuesday.”
“So help me, when I figure out why the fuck we are in Groundhog Day, whoever is doing it, I am going to beat their ass.” I dig in my bag for my gun, not bothering with the bathroom, where Dean is currently gargling loud enough to be heard several states over.
Dean spits out the mouthwash. “What are you talking about?”
“This is the third time we’ve been through this fucking Tuesday.” I respond.
“No it isn’t.” Dean is adamant. He doesn’t know he’s died.
***
The door of the first dingy diner we could find dings as the three of us enter, and it’s just as busy as you’d expect in the morning.
“Hey, Tuesday, pig in a poke,” Dean notes as we all slide into the booth.
“Okay, would you please listen to us, Dean? Because we are clearly flipping out right now.”
“You boys ready?” Our waitress asks, Doris.
Sam responds, trying to get Doris out of the way as fast as possible. “They’ll both have the special, side of bacon, coffee, black. Nothing for me, thanks.”
“You got it.” Doris takes our menus and scurries away with the speed of someone who is perfectly fine in their job.
“Sammy, I get all tingly when you take control like that.” Dean waggles his eyebrows, smirking like the world isn’t on fire.
“Quit screwing around, Dean,” Sam says with enough seriousness Dean takes a breath.
“Okay, okay, I’m listening. So you think we’re in some kind of time loop. Groundhog Day?” Dean nods, clearly not believing us which Sam picks up on.
“Fucking hell, Dean, why would we be lying?” Sam asks.
“It’s not that I don’t believe you, it’s just that it’s a little crazy, I mean, even for us crazy, you know like, uh–”
“Dingo ate my baby crazy?” I finish for him.
“How’d you know I was going to say that?”
“Because you said it before, Dean, that’s our whole point,” Sam says.
“Three coffees, black, and some hot sauce for the,” Doris suddenly gasps, but Sam catches it without even looking.
“Thanks,” Doris says, embarrassed, as she places the hot sauce down and leaves.
“Nice reflexes,” Dean replies.
“No, I knew it was going to happen.” Sam sighs.
“Okay, look, I’m sure that there’s some sort of explanation,” Dean tries.
“You’re just going to have to go with me on this, Dean, with us, you just have to, okay, you owe me that much,” Sam pleads.
“Calm down,” Dean tries.
“Don’t tell me to calm down! I can’t calm down, Dean, I can’t, because–” Sam chokes himself up.
“Because what?”
“Because you die, today, Dean.”
“I’m not going to die, not yet, not today.” Dean promises, a false promise, but one nonetheless.
“Twice now we’ve watched you die, and I can’t, I won’t do it again, okay? You’re just going to have to believe me, please.” Sam pleads, tears welling in his eyes.
“Alright, I still think you’re nuts, but okay, whatever this is, we’ll figure it out.”
***
A dog barks at us as we pass by, but it doesn’t attempt to approach any of us so we just keep moving.
This time, Dean collides with the pretty blonde girl before I can even move around him. “Shit, sorry!”
We have to walk briefly into the road to avoid two movers trying and failing to fit a desk in the door.
“So, you think this cheesy-ass tourist trap has something to do with it?” Dean asks.
“Maybe it’s the real deal,” Sam is excited that Dean is finally listening. “The magnetic fields, I don’t know, like bend spacetime or whatever.”
“I don’t know, it all seems a little too X-Files for me.”
“Well, I don’t know how else to explain it, Dean!” Sam throws his hands up.
“Alright, alright, we’ll go tonight after–”
“I’ll stop you right there Dean, we will not be going there at night.” I interrupt.
“Why not?”
“Because you-” Sam can’t finish.
“Because you die, Dean!” I throw out.
“Blown away, actually,” Sam shrugs.
“Huh, okay, um, let’s just go now then.”
“Good idea, Dean.” I move toward the road and grab Dean when Mr. Pickett rushes through with his car.
“Stay out of the way!” Mr. Pickett yells at us.
Dean just sort of laughs until he sees the look on our face. “Wait, did he?” Dean gestures toward the speeding away car.
“Yesterday, yep,” Sam nods.
“And?” Dean asks
“And what?”
“Did it look cool, like in the movies?”
“No, Dean,” I sigh. “You pissed yourself.”
Dean’s face goes pale. “Well, of course I peed myself. Man gets hit by a car, you think he has full control over his bladder? Come on!”
***
“Boys, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this. We could use all the good ink we can get.” The owner says.
“How long have you owned the place, Mr. Carpiak?” Sam asks.
