The Morningway Agenda

by strange oblivion

AU crossover with The Dresden Files. What if John lost Dean and Sammy after the events seen in flashback in Something Wicked? What if Mary was a Morningway? How would the lives of Dean, Sammy and Harry Dresden be different? This is AU on all accounts

7. Chapter 7

Two years. It had been two years since Melissa. That one name encompassed a whole big scheme of things, really. Things Dean really tried not to think about. So he was forced to distract himself. With the company. With the hunt. He'd be gone for weeks at a time on a hunt, the skills Justin had hired people to teach him coming in handy. Learning on the job, much like with the business. And he had the scars to prove it too. Medals of honor for the most part, of another hunt survived and won.

Whole rooms in the mansion were turned into weapon rooms. Research rooms. Artifact rooms. He kept an eye on the market, for anything that might come up for sale, legally or illegally, relics of different cultures with supernatural meanings and symbology. It was important. At least to him.

He made sure to talk to Harry and Sam, they worried too much. Way too much. But he let them know he was okay, made them think he was having the time of his life. Which, well, he was.

This was what his father had raised him to be, and it was something that Justin had only forged. Sure, Morgan was probably trying to find a loophole to kill him or something, but so far the warden hadn't been able to do anything. Which was too bad, because Dean would have liked to get into something with Morgan. Something guaranteed to be painful.

There was one creature he'd never been able to get a bead on, and that was the one that killed his father. He didn't want to do it. He really didn't. It was all ways of wrong, since it was his father. But finally, after so many dead ends, he came to Bob with the urn containing his father's ashes.

"I need to know what killed him." He said, setting the urn on the table.

Bob looked from Dean to the urn and sighed a little. Not his usual petulant sigh, something more... sympathetic. "I can only show you what he looked like at the moment of death, Dean. It may or may not tell you what you need to know, and it's almost guaranteed to be ... unpleasant."

Dean steeled himself. "If I can see the wounds, I might be able to identify the creature." He said. "Just...do it." He knew what Bob was going to show him would not be how he'd like to remember his father, but it was necessary. If it were gruesome enough, might even give him even more drive.

Bob nodded and reached within to touch the remains. His image glowed a moment, then transformed into a tallish blond man, with narrow shoulders and a bullet hole in his forehead.

Dean stared at the image for a long moment. Shock apparent on his face. "That's not my father." He said softly as Bob returned to his normal appearance. "Bob, that's not my father. My father had dark hair, and huge shoulders...hold on I have a picture." He said, going through his wallet for a folded up and faded picture of himself, Sam and their father. He showed it to Bob. "What you just showed me, that's not my father." He didn't know how to take this. For fifteen years he thought his father was dead. That his father's ashes were interred. But whoever was in those ashes, that wasn't his father. "I should sit." He said and went to Harry's fridge. "He have any beer anywhere?"

"Yes, he has some... if that isn't your father... It is possible that your father... is ... still alive."

Dean shut the fridge at that and went through the cabinets, finding a bottle of Jack Daniels. This was a liquor moment. "Still alive." Dean repeated. Another thing he didn't know how to take. His carefully compartmentalized world was starting to crumble. "I gotta go to California."

"It's only a possibility, Dean." Bob said. "Justin knew the people that were caring for you and your brother before you came to us. It's possible it was a set up... but it is equally possible Justin produced a body to give you closure. He sincerely cared for you."

"Did he?" Dean shot back. A lot of things in his life were in flux right now, a weird limbo zone, if his father was truly still alive. "Or was it just to get to Sam and all that magic mumbo jumbo? The guy was into the black arts, doesn't that mean he's evil or something, at least according to you guys?"

"Even an evil soul is capable of love." Bob said. "After all... I loved very deeply once upon a time, and it was my grimoire that your uncle used for his darkest magic. His motives were impure, but if there were not affection, genuine affection, your lives would have been very different."

