Supernatural
Episode 6x01
"The Family Business"
"Your father has a plan for you. He has a plan for all of us. We must give up our love of worldly things and follow Him."
Dean shifted uncomfortably in the pew and told himself to try harder to block out the pastor's words. He looked himself over: charcoal dress pants, a white pinstriped shirt, and (he smoothed his fingers over the length of royal blue) a tie. Lisa's hand rested naturally on his knee. He leaned back and looked over Lisa's head to check on Ben—he was holding a blue leather-bound book and concentrating on something there. Dean looked closer and saw the colorful images of a comic book tucked inside the hymnal. His lips twitched. Lisa looked up at him and smiled. He smiled back at her. In one smooth move, he bopped Ben on the back of the head.
"Ow!" the twelve year old boy said a little too loudly and shot a surly look at Dean.
Dean gave the seventh grader an "I'm watching you" signal. Lisa looked at both of them then rubbed the bridge of her nose. Apple Pie Life, Dean heard his brother's voice in his head. He shifted his weight on the wooden bench, couldn't get comfortable. After a moment, the pastor's words slowly began to weave their way through his mental block.
"When the archangel Michael cast Lucifer into the fiery pits of Hell—."
You don't know the half of it, he thought bitterly and forced Sam's image from his mind.
The pastor went on. "The Lord hears our prayers and understands our pain." Dean violently rolled his eyes. He almost felt sorry for this poor schmuck. "In the Book of Revelation, God's plan for us is revealed. His divine and perfect plan to deliver us from Satan's clutches so that all of us who believe, who follow, will live with Him and the angels in peace for all eternity."
Suddenly Dean stood up and grunted, "Give me a friggin' break, padre."
All eyes were on the smartly dressed but out of place thirty two year old man who stood in the aisle, eyes locked with Pastor Whitlow. "Would you like to add something, son?" The middle-aged, ginger haired pastor asked with surprising gentility.
Dean's eyebrows arched, "Huh? Oh, uh," he stammered. He felt a tug at his shirt sleeve.
"Dean, sit down!" Lisa hissed.
He raised his hands in surrender to Pastor Whitlow. "Nothing. I'm sorry. Excuse me." He forced a smile and whispered, "Sorry, sweetheart." Then he turned and exited the church. He bounced down the worn gray bricks and into the sunny but bitterly cold February morning. He clawed at his tie and managed to loosen it. Next to go were the two top buttons of his dress shirt from Macy's. "Macy's" Dean said aloud and shook his head. He bent at the waist and gripped his knees like a winded athlete. After several seconds he stood erect and looked up at the sky. "Dammit," he swore. He turned around and looked at the church steps and thought about going back and taking his place next to Lisa and Ben. I can't do it. He turned once again and walked to the car.
He sat behind the wheel of the Impala and squinted at the glare created by the latest round of snow. Now he seriously contemplated going back inside if only to get his coat. He wasn't sure how much time had passed when he began to notice people milling around the street and speaking in friendly Sunday morning tones. Dean spotted Lisa and Ben descending the church steps. He quickly got out of the car and opened the passenger door.
"You forgot your coat." Lisa handed his matching charcoal gray dress coat to him.
Dean noticed that she didn't sound the least bit angry. Worse, he thought, she sounds disappointed. After she was seated he closed the door and spotted Ben chatting up some pretty blonde girl with a mouth full of braces. "Come on, son," Dean barked. "You can twit her later. Your mom's tired."
A muffled "I am not TIRED!" came from the car. Dean winced slightly.
Ben, clearly exasperated by this blatant display of uncoolness from the man who used to do nothing but ooze cool, huffed and told brace-face he'd text her later, and then dragged himself to the backseat of the old, black car.
"I'm sorry about that, I just—." Dean began after five minutes of driving in silence.
"It's all right," Lisa said softly. "You don't have to explain yourself to me."
Her words and even her voice tried to assure him that she wasn't upset with him. But her inability to look at him spoke volumes. He looked at Ben in the rearview mirror; he appeared sulky and tortured. Dean remembered Sam sitting in that same pose, in that very seat, looking exactly that way on more than one occasion. Apple Pie Life.
Dean lay on his back in bed while the newscast aired on the television at the foot of the bed, her bed, their bed. It had been months since... since he'd come here. He was still getting used to coming back to the same bed and the same woman night after night. He had begun to feel restless since Christmas had passed, had fought hard against it. It would be easy to say that he was tired of Lisa and Ben but that simply wasn't true. No one had a clue how much he loved them both, how much he needed them around him to maintain his sanity. Things were on his mind, heavy things. They were always there, threatening to detonate and overwhelm him at any moment. He was feeling restless and burdened, and despite his best efforts, it showed.
Something the anchorwoman said caught his attention. He picked up the remote and increased the volume. "Police are baffled by the number of suicides in the tri-county area. This is the ninth death this month alone."
Lisa appeared in the doorway between the bedroom and the master bath. She wore something that was suddenly more interesting than the news.
He smirked at her. "You know it's twenty degrees and snowing... again."
"I know but these days I'm on fire all the time." She walked toward the bed.
Dean sat up and scooted over to the edge of the bed. He took her hand and pulled her onto his lap. She reached for the remote and aimed at it the TV. It powered off and the room fell dark and quiet. He brushed her dark hair away from her neck and kissed her there. He slowly worked his way down her throat to her shoulder. She gasped loudly and it startled him. She took his hand and placed it on her belly. He looked up at her with wide eyes.
"Did you feel it?"
