Maggie sat on her sofa, feet propped up on her new, antique coffee table, admiring the pretty cobalt blue slippers on her feet. She turned her foot one way, then the other, sipped her lemon-laced hot tea and twisted the opposite foot about. She patted the new foam, twistable curlers in her hair, but nope, they were not sliding or loose. She gave her head a shake. Right and tight they were. Oh those girls of Jody's were the sweetest things. Good for Jody, Bless her, taking in those poor, orphans.
So, what on TV was worth watching? Weren't remote controls the best invention ever? Oh, the Food Network…..the red-haired lady from the ranch who was always smiling. Maybe she could get some different ideas for sweet-treats since the church bake sale was Sunday, which reminded her: Fall weather had come late to town, and boy, was she ever thankful the freak storm over the great lake hadn't affected her little town…..where was she? Oh right, so while warmer than normal, the weather still required a thick sweater, so….where had she put that pretty red cardigan? Wasn't at the cleaners, was it? No, no. She'd picked her dry-cleaning up when she'd been out running errands; she'd refilled her prescriptions, replenished her supply of lavender oils, visited the post office and yes, the dry cleaners. So, must be hanging on the back of the spare bedroom door. Yup, she'd wear that on Sunday.
So, what to make? Myrtle was making pumpkin cupcakes, pumpkin pie, pumpkin cookies…you name it; if you could put pumpkin in it, Myrtle was making it. Good ole Myrtle…
Maggie chuckled, reaching for her favorite short bread cookie from the bowl on her lap…should she dunk? Not yet…..munch, crunch, now, where was she? Oh, yes, the bake sale. She supposed she could make toasted coconut cookies…maybe some apple tarts. She did like a good apple tart. Oh, maybe some banana bread and zucchini bread. She had quite a bit of squash….mmmmmm, what could she make with squash?
She waggled her toes. Oh yes indeed, these really were nice slippers! She'd never had this style before. Machine washable and all…ooh…ooh….the idea lightbulb went off and she brightened…brownies with a caramel and coconut topping! She huffed, her recipe called for nuts though. Everyone these days all of a sudden had nut allergies. Now, she wished no illness or harm on anyone, but really, if one person – or two – happened to suffer from allergies to nuts – or any food – wasn't it their responsibility not to purchase and consume unknown home-made food products? This – oh-but-we-have-to-be-responsible-for-others-and-if-one-person-may-or-may-not-be-allergic-we-all-have-to-go-without – nonsense was not of her decade! Oh, wait…..she could get Myrtle's visiting granddaughter to print those cute little adhesive labels that said, 'warning: contains nuts'. But, someone, somewhere, would frown and scold and make a huge issue of it. Just like when she sent her grandchilren to day camp with PBJ sandwiches, and gasp! – horror of all horrors – a cookie!
Mmmm. Yes, the brownies indeed it would be! She'd have to go to the store though. She'd used all her cocoa making hot chocolate for the girls…..
purrpurrpurrpurr
Eh, what the hell, dunk her cookie she would! And dunk it she did. And the next one.
vroomvroomvroom!
She turned the TV up. Perhaps another cup of hot tea.
rumblerumblerumble
She brushed crumbs from her bosom. Good Lord! What was that racket? Why, if she had to get up of the sofa and charge out the front door, someone was going to have a pretty blue slipper flung right at their head!
Beepbeepbeep! SCREECH!
Those senseless kids racing up and down the street all hours of the day, spinning tires, making those hideous black marks on the street made her blood boil. No respect, no common courtesy. Go idle that car in someone else's driveway. She was just going to have to waddle herself outside in her new slippers, curlers and all, wave her mug and tell that rude, clueless redneck punk he had the wrong house! Rude dude, indeed!
honkhonkhonkhonk
Wait, her driveway? Yes! It was a car! And it was in her driveway! That couldn't be. No one would be visiting her ….none of her boys or grandchildren were due to stop by and Jody and the girls had just left. Besides, their car didn't make that much racket. She snorted. In all her life – and mind you, her sons had had those muscle cars in the 70's and she and her husband had owned a jalopy when first married – she had never heard a car make such a racket when just idling. Well, except one…..