“Well, my family has been guarding the secrets here since you don’t want to know when.” A well-rehearsed turn of phrase. He’s practiced.
“So you’d know if anything strange happened.” Sam continues. Dean pretends to take notes while I take pictures.
“Strange? Strange happens here all the time. It’s a Mystery Spot,” Carpiak chuckles.
“What exactly does that mean?”
“Well, it’s where the laws of physics have no meaning.”
Sam is getting frustrated with the man, tired of having to dance around the supernatural. “Okay, like how?”
Carpiak just smiles. “Take the tour.”
“The guy who went missing,” Dean asks, pretending not to pay attention, “Dexter Hasselback,, he take the tour?”
“Um, hold on a minute, what kind of article is this?”
Sam is well and truly annoyed now. “Just answer the question.”
“The police scoured every inch of this place. They couldn’t find that man. I never seen him before. We’re a family establishment.”
Sam moves into Carpiak’s face, and I realize all that frustration is really just well-guarded fear. “Listen to me, there’s something weird going on here. Now, do you know anything about it or not?”
“Hey, don’t get in his face like that,” I try to placate Sam, but he just gives me a glare that has me backing into the wall of my own volition.
“Okay, look, guys, give me a break. I bought the joint at a foreclosure auction last March, all right? Hell, I used to sell bail bonds.”
“Okay, Mr. Carpiak. Why don’t we go get some air. So sorry to bother you.” I say as I try to usher Sam and Dean out of the Mystery Spot.
***
“Well, I hate to say it, but that place is exactly what I thought,” Dean sighs, “full of crap.”
“Then what is it, Dean? What the hell is happening to us?” Sam asks.
“I don’t know, alright, let me just get this straight, alright, so every day I die?”
Sam and I both nod.
“And that’s when you wake up again, right?” Dean asks.
Again, we nod.
“So let’s just make sure I don’t die. If I make it to tomorrow, then maybe the loop stops and we can figure all this out.”
“You think?” I ask.
“It’s worth a shot, I say we grab some takeout and head back to the motel, lay low until midnight.”
Sam and I nod, hopeful and anxious, jittery.
“Alright, good. So, who wants Chinese?” Dean asks, moving backward on the sidewalk toward the motel. A few feet from us, he is suddenly smashed by the desk from earlier, falling from a rope devised by the two movers. At least they are persistent.
***
I wake up on the pull out couch to “Heat of the Moment” by Asia playing uncomfortably loud.
“Rise and shine, sleeping beauties,” Dean yells, already completely awake and tying his shoes.
“Dude, Asia?” Sam asks, halfway to sitting up. I roll over, groaning.
“Come on, you love this song and you know it.”
“Yeah, and if I ever hear it again, I’m going to commit a homicide,” I say into my pillow before snapping into a seated position. Dean responds by turning up the music. Sam looks at me with a look that says not again.
***
The door of the first dingy diner we could find dings as the three of us enter, and it’s just as busy as you’d expect in the morning.
“Hey, Tuesday, pig in a poke,” Dean notes as we all slide into the booth. I might just punch him in the face out of pure frustration.
“And hey, I still think you guys are nuts, but whatever this is,” Dean gestures to the table as if it holds all of our secrets, “we’ll figure it out.”
“Thanks,” Sam nods.
“So, if you two are stuck in Groundhog Day, why? What’s behind it?” Dean asks.
“Well, I have nothing concrete but we do know that there are a few factors that change. Your original death is likely the way they wanted this to play out. You die, you go to hell, we mourn. You are the only one dying in this case, so you are the main variable. Every day, you take a shower, we wake up as you finish tying your shoes, you brush your teeth, we come to the diner, we order the same food, except the first time. Honestly, the only real variable here is Mr. Pickett because it appears that we leave at the same time every day and he only killed you after the original day, even though our timeline stands. That variable is now constant, however, so I’m not sure how logically–” Dean cuts me off.
“Too much science, dude. You’re saying I order the same thing every time?” Dean notices Doris coming up to one of the nearby booths.
“Yes, Dean, you order the same thing. Pig in a poke, side of bacon.” Sam nods.
“Excuse me, sweetheart?” Dean asks. I whisper Doris’s name in his ear, but he ignores me.
“Yeah?” Doris asks as she turns toward us.
“Can I get sausage instead of bacon?”
“Sure thing, hon.”
Dean turns to us, “See? Different day already. You see, if we decide I’m not going to die, I’m not going to die.”
Sam says, “Hot sauce,” as Doris brings over the tray. When it falls, he catches it, just like he has in the past.