He couldn't speak. He looked at his hand on her barely round belly, the shiny gold band that had been there less than a year. She laid her other hand over his and the baby kicked again. She giggled as the baby continued to punch or kick—who knew? Either way it was magical. He had been away too much, he realized now. He needed to be home more for his bride and step-son. Once the baby arrived he'd be home more, he told himself, but for now, his job was his only means of feeding his growing urge to always be moving.
Dean kissed the hand that wore the very simple ring he had placed on it one warm Saturday last August. "Come here." He made her lie down beside him. He lifted the filmy white nightgown up to her breasts and began to rub his hand over her abdomen hoping to coax another kick from the baby.
"She's really active at night."
Dean smiled. "She?"
"I don't know for sure but—I'm betting on pink."
He gently laid his head on his wife's stomach and waited for another sign.
"We missed you," Lisa said. "You were away for so long."
"I missed you," he said. "But I like the job. At least now I'm getting paid to be on the road." For about six months Dean had been working as a driver for a moving company. At first all of his jobs were local. But over the last few months, he had accepted several out of state jobs. His last job had kept him away for nine days. He hadn't told Lisa yet that he was leaving again on Tuesday.
The baby kicked and Dean grinned.
Lisa smiled and touched his shoulder. "It's funny but I'm getting used to it."
He shook his head slightly, "It's the most amazing thing I've ever felt. There's something alive inside of you." And it's not evil, he thought but didn't say.
"It's your love inside of me, Dean," she said sweetly. Lisa often managed to pry him open without always allowing him to do the same to her in return. At least that's how it was in the beginning. It had taken some time for her to be this open with him. She had been guarded with her thoughts and feelings. She had never been shy about sex but often felt awkward expressing her deepest feelings. Over time, the more Dean opened up, the more prone she had become to sharing her own secrets. That's when they'd truly bonded. That's when he'd fallen madly in love with her.
Without speaking, he pulled her onto him. At this moment he couldn't find the words to tell her how much he loved her, how grateful he was to her. He certainly didn't have the words to tell her of the guilt he felt for enjoying even one moment knowing his brother's current fate. But being with her, in this moment, anytime they were together in this way, made him feel better than okay long enough to push all of the ugliness and evil, guilt and shame out of his mind. From Lisa he felt an unconditional love, the entire love of a woman who knew who he was, what he was and loved him in spite of it, or maybe she loved him because of it.
He laid behind her now, his chest pressed against her bare back. Their movements were slow, deliberate, and intense. On this, his first night back from the road, the night he first felt his child move in his wife's womb, his passion for her was especially strong. He confessed to her how he lusted for her pregnant body. Her normally tight, slender figure now swelled with luscious curves. He told her how he could never get enough of her, how he hated to leave her but how much he loved coming home, how he loved having a home and someone to come home to.
He gripped her face and turned it to him. He kissed her open mouth and said, "I don't feel broken when I'm with you."
"You're not broken," she breathed into his mouth.
He held her breast and whispered, "I love you." I hope I never ruin your life, he wanted to say. I don't want to break you, ruin you. But I know somehow I will.
Dean knew but was loath to admit that all of his feelings for Sam and Bobby, Jo and Cas- family, protection, friendship, shared purpose—all of these things had been transferred to Lisa and Ben and now their unborn child. One giant slice of apple pie, he thought. He told himself that he was there because he'd made a promise but knew he needed this woman and her love, and the stability that her commitment to him provided. She did more than patch him up and send him on his way. She loved him, she healed him. She made him want to stay.
When they'd finished, Dean lay on his back while his pounding heart attempted to right itself. Lisa curled herself around him, letting her belly rest on his hip. The baby began kicking again and they both laughed softly.
"I need you to have a talk with Ben."
"What's going on?"
Lisa fought back a laugh. "He's interested in a girl."
Dean looked down at her and asked, "Let me guess—metal mouth from church?"
"That's her. Brianna."
"Brianna?" Dean repeated sarcastically. "So—what, I need to have 'the talk' with him? Come on."
"Yeah, I mean, you're a guy and a big brother."
Lisa encouraged Dean to talk about his brother even though she knew he didn't want to. Now Dean was thinking about Sam, and church and dad, and being a dad. He sat up abruptly. "I'm sorry if I embarrassed you this morning but I had to get out of there."
"Don't worry about it. I know it's not your thing. It's not always mine either but, we were married in that church. I thought maybe we should, you know, try."
"Yeah, I know." He sat down again and took a deep breath. "So, tell me what's going on with Ben and this chick."
Lisa chuckled. "She's not a chick, Dean."
Those nights when Dean couldn't sleep, like this night, he stole away to the basement. He closed the door behind him and engaged the padlock. He got away with padlocking the door since this was where he stored all of his hunting paraphernalia once he had officially given up that life. Couldn't have Ben coming across his cache of deadly weapons, even though a kid his age would get some serious "street cred" showing off his step-dad's collection of pistols and sawed-offs to all his friends. Ben was a cool kid, though, and Dean felt sure that when the time came that he wanted to see these things, he would ask.
Mostly he padlocked the basement for Lisa.
Dean descended the dusty wooden stairs and entered the semi-finished basement. He pulled the chain on a naked light bulb that swung overhead. There was a large wooden workbench that held tools, rope and other miscellaneous items. Inside the bench's two drawers were screws, nails, nuts and bolts. Resting on the bench were a printer and Sam's laptop, its green power button blinked intermittently. To the left was putty colored metal cabinet that safely housed all of his rifles, shotguns and other deadly weapons.