She choked. She gagged. She sputtered. She spewed tea. The cookie went flying…landed somewhere.
Nonononononononono oh, nonononononononono. No. No. No.
She jumped to her feet. A slipper was lost in the process. The bowl of cookies hit the floor. She didn't recall what she did with her mug, forgot she'd ever had a cookie in her hand and stubbed her toe on her coffee table, but nonetheless, she barreled out her front door in her bathrobe, curlers bouncing in her hair, with one slipper.
"Shut that darn thing off!" she groused. "Must you make it make so much noise? I have neighbors you know!"
"Hi Maggie." Sam greeted. "Nice weather for this time of year."
She stepped around him, looked up and down the street, left then right, saw Dean getting out of the car and cast an eye at her rosebush hedge. She placed her hands on her hips and met Sam's gaze. "Well? What brings you here this time?" when he didn't answer immediately, she threw her hands up. "Oh for Pete's sake, inside with you! You!" she warned an approaching Dean. "Stay away from my roses. You fall in them this time, I will leave you there."
She grabbed a jacket, swatted an arm, pushed, pulled, and shoved. Someone was smacked upside the back of the head, and an ear was tweaked, but they were both inside and the door was closed behind them.
"To what do I owe this visit?" she huffed, pulling her robe tight and belting it off. "You just show up. Never call. Never send a postcard."
Postcard? Dean mouthed in disbelief to Sam.
Shut up! Sam glared back.
She never heard of text or email? Dean raises both eyebrows, waggled one, at Sam.
She's like 80! Sam glared back.
"There'll be none of that." Maggie chided irritably. "Don't you dare go near that coffee table!" she ordered Dean without looking. "Sit over there. No damage you can do to that chair."
"Uh, none of what?" Sam asked innocently. "Dean, hey…"
"That silent talking between the two of you."
"What? We…" Sam sighed, rubbing his forehead. "I need a favor." he changed the subject. Go away headache.
"Of course you do." Maggie said sarcastically. "You wouldn't be here if you didn't."
Sam blinked. Dean smirked from the armchair rocker he had sprawled out in but didn't offer any opinion.
"I've done enough favors for the two of you." Maggie continued. "And what did I get in return? My visit with Jody ruined. My perfectly sewn stitches ripped out, the loss of my beautiful antique coffee table, my rosebushes destroyed, Myrtle making herself comfy-cozy in my home." she rolled her eyes, tapping her finger against her lips. "Mmm…there's more. There's something else, what is it? What. Is. It? Oh, yes, that's right! A gun was held to my head." she pointed at her head as if it were a question as to whose head she was talking about. "This head. This one right here. Not once, but twice!" she swiveled around and pointed at Dean. "By him!" she swung back to face Sam, two fingers held in the air and waggling. "TWO times, mind you! TWICE. Anything else? Oh. Right." she smacked her forehead. "Can't forget the introduction to illegal narcotics. Oh, and shot at. Chased by police." she shuddered. "Fleas. Bugs. Insects with six legs. Antenna!"
"Yes, I know all that." he wanted to ask how she knew the insect had six legs and antenna but thought that wouldn't be a wise idea. "Sorry, but I….well, that was only, what one time? No, two….."
"Three." she corrected. "I picked it up." she sniffed at the recalled memory of horror.
"Um, picked what up?" Sam asked stupidly. Really, he needed to pay attention or his ears were likely in for a smart boxing.
"The bug!" she hissed through clenched teeth.
"It meant you no harm…" Sam began to explain then snapped his jaw closed. Ooh, not a nice look on her face. "See Dean, he….he's…..aah….."
"You should have seen that bathtub." her jaw didn't move. "The grime."
