"Owww, Lady! Hey, what the…" Dean cuts himself off in deference to standing inside a church, but really…why is some older black woman whacking him with a wooden spoon?
"Dean Winchester, as I live and breathe, I told you to keep in touch, boy. It has been seven years! Do you hear me, boy? Seven years of worrying!" Missouri Moseley trails off, growing quiet as she reads the energy of this man in front of her. Reads his uncertainty and bafflement. It had been a big surprise for the psychic - who was helping feed the homeless at her church - to see who Mike Everett was ushering in.
And now Mike is almost beside himself. "You know him, Missouri? Praise the Lord! I found him alongside the road last night. He's got amnesia. But sounds like you know his name and everything. Dean, huh?" Mike had grown fond of the polite younger man who had helped him with his broken-down truck last night, and then insisted on helping with chores on the farm before accepting breakfast. The guy's soft-spoken and a skilled handyman. If Mike hadn't promised himself ahead of time to help the guy find out who he was, he would have just let him stay at the farm.
Missouri closes the distance between her and Dean, still entranced by what she reads in his aura – a reading free of the smart-Alec attitude that drove her nuts last time she saw him, cleansed of the dark cloud that he hid behind a cocky smile, completely free of old pain and guilt. "Oh, boy, what have you gotten yourself into now?" Missouri asks, lowering her arm.
As the older woman crowds him, Dean backs up until he plops onto the bench behind him. Missouri grabs his chin forcing his face up, meeting eyes the color of sea glass that are open windows to a shining soul. They startle her. This man, honest and trusting, has been hidden inside a broken man. Even the four-year-old she had first met hadn't had such openness.
"Yes, I know Dean, better than he knows himself right now; I can tell. Knew his daddy, too, and his little brother." She fixes him with a stare. "Mike, you probably knew him too, or at least knew of him. Remember that fire in town thirty years back, where the young mother died and the little boy carried his baby brother out of the house?"
Mike Everett searches his memory a little, but what had happened is part of local lore so he fishes the story out. "Oh, that. Big tragedy. That was Mary Campbell's family. Hell, I remember her and her daddy." Mike takes a closer look at Dean. "Guess I kinda see a resemblance to his mom. Samuel Campbell helped me out once, and what was his wife's name again?"
Missouri answers shortly. "Deanna. This one's named for her."
"Which one is he?" Mike asks. And Dean turns wondering eyes to Missouri as well.
"He's the little hero." Missouri says. "Grew up to be a big damn hero, too, him and his brother both."
Dean clears his throat, feeling embarrassed at that answer and by being the focus of attention. "Are they still here? My family?" Dean turns a hopeful gaze back on her. "You say you know my father and I've got a brother?" He stops himself, pulling back a little, trying to keep his neediness inside to preserve a little of his dignity.
"Oh, Honey, your daddy passed six or seven years ago." Missouri wishes she could soften it, could tell this man a story filled with rainbows and light, but she won't lie to him. "Mike," she says, handing him the wooden spoon she still held in her hands. "Will you let the pastor know I had to leave? Doubt he'll be real surprised, I've been here since first light. If this boy's here and lost, his brother will be along soon looking for him. I'm gonna take him along home with me."
Missouri wanted to get Dean to her house because it was heavily warded against the supernatural. Through her contacts within the community, Missouri knew some of what the Winchesters had been through. That kind of notoriety brings a certain amount of backlash from some pretty powerful beings. Missouri would rather keep the people at her church out of the line of fire.
"Come along, Dean. I'll get you home, and you can shower while I try to reach your brother. I've got some old clothes your daddy left at my place years ago that should fit, I think. I'd just as soon wait 'til we reach your brother and I have a better idea of what is going on before I say much."
Missouri's shepherding Dean toward the door as she talks, leaving him barely enough time to tell Mike goodbye.
. . . . . . .
Have you ever had one of those mornings when everything is just wrong? When you bruise yourself banging into the showerhead? (Okay, maybe not, unless you're really tall like Sam.) When you burn your tongue on the coffee that you have to drink without creamer because someone put an empty container back in the fridge and no one has gone shopping in a few days? When you can't find a clean dress shirt? Or the iron to press wrinkles out of one that doesn't smell too bad? When you go to tie your shoe and the lace breaks? When the bickering of people around you makes you want to scream? And you are so worried about your brother that you can't eat?