He walked deeper into the bowels of the basement and pulled the chain on a second overhead light. In front of him was an expanse of unfinished drywall. A wide line of newspaper clippings and computer printouts stretched out for several feet in either direction. Lisa didn't know about this. This was the real reason Dean kept a padlock on the basement door. He walked directly to a particular area of the wall. There he found two articles about suicides and unpinned them. He walked back to the laptop, woke it up and went to work.
Around three in the morning, Lisa got up to use the bathroom, something she did a lot these days. She noticed that Dean was not in bed. He wasn't in bed when she woke up to pee two hours ago, either. She contemplated checking up on her husband. She knew where he was. She knew what he was doing. But until he was ready to tell her about it, she'd let him have his secret. Dean came quietly into their bedroom at 3:15. She pretended to be asleep.
Later that week, Dean was on the road again delivering a small truck full of furniture to Jamestown, North Dakota. He had already decided that he would take a small detour and visit Bobby on his return trip.
About an hour away from Singer Salvage, Dean stopped to get gas and called Bobby.
"Good to hear from ya', boy. Too bad I'm in South Carolina."
Too bad, Dean thought. "Oh yeah? What are you workin' on?"
Bobby filled Dean in on his latest case of a haunting at an old seaside Bed & Breakfast. "Damn Civil War ghost has got me chasin' my own tail."
Dean laughed. "Well, you take care, Bobby. I'll catch up with you sooner or later."
"Better you than that son of a bitch Crowley. Speaking of Heaven's rejects, you ever hear from Castiel?"
"Nah, never." And not for lack of trying, Dean thought. Several times he had called out for Cas. Each time he'd had an idea about how to save Sam he'd tried to summon the trench coat wearing angel. And several times when the survivor's guilt had become too much he called for Cas.
Dean felt rather deflated after his phone call to Bobby. He tried calling Lisa but couldn't reach her. He hit a snowstorm outside of Sioux Falls and decided to pull over for the night. When Dean arrived at the Saddles and Spurs Motel in Tea, South Dakota, he recognized it instantly as a place where he and Sam had stayed a few years ago. He checked into a room, got some dinner at the greasy spoon across the street and went to bed.
He wasn't sure how long he had been lying there when it occurred to him that he had never reached Lisa. He sat up, grabbed his phone and dialed her. The phone beeped rudely at him. "No signal?" He reached up to turn on the lamp next his bed but it wouldn't come on. He stood up and walked over to the dresser. He waved the phone around hoping to find service when a reflection in the mirror caught his eye. He quickly spun around to see who or what was there.
"Hello, Dean."
He dropped the phone. "Sam?"
"We need to talk."
The phone began to ring...ceaselessly. Sam was talking but Dean couldn't understand him, couldn't hear him over the blaring noise of the telephone. Finally, he picked up the phone and answered it but it continued to ring. "What the-?" He looked up and Sam was gone. "Sammy?" The ringing grew increasingly louder. Suddenly, Dean woke. The phone on the nightstand was ringing. He picked it up.
"This is your 6 a.m. wake up call, sir."
"Huh?" Dean looked around the room and hung up the phone. He bolted out of the bed and looked around the small motel room for some sign that his brother had in fact paid him a visit. He hadn't dreamed of Sam in several weeks, and anytime he did his dreams were memories of his brother: sometimes good, usually frighteningly bad. But never had Sam visited him in a dream. He couldn't be sure it wasn't simply a dream. But he couldn't be sure that it wasn't, either.
By the time he arrived home in Cicero, he'd had thirteen plus hours to think about his bizarre "dream." "You're quiet tonight," Lisa said when Dean finally came to bed. "Everything okay?"
"Just tired I guess." He rolled over on his side and placed his hand on her stomach. He'd missed her body, he'd missed his baby. "Didn't sleep well last night. Crappy motel beds. You know how it is."
"I didn't sleep well last night either. I had the strangest dream."
Dean found her bizarre hormone induced dreams amusing. "Was it the dream about the hookah lounge and talking cats again?"
"No," she said softly.
After several beats he asked, "You want to tell me about it?"
He felt her body tense. "I don't know if I should."
"Was it about Doug?" There were only two subjects that automatically caused strain between them: Dean's past and Ben's biological father, Doug.
She exhaled slowly, "It was about your brother."
Dean sat up. "Come again?"
Lisa made a face, "Look I don't want to upset you."
"Did he say something to you?"
"Yeah, but," she struggled up to a sitting position. "How did you know?"
"Just a lucky guess. Tell me what he said."
She saw his strained expression. "He didn't really say anything, Dean. He was talking but I couldn't understand him. It didn't make any sense." She made a sad face. "I wish I had a better answer for you."
Sam began to visit Dean's dreams on a regular basis. Each time it happened while he thought he was awake but later realized he had been asleep. His brother always said he needed to talk but each time Dean awoke not unable to recall what Sam had said. After several weeks of disturbing visits, Dean began to keep late hours doing research in the basement, reading articles, looking for signs and omens. He noticed that the number of local suicides had skyrocketed. After several weeks of disturbing dreams, he began to feel like death warmed over.
One night in early May when Dean was particularly exhausted from avoiding sleep he forgot to lock the basement door behind him. He heard it open followed by slow, careful footsteps coming toward him. He quickly doused the light in the secret room and headed toward the stairs. Lisa stood there looking oddly at him.
"Baby," he said and tried not to sound guilty. "You know you shouldn't walk down these stairs by yourself. It's not safe."
Her eyes were glassy and her voice was drawn tight. "Let's not do this, okay? Let's not pretend that I don't know what you're doing down here. I don't care about that right now."
"Lees, I can explain." He could explain—he just wasn't sure if he wanted to.
She yelled and started to cry, "I need you to be here with us right now!"
