AN: This story can be read as a stand-alone, but is actually a companion and finale of sorts to Do You Recall, What it Takes, and Leather & Lace. This one's actually meant to put an end to it all. Since Leather & Lace is a series of one-shots, I'll probably continue to update that whenever I get requests.
While Val is featured in those stories and reading them would help you understand her character better, it isn't crucial for you to have read them.
It'll become obvious where in season 7 we're starting off from (episode 10, "Death's Door"), but with some notable twists. The main difference from canon so far is that Dean has been in a serious relationship for almost five years, and has a three-year-old daughter because of it.
Someplace I've Never Been
.
"There you go
Slipping away into a state of grace
Drifting away into your sacred place
Someplace that I've never been."
Billy Joel, "State of Grace"
Chapter I: "Bite the Bleeding Bullet"
The freak in Room 008.
That's what they called him.
Valerie knew because the patients that were allowed to leave their rooms (and a few wary staff) were all whispering, blatantly staring at her since she was the only one not pissing herself at the thought of coming in and out of the room for more than a few minutes.
She'd first started volunteering here only a few days after he'd "officially" been checked in. That whole thing was questionable in itself, because when they found him he'd been tearing up another patient's room.
No one remembered him entering the building. There was no evidence for it, not even on the many security cameras installed in the place.
But the reason she was here every day after work (and most Saturday mornings), the real reason, was because of him.
It seemed…wrong to see him this way, sedated and connected to machines that somehow gave his vitals. Do angels have vitals, she wondered, or is it the poor bastard he's lying in?
Either way, the guy seemed to be in one hell of a coma.
Though you probably would be too, if you thought you were being tortured by Satan himself. She still couldn't even begin to imagine it…
While sitting in a too-small chair by his bed, she looked up from her laptop. She stared at his stubbled face, at the bags under his closed eyes and dry, cracked lips with no small amount of resentment.
"How long am I going to have to babysit your fruitloop ass?" she muttered. It was her own fault, she guessed, for getting into this in the first place.
Actually, no. Who did she really, really blame for this shitty gig?
It all happened not two months ago, and she'd been asking herself the same damn question.
Two Months Before.
It had to be bad. Val had a feeling the moment she got the call, but the last thing she wanted to do after driving two hours out to Sioux City was get screamed at by a Winchester.
"Noooo!"
"I told you, after we saw Rapunzel and Eugene," for the third time in a row, "it's time for bed. Now, let's put away these toys and brush your teeth."
She was rewarded with a toddler's deafening screech at the top of her tiny (but frighteningly powerful) lungs.
Oh, for fuck's sake, Val thought miserably.
"Kid," she complained while trying to wrangle the TV remote away, "I can feel my ear drums hemorrhaging. Let's turn down the dial on the hysterics, all right?"
Eventually adult and three-year-old came to a consensus, and little Annie Winchester stayed still long enough for Val to brush all of three front teeth and a diaper change before she let loose another ear-shattering tantrum at the prospect of taking off her ravioli-stained sundress.
Why the hell am I here? Val wondered, not for the first time. It certainly wouldn't be the last time if Dean Winchester's little brat didn't let Val put her damn jammies on.
"Vallieee," came the long and whining protest after the cartoon dino pajamas were on (the girl had two main obsessions: dinosaurs and most Disney princesses).
"Yes, Ann Marie," Val sighed as she tried pulling the covers over her. Annie kept kicking her feet and obstinately wiggling in place—ridiculously cute in theory, but quite the hassle when you were trying to achieve tucking-in status.
"Wan' Mommy," she whined, with her big green-blue eyes and hair coming out of her ponytail to fall in her pouting face. She had her father's pouty lips too.
Val couldn't help it. She melted.
"I know, sweetheart." She tucked strands of Annie's blondish hair behind her ears. There was a time when she had seen this little girl nearly every day, had changed loads more shitty diapers, and didn't hate the girl's mother.
"Your mom had to go see your Uncle Bobby," Val reminded her (for probably the two thousandth time). "He's really sick, remember?"
"Daddy…"
"Daddy's there too, and Uncle Sam."