He had seen it. Literally. And many others like it. Would again. That was life. His life. Their life.
Taking a deep breath, Sam pointed to Dean who remained slouched in the chair Maggie had told him to sit in. "He doesn't get…"
"And that little punk at the desk!" she huffed. "What an attitude!? All I asked him for was housekeeping."
"I…ah….have a….um…doctor's appointment." Sam explained. "He ….Dean…well, we…"
"And that maid…..!" she hunched her shoulder and shuddered. "Spoke not one known language." she paused. "Actually, she was pleasant and helpful. Very eager."
"I'd take him with me but…"
"Oh, cut the crap." Maggie said abruptly, hand slapping the closed door. "We have perfectly good doctors right here in town. I can get you an appointment with mine." she threw her hands up – whether in defeat or disgust – Sam couldn't guess. "What did he break, tear, hurt, injure this time?" she turned to nail Dean to the chair with her best mom stare. "Well? What is it? Let me see." her hand went up. "On second thought, don't." she shook her head. "No….be it broken bones or cuts requiring stitches or grade ten concussions….."
"No such thing." Dean offered, eyes closed. He didn't say anything more, but did pull his right arm across his lap.
"Ah-Ha!" Maggie pounced. "I knew it!" she turned and stalked to the chair. "Showed up here last time with broken ribs, did you not? Ended up in the hospital too, didn't you?" she leaned over him, nose to nose. "So, your arm. Broken?"
"His arm is okay." Sam attempted to recall her attention. "I've tended it and it's wrapped, I just need to leave him with someone for a few days." then realized Maggie wasn't paying him any attention and sighed.
"Why me?" Maggie muttered, but it wasn't an answer to Sam's announcement. She was lost in her own thoughts. Since Dean had protested her hovering, she commenced poking him here and there with a bony finger in a not-so-gentle attempt to locate any injury. She avoided his arm and though Dean winced at a time or two, no poke elicited the reaction Maggie was looking for. "Wait, huh? What? Say who? You want to do what? Here? Leave him here? Why? Oh, no." she straightened up and stomped back to Sam who remained just inside the door. "No."
"'Cause I can't leave him alone." well, I could, I don't want to.
"Why not?" she pivoted and stomped back to Dean where she proceeded to poke his right arm numerous times in several locations until she finally got the reaction she'd been expecting; a wince and hiss and suck in of breath followed by a muttered curse and boyish ow. "AH-HA!" she crowed triumphantly. "And you said he wasn't hurt!"
Sam looked perplexed. "I….aah…..never said that." he frowned. "Did I? Don't think I did."
Maggie pursed her lips and cocked her head, looking up at the ceiling as she tapped her finger against her lips. "Is that the same arm?" she mused to herself. "Why can't I remember? Drat my memory."
"Anyway, Maggie, I…."
"Of course, I beg to remind you, I was under extreme emotional distress." she glared at Sam. "Shock too. I think I even had a stroke."
"What?" Sam asked stupidly. He was not, at all, following her rambling. "When did you have a stroke?"
"She's trying to remember if it's the same arm she stitched up." Dean supplied. "It's not."
"I'll be back tomorrow." Sam said somewhat desperately. He hadn't been prepared for Maggie to go on defense.
She stomped back to Sam, grabbed a fist-full of jacket and yanked him down to her eye level. "What do you expect me to do with him?" she asked impatiently. "Five minutes ago, I had two slippers." she muttered to herself. "Where did it go? And when? Why me?"
Sam cast a helpless look at Dean. His brother had more experience dealing with cantankerous elderly ladies than he did….Maggie in particular, but Dean didn't even open his eyes even though Sam knew, Dean knew, Sam was looking at him for help.
"Gimme shelter." Dean drawled, smirking at some joke or reference only he got.
"Shut up!" barked both Sam and Maggie.
