Author's notes: And here I am again. Not the longest chapter, I know. I'm not updating fast, but it's just because I'm pretty busy and everything is a bit crazy lately. But I'm still spending my nights writing :))

Chapter 4

"Missouri, Sam? Seriously?" Dean gave him a long, expecting look, eyes narrowed suspiciously, and then shook his head like whatever you mean, I don't get it.

They were driving southwest leaving blistering cold and snow behind, watching the scenery change from unfriendly gray to vividly green and welcoming.

"Sure, Dean. She's still not answering her phone. Better check how's she doing." Sam shrugged. "Besides, I'm curious what that was all about after all."

"The house was haunted," Dean reminded him.

"Yeah, right, but it didn't look like it was harmful in any way. What if there was something that we missed?"

"Oh, come on, dude! Old pissed off lady sent a bronze vase right into your head! And she nearly got you. And the couch! She shredded it into… well, spaghetti! And… oh, that mirror in the hallway. It just blew up, just like that! Where is not harmful in that?"

"We wanted to force her out of her house, Dean," Sam pointed out. "No wonder she got mad."

"We didn't find a body, remember? She must still be there. We only calmed her down, sort of. I hope. If that thing you offered worked at all."

"There was no EMF," Sam reminded. "Not a trace."

"EMF," Dean mimicked him with a grimace. "It's not a sure thing, you know. There was no EMF even when the things were flying around."

"Yeah, whatever. What I mean it that it wasn't as harmful as… well, then, you know." Another shrug followed.

"Thank God," Dean muttered.

"She wasn't aggressive during the night, you told it yourself."

"Yeah, she wasn't until…" He trailed off, and then, "Oh, crap!" when realization struck him.

Bela. Of course. Couldn't keep her sticky fingers away from… whatever she took. Was it a kleptomania or what? Dean winced. Strange that he didn't think about it earlier because it seemed so damn obvious now. Mrs. what's-her-name was rather friendly until Bela left, and it only meant that…

"What?"

"What?"

"Oh, crap. What was that about?"

"Nothing," Dean shook his head. "You're probably right. Guess we overlooked something."

But Missouri… Meaning, visiting Missouri, face to face and everything. It was something different than just following her lead. And they both knew that it wasn't idle curiosity, and not even concern for an old friend of their father that made Sam insist so passionately on the trip. Well, not only at least because the fact that she wasn't picking up her phone bothered Dean as well. It was another crazy hope of Sam's. Another lead to the dead end, that Dean was sure of.

The idea of visiting Missouri occurred to him not once, and not even twice since that day. He was determined to die if required. Determined to do practically anything to save his brother, like their dad once saved him, and because it was his job to take care of Sam, no matter what. But he could admit to himself – and no himself only, despite of all things he was saying – that he never gave up hoping. Never was keen on accepting inevitable death. Not such kind of death. He didn't want to die. And as long as he didn't know for sure he could hope…

Missouri and her psychic abilities could have put an end to everything. He longed to go and find out, and yet he feared to face the truth. She wouldn't lie if he asked her directly. Not in a situation like this. Dean could easily imagine her soft voice and sad eyes and sympathetic expression of the face and "I'm sorry". That's why it's been six months now, and he never called her, not once. Still so not ready to surrender. Couldn't imagine living through another day if the answer was "No".

"I'm sorry about yesterday, Dean," Sam's voice broke through his thoughts.

Confused, Dean blinked, "About what?" wondering if Sam kept on talking while he was busy preparing for his own death and he missed the whole thing.

"It was Christmas Eve yesterday, you know." Considerate enough not to mention the word last. "I probably shouldn't have left you alone."

Dean chuckled. "And we're two family holidays fans!" On a snort. "Normally we wouldn't even notice it, unless Grinch decided to steal Christmas for real and we needed to catch this green jerk. No need to make a fuss about it, Sammy. "

San smirked, then stared out the windshield at the road that seemed pretty endless at that point. "Well, yeah, but you know… It was fun, back then when we kids." His lips quirked into a smile as if on the will of their own. "Remember dad sneaking into… um, well, mostly they were motel rooms, with a handful of gifts. Tired and yet happy that he made it in time. When he was making it to us at all of course," he added ruefully.

"Yeah," Dean's features softened as memories from the past started flashing before his mind's eye. "I remember that you believed that Santa Clause was real until you turned nine." He gave Sam a I-can't-friggin'-believe-it-that-this-guy-is-my-brother sidelong look. "Good thing that you haven't been much to school, you know, with us traveling and everything. You'd be such a jerk!"