“So that’s happened before, huh?” Dean asks.
“Every time. Just like the guy getting his change, the kid ordering coffee, the dog barking, running into the girl, the movers, Mr. Pickett in his car speeding by. It starts out the same every time.”
Doris finally brings our food, and we all dig in, only to hear Dean start to choke.
***
I wake up on the pull out couch to “Heat of the Moment” by Asia playing uncomfortably loud.
“Rise and shine, sleeping beauties,” Dean yells, already completely awake and tying his shoes.
“Not a-fucking-gain,” I yell, standing up and turning the radio off.
“What?” Dean asks, genuinely dejected.
“I’ll give you the short of it, Deano, we’re all stuck in a time loop in which you die and we never have enough time to figure out what dumbass is doing it to us, so you are taking those shoes back off, we are staying in this hotel room until past midnight, and you are living to see another day,” I move to lay back down.
“What?” Dean asks again, now confused.
“He’s right, Dean. We’re stuck in Groundhog Day watching you die over and over again.”
“This sounds d-” Sam and I interrupt.
“Dingo ate my baby crazy, we know. Just listen to us and take the day off, please, for the love of all that is holy.”
“Okay, okay, just let me sit my bag back on the floor.” Dean says, kicking it off with the toe of his half tied shoe. The gun inside misfires with pinpoint accuracy, hitting him between the eyes in what anyone else would call a freak accident.
***
I wake up on the pull out couch to “Heat of the Moment” by Asia playing uncomfortably loud.
“Rise and shine, sleeping beauties,” Dean yells, already completely awake and tying his shoes.
“Fuck this, I’m calling Bobby.” I sigh.
“What, to tell on me?” Dean asks, condescending.
“No, Dean, because we’re stuck in a time loop and I’m not watching you die hundreds of times while trying to figure this out on our own because we’re too pussy to call for help.”
***
I wake up on the pull out couch to “Heat of the Moment” by Asia playing uncomfortably loud.
“Rise and shine, sleeping beauties,” Dean yells, already completely awake and tying his shoes.
“We’ve got to be close, Sam, I’m getting tired of this shit.”
“The whole reason we came here was to research what is going on with Dexter Hasselback, why he disappeared. Maybe that’s the crux of it all?” Sam suggests.
“What the fuck are you two talking about?” Dean asks.
“Shut up.” Sam and I yell in unison.
“Damn, okay, crazies.”
“Just, don’t Dean. If you die one more time I’m going to go full Murdock and I’m no Dwight Schultz.”
***
A dog barks at us as we pass by, but it doesn’t attempt to approach any of us so we just keep moving.
Suddenly Dean collides with the blonde girl, not realizing she was in front of me. She’s carrying a stack of papers she somehow keeps in her arms.
“Hey, all the times we’ve walked down this street, I ever do this?” Dean asks as he doubles back to go talk to the girl. “Excuse me, miss!”
When Dean comes back, he holds up a flyer for Dexter Hasselback. A missing poster. A hundred Tuesdays and you never bothered to check what she was holding in her hands?” Dean asks us. We can’t help but shrug. “This the guy who went missing?”
Sam and I both nod.
“That’s his daughter back there.”
Sam rushes to go talk to the girl, hoping to get information. Dean and I just follow along.
“Hey, buddy,” Dean says to the dog, not realizing it’s genuinely angry at having its space invaded. “Somebody need a friend? Good boy,” Dean tries, but he’s too late.
***
I wake up on the pull out couch to “Heat of the Moment” by Asia playing uncomfortably loud.
“Rise and shine, sleeping beauties,” Dean yells, already completely awake and tying his shoes.
***
“Dexter Hasselback is a professor, but he is also quite the journalist. Columns in magazines, a blog.” I start, taking a bite of bacon and letting Sam continue.
“He writes about tourist attractions. Mystery spots, UFO crash sites, he gets his kicks debunking them. I mean, he’s already put four of these places out of business. Here, look.” Sam turns his laptop toward Dean, the blog The Hasselback Report already pulled up and waiting.
“Dexter Hasselback, truth warrior? More like a pompous schmuck if you asked me.”
“Yeah, tell me about it,” Sam starts. “I mean, I’ve read everything the guy’s ever written, and he must have weighed a ton he was so full of himself.”
“When did you have the time to do all this research?” Dean asks.
“Come on, man.” Sam sighs. We start packing up and Dean starts to laugh.
“What?” I ask as I wait for him to get out of the booth so I can follow suit.