"Why can't you take him with you, wherever you're going?" Maggie demanded, releasing her hold on his jacket, hand waving, toe tapping. "Why me? Why here?" why now, she thought. I don't want him – you – here! What will the neighbors think? Oooohhh….not again. I can't do this again. Lord, I ask, what have I done to anger you so? It must amuse you greatly…oh, I just bet you're laughing, your belly full of jelly jiggling and….nonononono, that's Santa Claus…oh dear, I'm delusional. I need to lie down with a cool cloth soaked in lavender…..
Sam's voice snapped her back to reality. "He, uh, shouldn't be alone…and…"
"All the more reason to keep him with you."
"He's….he's in some pain."
"That's nothing new." Maggie rolled her eyes. "Give him some of those special pills you have in your bag and be on your way."
"So….he, uh….well….the doctor said to get some rest." okay, so no, Murtha wasn't a doctor, but she had recommended Sam not travel far with Dean in his present condition. Of course, Sam had ignored her advice and now…well….
"And?" she pressed.
"And what?" Sam asked bewildered. "Kansas is home and…."
"Where are you coming from?" Maggie interrupted. She should call Jody, the police, the FBI, whatever agency dealt with hardened criminals with green eyes and freckles. And really, what grown man, clearly in his 30's still had freckles? It wasn't fair.
"Uh….what? Why?" Sam stammered, catching himself before blurting out they'd come from the shores of Lake Michigan. Wouldn't that just go over well. South Dakota was out of their way if they were headed to Kansas.
"Fine. Give it here." Maggie extended her hand, palm up and waggled her fingers. "Come on, don't have all day. Give it and get gone."
"Aah, give you what?" Sam asked. Man, was his head ever beginning to hurt. There was a steady thumping behind his right eye and his right ear was ringing. Oh-oh.
"The hospital file."
"What hospital file?" Sam repeated. When had he lost both control and track of the conversation? Oh please, don't you dare start twitching, he begged his right eye. Not now.
"When Jody had me go babysit him when he had his grade 12 concussion….."
"No such thing." Dean protested. He went ignored.
"…she gave me a file from the doctor to read…" Maggie continued with a frown in Dean's direction. "Must he always be difficult?"
"HEY!" Dean protested.
"I don't have one." Sam said quickly. "A file…..look, he's not sick and his arm isn't bad. The…uh….doctor said…she….well…..he should rest. There's a …..side effect…..a complication…a reaction to the pain meds she gave him….." Maggie snorted, waving that absurd comment away. "What?"
"Him?" she jerked a thumb over her shoulder at Dean. "React to pain meds? Haha."
Sam's eyes widened.
"So, try again." Maggie crossed her arms over her chest. "Give me one good reason I should let you leave him here?"
"His ability to judge distance is compromised." Sam began only to have a palm block his vision. Oh, did she just 'palm' his face for silence?!
"In English."
Sam's jaw snapped closed.
"Well?" Maggie demanded. "You don't expect me to stand here all day, do you?"
"He can't judge distance." Sam explained like that explained everything. It didn't. His right eye quivered and he silently commanded it to stop. It didn't.
"Say what?"
"See, he can't drive and…" now he was beginning to feel impatient.
"Uh-huh." Maggie harrumphed. "He doesn't have to. He has you."
"He's not a good passenger."
One eyebrow went up and she waited for more.
"He….can't….you see, he can't see between the lines. I mean, he knows there are three on the road and he should be between two, but what he thinks is the middle, isn't."
"You said he wasn't driving." Maggie argued.
"Right, yeah, I know." Sam rubbed at the back of his head, a motion most common in young children thinking of excuses to placate their parent. "But he keeps yelling at me….."
"I don't yell." Dean tossed in.
"….that I'm not on the road or between the right lines or am too close to the car in the other lane."
"So, put him in the backseat." Maggie suggested simply.
Oh, Sam thought, if only handling Dean were that simple. "See, he had a mug and went..…."
"I thought we were driving." Maggie frowned.
