Chapter Four
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The aroma of freshly made coffee insinuated its way into his unconscious, dragging him up from the memories that still plagued him when the dark world of his dreams took control of his thoughts and made him relive moments of the past, moments which when awake were firmly locked down in the depths of his mind.
As he surfaced from sleep, his last thought was of how the worst of his nightmares wasn't about the tortures he'd suffered in Hell, but of that day at Cold Oak when Sam's tousled head had lolled boneless on his shoulder and he had felt his little brother draw his last breath.
In his merry–go-round of gruesome visions, that was always the one that hurt the most.
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His eyes jerked open to focus on the unfamiliar face that was standing over him; understanding on her soft features.
"You must have been dreaming," she said. "Something not too good by the way you were twitching."
The word twitching was an understatement but she didn't want the boy to feel embarrassed thinking she had been looking on while he tossed and turned on the couch like a mad thing, fighting off some invisible monster, which was probably what he had been doing.
"Uh, yeah," Dean replied as he pulled himself up. "Now and then it happens," he added, unwilling to give any further explanation.
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He turned his head and caught sight of the table laid out for breakfast, a steaming pot of coffee surrounded by a freshly baked pie and a stack of pancakes. "Whew," he whistled. "Just when did you get up, to have all this ready?" he asked appreciatively.
She smirked. "I'm an early riser and I've got to find some way of getting into your good books. They do say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach!"
"You'll get no argument from me there," Dean grinned as he made his way to the table. "I wouldn't pass up a quick cup of coffee before taking a turn to the bathroom. No sigh of Sam yet, I see. Of course the kid really needs his beauty sleep if he ever wants to catch up with my awesomeness," he smirked taking his first mouthful of the hot dark liquid.
"You care for him very much, don't you?" she remarked, her face serious. "And he for you."
Dean shrugged, "It's …complicated but yeah, we watch out for each other."
"Wow, this has to be the best coffee I've tasted… well ever," he remarked ecstatically, effectively changing the subject
She understood; the boy wasn't the kind to open his heart easily or to trust at first sight, but maybe when they got to know each other better, he would confide in her.
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As if he had heard his big brother's call, an endearingly tousled Sam made his way into the room; if such a giant of a man as her younger grandson could be envisaged as being cute, she mused.
"What's all this?" he smiled as he saw the table laid out.
"Good morning Sam," she greeted. "Or do you prefer Samuel?"
"Sam'll do fine," he answered as he sat down next to his brother, brushing his shoulder.
"Sleep well, Sammy? " Dean asked turning assessing eyes on him, 'cos Sam having a good night's sleep was still a rarity.
"Yeah!... Yeah! " Sam replied with a curve of his lips. " I haven't slept so well in a long time." He glanced almost shyly at the older woman as if not quite sure whether she had something to do with it or not.
"Tuck in there now, boys. Two big men like yourselves need a lot of fuel to keep going,"
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Dean looked on amused as his usually picky little brother tore into the goodies on the table, and with a cocking of his head he proceeded to do the same.
Virginia watched sadly, her heart heavy. It was plain to see that these boys had never had anything easy, and very little in the way of comfort or understanding. They had been abandoned by everyone.
She too had cut herself off from her own son John, thinking that it was for the best but although the years were now heavy on her shoulders, she would do what she could to help her grandsons, even if making breakfast for them was all there was; although she was afraid that cooking would be the least of her worries.
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"You know what bothers me about your story so far," Dean said casually, as he chewed on the pancakes. "How come dad never told us anything about you, as you've apparently been alive all these years?"
She bowed her head as if in shame.
"After John married your mother Mary, a sweet girl whom I believed to have a no connection whatsoever to the supernatural, I made another questionable decision to keep out of his life as much as possible. Even although I had never again used any of the knowledge of the Men of Letters, I was still one of them and informed on all their secrets, so I though t if I kept away from your parents, it would be safer for them both and for any children that were born.
So, when John's stepfather died a few years later, I took that opportunity to disappear from John and Mary's view altogether. I cut off all contact with him and lived out a low–profile life, keeping to myself. It was a terrible sacrifice as I longed to see my son, but his well-being was the most important thing for me."
"Then how…?" Sam began.
"Why did I turn up here, Sam?" she finished for him. "Because for a moment I felt Henry alive and near at hand, and I realized that perhaps my decisions hadn't been so intelligent after all.
Maybe hiding myself away from my family and my legacy had done more harm than good and I decided to bring myself up to date on what had been happening in that supernatural world which I had shut out so long ago.
Computers are full of information, all you have to do is look and of course having a few spells in the bag helps too," she admitted wryly, catching the brothers' gaze, hoping that her new-found family wouldn't condemn her.
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She needn't have feared, for the two pairs of intelligent eyes observing her held no condemnation, but an understanding which was possible only because these young men had themselves taken wrong turnings and made errors of judgment but had forgiven themselves and each other; the pain they had suffered bonding them together ever more.
She had discovered as much as possible about them; they had been vessels for Michael and Lucifer, destined from the beginning of time to cause the Apocalypse, but yet the Earth still spun on its axis and people went about their daily business, so the Apocalypse hadn't happened.
They had saved the world and although she didn't know their personal story; that certainly wasn't in any computer, she was certain they must have paid a terrible price. Perhaps one day when they trusted her more they would share some of it with her.
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"You're preaching to the choir here," Dean answered softly. "Welcome to the family who made mistakes their daily bread and butter! As for Henry," he continued. "He was here; he came through time but he was killed when the three of us confronted a demon called Abaddon."
"I only felt his essence for a moment and it disappeared," she affirmed. "I.. had hoped for a second but…"
Sam pushed back his chair and went to put a comforting arm around her shoulder, holding on to her gently as she unexpectedly turned into him and accepted his embrace.
Sam and Dean's eyes met over the top of her head; there were three Winchesters now and whatever was waiting to jump out at them from the shadows would find an unforeseen problem to deal with.
Their grandmother might be an old lady but age wasn't necessarily an impediment to fighting evil, one just had to find a different way to combat it, and Dean was sure she knew of many ways to do just that!
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