"But, but—I wan'," Annie again struggled to get out of her crib, but Val gently held her hands away from the railing.
"Mommy's gunna be home soon, your dad too," she promised, but she felt like she was trying to climb Everest without a line here. "Wanna read a story? Come on, let's read a story."
It was another two hours before Val could stare down at a sleeping child clutching her stuffed panda bear. Annie had named him Ted when Dean first bought it for her. Ted the panda, not the demented Bostonian teddy bear.
"Your mom," Val finally whispered, barely letting the words come out, "is hella inconsiderate."
It had only been three months. Three months since it happened, and Val thought she'd made herself pretty clear: she didn't want to see that lying, two-faced woman, nor did she want anything to do with Winchesters and their world of crazy shit-fest.
Three months ago, after the worst series of twenty-four hours in Val's thirty-one years of living, she had decided to make a clean break. From everything.
After sitting her ten-year-old brother Matt down for a long talk, she quit her secretary job at a crusty old museum in Hill City, South Dakota, packed their collective shit, and moved close to her aunt in Sioux Falls. It was a long-ass move to tiny two-bedroom in a rather questionable area of town, but it was more freeing that she thought it'd be to get a substitute teaching gig in the local school district.
Matt got on the soccer team, and Val joined a kickboxing class. All was good, or at least starting to be.
And then she got a call from Elena Hayes, her former best friend and close associate of the monster hunting brothers Winchester.
"I'm sorry…" There was a pause on the other line. Val heard a shuddering breath.
"I know that you…I know I shouldn't be calling."
"Then why are you?" Val asked flatly, anger making her jaw clench.
"Something's happened, and I—I didn't know who else to…" A heavy sigh. "Look, I know this is a shitty move, but I need your help—"
"Well I'm done helping you," said Val. "I don't know what else you could possibly want from me—"
"Bobby's been shot."
Her hand nearly went slack, along with her jaw.
"Wh…what?"
"Sam and Dean got him to a hospital in New Jersey. He's in intensive care, but I have to go see him." Another heavy pause. "I can't bring Annie though…it's not safe."
"Why?"
"…It's a long story. Honestly, the less you…"
"The less I know, the better?" Val finished for her. "Really. We're really going back to that? Your goddamn party line?"
"This time, it really is safer that way," Elena said, gently, but Val can hear that she's tired, and probably anxious.
Val knew Bobby. Once upon a time she'd lived in Sioux Falls, went to the same middle school as Elena until her family moved east. Elena sat alone at lunch. Val liked talking, no matter who was listening. Elena hadn't liked the oatmeal cream pies her mom packed for her lunch, and with a health-nut vegan of a mother, Val would've sold her pinkie finger for something with fructose and empty calories.
Their friendship had started immediately, easily, with Val doing most of the talking and Elena doing most of the laughing and occasional eye rolling.
Back then her mother had discouraged their friendship, only because everyone knew Elena Hayes's uncle was the town drunk. Val remembered that was the only time her mother and her aunt ever agreed on anything, but it was also the first time Val had found something to spite her mother with. Something she couldn't control.
When they hung out at Singer Salvage after school, when Elena's dad was out of town on some "hunting trip" (Val had always thought it weird that a retired policeman would be going on so many trips alone), Bobby had always cleared enough books and newspapers from the couch to let them watch TV and drink soda and order whatever takeout they wanted as long as they found a garbage can to stick the empty cans and cartons in, and if you know what's good for you don't touch anything on the shelves…or the brown bottles in the fridge.
The man was gruff, always been a little surly and looked a lot sad, but even when Val was too young to really know about loss or grief, she had never seen Bobby Singer as anything other than a widower who had spent too many years trying to get over something.
"Holy—? Shit!" she gasped when she heard the old pipes in the house rattle. It took her several minutes just to breathe, in and out, and remember that they were due for a storm tonight.
She made her way to the front door, tentatively lifted the "welcome" mat and saw that the red spray-painted Devil's Trap was still intact. So were the sigils on the wall covered by strategically placed picture frames.
"Hoo, you're a little crazy tonight," Val patted her chest, all too aware of her heartbeat. "That's okay, it's aaall okay."