“I just, it’s just funny, you know, I mean, this guy spends his whole life crapping on Mystery Spots and then he vanishes into one. It’s kind of poetic, you know, just desserts.”
“You’re right, that is just desserts,” Sam says. As I finally get out of the booth, I notice that the man behind us has switched syrups.
“Sam?” I ask, pointing toward the offending change.
“What’s wrong?” Dean asks.
“Guy has maple syrup for the last hundred fucking Tuesdays,” Sam sighs, “and all of a sudden he’s having strawberry.”
“It’s a free country. Man can’t choose his own syrup, huh? What have we become?” Dean jokes.
“Not in this diner. Not today,” Sam says. “Nothing in this place ever changes, ever, except for us.” Sam gestures toward me.
***
I wake up on the pull out couch to “Heat of the Moment” by Asia playing uncomfortably loud.
“Rise and shine, sleeping beauties,” Dean yells, already completely awake and tying his shoes.
“Trickster, Sam.”
“There’s stakes in the trunk.”
“Good.”
“What are you two talking about?” Dean asks, confused and just a little bit frightened.
***
“So you two think you’re stuck in some kind of what, again?”
“Eat your damn breakfast, Dean,” Sam sighs, palming the pocket of his jacket, comforted by the knowledge the stake is there. I sat with Sam this time, so we could leave fast, and when the man leaves, we follow suit.
“What’s in the bag?” Dean asks, trying to follow behind without knowing why. I don’t bother answering.
When we finally get to a place there aren’t a lot of people, Sam pushes the man against a fence, the tip of the stake against his throat.
“Hey!” The man tries to wrestle him away.
“I know who you are. Or should I say what?”
“Oh my god, please don’t kill me,” the man fakes.
“Uh, Sam, Drew?” Dean asks, having no idea what’s going on.
“It took us a hell of a long time, but we got it.” Sam continues, ignoring Dean. I hold my hand up so he doesn’t approach and try to diffuse the situation.
“What?” The man asks, still pretending to be scared.
“It’s your MO that gave you away. Going after pompous jerks, giving them their just desserts. Your kind loves that, don’t they?” Sam asks.
“Yeah, sure, okay,” the man glances down toward the stake at his throat, “just, please just put the stake down.”
“Sam, maybe you should–” Dean tries, only to get interrupted.
“No, Dean!” Sam turns back to the man. “There’s only one creature powerful enough to do what you’re doing, making reality out of nothing, sticking people in time loops, in fact, you’d pretty much have to be a god. You’d have to be a Trickster.”
“Mister, sir, my name is Ed Coleman, my wife’s name is Amelia, I’ve got two kids. For crying out loud, I sell ad space–” Sam cuts him off.
“Don’t lie to me! I know what you are! We’ve killed one of your kind before!” Sam gestures the stake, almost piercing the neck of the man who suddenly morphs into the same Trickster from before.
“Actually, bucko, you didn’t,” The Trickster smiles.
“Why the fuck are you doing this?” Sam asks.
“You’re joking, right? You chucklefucks tried to kill me last time. Why wouldn’t I do this?”
“And Hasselback, what about him?” I ask.
“That putz,” The Trickster looks at me and gives me a wink, “He said he didn’t believe in wormholes, so I dropped him in one.” He laughs as though he’s made a joke, but we don’t find it particularly funny so he continues. “Then you guys showed up. I made you the second you hit town.”
“So this is fun for you? Killing Dean over and over again?”
“One, yes, it is fun. And two? This is so not about killing Dean. The joke is on the two of you, especially you Sam, watching your brother die every day? Forever? That’s the joke.”
“You son of a bitch.”
“How long will it take you to realize you can’t save your brothers? No matter what.”
“Brothers?” Dean asks, and I feel all the color drain from my face.
“Oh yeah?” Sam doesn’t even pick up on what is occurring behind him. “I kill you, this all ends now.”
“Oh, woah, hey, woah! Okay, look, I was just playing around. You can’t take a joke, fine. You’re out of it. Tomorrow you’ll wake up and it’ll be Wednesday, I swear.” The Trickster holds his hands up in surrender.
“You’re lying!”
“If I am, you know where to find me, having pancakes at the diner.”
“Nope, easier to just kill you,” Sam says, ready to plunge the stake into the Trickster.
“Sorry, kiddos, can’t have that.” The Trickster snaps his fingers.
***
I wake up on the pull out couch to “Back in Time” by Huey Lewis and the News playing uncomfortably loud.
“What, you two plan on sleeping all day?” Dean asks as he notices us wake up.