"No….we are….were….we stopped to eat and he had a mug of coffee and went to set it down on the table…"
"Not in my living room." she announced. "He's not allowed near my coffee table ever again. I'll gate him in the kitchen!"
Not the worst room in the house to be locked in. "Gate me?" Dean was comfortably drowsy.
"He thought he was sitting the mug safely on the surface but was nowhere near it." he watched her closely but her face remained blank with lack of understanding. "When he tried again, he set it on the plate of eggs." he waited, but nope, Maggie was still out wandering. "…like, I dunno." Sam sighed impatiently. "Like, a chopper flies over and you look up at the sky and the sun's bright and you lose your balance."
"Who does that?"
"What?"
"Does that." Maggie pointed up at the ceiling.
"Does what?"
"Looks at the sky because a helicopter flies by?"
"We do."
"We?"
"Men."
"Why?"
"Because it's what men do."
"But you're a grown man."
"So?"
"So you've seen them before."
"…anyway…." Sam frowned in annoyance. "It….it's like when you park your car and you think…feel….see that you parked perfectly straight but then you get out and see that you parked between the lines crooked. So you get back in the car and try again but the car seems crooked to you but you get out and it's straight."
Maggie stared at him. Just stared. And stared some more. "Eh?"
"Sam…..just take me home." Dean said tiredly, head back against the lacey towel on the back of the chair. "I don't even know why we're here."
Sam fumed. How could he explain to Dean why they were at Maggie's when he didn't even really know why himself? Yes, part of the reason was payback for Dean behaving stupid, but mostly…it was because Sam couldn't bring himself to leave Dean home alone while sick or hurt or upset or recovering from some other world illness or spell or curse or…..
"You're tired and you need….." Sam began in way of explanation, but Dean raised a hand and waved him off.
"You're leaving me here as payback." Dean interrupted. "Right? Ain't stupid Sam."
"What? No. Home is….and motels…well, Cas is the other way and….."
"Dear Lord." Maggie stomped a foot. Not enough tea or cookies or valium in town; the county; the state. "Huh." she stood, hands on her hips, tapping her toes on her bare foot. Wait…..those were her toes! Now, when had that happened? Where was her slipper? She looked around the room. Nope, she didn't see it anywhere. Where had it gone?
"Uh, Maggie…." Sam began but her hand went up, palm out and he bit his tongue. He was getting quite tired of that. "Little help here Dean, be nice." he whispered as Maggie, now on her hands and knees, crawled between the sofa and coffee table. She went head and shoulders under an end table then backed out and with her chest to the floor and her rear in the air, rubbed her cheek against the carpet to look under the sofa. "What is she doing?" he hissed at Dean.
"Looking for her slipper." Dean murmured. Now that he was in the comfort of a house with the lure of a bed a door away, he was eager to seek its depths. "She's an unnatural attachment to them."
Maggie was soon distracted in her search of her wayward slipper by the upended bowl of cookies and the mess of crushed crumbs it had left on her carpet. "Oh now see here…that's just great." blam! – the bowl smacked the coffee table. "Perfectly good cookies." plink, plank, plunk, chunks of cookies spattered into the bowl, fell short and over shot and scattered across the glass tabletop. "Gone to waste."
"Uh, Maggie….."
"Tea gone cold." her head popped up, disappeared, more cookie crumbs hit the table, skittered across the glass top and went off the other side back to the floor. "Only one store in town sells those cookies too. Hate that store."
"Uh Maggie…."
A knock sounded on the door.
Cookie bits went airborne, exploding up from the floor. Sam ducked.
"Oh not now!" Maggie crawled around the coffee table, retrieved slipper in one hand making her gait uneven. A curler, still wrapped securely in a lock of hair, had slid down to bounce about her forehead. Her glasses had slipped to the edge of her nose and her bathrobe had come unbelted, but she had her slipper! "Now see what you did." she fumed.