She went back to the couch in the living room and raised the volume on a rerun of F.R.I.E.N.D.S., enough to drown out the wind a bit more, but not enough to wake up the kid (she checked the baby monitor by her side).
"Relax, Jesus," she muttered to herself, letting out a long breath. There was a canister of salt on the coffee table, along with three entire bottles of holy water.
A muscle in her arm spasmed for a moment as a nervous chill rattled up her spine and the back of the neck. She hated that feeling of pin-prickling, like her skin almost didn't feel like her own, or felt too much like it. Like she was too self-aware.
She supposed that was just what happened when you knew monsters were real.
Somewhere in New Jersey
.
.
"We're sorry to ask, but did your uncle make his wishes known with regards to organ donation?"
What the fuck?
Dean's face must've betrayed his thoughts, because the hospital staff person (he really didn't give a flying fuck who this suit-and-tie, glasses-wearing pencil pusher was supposed to be) continued on.
"Organs are only viable for a limited window—" he started to explain, but Dean's brain made a short stop at viable, and the way he repeated the word pretty much should've gotten his incredulity (and mounting rage) across.
"We're just hoping some good can come of this tragic sit—"
"You listen to me, and I'm only gunna say this once," he warned, and leaned in close so the shorter man would see the threat in his eyes and know what he was liable to do if this guy got any more lippy about lobbing out the organs of people still living, and fighting to live.
"He's not gunna die," Dean said, with all the rage and fear and killing urges pent up inside, "It's one,bullet. He's gunna be fine, because he's always fine."
"I apologize," the staff person tried to say—
"Why are you talking to me like he's gunna die, huh?" His voice was echoing in the hallway. Nurses making their rounds and the nearby secretary froze in their tasks, but even if he'd noticed, he wouldn't have given a damn. His blood was boiling, everything within him telling him to rip something apart, and soon.
"I do my job. Do your jobs. Save him!"
"Of-of course, they're doing all they can—" Dean's fist smashed the glass pane behind the shaking man with a ragged punch. When his hand came away bloody, the staff person's eyes widened behind his glasses with obvious fear.
Then Dean heard it, harried steps turning the corner and getting closer. His girlfriend came into view, clutching her keys and obviously searching for something, or more likely, someone. She spotted him and immediately started down the hall. He finally took notice of the staff person in front of him, who was clearly afraid and waiting for him to either knock him out or let him go.
"Walk away from me." Still frozen, the guy hesitated at the order.
"Now!" Dean barked, just in time for Elena to watch the small man hurry off with his clipboard.
"Hey, what was that?" she asked, frowning at him when he wouldn't let her see his bloody hand. He found her waist with his better one and brought her close.
"Nothin', don't worry about it." But she clutched the lapels of his jacket and stared up at him with deep worry. She would handle whatever that was later, but for right now she needed answers.
"How bad is it? Where is he? Where's Sam—"
"Look, right now it's…it's not good. But he's fighting," Dean said. He cupped the side of her face, tracing her cheek with his thumb. Her wide gray eyes were welling with tears…but she looked down at his other hand, took it in both of hers. She sighed heavily at the blood and scratches.
"God, what did you do?" she murmured, turning it over in search of glass fragments in his skin.
"There's Sam right there—Sam!" Dean called over her head. His brother's mop of brown hair whipped around and there he was, taking long strides toward them.
"Hey," he greeted Elena, and she spared one hand to grab his arm. "Hey, how is he?"
"Why don't you take her over. I just, uh," Dean said, looking from his bloody hand to his brother's eyes. "I need some air."
Without waiting for a reply, he slipped out of Elena's grasp and stepped out the back exit, leaving the other two to watch him go. Sam sighed, but reached for Elena's shoulder anyway.
"Come on, he's down this way."
"Sam, first tell me how bad it is," she pleaded, grabbing his arm in earnest. "Your brother didn't tell me anything. What happened?"
Sam sighed again. She could tell he was trying his best to hold in the stress and worry for her sake, but she knew him to well for that.
"It's…it got dodgy," he said. "We had to break him out of a den full of leviathans. Dick was hot on our heels, and uh…he shot at us while we were getting out of there. We didn't realize it 'til later…"
Elena slid her hands into her hair as she looked heavenward, biting her lower lip in effort to keep herself under control.