“No Asia,” Sam sighs.
“Yeah, I know, this station sucks,” Dean gestures with his toothbrush to the radio which finally reads WED.
“It’s Wednesday!” Sam and I gasp together.
“Yeah, usually comes right after Tuesday. Turn that thing off, will you?”
Sam is grinning from ear to ear, just excited to be out of the loop. “What, are you kidding me? This isn’t the most beautiful song you’ve ever heard?”
“No. How many Tuesdays did you two have?” Dean asks with his toothbrush in his mouth.
“I don’t know,” Sam shakes his head as we both move to get dressed. “I lost count. Hey, speaking of which, what do you remember?” Sam asks.
Dean pulls the toothbrush out of his mouth “I remember you were pretty whacked out of it yesterday, then I remember running into the Trickster, but no, that’s about it. And on that note, he said brothers, not just brother, right?”
My eyes go wide, “No, Dean, you were just confused. You’ve only got one brother and he’s standing right there,” I try to placate, but Sam holds up his hand.
“Drew, I’m tired of this,” Sam says, and I can feel my face turn from ghostly white to green. “We should tell him the truth.”
I don’t respond. Sam takes that as a note to continue.
“Deanna,” Sam starts, and I cringe away. He gives me a look of apology. “Deanna Winchester did not die in the fire that killed our mother. Those memories we have of her in the motel with us are real. We didn’t keep her memory alive with our imagination like dad told us. He shipped her off to Ellen Harvelle as soon as he could, and they’ve been living there ever since.”
“We’re the same age. You said that on the first case.” Dean turns to me. “You call me Deano, and the only person that ever did that was her.” He’s angry, he’s pointing his finger, and I move so that there is a sturdy wall behind me. I can’t speak, I just nod.
“And you didn’t think to fucking tell me this before I was dying and going to hell?” Dean practically screeches, body pressed against me, arm seconds from pressing against my throat.
“About that,” Sam starts, scratching the back of his head, not helping me at all. I furiously shake my head.
“What?” Dean looks between the two of us.
“Drew, also made,” Sam tries.
“Sam, if you don’t shut up right now,” I try.
“You made a deal?” Dean practically screeches. He looks between Sam and I before taking a deep breath, deciding this isn’t worth it. “What the fuck is wrong with you people?” Dean asks, moving to the left and darting out the door with his bag in tow. I follow suit emptyhanded, trying to calm him somehow. Sam soon after, but he stays back at the door to the room.
When Dean gets to the car, he moves to pop the trunk.
“Dean, wait, please.” I beg.
“Find your own way home, De-Drew.” Dean slams the truck back down, and behind him stands Cal, the poor guy from the diner, holding a gun up to Dean.
“Give me your wallet,” Cal pleads. He’s desperate. I try to move out of the way, unseen, and pull my own gun out, but Cal turns to me. “Stop fucking moving!”
“Sorry, sorry, here,” I say, reaching into my pocket to throw him my wallet. He fires, and suddenly I’m on the ground. I can’t move, but I hear a second shot go off not long after the first. I think I’m dying this time. It’s not how I imagined it would be. It doesn’t hurt. It hurts too much. I can’t hear, but I hear it all. It’s too bright and too dark. It smells like iron and nothing at all. I’m going into shock.
***
I wake up on the pull out couch to “Back in Time” by Huey Lewis and the News playing uncomfortably loud.
“What, you two plan on sleeping all day?” Dean asks as he notices us wake up.
“No Asia,” Sam sighs.
“Yeah, I know, this station sucks,” Dean gestures with his toothbrush to the radio which finally reads WED.
“It’s Wednesday!” Sam and I gasp together.
“Yeah, usually comes right after Tuesday. Turn that thing off, will you?”
Sam is grinning from ear to ear, just excited to be out of the loop. “What, are you kidding me? This isn’t the most beautiful song you’ve ever heard?”
“No. How many Tuesdays did you two have?” Dean asks with his toothbrush in his mouth.
“I don’t know,” Sam shakes his head as we both move to get dressed. “I lost count. Hey, speaking of which, what do you remember?” Sam asks.
Dean pulls the toothbrush out of his mouth “I remember you were pretty whacked out of it yesterday, then I remember running into the Trickster, but no, that’s about it. And on that note, he said brothers, not just brother, right?”
My eyes go wide, “No, Dean, you were just confused. You’ve only got one brother and he’s standing right there,” I try to placate, but Sam holds up his hand.
“Drew, I’m tired of this,” Sam says, and I can feel my face turn from ghostly white to green. “We should tell him the truth.”