"Hey!" Sam protested. "I knew the monsters were real. I had more reasons to believe that Santa existed too than any other average kid."

"Oh, sure," Dean drawled, and then sighed, sadly and good-naturedly. "It was a great time all the same."

Sam nodded, both of them thinking one and the same thing – the key word was was, and it was hardly possible to bring good times back again. Dean was going to die in only half a year, and the next Christmas Sam would spend all on his own, regardless. Grasping at straws, that's what it was, this whole trip. Grasping at memories, too. Half a year was nothing compared with the whole life he could have had instead. And the worst part of it was that the time was flying faster than ever before. Each day seemed shorter than the previous one, and there was no way to slow it down. No way!

Dean raised the volume of the radio and leaned back into the softened leather of the seat, humming something under his breath, his healthy hand resting leisurely on the steering wheel.

The whole situation – miles behind and miles ahead, Sam on the passenger's seat staring out the window at the peaceful countryside, never knowing what could be waiting for them in the end – was as normal and familiar to him as daily routine of working nine to five was to most people. It felt familiar, as if it was something constant. Something that never could change. Only now Dean caught himself on the thought that he was attempting to see something that he'd never seen before, memorize as many details as he only could knowing perfectly in the back of his mind that it might as well be the last time he was following this route.

He hated thinking about it.

"You okay, Dean?"

Sam's unexpected question made him wonder whether he'd given himself away.

"Sure," lightly and with a smirk. "Why?"

Sam hesitated. "You look… upset." He paused. "Listen, if it is about holidays, we can think something out, what do you think? It's not too late yet."

"Aw, come on!" Dean rolled his eyes. "I'm fine, dude, really! Like I care about all this freakin' fluff stuff. Please!" He made a funny face. "Besides, we've got things to do." His hand left steering wheel for half a second to thump Sam in the shoulder. "We can arrange turkey if you insist though."

Sam didn't look entirely convinced. Perhaps it was overly cheerful carefree that screwed everything up, Dean guessed. Yet, Sam responded with a rather wry grin, "Sure."

***

The house looked exactly the way it looked two years ago. Two-storied, fresh painted, with a small porch and rocking chair on it although it was almost impossible to imagine Missouri sitting in it and enjoying herself. The only seasonal additions were a string of lights snaking around the porch poles and a Christmas wreath on the door, a contrast between bright green and red made it look even more cheerful.

The door burst open before either of them could knock as if Missouri was standing right behind it waiting for them to come up these four steps.

"The Winchester boys." Hands pressed to her breast in silent awe, she smiled kindly, eyes darting between the brothers. "What a pleasant surprise!"

Was it? Wasn't she supposed to know they'd drop in?

"Hey there, Missouri!"

"Hello, Missouri!"

They beamed like two Christmas gifts wrapped in shining foil, sincere to the core, lips stretched from ear to ear.

The three of them watched each other appraisingly for a long moment. "Sorry for showing up like that, unannounced and everything." Sam cleared his throat. Put apologetic smile on his face.

"Don't be ridiculous, Sam Winchester! You're always welcome to my house." She seemed to be insulted by his excuses.

"Thank God you're okay," Sam breathed out then, relieved.

"Why wouldn't I be?" She frowned.

"But you… you never answered the phone after we talked," he gave her studying once-over as if looking for something. For injures probably. "We were worried."

Missouri's crumpled forehead smoothing by the end of the phrase, small smile returned to her face.

"I guess I owe you an apology here," she sighed. "I'm sorry. I should have known you'd react like that." Looked at them in turns. "It was awfully rude of me not to find a way to contact the two of you again." Eyes moved to Sam then, and she explained. "There was a storm. It damaged phone lines. I'm afraid I'm still isolated from the rest of the world. Sort of."

Dean smacked Sam in the arm and gave him a I told you! look; brows arched high and an expression of a serial killer in search for a new victim on his face.

Not that he was entirely opposed to the visit but his worries about his nearest future and most likely imminent death and Missouri probably knowing how this future and his death were connected to each other kinda ruined the whole joy of finding their friend pretty much alive and in one piece. He tried not to think about it.

"I am really glad you came though." Missouri stepped forward, arms thrust open, and gave them a bear hug, squeezing them so tight in her embrace that they cringed.

"Thanks," Sam muttered trying to count his possibly broken ribs.

