Legacy – Chpt 1 – s.n. ficlet
by: sifi
All Disclaimers apply… I don't own Supernatural.
It owns me, but it keeps me on a really long leash.
Love?: Why do you ask questions to which you already know the answer?
--
Air found itself forced out of his lungs as his body started to fall backwards. His arms closed around the solid object that had careened into him and he heard Sam's voice call out, "Dean!" Then he hit the ground and felt liquid hot spread over him through his shirt as he looked down at the top of the sand colored head that was laying on his chest. He looked up, his eyes moving quickly between his little brother who was charging toward him from across the street, and the late model Monte Carlo that was laying down twin trails of rubber on the street.
"Sam!..." he called back and rolled onto his side, carefully cradling the owner of the head he was looking at, I got a baaaad feeling about this… "Call an ambulance!"
Sam skidded to his side drawing his cell from his pocket and dialing 911 breathlessly. He watched his big brother gently lay the body that saved his life onto the ground.
Dean shook his head meeting the pale blue eyes within that elfin face and scanning her body, trying hard not to look as desperate as he felt.
She took the bullet in the back… oh God what do I do? She's gonna bleed out… damn! that's a big freakin' hole! In like a sports car out like a semi… damn… why? Who is she? Why would anyone do that? She saw it coming… I know she did…
"This is gonna hurt a bit…" he warned pressing his hand down on the gaping tear near the center of her upper abdomen, With the way the blood's pouring out… that had to have hit her aorta…thanks dad for the basic anatomy… and for the first time in a long time he wasn't quite feeling those gnashing jaws of loss tearing into his soul, at least not because of John's death, and the reason for it. No, this time it's going to be because of some innocent…not again, I can't live with that again…
The slender hand that wrapped around his wrist still had a surprising amount of strength in it and the eyes shed reflexive tears as Dean brought his jade greens up to hers and locked onto them. Her breathing was shallow and sporadic, all three of them knew there was no way she would survive. Her rosebud mouth worked to make sounds, she had something to communicate and as much as Dean wanted to rewind time and stop her from taking the stray bullet that would've hit him, he had no choice but to listen. His pain written clearly on his face he leaned forward to bear witness to her last words.
"…wo…th… it," she mouthed and took a shuddering breath through the blood that was pooling in her mouth, "…gifv oou, … s'left…ooo… afv…de…zt…ny,…" her eyes seemed to focus for a brief moment on his and something crossed her features, something Dean wasn't quite sure he understood, a kind of satisfaction maybe as she sighed distinctly, "...heeh… you're gold…" she smiled and her hand released his wrist so her fingers could touch his cheek before falling back to the ground, the lighthouse keeper was gone.
"Wha?...Nuh…" Dean breathed and turned his head to confirm what he knew. She was dead, this young innocent woman, barely out of her teens was dead for him. Why? What was she saying?How? Why would she…? give me? Give me what? did she say destiny? I don't understand…Gold? Gold or Cold? he thought numbly as he felt Sam's hand on his shoulder and heard the sound of sirens still a few blocks away. He felt his muscles creek as he turned his head and met Sam's sympathetic eyes before turning back to the face that would haunt him. A glint of red covered gold caught his eye and he focused, Alexandra. Nice name…who was she? I need to know… he thought as Sam broke through his musings.
"Dean you gotta get out of here… you're in the Federal Database…" he warned as Dean rose to his feet and grimacing, zipped his jacket up over his blood soaked t-shirt.
They exchanged a knowing look as Dean disappeared, fading into the shadows cast by the trees that lined the street. He watched from the basement stairwell of a nearby apartment building as the ambulance pulled to a stop at the curb and the deafening siren was finally silenced, traded for a different cacophony.
--
"So apparently Miss Bentley's more ghost than Constance Welch…" Sam looked up from the computer as Dean entered the motel room, "What'd you get?"
"Pastrami on rye for me… corned beef on an onion bagel for you…"
"Bah dum bum,"
"Bah dum bum," they said together as Dean tossed the deli bag to him and pulled up a chair.
"Actually, she worked in the purchasing department of Ferrow's Mechanical, been there four years, started the day after college graduation, never missed a day and was pretty well liked by her co-workers, no beefs with or against anyone…" Dean paused to take a bite of his sandwich.
"Sounds like a perfect employee…" Sam surmised, "…what's the catch?"
Dean smirked, "Mmm man there's nothing like a genuine deli pastrami sandwich…" then took a swig of his soda before continuing, "…No friends, no real friends anyway… minor socializing with the co-workers was pretty much the extent of her…people time… no family, father died when she was thirteen, mother died a year later, no siblings, no boyfriend, girlfriend or other…spent some time in state custody until she hit eighteen. She scored heavy scholarships for college…"
"No connection to anyone?" Sam asked.
"Nope… not a single verifiable social human interaction… and check this out…" he pulled a set of papers from his jacket pocket and handed one of them to his little brother.
"Hmm, now that's kinda creepy…"
"Yeah… four years worth of phone calls on two sheets of paper… are you sure about this Dean? Nobody can live like this…"
"Most of those numbers are either the cable company or local restaurants… the few that are highlighted are her job or co-workers cell phone… three calls Sam… three in four years…" Dean shook his head and looked hard at his little brother, the thought of being that isolated, that completely alone in the world making his guts crawl.
