Golem

Chapter 3

John Winchester stared into the hazel eyes of his youngest son and fought back down the immediate guilt this brought. Because Dean would want to know him. Would love him. And he could never know.

"I'll be getting my permit next year," the boy said excitedly.

"I know it," John responded. He smiled at the boy as he pulled over on the relatively empty road. "Want to give it a try?"

Adam's eyes opened so wide John thought they'd pop right out of his head. "Sure. I mean, yessir. Thanks!"

The boy squeezed his long legs beneath the steering wheel and John was instantly taken back to Sammy first squeezing his same long legs into the same driver's seat, and pushed the memory away.

"Okay, nice and easy," John coaxed. "She's responsive. Doesn't need much g—." But he was too late as the huge car jerked forward in manic bursts. "Easy," John repeated and in just a little time Adam got the hang of it and they were riding smoothly down the long, empty blacktop.

The steady rhythm of the tires and the knowledge that here John was just a dad relaxed him enough to let memories slip out. Sitting shotgun, teaching Dean … Not that it had been much of a lesson, Dean was born knowing how to drive. Boy'd gotten behind the wheel, caressed it slightly and put her in drive, gently depressing the gas as if he'd been driving her forever. This car was meant for his first born it seemed. At times it even felt like Dean'd told him to buy her, which was impossible, but it seemed true nonetheless.

Adam proved a quick learner and John had no doubt he'd be getting his license as soon as he turned sixteen next year.

"You won't tell Mom, will ya?" Adam asked.

John smiled. Another thing he wasn't allowed to tell Kate. What in hell did she think he did with Adam on his visits? Play with matchbox cars? Adam was a fifteen-year-old boy, for chrissake! John shook his head and said, "If that's what you want."

Kid seemed pleased. They drove along in comfortable silence again. Adam maneuvered the big car smoothly around a sharp turn. Sammy had taken longer to learn to drive. All gangly legs and awkward moves. Almost crashed the car into a divider which got John yelling and poor Dean in the back seat trying to calm everyone and boost his brother's waning confidence until finally John'd just gotten out of the car. Ultimately, Dean taught his brother how to drive.

He looked at Adam sitting next to him and the guilt returned. I'm sorry, Dean. I know … he's your family, but I can't. Gotta keep him out of our lives. Our mess. It was wrong. He knew this. But John didn't have a choice. Better to keep the boy separate, so the evil sons of bitches following John and his older sons wouldn't know him. Adam would never know his brothers. But he'd be safe.

Kate greeted them at the door. She responded to Adam's huge grin with a look of appreciation at John. With her big blue eyes and trim figure Kate was still an attractive woman. He knew she'd had other men over the years but nobody stuck. He supposed having a son was the reason. Not many men wanted an instant family. He still remembered the shock of hearing her voice mail message three years ago. John, I have something important to share. Call me, please. He'd remembered her — one of the few women he'd allowed himself after Mary – but they hadn't been in touch in years.

January 1990. He'd been on a hunting trip. Dean'd turned eleven, Sammy was seven. John had word of a series of vicious murders. Vampires. He told the boys, well, Dean, the truth most of the time. But this time he thought it best to lie. The fang he'd taken out hadn't been alone and his mate escaped and caught his scent. Caleb told him that once they latched onto you they'd track you till you were drained or turned.

He'd never felt hunted quite this personally before. Not counting the demon that destroyed his life. So he'd put the boys on a plane to Pastor Jim. Sam was excited to fly, to go somewhere new. Somewhere nice. But Dean was stricken, even though he tried to hide it. He was so much like Mary. His sweet, sensitive little boy that John had to turn into something else. Someone strong. Tough. Able to survive.

The vamp was dangerous. A good hunter herself. A worthy foe. He finally caught back up with her and her new nest in Windom, Minnesota. Except they were waiting for him. Was dumb luck, really, that his boys weren't orphaned then. Maybe they'd have been better off.

Caleb had explained about using dead man's blood and the first arrow was a lucky hit, struck the group's leader. The shock cascaded through the fangs like a current and slowed them momentarily, confused them. That's when he'd struck out and the ensuing violence was enough to sicken most people but he'd seen it all by then and was beyond the ability to feel revulsion. The woman fought the hardest, the longest and she closed in so fast his bow was useless.

She cornered him and the red streaming down his forehead blinded him. John knew the lure of his blood was driving her frenzy. As her double row of razor teeth zeroed in on the pulse in his neck he shifted his bow up and plowed the wooden end through her heart, momentarily stunning her. She slid to the floor with a whimper and her venomous eyes damned him as he drew his machete and sliced off her head with one hard strike. It took a moment to realize the manic crazy howl was coming from him, and he collapsed in pain and exhaustion … and shame, because each creature that he killed took more of his humanity and he felt helpless to do anything about it.

In a daze he drove himself to the ER where the staff patched him up while accepting his lame story about a car accident. The friendly eyes and long blonde hair of the nurse Kate reminded him of Mary through the haze of painkillers …

"How long you staying this time, John?" Kate asked quietly when Adam was out of earshot.