She patted him on the cheek with motherly expression on her face and then gave a long apprehensive look to Dean, brows furrowed. "How is your wound going, honey?"

She knew. Of course she knew. How could she not? Well, at least he made sure that her abilities were still working.

"Fine… hm, great!" On his best smile ever, feeling Sam watching him, too.

Missouri's smile widened. She nodded in appreciation. "I see your friend did a good job then."

"A… friend?" Sam blinked in misunderstanding and stared at Dean.

"A friend?" Dean blinked, too, and started at Missouri, his jaw dropped for better effect, all innocent surprise. "You mean that… ghost there? Yeah, I guess." Smile widened.

Missouri tilted her head to the side, one brow shot up, something that Dean would most likely miss in any other situation. He could practically feel her in his thoughts.

"Oh, where are my manners!" She shook her head with deep self-disappointment, and then grabbed the brothers by their arms and dragged them inside on wholehearted, "Come on in!" And it was a miracle that the three of them didn't get stuck in the narrow entrance hallway.

She slammed the door behind them, not at all uncomfortable with a rush hour in the corridor. Looked at Sam then. "There's beer in the fridge," on a vague wave of a hand. "Feel free to help yourself with a bottle, Sam."

He got the dismissal in the gesture and disappeared in the depths of the house without a word. Obviously, Missouri wanted to have a word with Dean in private.

"And grab one for your brother," she called after him and then turned to Dean. "You go with me now, boy. We have to talk."

She pushed him into the living room and gestured towards the couch with a whole ton of cushions on top of it. Lowered herself into the old and cozy-looking armchair in front of him.

Smile still where it was meant to be, Dean slumped backwards nearly drowning in the softness. He tried to look casual but his eyes were mostly wandering around the room, sliding along the walls instead of looking at the woman who, he could feel it, was watching him intensely. Tried to keep his mind blank, too. One on one with the only person who could give him the answers to his questions, Dean regretted by the second that Sam retreated so cowardly and left him alone to deal with all this mess. He was even less sure now that he wanted to hear whatever Missouri had to say than he was before.

"What the hell do you think you've done, Dean Winchester?" Missouri leaned forward across low coffee-table. Her voice was a hiss, loud enough for him to hear anger and disapproval, but yet too quiet for Sam to catch a sound, if only he wasn't standing right at the door.

Dean eyes anything but popped out of his scull. "What do you mean?" He leaned forward, too, confused and wondering. Tried to recall what she could be referring to. They've been here for what? Five minutes? Less? Too little time to give reasons for such reaction, unless it was the initial intention, and since it wasn't nothing came to his mind.

"I wonder how you could screw everything up like that," she rolled her eyes.

"Listen, Missouri, I know that you know everything, but if you mean the deal…"

"Don't you fool with me, boy," she interrupted him, snorting. "You've got your brother for that. I mean, what exactly did you do to scare poor girl away?"

A girl?! Dean blinked.

And then…

Oh. Oh…

"Bela," he chuckled and leaned back again. Looked out the window first, then at his hands clenched on his lap and then at Missouri again. She was right. There was no point to pretend around her if she could easily find out whatever she wanted to know just by looking into his head.

Missouri looked satisfied with the fact that he caught the train of her thought without further pretences. Her eyes were sad though as if she really meant it when she said that he screwed everything up, whatever it was. And Dean suddenly felt tired and weary and… and he just wanted this all to be over. Wondered if he could afford a week of sleep and move on then like there was no deal and no nothing. Just pretend that the damn thing did not exist until… then. Until his time came.

"You know about the deal, right?" He sighed after a while, before Sam was back. One more person to persuade that he knew what he was doing when he agreed for one year only? No, thanks! Skeptical Sam was more than enough. It seemed to Dean sometimes that Sam seriously thought that somebody forced his brother into signing the contract, figuratively speaking.

Missouri nodded. "And I'm not going to tell you that it was the wrong decision."

"Thanks," Dean smiled wryly. And then, "Did you… did you have a vision about me or something?" Barely in a whisper and knowing that he had to know. Now. "It's not that I'm trying to make it out, no. It's just… Is there anything--?"

She frowned. "It's not working like this, boy." Her voice was soft and endlessly kind. "You did the right thing, and it is going to stay right for as long as you believe that it was right. And trust me, it really counts for something. But it doesn't mean that you have to be all on your own in that."

He got the hint.