Sam gaped...what had he done?
"Door." Dean said helpfully.
"I know it's the door!" Maggie snapped. By placing both palms on the coffee table, she heaved off her knees and gained her feet. "I'm not so addled I don't recognize a knock on my front door."
"Uh Maggie….."
"Get the vacuum." she ordered Sam. "One sly smirk out of you and I will send you home with her." she told Dean, smacking his knee with her slipper for emphasis. "I doubt changing my name and moving with no forwarding address would do any good. You'd find me." she was muttering to herself as she hopped about on one foot while trying to put the wayward slipper on her other foot while holding the lose curler off her forehead. "Good God, what's that?" she gave up on the slipper, left it half on and shuffled over to a mirror. "Dear Heavens!" her hands flew to her head to set her hair to rights. "Don't just stand there Sam, let her in."
"Who?" Sam asked, dumbstruck. There was no window in the door and the curtains on the windows on either side were closed. How did Maggie know who was at the door?
"Mad Myrtle." Dean said. He rolled his head on the chair, sighed, then stood up and headed for the spare bedroom.
Sam stared. He looked at Maggie, expecting her to….well, do something. Tell him where the vacuum was, stop Dean, answer the door….but nope, she had a curler in her mouth and was finger combing the loose lock of hair. Not knowing where to find the vacuum and loathe to snoop through closets and doors until he found it, he turned to answer the third knock on the door.
"Yoo-hoo Maggie! You have company?" Sam was blinded by the bright blue and fluorescent lime green burst of light that flooded his vision. "Maggie? Are you indisposed?" she stared right past Sam, earrings taking flight and causing him to take a step back. She side and two-stepped as she tried to get around him and enter the house.
Sam blindly spun his head around, looking for help, for back-up, for support, but Dean had left the room and Maggie was nowhere to be seen. He gulped, overwhelmed by…..by….a scent of….of…..flowers and wild weed that grew alongside riverbanks. Ow, he'd wrenched his neck. Dammit. And his head still hurt. And his back. And was this day ever going to end?
"I saw the car." Myrtle was saying. "Where is he? Is he here? Dean! Hhhheelllloooooo! Tallyho, my fine, bonny lad…" then she stopped trying to get around Sam and her palms smacked her cheeks and her mouth formed an "O" between them. "And hello there." she drawled silkily. "Oh, I remember you! You arrived in that big old truck." she licked her lips and rubbed her palms together. "Are you boys here for a visit? Is Dean with you?"
"Go home Myrtle." yelled Maggie from the depths of some other room. "Don't you be bothering those boys."
"So, you're both here." Myrtle's eyes gleamed. "Well now, you'll just have to come stay with me at my house. Maggie doesn't have room for both of you." as she spoke, she reached for Sam and hooked her arm around his elbow.
Aah…..she did before, Sam thought.
"….she hasn't put her house to rights." Myrtle was saying, Sam's hand held between her own. When had that happened? He tugged but she didn't let go. "Jody and the girls just left and that daybed in her den…why, that's way too small for you."
"He fits on it just fine." yelled Maggie. Myrtle ignored her.
"Pay her no mind." Myrtle patted Sam's hand. "I have a hearty beef stew on the stove, homemade biscuits…."
"I'm just dropping Dean off." Sam finally made his tongue obey his commands to work. "I have an…."
"Bully." Maggie finally appeared, dressed in a simple smock, curlers still in her hair, both slippers on her feet. "You aren't going anywhere. And for Pete's sake, shut the damn door!" she ordered exasperated. "I will make you an appointment with Dr. Nelson."
Myrtle shut the door with her foot, unwilling to relinquish her hold on Sam.
"I have…..see, Cas…well…" Sam floundered helplessly. "He's a specialist and….."
"Bah." Maggie waved him off. "You're upright and walking, whatever ails you Dr. Nelson can prescribe a pill or an ointment and make you right. Myrtle, what brings you over, as if I don't know."