"But they're managing it?" she asked. "They're gunna get it out, right? The bullet?"
Sam hesitated. He didn't want to work Elena up more than she already was. She looked a bit of a mess, long pieces of hair falling out of a hairclip, no makeup, and she was wearing one of Dean's old shirts over some yoga pants. She looked like she'd made the twenty-hour drive from Sioux City to New Jersey without stopping, and knowing her, she just might have.
She stared at Sam while he tried to think of something to say, but from the look on her face, she seemed to give up on the prospect of getting the answers she wanted from him, at least for the moment. She sighed loudly and threw up her hands. Instead of grilling him like he knew she probably wanted to, she started toward the back exit Dean had gone through.
"What the hell is Dean doing out there? I'm just, I'm gunna check on him—"
The door opened and the man himself came through, leading Elena away from the doors.
"Don't go out there, 's not safe," his tone boded no argument.
"Why, what's—"
"Dick," Dean replied tersely. The rage was still in his eyes, but Elena could tell he was making an effort to put a clamp on it. "Dick Roman. He's out there."
The head Dick of all leviathans. In other words, the ancient and exceedingly nasty evil that managed to shoehorn themselves out of Purgatory via a very disturbed and desperate angel of the Lord, was quite literally at their doorstep.
"What?" Sam exclaimed. "What'd he want?"
"Nothin'," Dean set a comforting hand on Elena's back. She leaned into him, was worried for him as much as she was frustrated by their ever-declining situation. "For now. Was just a…friggin' staring contest. That's it. Look, I uh…I need somethin'. Some coffee."
He offered to get Elena one, and she agreed when Sam finally agreed to take her over to Bobby.
They had to watch from outside his room. It was too small, too many wires and tubes and it made her sick.
Elena hadn't always been close to her uncle. After she moved away, after her mom…she didn't think about what she left behind. She didn't think she had left anything behind, except for Val.
They'd met up again in college, both struggling through to getting a paper certificate while trying not to starve. But Bobby…she hadn't seen him in some ten odd years before she called—her dad had gone missing, three weeks on a "hunting" trip. Bobby had been tackling something of his own with Rufus, so he'd sent Sam and Dean. In the end, her dad hadn't made it out alive, but Bobby still drove across however many states he'd had to until he was at her door, and hugged her like she had a right to call him family.
Ever since, he'd been a part of her life. An important part. To the point where she couldn't see raising her daughter without having an Uncle Bobby to bring her books and old toys from the 70s that no child should be playing with.
And seeing him now, so weak, it wasn't fair. You weren't supposed to see your heroes fall.
"Sam," her voice cracked when she spoke. Sam turned his sorry gaze down at her, and he took his hands out of his pockets so he could wrap his arm around her shoulders. He tucked her close, at his side.
"They're waiting to take the bullet out, because he might not survive the surgery," he confessed. "But he's breathing on his own, so…so it's a good sign."
Elena heard it before she saw it—Bobby's heart monitor spiking, his heart rate suddenly dropping.
"What's happening?!"
Sam's shouts for help, the nurses swarming in calling for a doctor and shouting out instructions to one another, it all passed by Elena frozen in shock and dread. Dean came running, led her away from the window and steadied her when her legs failed her.
What's happening?
Two days later, Val opened the front door (checking the sigils under the rugs first) to Sam and Elena. Annie was damn hyper about it, nearly tripped Val down the stairs to get to them in time.
While Elena scooped up her daughter and calmed her down, Val watched Sam lug in a large duffel and a bag of Chinese takeout.
"I cooked," she informed him. It was just mac and cheese, but he didn't have to know that yet. Sam just set the duffel down on the floor and offered her a nod on the way to the kitchen.
"We already ate on the road. This's just garbage," he explained, and tossed the full-to-bursting paper bag in the trash bin. No doubt it was full of his and Elena's meals from the past twenty-four hours it took to get them from New Jersey back to South Dakota.
"So how is he? How's Bobby?" Val asked, turning back to Elena. She froze with Annie in her arms and a deer-in-the-headlights look on her face. Val saw how she shared a look with Sam, who eventually cleared his throat.