I don’t respond. Sam takes that as a note to continue.
“Deanna,” Sam starts, and I cringe away. He gives me a look of apology. “Deanna Winchester did not die in the fire that killed our mother. Those memories we have of her in the motel with us are real. We didn’t keep her memory alive with our imagination like dad told us. He shipped her off to Ellen Harvelle as soon as he could, and they’ve been living there ever since.”
“We’re the same age. You said that on the first case.” Dean turns to me. “You call me Deano, and the only person that ever did that was her.” He’s angry, he’s pointing his finger, and I move so that there is a sturdy wall behind me. I can’t speak, I just nod.
“And you didn’t think to fucking tell me this before I was dying and going to hell?” Dean practically screeches, body pressed against me, arm seconds from pressing against my throat.
“About that,” Sam starts, scratching the back of his head, not helping me at all. I furiously shake my head.
“What?” Dean looks between the two of us.
Sam comes up with a lie fast enough. “Bobby also knew.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you people?” Dean asks, moving away to head toward the bathroom to shut the door.
Sam moves toward the bathroom while I just slide down the wall.
“Dean, we thought it best not to tell you because we knew you’d react just like this. We need his help, no matter how much it hurts. He’s our brother.”
“Fuck that, he’s being lying the whole fucking time, Sam, how am I supposed to believe a word he says if he lied about something that big?”
“He hasn’t lied to you about anything else,” Sam tries.
“I don’t believe you!”
“Okay, Dean, just calm down,” Sam tries, and the door swings back open.
“How am I supposed to calm down when my fucking twin paraded around like some loser queer instead of telling me the fucking truth?”
“Dean,” I plead, and I realize at the crack in my voice I’ve been crying. “I just wanted to help.”
“Well, you’ve helped enough. I don’t want to see you ever fucking again, okay, kid. Get out of my sight.
I nod and stand. I don’t think I can take much more of this. I don’t know what else to do, so I just stand frozen in the middle of the room while Sam packs my bag. “I’ll walk him down, get him another room, and call Bobby or Ash to come get him.”
Dean just throws up his hands. He’s done with me. We have less than a year to live and he’s fucking done with me.
“Sam, it’s fine. I can find my own way home.”
“No, I’m going with you.” Sam gives me a look. He’s seen today before, I can see it in his eyes. I listen, just this once.
***
“Sam, do you think he’ll ever talk to me again?” I ask as we sit together in the motel room. Bobby has a friend in Florida who owes him a favor and has a case close enough to South Dakota to drop me off halfway. The drive starts at dawn. I’ll figure it out after that.
“He’ll realize he’d rather have you in his life than not, Drew, you just have to give him time.” Sam pats me on the back, trying his best to comfort me.
“But what if we die before then?”
“You won’t.” Sam says, conviction so deep in his voice that I almost cringe. A knock at the door stops me from telling him he’s wrong. Dean’s on the other side.
“Sam, come on, we have to go,” Dean yells through the door.
“Sorry, Drew,” Sam sighs as he stands up. “I’ll keep in touch. If you find out anything about Bela, be sure to call.”
“Of course, Sam.”
Chapter 14: Ice Cream Truck Run
Summary:
Time's up for our dastardly duo. Dean only knows half the story.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
I get a call from an unknown number in the middle of the night. I wasn’t sleeping anyway. I don’t think any of us are. I can assume Ash and Bobby are downstairs doing research while I try and pretend to get some sleep. The grace they give me feels suffocating.
“It didn’t work,” a sobbing voice sounds on the other line.
“Bela?” I ask.
“Who else would it fucking be?” She asks, still in tears.
“Where are you?” I ask, grabbing my keys and shoving clothes in a bag.
“Canaan, Vermont.”
***
“Where are you going?” Ash asks as I run down the stairs with a duffle bag in tow.
“Bela. She has apparently decided that we’re friends? I don’t know. She needs me.”
“And you’re going?” Ash asks, standing and blocking my path.
“Of course I’m going, Ash, we need the Colt. I might be able to get it back.” I try to move past him and he steps to keep blocking me. “Ash, please.”
“No, Drew, you aren’t just going off into the lion’s den without any sort of protection, you don’t know what she’s planning.”
“She was crying, Ash, real tears, I can’t ignore that.” I haul my bag onto my shoulder, waiting for Ash to move.
“And what if it’s a trap?”
“Then I’m a fool.” I try to move past him again and this time he blocks me with his body.
“Tell me what you aren’t telling me.”