"We gotta get into her apartment."
"We need to see her apartment," they said together.
"Dude would you stop that! It's getting weird!" Dean teased remembering the first time he'd noticed them actively on the same wavelength. It was during the Turnbull case right before that ancient deity almost fried him in his own skin. It was just a few days after that… four days after that case that Bobby called…four days later and dad was gone… God I can't think about it right now… please no more for now…It's always gonna hurt dad, I'm always gonna miss you… and I'm always gonna love you… and eventually I'll forgive you… maybe when it hurts less…he coaxed the thoughts to a recess in the back of his mind. He'd learned within the first couple months that shoving them away only made them plant roots until they strangled him. He knew he was going to eventually deal with all of it, not just John's murder, cause they all knew what he'd lost his life to, but why he'd done it, why he'd wasted his opportunity to waste that yellow eyed son of a bitch and wound up… Not now…I can't…. Then of course there was Sammy. Oh man I soo can't think about that right now…
"So we go check out her place in the morning?" Sam asked.
Dean smiled and held up his pick set, "You up for a little after dinner larceny?"
--
He closed the door and turned quickly, colliding with Sam's back.
"What…?" he started to ask then got a look into the apartment and felt his mental jaw drop. The front door opened into what was supposed to be a 'dining room', and indeed there was a dining table in the room itself though for the rows of books standing on its surface one might not know it was there. From the door to the couch was a three foot wide path of clear hardwood. This path forked to the right about twelve feet in, and led to three different places, the one on the most extreme right led to the kitchen, the center to the bathroom and the left to the bedroom and living room. The living room consisted of a couch, coffee table, and old fashioned cabinet television with all the modern conveniences situated neatly atop.
It appeared that every other square inch was occupied with teetering overstuffed shelves, some propped by secondary book cases, and a breakfront that was likewise jam packed.
"Holy crap…"
"When did we get to Bobby's?" Dean asked moving around his little brother to follow the path into the living room.
Sam on the other hand bent at the table and began to read the spines of the books that stood upright, obviously very well cared for. These were older tomes, some of quality and age he could only begin to try and fathom, but the titles, so far as he could see had one thing in common. They all dealt with some aspect of the supernatural world. "Wow… Dean…"
"Yeah… Ghosts, hauntings, possessions… what have you got?"
"Demonology, Spiritus De La Muerte, The Walk of the Wiccan, Charms, Wards, Guardians of the Realms…" he read and shook his head.
"Yeah… you notice anything else?" Dean asked standing in the center of the barely separated room and turning in circles, looking at the walls and ceilings which bore nothing more than a thumb tack or two.
"What?"
"All these books…"
"Any tools yet?" Sam asked.
"Not a one… yet," Dean smiled, almost the kind of smile Sam remembered.
"Yet," he smiled back wondering how this was going to affect his brother in the long run. It seemed as if he was just starting to make some headway back into the land of the living. It seemed like he was maybe getting close to remembering all the good he could do without necessarily putting himself in jeopardy, or falling head first down that dark dank rabbit hole that just seemed to want to clutch him to its own fetid breast. There had been far too many close calls lately and his part in the guilt Dean was burdening himself with weighed heavily on Sam. The demon at the crossroad might've been lying, they both knew it, but they both knew she hadn't been. Neither of them knew exactly why John had made any kind of a deal with the yellow eyed son of a bitch, but Sam knew it had something to do with him and the demon's plans for himself and other kids like him. He also thought about one of the last voice mail messages he'd gotten from John and the questions he'd asked. So while the crossroad demon malevolently stirred Dean's emotional pot, taunting him with its most effective weapon, Dean's love for their father, Sam was left wondering if there was any way he could've known what was going to happen. And perhaps what troubled him the most was the question of why, since it pertained to the demon not to mention their dad, why hadn't he had a vision?
Another thing that had him unnerved was the fact that three weeks after Bobby had allowed them to use his place to give John his pyre, they'd discovered that Laura had gone missing. The scary part was that not one of them knew how long she'd really been gone. Her car had been found abandoned on the side of the road, the driver door open, keys in the ignition and all of her belongings inside. Their searches and inquiries had turned up nothing. It was as if she disappeared from the face of the Earth and over the last eight weeks, Sam didn't mind admitting there were moments when he'd been more than just a little scared, both For and Of Dean. Still, he was willing to breathe when the opportunity presented itself, and nothing could drag him away from his brothers' side, short of death that is.
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tbc? Slow beginning I'm sorry…
Normally I don't comment more than asking for opinions – there are always exceptions to the rule. This is one of those moments…
If you have any interest in the back-story… the prequel if you will I will dare to suggest a quick journey to a little four chapter fic called "Hollow" also written by j.a. carlton.
Hollow has been listed as a book crossover under the genre of supernatural. The fact is, the story does not technically involve Kripke's world at all. Though in the end there may be a vague resemblance to one of his characters… somewhere…
Course if you're not interested in the back story… that's cool too… I just hope you enjoy this one.
Please R&R… it feeds the need.
thanks
sifi