"Bela is kinda the last company I'd prefer to spend my time with," he smirked. Had to look away as if a row of pictures on the wall caught his attention all of a sudden since it was easy to keep his mind shut to everything that he actually thought and felt about Bela without meeting Missouri's peering gaze.

"I'm not talking about company, Dean," Missouri insisted. "I'm talking about help."

"Gotta agree with that," he conceded her point with a nonchalant shrug. "She can easily help me to get used to hell. Or," he continued hurriedly when he saw that she was about to object, "she can even make me anticipate the death. Is that the point?" Okay, maybe that was too harsh. She was worried after all. He could see that her concern was genuine. But there was also some… regret in her eyes and Dean had a strong belief that he knew what it was about, and honestly, he didn't want to talk about it, or hear her say the words out loud. He knew it from the start. "There's nothing, right?"

"Look, Dean…"

"No, it's okay, really. Not that I didn't know it."

"Can I finish, please? I know you're upset, but your manners…What would your father say?"

Dean could easily imagine a word or two, or ten.

"This lady friend of yours… she can help."

He snickered at the word friend and ignored lady. It was hardly applicable to the person they were talking about. Missouri didn't know Bela well enough, or at all, hopefully, so he let it pass.

"How?"

"I don't know," she said honestly. "It's not like I ask a question and get an answer, dear." She wished it was that easy though, Dean could see it on Missouri's face. "It's a little bit more complicated I'm afraid."

"It is very complicated." He grimaced. "If you know about the deal, you must know that details as well. Like that Sam's going to get killed if I try to look for a way to wiggle out." He peered intensely at her face, determination in his eyes and a hint of desperation in his voice. "How can I even think about it, Missouri? But the kid just wouldn't understand."

Her brows furrowed in disappointment. "You can be as stubborn as your father, Dean Winchester." Which sounded more like accusation than comment. "Only because I don't see anything… specific about you doesn't mean that there is nothing at all, no hope. And if no one ever was persistent enough to succeed, it does not mean that it's impossible." And after a pause, "I had a better opinion of you."

It was embarrassing but he felt that he was going to blush. Thank God, Sam got stuck in the kitchen – the sounds of life coming from the outer reaches of the house assured Dean that his little brother wasn't eavesdropping on his sweet conversation with Missouri. Her reprimanding tone made him feel ashamed.

"Oh, don't tell me that the whole house thing was about…" He ran his hand through his hair. Shook his head in disbelief. "Jesus. Couldn't you just call me and tell about Bela?"

"So that you could run away?"

"Probably. Self-preservation, see."

"Well, what are you going to do, boy? Sit around and wait for them to come for you?"

"Yes, Missouri, exactly!" He faced her again. "I have the colt, and all I can do not to make things worse is to sit and wait and hope that I will have a chance and enough time to shoot whoever will come to drag me down before they got me. That's it. End of story."

Wasn't as easy as he hoped. He knew what Missouri was going to say because – c'mon! – it was the only possible thing. But it felt like a punch in the gut all the same. Everything felt oddly meaningless now. Freaking hard to pretend that the world was bright and shining when you know what to wait for in the end. No one was lucky enough to come across solution so far. He knew that but kept his hopes up nonetheless, despite everything. And it suddenly turned out that he hoped much more than he was willing to admit even to himself. Fuck, it was so much worse than he feared! Like if he was living on medical ventilation and someone just came and turned it off. Yes, he knew that it was something inevitable, but when it happened it felt like it happened way too soon all the same.

Missouri must have read what he was thinking about on his face. Or in his mind most likely, since he stopped trying to keep her out. Her own face softened momentarily.

"If it is any consolation, my boy," she patted him on the hand, "it was meant to happen. Don't blame yourself or anyone else. It's just destiny. Some things about it can't be changed. But our future is still in our own hands. Remember about it." She paused, tentative eyes studying his face.

"Seriously, Missouri, we came because we were worried, not because of…" he trailed off, cleared his throat and waved his hand like you know what I mean.

"I'm glad that you came, Dean, no matter what the reason was. Both of you. And one more thing," she waiting till his attention was all hers, "people are not always who they want to seem."

He shrugged with pretended indifference. Dead end. He didn't want Bela involved. Besides, there was perhaps no way on Earth he could afford her help, and she definitely had no other reasons to participate in saving his pure soul. Missouri had already been mistaken once in the past when she thought that the spirit was out of their house the last time they worked together. She could be mistaken now, too. God, how could Bela possibly help? Insane!