I can’t tell him what I’m not telling him, not the real thing. Not yet. I tell him something else. “Bela Talbot is approximately 24 years old. At 14, her parents died in a car accident in which their break lines were cut. The police report notes that Bela Talbot had an array of healing bruises across her arms and legs. The police always believed that Bela Talbot had something to do with it. It was a little over ten years ago. Bela Talbot stole The Colt. Bela Talbot has her own agenda. I believe that agenda started ten years ago when a demon convinced a 14 year old girl, a 14 year old abused, beaten girl, to make a deal.”
“That’s not what you’re not telling me,” Ash says.
“He made a deal.” Bobby says, appearing from the library. “I was hoping he’d man up and tell us, but Sam did it for him.”
“I didn’t know what else to do.” I drop the duffel bag to the ground and move to fall into Ash, but he steps away and I have to catch myself. “Ash?”
“You did what?” Ash asks, not making eye contact with me. “You fucking did what?”
“He put John Winchester back in Hell.” Bobby answers for me, enough anger in his voice that I can’t breathe.
“At least it was something good. Something real fucking good, Drew. How long?” Ash pauses, staring at my face. I shake my head. Ash realizes. “You didn’t?”
I nod.
“Go, go comfort Bela Talbot so you can feel better about yourself, because I don’t think I can look at you.” Ash moves back into the kitchen, and I’m stuck with Bobby staring at me, stuck in the hallway. I slowly move to pick up my duffel bag. I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve taken in air. I gasp it in, fast, hyperventilating.
“I can’t believe the two of you are so stupid,” Bobby shakes his head. “A couple of idjits if I ever saw one.”
“I didn’t want to leave him.”
“And what? You’re going to overthrow Hell all on your own?”
“If that’s what it takes.” I nod, resolute, scared, truthful.
Bobby turns around and heads back toward his desk, covered in books and papers and pens. “Dean knows.”
I falter, but after a moment I keep moving up the stairs. I have to pack.
***
I feel like I’m about to fall asleep when a whooshing sound wakes me with a start. There is someone in my passenger seat. The Trickster.
“Hello, Dolly,” he smirks, and I swerve on the road. Thankfully there’s a little area up ahead where the shoulder pulls off. I put the truck in park.
“What the fuck?” I ask, turning toward him. He offers me an unwrapped lollipop and when I don’t react he just shrugs and puts it in his mouth.
“Beggars can’t be choosers.”
“I don’t think I was begging for a ball of hardened sugar, sir. I was asking why you’re in my truck.”
“You really fucked it all up, huh?” The Trickster asks, garbled through the candy in his mouth.
“You started it.”
“No, you did. You started it the moment Sam and Dean walked back into your life and you decided that they were worth dying for. You could have stayed with Sam, lived a happy little life with one brother, your lover, kept hunting, died in a cute little knife fight, but no, you made a deal. You decided to go to Hell just for the hell of it.”
“Just desserts. Also, he’s not my lover.”
“You think you deserve to go to Hell?” He asks, genuinely curious.
“I’m all kinds of awful.”
“You’re one of the least awful people I’ve met, you’re just a little, in your own words, psychological.” He gestures toward my head, using the movement as an excuse to try and fix a bit of my hair. I don’t know the last time I’ve brushed it, honestly.
“Stop it,” I bat his hand away.
“Why? It’s not like you’re getting any at home,” he winks, the practiced kind of wink a normal person would blush at. I roll my eyes.
“Yes, I fucked my whole life up in a single night. Yes, I regret it. No, I don’t want to change it. I’ll go to Hell, I’ll turn into a demon, and I’ll be the evil I wanted to destroy. I get it, you’ve come to rub it in my face that I’m really stupid. I just don’t know why you’re so obsessed with me.”
The Trickster leans in uncomfortably close. “You’re not supposed to exist. You were never in the blueprint. I want to watch the show.”
“Damn, way to ruin my ego. Just say kill yourself and get it over with.”
“I’d much rather you live.” And with that, he’s gone, leaving a small treat bag full of candy behind. One of the lollipops is shaped like an incredibly realistic phallus, and I can’t help but sigh.
***
When I knock on the door of the motel Bela is staying at, she rushes to pull me in.
“Woah, take me out to dinner first.” I yelp.
“Where are your brothers?” She asks, seemingly having calmed down.
“Why?” I ask, placing my duffel on the floor in the corner.
“I have information for them.” Bela looks out the window and shuts the blinds. Devil’s shoestring above the door confirms all my suspicions.
“And you called me?”