Dean bounded up the steps to her. "What's wrong?"
"It's Doug; he's dead," she declared matter-of-factly. "And I don't know how to tell Ben."
The next day Dean called Bobby. "Listen, someone's gotta look into this. I could have cared less about this guy but he was the kid's father and Lisa's pretty upset." He recounted the details of Doug's death to Bobby. "This guy was a hardcore motorcycle freak so there's no way it was an accident. On the other hand, to call it suicide makes no sense either. I mean, when in our line of work is an accidental death ever really an accident?"
Bobby listened for several minutes then added, "There's something else, Dean."
"You mean the rash of suicides in my new home state?"
"Bingo," Bobby said then was quiet for a moment. "You want me to check it out for you, since you're retired now?"
Ben took the news of his biological father's death with little show of emotion. This of course nearly pushed a very pregnant and sensitive Lisa over the edge. There was not going to be a funeral, only a memorial at a seedy biker bar that they had no intention of attending. Instead, Dean took his stepson for a ride.
Ben asked, "Did Mom tell you to do this?" His pre-teen voice sounded perpetually hoarse.
"Tell me to do what?" Dean asked.
He huffed. "Make me talk about my feelings and crap."
Dean fought back a chuckle. "No." He slowly shook his head as memories of John trickled into his mind.
"I lost my old man a few years ago. I know you and Doug weren't close, that he was never there for you in any real way. But," Dean eyed his step-son closely, "I'm here now, and I'm going to look out for you and your mom—and the baby."
Ben rolled his eyes and made a huffing sound.
"You got something to say?"
"Whatever. You're gonna leave. I mean, you're here but you're not really here. You're always gone… or in the basement. And when you leave, it'll be up to me to take care of Mom." His voice was suddenly ripe with maturity.
"Look," Dean began to form a defensive response then stopped himself. "My old man piled a mountain of crap on my shoulders when I was a hell of a lot younger than you are. I've had to deal with things you can't even imagine… and that's fine." He closed his eyes briefly and remembered being left for days at a time in motels while his father was hunting, risking his life, always one step away from making orphans of him and Sam. "I will never put you in that position. I will never ask those things of you. Ever."
Ben glared out the window and said nothing.
"I'm not going anywhere."
The car was an atmosphere of awkward silence for several miles before Ben made a request. "I want to see where it happened."
They arrived at a cliff that overlooked a quarry where Doug's Harley had hit it two days ago at 100 miles per hour. Dean leaned against the hood of the car and took a call from Lisa while Ben stood by the orange barrels that now blocked the mangled guardrail. He kept his distance while the boy spoke quietly into the darkened gorge. Lisa asked where they were and if they were okay. "He's saying goodbye. We'll be home in an hour or so."
Distracted by his wife's voice, Dean failed to notice as Ben stepped up onto the guardrail and balanced precariously there. When he put his phone back in his pocket he heard a sound that he'd not heard for some time but instantly recognized the distinct flapping noise. A deeply intense voice said, "Your son."
"Cas?" Dean stood up straight, his eyes were impossibly wide.
Castiel pointed to the guardrail where Ben should have been standing. "YOUR SON!" The angel bellowed.
Dean's heart plummeted to his knees. As he ran to the edge, Castiel disappeared and quickly reappeared clutching an apparently lifeless Ben in his arms. He eased the boy down onto the gravel and then turned to Dean who dropped down beside Ben and put his head on his chest.
"He's alive."
"Cas, what are you doing here? What the hell just happened?"
"Your son tried to kill himself. I intervened." Then he added wryly, "You're welcome, Dean."
He looked up at the familiar face. "Thank you." He stood and reached out to the man with dark hair and sapphire eyes who resembled Gregory Peck in a trench coat. Castiel looked down at Dean's hand as it came in contact with his shoulder. "It's good to see you."
Castiel nodded slightly.
"I'm not gonna ask where you've been 'cause you'll just give me some cryptic answer and that'll piss me off. So, why don't you tell me what's going on around here?"
"The suicides?"
"For starters," Dean snapped.
"It's a demon."
Dean rolled his eyes, "Like I didn't see that coming."
"You may know her as Eurynomos."
Dean squinted, "The death metal band?"
Castiel squinted back at him. "She is not a musician. She is a demon of death who compels otherwise happy people to take their own lives. Some she recruits for her legion, others she watches die simply for her own amusement."
Ben stirred. Dean bent down to him. "How you feeling, kiddo?"
"I'm afraid of heights. I think I fainted." His face took on a look of panic. "Please don't tell mom."
"I won't." Dean hoisted his step-son onto his feet. "Let's get outta here before it starts to rain." When Dean turned around Castiel was gone. He had a sneaking suspicion he'd see him again very soon.
"So, you don't remember anything?" Dean asked Ben as they drove home. "Tell me the truth."
"I remember standing there and... I thought I heard a voice."
"A voice?" Dean asked skeptically.
"Yeah, like, on the other side of the railing. I wanted to get a closer look. Then I guess I just passed out."
"I'll tell you what; you scared the hell out of me." Dean ruffled Ben's hair. "Let's just keep this between us, okay? You're mom's kind of fragile right now. We don't want anything upsetting her."
That night, Dean and Lisa talked about his creepy basement lair. "I've known for awhile," she raised a hand and waved him away. "And it's okay. I get it. Old habits die hard and all that. But, I have to know that you're here with me and that you're here for me, and especially for Ben and the baby. I have to know that at some point your past will be in the past and that you're going to start living here in the present with us. We're your family now, Dean."