"Not sure. Few days. Have to go check in at the motel." Sometimes she invited him to stay. Not always. Depended on her mood, whether she was dating anyone … truth was, he never knew why.

Her lips curled up in a soft smile. "You could stay here, if you like," she said after a long moment.

Guess there wasn't someone else this time. "Well, alright then," he replied unnecessarily, because he never turned her down.

* * *

The crazy white sparks pinged around the room as Dean shielded himself under the pine table and tried to remember what this was, why he was here. It was wrong. He knew that. Should do something. But his heart raced because he knew danger and felt the white heat of the charges coming nearer, so close the hair on his head was starting to dance and the thing's legs? kept moving inexorably toward him. It was going to kill him fry him and he was hiding coward but he didn't know what to do.

Frustrated tears ran down his cheeks as the raw energy drew near, three more steps and it would be on him. Dean, the salt. Use the salt. The order was soft but urgent. Yes, salt. He shook his head and more images leaked in. A ghost. Spirit. Repelled by … he pulled the edge of the tablecloth and glasses, dishes, food crashed to the floor. Heart pounding he pawed through the jumble still keeping as much of his body under the table as he could. There! His fingers clasped the familiar shape. Trembling fingers pried the salt shaker top off and he risked edging forward until the thing was just inches away and with a surge of strength he'd forgotten he had he threw the salt at the apparition and it vanished in a swirly hiss.

He leaned back against the table legs feeling wired as if the thing had touched him after all. What the fuck was wrong with him? Uncurling from under the table, he went in search of the family now huddled together in the family room.

" 'S okay now," he said, forcing reassurance back into his voice. The world seemed normal again. He knew why he was here and quickly explained about the electrician's accidental death.

"The man died … here?" Cheryl asked shakily.

"Why's it so mad?" Alex asked.

Dean knelt down to meet the boy's eyes. "It's stuck. Can't move forward. Angry that he got killed and can't let go of that. At one time it had a life. Now all it has is the anger."

"Be better if he just died … I mean … then he coulda went to heaven, right?"

Dean wanted to believe this more than anything. Had wanted to believe this since he was four years old. "Yeah, Alex. I'm gonna help him get there. That's kinda my job."

The boy's eyes widened again and then narrowed slightly as he studied Dean. "Does … everyone go to heaven?"

"I don't know."

Alex pondered this. "I hope this ghost gets to go there even though he scared my mom and dad."

Dean stood up. "Me too, Alex."

He was about to head out when Alex called out to him again. "Who's Sammy?"

Dean startled and turned to look at the little boy questioningly.

"You called out his name."

Cheryl interrupted. "Alex. That's none of our business. Now quit pestering Dean."

"No. It's okay. Sam is my brother. He's away at Stanford. Prelaw."

Charlie looked impressed. "Nice. Your dad must be proud."

You walk out that door, don't you ever come back. "Yeah. Very proud." The pause lasted a beat too long. "I'll call you when I've taken care of the ghost." Dean made an apologetic gesture at the mess on the dining room floor. "I'm sorry about that."

With a little hitch in her voice Cheryl responded, "Oh, never mind … don't worry about it."

Cheryl and Charlie walked him to the door. "We'll wait for you to call us then." Walking to the car Dean reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Bitch of a headache. Call them for what?

* * *

"Sam, hey, it's me. I don't know … not sure where you are. Thought maybe you could call, you know, I mean … strange, not sure where you're at."

Sam hung up the phone and stared at it. Been a while since he got a Dean drunk dial. For a while there'd been a run of 'em. Some got real sloppy. That's when he decided it was best not to call back. Seems like when they spoke it just made it worse.

He put the phone back in the drawer. Wasn't his everyday cell. That one was new. This one was his last link to his old life to his family. Only Dean ever called him on it. The only call he'd ever get from his dad would be the one he'd never be able to answer. Sam shut his eyes a moment, then returned the phone to the drawer and pushed it shut.

"You okay?" Jess asked from the open doorway. She wore a tee-shirt and panties and those too-cute-for-words fuzzy bunny slippers, and thoughts of his brother receded as Sam swallowed her up with his eyes.

"Better now," he answered honestly.

She came closer and beamed. "I thought I'd go to bed early."

"I can see that."

"Wanna join me?"

He kissed her gently but then pulled away with a soft sigh. "I gotta study. Need a few more hours."

She pouted. "You got one hour, big boy. Then I'm comin' to find you."

He smiled at her and went to pick up his law books from the desk. Dean's odd message replayed in his head. Man, he'd sounded out of it. If Dad caught Dean that plastered he'd pitch a fit. What the hell, Dean? What are you doing to yourself?

* * *

The little boy in the haunted house stood in the window and watched the man leave. Father master had made the creature leave earlier because the man was in danger and he knew that if the man died then the creature couldn't become Himself and that would be bad. The creature knew he wasn't supposed to have come back but it was only for a little peek. Later they'd go closer father master promised and he'd get more memories of the boy Sammy and eventually he'd have enough to fill the empty and that bad feeling would go away because he didn't like that one. He liked the other feeling much more with the pretty girls even though that didn't last but that's only because the man wasn't smart enough to just go get the boy and the creature would be smarter once he became Himself.