"Hey," he started, "why don't you grab some more clothes for yourself, some for Dean. I'll get Annie's stuff." He offered to take Annie, who happily went into her uncle's strong arms. Elena gave him what looked like a grateful look as she climbed up the stairs alone. She was moving kind of slow, Val noticed. But she looked to Sam expectantly, still waiting for an answer. No one was leaving her in the dark anymore.
"He's okay now," Sam admitted. He smoothed down the back of Annie's hair (his giant hand basically spanned her whole head) and rubbed her back. She clung to him with sleepy eyes, like she was finally able to relax now that most of her family was here. Sometimes Sam still marveled that his brother had a three-year-old kid. Dean and Elena had only been seriously dating for barely a year when it happened—an accident-turned-happy-accident, of course. But Sam hadn't gotten to meet his niece until after he'd been saved from Hell…when he was still soulless.
In a way, Sam hadn't gotten a chance to be a part of his brother's new family life until after he got his soul back, and he and Annie had a connection the minute she asked him (more with a lot of pushing and shoving and garbled baby talk than actual words) to read her Winnie the Pooh. He'd even pulled his weight with dirty diapers and baths and playground trips, at least, before he and Dean were on the road again to try and stop Castiel and Crowley from opening Purgatory.
Even with all that, it was just part of his life now, being an "Uncle Sam."
"That's good," Val breathed, bringing Sam out of his more lighthearted thoughts. Then he was forced to be reminded about the reason he was here, and how much there still was to do, and the fact that Bobby was…
"Well, he's stable," he shook his head. He motioned for Val to follow him while they made their way to Annie's room upstairs.
"So they were able to do the surgery?" she asked. Sam started pulling some of Annie's clothes from her dresser, all while he was still holding her.
"He made it through but, uh…" Sam's lips pursed, tugging down into a frown. He let a small shoe hang out of his hand while his mind seemed to go very far away. Val just watched, feeling a small twist in her gut. She had known Bobby a long time, sure, but if Elena in fact told her the truth, that man was practically a father to Sam and Dean Winchester.
What could someone like him be thinking, she wondered, to have such a haunted look on his face?
"Taking the bullet out did some damage," he finally confessed. He kept his grip on Annie while he packed her clothes and supplies, along with a few toys, books (he knew her favorites, Val noted with approval), and of course Ted the panda. All went in a large tote bag Val had bought for her last Christmas.
"But he's okay," Val said, though her voice was more uncertain than she'd wanted it to be.
"He's…he won't be able to walk. At least for a while." Sam straightened then, letting out a long breath through his nose. "And he's having trouble…ah, but anyway. He's alive. That's all that matters."
Val held in the next thousand questions she wanted to ask, because as much as she didn't particularly like the Winchesters as of late, she had a shred of consideration. Instead, she asked the more obvious question.
"What's next then?"
"Dean stayed with him, so Elena and I are going back," he said, and slung the pink and white tote bag over his shoulder. "When he's ready, we'll bring him home."
Val frowned. It was obvious that they were going to take Annie with them.
"I thought it wasn't safe," she whispered. Sam just shook his head.
"We've got it under control now."
She had to wonder.
Val later watched them pack up Elena's '82 Camaro full with duffel bags. She still maintained that a car seat on an old thing like that was wrong, the whole thing was impractical for a family car. But she understood why Elena never sold it.
Sam was already in the driver's seat with Annie in the backseat by the time Val and Elena were standing together awkwardly on the porch.
"I've gotta sub an English class in Emerson County tomorrow morning," Val said, else she would probably (however reluctantly) have agreed to stay longer, or even go see Bobby herself.
"It's great, you know," Elena smiled a little, "that you're teaching now. Never thought you'd willingly step foot back on a school grounds."
"I've gone through a lotta hoops to get where I'm at now, to get Matt resituated," Val said frankly. The other woman's smile faded.
"I just want to know how dangerous it is, these…these leviathan things you guys are fighting," she continued. "I get that it's bad, that they can look like people…"
She had seen a serial murdering Sam and Dean on the news, and it had taken a while for Elena and the brothers to explain that one before Val called the cops on them.