He nodded his head. "Yep, I know. Just let me finish this last thing, and I promise that you'll have me, one hundred percent." He told her that Bobby was coming to town tomorrow and that would be the end of it. Then he told her about the case they were working on. Case, he thought. He couldn't decide if it felt good or not to be back on the job.
She sat down on the couch next to him. "I'm being so selfish. Of course you have to do this. These people need your help. I know Doug was completely useless but I owe it to Ben to find out what really happened to him, and to all those other people."
That night, when Dean left their bed to do research in the basement, Lisa wished him good luck. No sooner had he locked the door behind him then he heard the familiar flapping sound. "Cas."
"Eurynomos is doing this to get your attention."
Dean smirked. "I'm fine, Cas. How are you?"
"Concerned. We need to find your brother."
"Sam," Dean said absently.
"Have you heard from him? Has he tried to contact you?"
Dean sighed, "He's been showing up in my dreams for a couple of months now. I just thought I was finally losing it."
"Where your brother is now—it's complex."
"Where he is?" Dean asked tersely.
"Yes, Lucifer is back in his cage and Sam is trapped somewhere between here and damnation. He needs help getting out. He's trying to communicate to you through your dreams because he cannot approach you directly."
"You got me out, so get him out." It seemed so simple and obvious that it angered Dean that they hadn't done this sooner.
"It's not that simple, Dean," Castiel said as if he had read Dean's mind. "This has never happened before. There is a great argument over what should be done."
Dean stepped closer to the angel and quite flippantly asked, "You find God yet?"
The angel looked away. "Our efforts have been fruitless."
"So, you're telling me that a bunch of angels are up there taking their sweet time deciding what do while my brother is trapped in… purgatory?"
"In a matter of speaking, yes."
Dean turned and began to pace. "So what do we do? What's stopping you from going into the pit right now and raising him like you did me?"
"Because, I have not been granted access to him," Castiel replied matter-of-factly. "But, there is a way around this."
Soon after, Dean was back upstairs in his bathroom. He opened the medicine cabinet and began reading labels on bottles. He found a prescription sleep aid. He took two and got into bed. He closed his eyes and heard Castiel's words in his head. "Eurynomos is using you to get to Sam. You must try to learn your brother's exact location so that we can recover him and stop the demon." Dean had told Cas that he didn't understand what finding Sam had to do with stopping a suicide demon. "Eurynomos is attempting to release Lucifer from his cage. With Michael and Gabriel gone, Sam is the only one powerful enough to stop her."
Dean slept.
He awoke in a motel room, the same motel room where he and Sam had celebrated Christmas once. He spotted his brother standing in front of the window looking out at the snow. "Hello, Dean."
He couldn't stop himself from smiling. "Hey ya', Sammy."
"Do you know why I'm here?"
"I know there's a demon in town, she's looking for us both. Kind of hoped all of that was behind us."
Sam turned and faced him.
"I miss you, Sammy. Are you... in any pain?"
The expression in his eyes was foreign, almost unnatural. "I am not in any pain." He was Sam, and yet he wasn't. His entire body had the appearance of an old film being projected onto a dirty sheet. Occasionally his face appeared to shake and blink. "If Castiel can find me and release me, then yes, I can stop Eurynomos."
"So what's the catch?"
"Rescuing me will destroy Castiel."
Dean awoke with a start. His ears were ringing.
"It's the doorbell," Lisa mumbled. "Could you get it? It's probably your friend Bobby."
Dean and Bobby were in the kitchen drinking coffee and discussing the case when Ben walked in.
Dean's face lit up. "Hey, Ben, there's someone I'd like you to meet. This is my—Uncle Bobby. He's in town visiting for a few days."
"Nice to meet you, Ben," Bobby said seriously and shook the twelve year old boy's hand.
In a blasé tone unique to teens, Ben asked, "So, are you with God's secret police, too, or what?"
Bobby snorted. "He's got your personality."
Dean scowled at the boy then handed a large lavender mug to him. "Take this up to your mom."
"Sure." He shrugged his shoulders and took the cup.
"We should get going."
"Not before I meet your wife. Heh!" Bobby chuckled, "You: married with a kid, a lawn and a mortgage. Now I really have seen it all."
Dean pointed at Bobby and added, "And health insurance."
Lisa joined them a few minutes later. "You must be Bobby. It's nice to finally meet you. I've heard so many good things about you."
Bobby's eyes popped when he saw Lisa's rounded little figure. He quickly checked himself and said, "You have a lovely home, and I met your son. Seems like a sharp kid."
She smiled then said, "Well, I'm sure you two have a lot to do, so..."
"I'll wait for you in the car," Bobby said.
Lisa smiled at Dean, "Thanks for the tea."
He squared his shoulders and spoke firmly to her now. "I want you two to be careful today. Call me, and if I don't answer, leave a message so I know you're okay." He put his arms around her. "Keep an eye on Ben. Don't let any strangers in the house. This thing won't hesitate to hurt you or Ben. I'm not trying to scare you; I'm trying to keep you safe."
"We'll be safe once you get rid of that thing."
If only it were that simple, he thought. "There's something else I haven't told you." His throat grew tight and he wiped his mouth nervously. "It's about my brother. I'm gonna try and get him back."
She looked at him with eyes that understood more than he'd ever thought was possible. Once again he was reaffirmed in the knowledge that Lisa was his perfect mate and soon she'd be the mother of his child. "Come here." He held her face and they shared a lengthy kiss. Then he bent down, kissed her belly, mumbled "love you," and left.
Before Dean had even shut the Impala door he heard, "Well, Daddy, I see you didn't waste any time."
"Shut up." He snapped and fought back a smile.