“Yeah, they listen to you.” She sits on the perfectly clean bed in the room.
“Bela, you really don’t know, do you? They haven’t told you?” I gesture toward the ouija board on the tiny table toward the bathroom.
“Told me what?”
“Dean knows I’m his brother. Everyone knows I made a deal so I’d go down into Hell with him. No one is talking to me, Bela. And if I try to talk to my mother or my sister, they will personally kill me and then revive me several times just as punishment.”
“You really are a Winchester, aren’t you?” Bela asks, shaking her head.
“Bobby would’ve told Dean where I was going. He’ll be here likely within the next three hours. You don’t have long, do you,” I gesture toward the doorway.
“I’m already out of time.”
“I’ll be sure to find you, down there.” I move to grab my bag.
“I traded The Colt, but I have to kill your brother.”
“Maybe all three of us will live our happy little slice of apple pie life in Hell, then.”
***
Sam calls me the next day. “You could have warned us.”
“Dean is plenty smart enough to realize Bela’s tricks. I didn’t think you wanted my help.”
“Dean might not, but I do.” His voice breaks, just a bit, something I shouldn’t have been able to catch, but living a hundred days with a man will let you know more about him than you ever should.
“I’m sorry, Sam. I really am. I don’t know why I did it. I just, I–” my voice cracks.
***
A text from Sam sends me to New Harmony, Indiana. I am going to die in fucking Indiana. This isn’t going to work. Everything is a blur. I’ve started hallucinating.
Everyone is a fucking demon in this town, I think as I sneak around, following Sam’s covert instructions. I’d love to say I’ve hijacked an ice cream truck before, but I haven’t. I have hijacked public audio systems, however, so this shouldn’t be too hard. At least, it wouldn’t be if the town wasn’t crawling with demons.
As I approach, I notice Sam and Dean and Ruby running and realize that this might be my only chance to get through unseen. Every demon follows them, none see me.
I move to shut and lock all the doors before noticing that Bobby is making his way toward me, faster than I’ve ever seen him move. He waves me off the driver’s side door, jumping in and getting ready to start it.
“Do what you have to do, kid, and do it fast. You don’t have any fucking time,” he breathes as he starts hotwiring the truck.
“You better be glad I was a deviant.” I say as I search for the speaker system. “Aha! And it’s flash drive-based, just as I expected!”
The clock tower starts dinging. It’s midnight. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I yell. “Bobby, I’m sorry!”
“Kid, I love you, now hurry up and get this thing working so we can get out of here.”
“I don’t think I’m getting out.” My voice cracks as I hear the sounds of growling, the scratching at the door. I don’t bother spreading the graveyard dirt.
Once I get it working, the exorcism playing through the speakers, I move toward the back door and wait for Bobby to start moving the van. “Watch out for Ash for me, Bobby.” I rip open the door and jump out.
It feels like being gutted, old scars, scurvy. It’s hot, white. It’s dark, cold. I don’t know what I’m feeling. It’s blood, a lot of blood. The dogs are ugly, are beautiful, are an amalgam of everyone I’ve ever hurt, are no one I’ve ever known before.
***
I gasp, a deep breath in, wondering for a moment if I’m still alive. I’m not, at least I hope I’m not. I’m strung up by meat hooks in my shoulders, ankles, wrists. It’s searing. It’s cold.
“Why, hello there, little Winchester,” someone says next to me or miles away. When my eyes finally decide to focus on the figure, he’s holding a carving knife as though it is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. “Want to make a deal?” His smile shows that this is a game, a joke, and he is enjoying every moment of it.
“I think making deals with demons is something in my past, good sir,” I smile. My mouth feels full of blood.
“You take this knife, torture somebody else, I don’t torture you.”
“Is that really how this whole thing works? You torture me, I torture someone else, they torture, etc.?” I tilt my head, biting my cheek through the steady pain.
“Etcetera. So, what do you say, little one, pick up the knife?” The demon turns the handle toward me
“Point me in the direction of my father.” I wiggle, attempting to remove myself from the hooks holding me up.
Notes:
I wrote like three chapters in a single night, so have a bonus episode, darlings. Next up, The Hellish Interlude.
lotrspnfangirl_graphics on Chapter 1 Tue 17 May 2022 03:52AM UTC
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PrincePopcorn on Chapter 1 Tue 17 May 2022 07:26PM UTC
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Tobreakadaisychain on Chapter 1 Wed 18 May 2022 01:24AM UTC
Last Edited Wed 18 May 2022 01:24AM UTC
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