"I saw the car." Myrtle said simply. "Dean is back for a visit."
"Mmmmm." Maggie sniffed. "Guess he is."
"Where is he?" Myrtle looked all around the room, bent over to peer under the coffee table. "I'll have them both over for dinner."
Sam snorted and rolled his eyes. What the fuck was she looking for under a coffee table with a glass top!?
"You will not." Maggie stated. "They will eat whatever I throw together and put on the table. Now go home Myrtle."
"Now Maggie, you know you don't cook. What will you serve? Shake-n-bake chicken?" Myrtle tsk-tsk'd. "They are growing boys, they need sustenance. Now, I'd better say howdy-ho to Dean! Don't want him thinking I'm rude."
"I put him to bed." Maggie shooed Myrtle towards the door. She didn't move. "Be gone with you, they just got in. Let them settle down a bit." she tugged Myrtle hands from Sam's arm. "Here now, let the boy go Myrtle."
"Tea and scones tomorrow then?" Myrtle suggested slyly. More an order than suggestion. "Say, 11 o'clock?"
"Yes, yes." Maggie would agree to anything to get Myrtle out the door. "Noon." she had no idea what she just agreed to but it worked, Myrtle opened the door, and with a wink and a wave at Sam, was gone. "Good Lord." Maggie had the cordless phone in her hand. "Now, Dr. Nelson's number is programmed in….who needs the doctor again? You or Dean? No…no….not Dean, you have a file from his doctor I'm still waiting for you to give me. So?" she nailed him to the wall with a glare. "Well? Just don't stand there…tell me what your problem is so I can call and make you an appointment."
"I….aaah…..don't…..I mean, see….I'm….."
"Nuh-huh." she shook her head, all curlers restored to their tight and right position. "I raised five of you and their father….you won't get away with that with me." her eyes rested on the bowl of cookie crumbs. "Oye-vay!" her palm smacked her forehead. "And of course, Myrtle had to see that mess." she'd punched a button and was now speaking into the phone. "Hello Marion, Maggie Mills, I need to make an appointment….oh, nonono, not me. I'm fine, thank you. My daughter-in-law's brothers are back in town and Sam...yes, those brothers. Now, Sam needs…" she quirked an eyebrow at Sam and waited.
"My back." Sam sighed in defeat. Maggie beamed.
"Right, yes….thank you Marion, he'll see you then. Yes, the bake sale Sunday, yup…..brownies…I have squash….oh, that sounds good. Myrtle will do pumpkin, count on it. See you then." she hung up. "Tomorrow at 1:30. You can go have tea with Myrtle then take yourself off to the doctors. I'll give you directions."
She opened a door and removed a vacuum. "Here, you run the sweeper and I'll put fresh sheets on the day bed." she paused. "You can stay with Myrtle if you prefer. She has a queen bed in her guest room."
"Aah, no. No, I'll stay here." and figure out a way to leave and meet Cas. Maggie meant well but there was nothing her doctor could do to make him feel better. But right now, his headache threatened to become a full-blown migraine. Hell, he hadn't had one of those in a long time. Why now? "Maggie, do you have any Excedrin?"
"Aspirin? Sure…wait, no….not….oh, that's Tylenol….blast I can't remember." she huffed. "One of you doesn't take something but I don't remember what. Here, I'll show you the medicine chest, you take what you want."
Dean got to sleep all day. Sam, headache held at bay by the Excedrin migraine aspirin he'd found in Maggie's medicine chest, did chores all day. He didn't mind, he was quite fond of Maggie and he and Dean had put her through several stressful incidents that she had handled with admirable aplomb.
"Well." Maggie set a plate of scones and a jar of jelly on the kitchen table, sat down and poured two mugs of coffee. "Cream?"
Sam nodded and picked up the jar of jelly, screwed off the lid and took a whiff. "Apple?"