They drove toward Sheridan where Bobby thought he had a lead on where the demon might strike next. Without warning, Castiel materialized in the backseat. "What the—?" Bobby barked.
"What did your brother say?" He asked Dean.
Dean looked at him in the rearview mirror and said, "It's not good. He said that if you can find him and release him that he can kill Eurynomos... but you'll die in the process."
Castiel nodded. "I anticipated as much."
Dean and Bobby exchanged glances. "So now what?" Bobby asked.
"I have captured a demon that is willing to talk."
Castiel led them to an abandoned farmhouse near Marion.
"Bobby," a gravelly voice with an English accent said. "You've become quite slippery these days."
"Crowley?" Bobby growled at Castiel in disbelief.
Crowley explained that he knew how to find Sam but that there was a price.
"Yeah, we know already: Cas bites it."
Crowley smirked, "Yes and no. It's a bit tricky. You see, your feathered friend here can trap your moose and bring him home but he will lose his seat at the Heavenly Board of Directors."
Dean looked at Cas. "So, you'd lose your wings but you wouldn't die? You'd just become Jimmy Novack again?"
"That's correct."
Dean rubbed his forehead nervously and began to pace. "Cas, you can't."
"Would you rather have your brother trapped in middle-earth for all of eternity, haunting your dreams, or have this puff become mortal- and hopefully find his way to a wardrobe change?"
Castiel frowned and looked down at his trench coat.
Bobby spoke up. "What do you say, Cas? You up for a kamikaze mission?"
"Yes," he answered with no hesitation. He instructed Dean and Bobby on what needed to be done to open a conduit through which he could pass and retrieve Sam. Symbols were drawn on the floor in white spray paint, and holy oil was poured.
Crowley continued to stand locked in a corner within the invisible iron bars of a devil's trap. "You're going to have to let me out of here if you want my help."
"Cram it, limey," Bobby grumbled.
"He's right," Castiel said. "Let him out. I am going to need him for this part."
Bobby pulled a knife from his belt and made a scratch in the crude, red ring on the floor to free the smartly dressed demon.
"Right," Crowley muttered and walked over to the arrangement of characters and symbols on the floor, stepped over the line of holy oil. "Let's get started, shall we?"
"This might take some time," Castiel said then joined Crowley in the circle.
"Make it quick. I have an awards show to attend this evening."
Castiel placed the palm of his right hand on the demon's forehead and began to recite the Enochian incantation. After a moment, Crowley began to echo the words.
As the floorboards of the old farmhouse began to rumble, Bobby and Dean moved away from the windows and overhead light fixtures. A hot gale force wind from some place unseen and blew past them. It seemed to carry with it crackling static electricity. The room filled with a soft yellow glow then rapidly changed to white. There was a piercing crack, as if a large tree had been struck by lightning. The angel and demon vanished.
Bobby yelled in frustration, "Are we just supposed to wait here?"
They waited. Dean and Bobby shared a few beers from the cooler and got up to speed on the last year of their lives. Each pretended not to feel anxious about the fate of Sam and Castiel. Bobby apologized again for not attending Dean's wedding. "It wasn't much: just me and Lees and Ben and her family. No big deal."
"No big deal?" Bobby repeated in disbelief. "Dean Winchester gettin' hitched is no big deal?" Bobby chuckled and shook his head. "What do the folks think of you?"
Dean scoffed. "Are you kiddin'? They freakin' love me."
After Lisa finished talking to her mother she called Dean. "I'm taking Ben and going to my mom's house. She has some baby things in the attic for me. We'll probably have dinner there then come home."
Lisa rang the doorbell at her parents' house. Ben stood behind her endlessly texting. What is it with him and girls, she wondered and shook her head. He's more like his father every day. It was then she realized that she considered Dean to be his father. She knocked on the door. "Mom? Dad?"
"Why don't you just use your key?" Ben asked without looking up from his phone.
Lisa used her key to unlock the door. Once inside, she immediately heard yells coming from upstairs. It was her father's voice and it sounded urgent. "Dammit, Deborah! Open this door right now. I swear to God, I will break it down. Do you hear me? Deborah? DEB!"
"Dad!" Lisa yelled and moved up the stairs as quickly as she could. After several steps the baby was kicking so much she had to stop and lean against the rail. "Ben, go! Go see what's wrong!"
Ben stuffed his phone in his jacket pocket and cleared the stairs in three seconds. "What's wrong, Grandpa?"
"Grandma's locked herself in the bathroom." He continued to bang his hand on the large white door and fiddle with the brass handle. "Deborah," he said in a much calmer tone. "Honey, please. Ben and Lisa are here. Come out and, and we'll talk about it, whatever's bothering you."
Winded, Lisa finally arrived at the bathroom door. "Mom, are you okay?" She looked at her father. "Did you two have a fight or something?" He shook his head no. Lisa put her ear to the door. She could hear muttering but was unable to make out what her mother was saying. "It sounds like she's talking to someone. Who is she talking to? Is someone in there with her?"
Joel Braeden looked at his grandson then back at his daughter. The expression on her father's face frightened her. She had never seen him so distraught. In a strangled whisper he said, "She's trying to kill herself."
"What?" Lisa shrieked.
"Mom," Ben said.
She ignored her son. "What do you mean? What the hell is going on?" She pounded on the door. "Mom, open this door right now, please, you're scaring us!" To her father, she said, "Get something to pick the lock or break down the door."
Joel hesitated for a moment then disappeared down the stairs.
"Mom," Ben persisted. After several more attempts he yelled, "Mom!"
"What, Ben?"
"There's something I have to tell you."
"It's gonna have to wait," she snapped impatiently.