"Just promise me that you will at least think about it," Missouri insisted when he didn't say anything.

Dean heard Sam's footsteps in the corridor, obviously approaching, and nodded quickly. "Sure," swearing to dear God to erase whatever he had just heard from his mind as soon as he was out of this house.

Sam hovered in the doorway a bit longer than necessary as if assessing whether he was interrupting something important. A glance of complete understanding between him and Missouri couldn't escape Dean's attention. Missouri nodded then to him – a gesture that was easy to miss; Sam didn't though – and he made his way into the living room to take a seat on the couch beside Dean.

"Thanks, Sammy," Dean grabbed a bottle of ice-cold beer and took a swig. "Missouri's been filling me in here on how the things have been going lately," he lied lightly. Ignored Missouri's barely audible hem, which was hard to interpret. Sounded very much like disagreement. "We just moved on to her latest request." Gave her a meaningful look. "Right?"

"Oh, really?" Sam didn't sound at all thrilled, as if he knew that it wasn't true. But he looked expectedly at Missouri all the same.

"So, you were saying that someone could get hurt if we didn't ask this old lady to free her residence," Dean prompted. "Yeah?"

"Absolutely," she nodded, her voice pretty dry.

"See?" He turned to look at Sam and patted him on the back nearly sending his brother flying over the coffee table and out of the window. "We're damn heroes again!" And beamed.

"Dean, stop it, okay?" Sam shook his head not buying his artificial excitement. Tired eyes fixed on Missouri's grave face.

"It's nothing, Sam," Dean looked down at his beer. "I told you it was nothing. I'm going to die," he breathed out so heavily that it was almost impossible to make out the words.

"No, you're not! Ruby…"

"Oh, spare me, please!"

"She said there was something…"

"No, Sam, she didn't say anything. Except for a bunch of lies, which you were so eager to buy. And… she's a demon, for God's sake!" Dean's grip on the bottle was so tight that his knuckles turned white. "Give me a reason – one freaking reason! – why would she want to help us. Huh? Why would she need to have me alive at all?" Sam dropped his eyes. "That's the thing, Sammy."

Missouri's face was enough to answer all Sam's unasked questions. He looked absolutely destroyed, crashed. Aged. All hoped gone with a poof! and only desperation was left behind. It felt like they were going through the desert for days, led by palm-trees of beautiful oasis ahead only to find out in the end that it was a mirage. Emptiness. Nothing.

Dean threw a quick look at Sam's frozen form out of the corner of his eye feeling terribly sorry for his ruined hopes as if it was his fault that his brother didn't hear what he wanted to hear. The whole thing was even more difficult for Sam, he realized. His hopes were stronger. He believed when Dean preferred to stay realistic. And now he was left defeated by the enemy that couldn't be beaten, which made Dean wish once again that he'd found a way to keep his deal secret from his brother. Knew that Sam would never forgive him for that but it was worth it. Dean wondered if this new knowledge was going to change Sam's determination and felt an overwhelming relief from the fact that it wasn't bloody likely that they'd ever trade places.

Having to die so his brother could live – in Dean's opinion it was a fair trade.

And then all of a sudden he decided that he didn't regret coming here. Speaking of things he'd never do again or people he'd never see, it seemed awfully rude to die without saying goodbye to Missouri. He owed her after all, one way or another.

"Whatever you say, Dean," he breathed out, voice too low for Missouri to catch it.

"Everything quiet here?" Dean broke the silence after a while since it turned out that he was the reason of it and now he felt responsible for changing it somehow.

"In your department – definitely!" Missouri laughed easily and lightly; a skill perfected by years of practice and all these times when she had to deliver bad news. It sounded nice all the same. "But you're welcome to stay for as long as you want." She looked at the two of them in turns.

Sam and Dean exchanged glances.

"You know what?" She stood up and gave each of them another speculative look. "For all the trouble I caused I owe you at least one good home mean. You wouldn't dare to insult me by refusing to stay for dinner. It's holidays after all."

Dean nodded, smiling. Ice broken, he felt quite comfortable again, glad that the most difficult part was over and now they could move on to something more pleasant. Something that wasn't a hamburger in a cheap gas-station diner. Even if he got half of what he optimistically hoped for it would still be worth making all this way here. And wasn't it the best time to start appreciating small joys?

Sam smiled weakly, and nodded, too.

To be continued…

Comments are always appreciated :)) Hope you will tell me what you think now that you made it this far anyway.