"Come," Master said.

The creature used its now well formed legs to move away from the house. He thought father master would be angry when he came back for him but there was no yelling like the other father – How could you leave him alone?! You were supposed to take care of him. I trusted you. He'd pulled a bunch of memories this time. More than father master realized and he knew he was supposed to go slow, be patient but he was tired of being slow and hated patient because he wanted it all right now and each time he was going to take more until he was pretty and his eyes were green and nobody would scream.

"Be careful," Master said. "Don't leak all over. Clean up after yourself."

He leaned down and picked up the little loose pieces of red clay and patted them back into himself. He wanted to ask if the man would become clay when the creature became Himself but he still couldn't make words with his mouth although he was getting lips and a tongue and soon the meat would be cooked. Although he didn't know why this mattered.

In the car he looked out the window at the passing buildings and wondered if they would all be green when he had the man's eyes. They pulled in front of a small house and father master asked if he could feel the man. He tried to say yes but it came out a grunt and he pulled and felt Him and started taking, picking, choosing … the best stuff was Sammy but that was also the hardest to get, to keep, and so he took only a little. Hazel eyes following him around wherever he went and worshipping him because he was older smarter wiser … but fear … petrifying paralyzing hateful that something was coming, would hurt Sammy would kill him and Dad is there and he shoots and looks back at him and he's so ashamed.

The creature shuddered in the car and father master asked almost kindly if he was okay and he grunted but there were other memories and he pulled another thread and it's good about baby, the car, and the man was driving and the music was playing and it hummed and vibrated under his thighs and it was like a pretty girl only not and it filled him, soothed him and the pain the empty disappeared again for a bit. And then Sammy was there, too, laughing and they were alone no Dad and the wind kissed their faces and the younger one cackled like a girl but it was better never admit this because his heart was dancing and full and it lasted and lasted and lasted.

"I think you've taken enough for one night. We'll be back tomorrow."

He grunted and it came out mrrr and the Master looked at him in surprise and he wondered if he should be quiet, not speak, because then the Master would say be patient and go slow and they wouldn't come back. He looked again at the person driving them away. Not father. Master. Father was someone else now. Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir. You're right, sir. Go easy on him, sir. He's just a kid, sir. I'll try harder, sir. The man believed his father loved him. And soon they would be together and the creature would make him happy and never talk about the boy because that caused the face and the face was bad, and it hurt.

* * *

Kate didn't look like Mary. Not really. Except for maybe the length and color of her hair. But in the dark, eyes shut, it was enough and John could pretend for just a little bit. She was quiet and efficient, the nurse in her coming through even as she made love. Mary had been quiet but her silence told him everything. He heard her with every breath she took. Sometimes he was able to hear her in Sam's laugh and Dean's eyes. Boy told him everything with those eyes. Didn't need words. Just like Mary.

He turned over in the bed. Kate wasn't clingy when she was asleep, which was good because John wouldn't have been able to stay if she was. He'd hadn't hugged any of the women he'd slept with after Mary. Couldn't. Felt too wrong.

Boys used to let him hug them all the time. Then as they got older he'd get the drawn out "Daaad" when he pulled one of 'em up to him. Sam didn't so much outgrow hugging as outgrow him. Not just physically. John knew his friends, what few he had who still spoke to him, thought he was too hard on Sam. Thought Stanford was a good thing. He sighed. Maybe it was. Three years in, truth was he'd softened on it considerably. Seemed like Sam was fine. Safe. Maybe it was like Adam. If John kept away most of the time. Kept his life, his demons, away. Then Sam would be safe.

A pang of guilt struck him again about Dean. His good soldier. He loved the boy more than Dean would ever know. Sometimes he thought more than anything, or anyone, god help him, because Dean was so much like Mary. Yes, his son was a trained, fierce and smart warrior. Yet no matter how much John had hardened him, Dean still had Mary's heart.

When he got back to Waterloo maybe they'd head west. Check on Sammy. Been a while. But he'd spend a few days more here. Dean could use the rest. He smiled thinking of that pretty waitress, and doubted his son was sleeping much.

* * *

Dean was dreaming of something staring at him. It had a wide, strange head that seemed to flake dirt, and pits where eyes should be. Full lips were just starting to form and opened and closed like a fish blowing kisses. The man-shape just stood there and stared at Dean, its form solidifying, the flakes diminishing and it he seemed to be growing skin like a snake shedding in reverse. Fingers moved to the face and turned those full lips into a smile and the thing said We are pretty in a voice like mud dripping over rocks.

Dean jerked awake to the shrill of the phone on the nightstand. " 'M'lo?"

"Dean?!"

"Yeah?"

"It's back! Rodriguez. The ghost, it's back. We don't–Oh god. Please come, you have to help …"

"What?"

"Please … he has Alex … trapped. You have to come. Now."

Dean jumped up, heart racing. Rodriguez. He was supposed to salt and burn, but he hadn't, didn't … and now. Crap. "I'll be there. Stay behind the salt lines. And if you have anything made of iron, grab it, it'll repel the spirit. Stay calm. I'll be right there."

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