"Val, you really don't want to know the details," Elena sighed. "What I've told you should be enough for you to avoid getting on anyone's radar."
"You've told me to basically kick sugar and fat from my diet, that's nothing new," Val snarked, but Elena stayed firm.
"Sam and Dean are working on it, that's all I can tell you." Dean was working on the final clue Bobby could provide before the surgery as they spoke, but Val didn't know anything about that.
"All right, fine. Just know I can't keep dropping all my shit for Winchester family crises," Val shot back testily. "I don't care if we still live in the same state, I meant what I said before—"
"This is the last time." Elena agreed, looking down at the dusty porch floor. "After this…you won't hear from me again."
It was something about the look in her eyes, the slight slump in her shoulders…Val thought she looked too tired to make another cross-country trip. It eased her anger a bit, knowing Elena had a long and shitty near-future ahead.
"What're you gunna do?" Val asked.
Sam and Dean had to stay on the front lines, but Elena confessed that after Bobby was able to leave the hospital, they were going to go into hiding with Annie back here in Sioux City. Dean and Elena's house was painted with several warding sigils and cloaking spells, and the panic room in the basement that Bobby built the year before just might be strong enough to keep out a second apocalypse.
"About Bobby," Val said. She couldn't help but think of that man…the one who apparently hadn't been a man at all. The one she'd barely got a glimpse of, but often still saw in her nightmares when she dreamt of that night. But he only showed up in the better ones, where she was already in the hospital.
"The guy who helped me, back at that hospital…couldn't he—"
"Castiel's gone," Elena said. Her face was blank, but it was the heaviness in her eyes that gave her old sadness away.
"Where did he go?" Val asked. Elena's mouth quirked at something, definitely not a smile.
"You could say he made one too many shady deals, one that made him bite off more than he could chew."
Val was sorry to think that Blue Eyes, the literal angel that saved her family, could be lost. Or more likely dead.
"Look," Elena said, and she met Val's gaze for the first time in the whole conversation. Her gray eyes were serious. "Don't trust anyone. Never let on that you know anything about things that aren't human, and especially don't drop the name Winchester."
Val looked at her for a while, wondering how the fuck this became her life.
"You say that like it's a curse."
"It's not, but right now it's not safe," Elena said. She shook her head, smiling dryly to herself as she headed to the car. Val couldn't help it, she had to ask.
"Is that why you and Dean never got married? I mean, for real," she said. "Not with that fake-ass Whitman persona you live under."
Elena paused just as she was about to open the passenger seat door. Sam watched her from the driver's seat, looking a little impatient, but waiting all the same. She got in anyway, and Val was off not too much later in her Honda Accord.
Val held onto that promise, that she would be able to move on in peace.
"I want more bacon," Matt argued. Her brother was becoming a bottomless pit, and she feared the growth spurt that she had a feeling was soon to follow. Even if the kid was only ten.
"No, that's enough," Val shook her head. "This shit was expensive."
She apparently had to waste half her paycheck buying organic groceries from now until God knew when.
"You're gunna be late for the bus anyway. Go, go, go—your lunch is on the kitchen counter."
He veered around her and managed to steal two more slices behind her back, along with his lunch on his way out the door.
"Bye, nerd-bucket," he called over his shoulder.
"I hope your coach makes you run suicides today!" she called after him. But she stayed in the kitchen with her coffee and scrolled through the news on her phone. Dick Roman was apparently opening up a new factory in Manhattan and another in Maine.
Guess I'm not going to a Broadway show anytime soon.
Her phone started vibrating in her hands, the call showing a number she'd almost deleted a half-dozen times. She sighed heavily and wondered if it was worth screening.
"Hello?" she answered reluctantly.
"Val, I get that we ain't supposed to be connecting lines, but something's happened."
"Why the hell are you calling me, Dean?" Val demanded. "Why can't you just leave me the fuck alo—"
"Look, we just need some help, all right?" Dean interrupted her loudly, but then his voice fell, betraying his worry, and for the first time, Val heard genuine vulnerability from him. "My brother's been hit by a car."