Sam's day starts off that way. He waited until seven a.m. to start trying Missouri's number, but she hasn't answered. All he has been able to reach is her voice mail, but after four messages…. He completed the spell again and confirmed Dean's location in Lawrence.
One problem he has to deal with immediately is figuring out who to leave here to guard Crowley and who to bring with him – when he just wants to bash all their heads together and take off on his own. With any luck, Sam can get Dean and return to the bunker today; it's just four hours of driving in both directions. Sam wants it over because Sam isn't used to dealing with personnel problems. That's Dean's area. He can smooth things over with a joke or a self-deprecating remark.
Besides, it's Dean and Sam needs him; he needs his brother back. Somehow when Dean is there, things just run more smoothly; Dean keeps the group together and working as a team. Sam figures it's a skill Dean learned and perfected from years of keeping Sam and John from coming to blows. Funny to think of his big brother as a peacemaker, but…if the shoe fits….
Cas and Charlie are still blaming each other for losing Dean. Kevin is being a brat, half-heartedly doing anything when he's asked to pitch in. Kevin's still pissed that Sam didn't complete the demon trials after all the work he did to translate the tablet; not that he wants Sam dead, but he really wants Crowley dead. Sam doesn't feel like it'll be safe to leave Cas to watch Kevin because Castiel has been very vocal about wanting Crowley dead too. That leaves Charlie, who's new and unsure of herself. Sam guesses his best bet is to leave Kevin and Charlie here – with orders not to kill Crowley – and take the former angel with him.
As he informs the little group of their assignments, Sam can't help sounding stressed. "Kevin, please research the witch's Loup Garou spell, so we can figure out how to undo what's been done to Dean. And nobody kill anyone here until we get back – so don't forget to feed and water Crowley…" Sam trails off in the face of Kevin's smirk and Cas's scowl. But Charlie assures Sam that she'll take care of things.
"Sam, just go find Dean. I think we'll all feel better when we know that your brother's okay." Charlie says, hoping to ease some of the worry on Sam's face. "I'll keep your prisoner alive and help Kevin with the research."
By eight a.m., Sam and Cas are heading southeast, the big Chevy chewing up the miles. Sam is driving, and he gives Castiel his cellphone. "Keep trying Missouri's number, Cas."
. . . . . . .
Missouri sees the big black car pull up outside of her house as she finishes tossing the salad and sets it on the table near fried chicken, potato salad, homemade biscuits, and a weeping cold pitcher of fresh-squeezed lemonade. She wipes her hands on the dish towels and takes off her apron, hanging it beside the back door before opening it to call Dean in. He had insisted on mowing and was just finishing up. "Dean? I've got lunch on the table, and your brother is here. Get on in and wash up."
For fairness sake, Sam gets a scolding for not keeping in touch before he gets a hug from Missouri, but all Castiel gets is a puzzled frown. "Well, come in, but I'm not quite sure what to make of you," the older woman says. "Real psychics, well, there just aren't that many of us. We're a community, and Pamela was my friend."
Castiel feels a familiar grip of guilt clench his heart. There is so much of his past that he regrets, and so many strong emotions he has to deal with now that he's human. Apologizing for having blinded Pamela Barnes is just a tiny portion of that. But before Cas gets a chance to apologize, Dean walks into the room. He stands in the doorway looking between the two men in suits near Missouri.
One is extremely tall with chestnut hair and hazel eyes, the other just a little shorter than he is with dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes. Both turn to stare at him, worry lines bringing their brows together. Dean feels panic rise from his chest to his throat. Ever since Missouri had told him his brother was coming to get him, Dean had been hoping things would be better as soon as he had a family again. That it would jog his memory, help him at least understand how he lost it to begin with. Now he realizes that it isn't going to be that easy.
In a voice made more gruff with emotion, Dean says, "Umm, hello?" He pauses and finishes drying his hands. "Well, this is awkward. I thought it would be easier, that I would know automatically, but….Which one of you is Sam, my brother?"