"I have grape, strawberry or raspberry." she started to get up but Sam waved her back to her seat. "Homemade, Myrtle's best." she added sugar to her coffee and pushed the bowl over to Sam. "Dean okay"
"Think so." Sam stirred cream and sugar into his coffee then spread apple jelly on two scones. "Will be."
"Mmmm." Maggie bit into her scone. "Law official, eh?" she stirred her coffee for no reason other than to have something to do. "I've never asked. I've never pried. Jody loves and trusts the two of you and that is enough for me to allow you into my life and be welcome in my home." she sipped and added more sugar. "Have you no wife? Kids?"
Sam was silent. Jody hadn't shared anything with Maggie regarding the life of hunting and if she hadn't, that meant she didn't want Maggie to know and he would honor that.
"Our mom died when I was a baby." Sam said quietly. "I don't remember her. Dean was four, he has some memories, but not many. We were raised by our dad on the road. He was a bounty hunter."
"Was?"
"He died several years ago." Sam admitted.
"I see." she chewed and swallowed the last bite of her scone and spread jelly on another. "And he was killed?"
Sam hesitated, unsure how to continue. Best to let Maggie draw her own conclusions.
"And your mother?"
"Dad spent his life trying to find who was responsible for her death." Sam said elusively. It was the truth. Sorta. "If someone needed help and he was there, he didn't say no."
"And now you and your brother do the same? Did your father find the culprit?"
"He did." Sam confirmed. "Dean, he huh…..well."
"Are you bounty hunters?" Maggie asked, pouring Sam more coffee. "Jody said you're both law officials. Bounty hunters aren't really official, are they? Maybe they are, in some capacity. Anyway, you live on the road then, chasing…..who?"
"He – the, uh man responsible – he didn't work alone." Sam said. "He….they…..I dunno, a gang? A syndicate? A cell? A network? Dean and I hunt them down, bring them to justice." he spread his hands. "Like Jody, we sometimes become…..friendly, close with local law."
Maggie licked the knife and tossed it into the sink. "Well then, thank you." she raised her mug and waited for Sam to clink his against hers. "For keeping the world safe."
If only you knew Maggie. If only you knew.
"So." Maggie got up and bustled around. Closing the container of scones after Sam refused more, capping the jar of jelly and replacing the lid on the sugar bowl. "What ails Dean this time?"
"He's okay." Sam smiled softly. "He…..hurt his arm….not stabbed, more like he…..well, a chemical dumped on his arm and it burned the skin a bit. Didn't affect tissue or muscle, but it was painful and the doctor, um, she, had to well, basically scalp it off."
"I don't see." Maggie said frankly. "Scalp? No hospital report?"
"No, not this time."
"Does he need anything special?"
"No, just keep the bandage clean and dry. There isn't much bleeding, but it does ooze puss and….."
"Enough." Maggie cut him off. "Bad reaction, you say?"
"You'll see."
"I will, but you will be here to take care of him." Maggie told him sternly. "I don't know what compromised judgement means and I don't intend to find out all by myself."
"Yes ma'am." Sam said meekly.
"You look haggard. Still have a headache?" the table was clean, the few dishes in the dishwasher. "Go rest for a bit, I'll keep an eye on Dean."
Sam slept all day. Got up for a late dinner he shared with Dean of shake-n-bake chicken and mashed potatoes then watched some old TV show called Monk with Maggie and Dean before going to bed at 10. He was that tired.
He didn't sleep well, the daybed too short, too narrow and right up against the wall. His head promised to explode if there was too much light or noise or smell so he babied it, keeping the room dark and quiet and praying Maggie wouldn't take it into her head to bang about pots and pans while making fish or seafood for breakfast.
Perhaps it was the long day, doing all the driving, the worry over Dean, the delay in reaching Cas, the meds he took for his back, the mixture of those meds with Excedrin migraine aspirin or the brief discussion about his dad. Whatever it was, he either dreamed or remembered the few times their father had given him his way.