Ben's eyes were full of panic. "No, mom, I have to tell you right now! Last night, when Dean and I were out," he started. "Something happened, something really, really bad."
Lisa slowly turned from the bathroom door and looked at her son. "Like, his kind of bad?"
Ben nodded yes and his eyes filled with tears. "Like grandma." His voice shook. "The same thing happened to me. I wanted to—I tried to—."
"Don't say it," Lisa pulled Ben into a hug. "So, how...?" She couldn't bring herself to ask how her son had fought his way back from a suicide attempt. "Ben, do you think you can kick down the door?"
Ben nodded then began kicking the door, then the door handle. When his frustration reached its apex, he gathered momentum and threw his body into the door. It flew open in loud protest as it slammed into the bathroom counter.
Deborah Braeden sat crouched in a dry bathtub attempting to cut her wrist with a disposable razor. "Grandma!" Ben yelled and reached for the razor.
Joel returned and began yelling, "My God, Deborah, have you lost your mind?"
Her eyes were crazed as she struggled against her grandson's grip. "No! Give it back, give it back! I have to do this; I have to die. It's the only way."
"The only way to do what, Mom?" Lisa cried.
"To bring back Sam Winchester."
Ben didn't see his mother's face turn ashen as she gripped the counter for support. He didn't notice his mother slide down to the floor. He wrestled with his grandmother until he got the razor away from her, cutting his hands several times in the process.
Deborah seemed to emerge from a trance then. She looked around her, spotted her grandson. "Ben, you're bleeding! Joel, what happened to the door?" She stood up. "Lisa, honey, what's wrong?"
After everyone was attended to, Lisa put on her bravest face and pretended that she wasn't having contractions. She needed her husband. She needed answers. She needed a stiff drink and a good cry. She excused herself to go to the bathroom, took out her phone and called Dean.
He immediately sensed something in her tone. "Baby, what's wrong?"
She tried to speak but only choked on her words. This frustrated Dean and he began yelling. Lisa shook her head helplessly but he couldn't see her. Finally she managed to say, "My mom… she tried to cut her wrist in the bathroom but Ben stopped her. He told me about last night, Dean, and now—."
Dean cut her off. "Lees, I'm sorry I didn't tell you but—."
"That thing was here. It told my mother that," the words stuck in her throat. "Is all of this about your brother?" Then Lisa experienced such a painful contraction that it caused her to cry out.
Dean winced, "Baby, just hold on. I'm on my way."
After about three hours, Crowley appeared. "The Moose and your angel chum are on their way." He wrinkled his nose. "It's not pretty."
The house began to rattle and bang in protest of the coming unearthly force. Through the windows, they saw the rainy, overcast sky fill with brilliant light followed by an ear splitting crack. Bobby looked around but it seemed no one arrived. He opened the door and went outside. On the grass in front of the house was Sam, crouched and naked, covered in dirt and wounds. He was roaring in pain as smoke rose from his skin. Next to him lay Castiel, his body sparked and crackled with white and blue energy. He lifted his hand and touched Sam's shoulder. Sam's cries of agony ceased, his body appeared to heal itself then Castiel's hand slid lifelessly to the ground.
"Well I'll be a son of a goat, he actually did it." Bobby stomped down the porch out to the scene. "Sam?"
Bobby found some clothes for Sam while Castiel lay on the old dirty couch and continued to recover. When Bobby asked Sam if he was hungry for food, or anything else, Crowley spoke up. "Oh, I don't think you have an appetite for that anymore, do you, Moose?"
Sam frowned at Bobby. "No, I don't need demon blood." Then he turned to Crowley. "And we don't need you anymore. If you know what's good for you, you'll let Bobby out of his deal right now or so help me—."
"All right, all right!" Crowley waved his hands in surrender. "Fine, the old man can have back his soul; I have no further use for it. Lucifer is in his cage again for the time being, the world is ours for the taking." He smiled at Bobby. "How's about a kiss before I make my final departure?"
"Oh, go to hell." The words were barely out of Bobby's mouth when Crowley vanished. And then, Bobby's legs gave way. He hit the floor like a plaid and denim sack of potatoes.
From the couch, they heard a mildly amused voice say, "I could have told you that that was going to happen. I'd love to help but, I can't."
Sam touched Bobby's forehead and waited for the results. He moved his legs cautiously at first then stood. "Sam, how did you?"
"I know where Eurynomos is going to strike next. But we have to go now. My strength is fading fast." Sam held out his open palm to Bobby. "I'm driving."
There was little time for poignant reunions. Dean stayed by Lisa's side while she labored into the night. Sam waited like a sentry posted outside her door guarding a line of salt laid at the threshold. When the staff questioned it, he explained that it was a religious observation and to please leave it alone. Each time someone passed through, Sam took care to ensure the white line was never broken.
At 1:41 in the morning, Lisa delivered a healthy baby girl. When the nurse rolled baby and bassinet out of the room some time later, Dean said, "You were right."
"I usually am, and don't you forget it." Lisa smiled and kissed Dean for the fiftieth time in the last hour. Exhausted and ragged as she felt, she somehow managed to glow with joy.
"Listen, I know we haven't picked a name yet so I was thinking," he looked away from her. They talked about this for a time and finally agreed on a name for their little bundle.
"Is it okay if I let Sam come in for a minute? He's been waiting out in the hall like a Secret Service Agent all night."
Lisa appeared uncomfortable for a moment.
Dean said, "It's okay. He's all right. I'll explain it all to you later. But, he's… he's Sam. I promise."
Seconds later, Sam stood in the door grinning. "I sneaked a peek at her when they wheeled her by. She's gorgeous."
"She has your hair, Uncle," Lisa said.
Sam ran his fingers through his wavy brown locks and blinded his sister-in-law with his dimples. "Who knew a baby could have so much hair?"
There was a knock on the door and Ben cautiously entered the room. He looked up at Sam: Sam his giant sized new uncle who was recently returned from the dead, who hunted demons and ghosts and the boogeyman with his new dad. He had trouble finding his poker face for this bizarre situation.
With an awkward smile, Sam said, "Guess I'll head over to the nursery and keep an eye on the newest member of this unconventional family."
After Sam left, Dean and Lisa tried to have a heart to heart discussion with Ben about family and what it meant to be a big brother. He rolled his eyes and smiled. "I'm gonna be thirteen in two months, mom. I'm not a jealous toddler."
A lovely platinum haired nurse in powder blue scrubs entered the room and announced that she needed to examine Lisa and asked for privacy. "Why don't you go down to the nursery and feed your baby?"
Ben hugged his mom and waited by the door while Dean kissed Lisa's forehead and cheeks and told her again how amazing she was and how much he loved her. Tears began to pour from her eyes.
"It's the hormones. It will pass," the nurse said sweetly and patted Lisa's hand.
Dean looked at the nurse with weary eyes.
"I'll take good care of your wife, don't you worry."
Ben joined Sam, Bobby and Castiel outside the window of the nursery where Dean held baby MaryJo and fed her her first bottle. Dean handled his tiny blessing, who had more hair than any little baby should, with surprising care. The new father placed the baby to his shoulder and gently patted her back. It was then that Sam felt a presence, a dark unwelcome existence blow by him. He pounded the nursery window with the side of his fist. The nurse shot him the evil eye but, his brother knew. Sam turned on his heel and ran down the hall. Dean handed the baby to the nurse and bolted out of the nursery after his brother.
Moments after her two men had left, Lisa began to sob. "I can't do this."
The nurse sat next to her on the bed. "I know. But it's the only way."
Lisa's giant dark eyes pleaded with the nurse. "But I want to live."
"Why? It's obvious that he loves his brother more than he will ever love you or your children." She was practically singing. "You should end it now before he leaves you. And," she giggled. "He will leave you." The nurse removed the IV from Lisa's hand and propped her up on the edge of the bed. She walked over to the window and opened it. "Just a hop, skip and a jump, my dear, and you will be free of all this misery and pain."
Lisa rocked back and forth and keened softly. After a moment she stood.
"That's a good girl." She extended her arms to Lisa and helped her slide her body through the open window.
"Why are you doing this?" Lisa wailed as she looked down the five story drop to the parking lot below.
The nurse sighed with obvious pity. "I only want to help you, Lisa." Then she inhaled sharply and flashed a frightening smile. "Showtime!" She hissed. The door blew open with furious speed. "Took you long enough," she said as Sam crossed the room in two long strides.
Lisa, who was supported only by the nurse's arms, whimpered, "Please help me."
Dean arrived seconds later. "Oh my God." He took a step toward his wife but was blocked by his brother. "Sam!" he barked.
"I got this, Dean."
The demon inside of the nurse giggled wildly. "The things a girl has to do around here to get some attention!" Then she let go of Lisa. "Oops. Clumsy me."
Lisa's screams ripped through the air as she fell. Dean dove across the room in a futile effort to save his wife from certain death. He landed headfirst on the windowsill and was instantly knocked unconscious.
Sam looked at his brother lying motionless on the floor; a trickle of blood ran from his scalp and onto his eyelids. Sam was momentarily frozen in indecision. Save my sister-in-law, and ultimately my brother. Or, kill Eurynomos?
"Well, what's it gonna be?" Eurynomos sniped.
The demon's voice was like an ice pick in Sam's brain. He looked away from his brother and faced his foe. He closed his eyes and the nurse's body began to sizzle and spark. She opened her mouth and screamed a pillar of fire at him. The scent of burnt hair and flesh filled his throat but he ignored it. He had only to picture his father's face: the man who spent a lifetime hunting the thing that had killed his beloved. That coupled with the image of Lisa plummeting to her death empowered him. I have to kill this thing and save Dean from repeating the cycle with his children. After several minutes, the demon, and the unfortunate body it inhabited crackled like a bonfire then crumpled into a heap of gray ash on the beige linoleum floor.
Epilogue
Castiel, more human than not, sat in the passenger seat of the black 1967 Impala that was parked in front of Dean and Lisa's home. He looked straight ahead and waited patiently as two brothers tried to find the right words.
Sam stood on the steps of the porch and squinted up at the crimson sunrise. "So… what are you going to do now?" Now that your wife is buried, Sam thought.
Dean said nothing but held MaryJo close to him and kissed her tiny head. Ben, who appeared to have aged five years overnight, stood next to his dad and clenched his jaw. Sam couldn't help but draw the parallels between this sight on the porch and that pivotal moment in 1983. That could be Dad standing there holding me, Dean standing next to him trying to look brave. Sam was at once filled with guilt and pity for his dead father and his hollowed out brother. "You're not Dad, you know. You can make a different choice." He shifted his weight and locked eyes with his brother, "You have to make a different choice… for your family."
Dean shook his head slowly. "I don't think I can." He was utterly broken. I don't think I can raise two kids alone. I don't think I can sit here living my apple pie life while the world is full of evil creatures hiding in the shadows, stalking victims. I've got a job to do. Then he thought of his mother. How can I, even for a minute, consider raising my kids to be hunters? History had repeated itself in a horrific, soul splitting way."What am I supposed to do, Sammy?"