"Fine, fine. I get that." He said. "But I'm going on the assumption that either my father is alive, or Justin had something to do with his death. Because right now, that's how it's looking. Tell Harry, I finished all his Jack, I'll get him some more when I get back from California."

"How do you think Samuel is going to take this news?" Bob asked, concerned for the two of them. "Perhaps you should wait for Harry to return."

"I'm good." Dean said. "I'm gonna drive out there, I need the road trip, clear my head. Figure out some way to prove it one way or the other."

"Do you remember any of your father's former associates?" Bob asked. "Perhaps they would know one way or another."

"I was really young, it wasn't like we spent holidays and celebrations with them." Dean said. "There was Bobby, Pastor Jim, Caleb, Joshua...I don't know their last names. And some of them, like Joshua, I don't even really know where they lived."

"If this Pastor Jim was actually a clergyman, he might be the easiest to track down." Bob suggested.

"I'll look into it." Dean said. "Won't be that hard if he were an actual priest, right?" He sighed and put the bottle in the garbage. "Thanks, Bob."

"I'm glad I could help. Be careful out there." This was different than merely hunting down the monsters people refused to believe existed. This was hunting down their father... and once more drawing the attention of the demon that killed their mother.

"Will do." Dean said as he left. Packed a bag and drove to California. The people at the company, they weren't happy, but they were used to somewhat erratic behavior from their young CEO. After all, he was 26. Some erratic behaviors were expected. Besides, he had his lap top and his cell phone. Even if Donald was the only one that could get ahold of him. He drove to California, quickly. He made good time, but still pulled up in front of Sam's apartment in the middle of the night.

All the lights were out, which meant Dean would just have to wake him up, as he picked the lock and came in. No noises, good, he was sleeping and not doing something else, like having sex.

Sam's eyes opened. He heard someone out in the living room, and it wasn't Jess. He got up and pulled on his jeans, tucking his wand into the back pocket as he quietly made his way across the floor, and peered out the door, before slipping out into the hall.

He followed the sounds into his living room, spying the intruder in the shadows and approached slowly. Cautiously.

Dean cocked his head when his brother made a floor board creak. And ducked behind a corner. Despite the reason he came, this was nearly fun as he waited, counted silently, and jumped Sam in the dark.

Sam hit the floor with disturbing ease, but rolled out of his attackers grasp. His wand was in his hand instantly and the tip glowed brightly as Dean went flying backwards, into the wall.

Dean hit the wall with a loud 'son of a bitch!' "That's cheating!" He called out.

"Dean?" Sam asked getting off the floor. "What the hell are you doing here? Are you alright?"

Dean picked himself off the floor he had slid to and shook himself out. "Ran out of beer." He said, as if that explained driving from Chicago to Palo Alto. "Got one?"

Sam looked at his brother as though he had sprouted a second head. "You are telling me you came from Chicago to raid my fridge? Dude, what potions have you been getting into?"

"All right, all right. We gotta talk." Dean said. "I was going to let you sleep and camp out on your couch, but you decided to go all protective. In a completely weak way too...I wasn't even trying very hard."

"No but you hit the wall pretty hard." Sam said as he went to get them two beers from the fridge. "So what is it you needed to talk to me about? Must be important to bring you all the way out here."

"What? I can't drive across country on a whim to beat my baby brother up?" Dean said with a grin as he took his beer. Then he got serious. "Yeah, it's important. I was trying to get a hit on the thing that killed Dad...I took his ashes out of burial...those ashes aren't Dad. Positively not him. Bob did his thing."

"What?" Sam asked in confusion. "Not Dad... but why... what does that mean?" He sank down onto the sofa. "Does that mean he wasn't salted and burned and could be out there haunting? Does it mean he's alive?" He didn't want to think about alternatives. That their father had told those people to lie and say he was dead because he didn't want them, or that he just didn't come back and they assumed he was dead. Had Justin had something to do with his disappearance or death? Too many questions with unpleasant answers.

"I don't know." Dean said. "All I know is those weren't his ashes. I did some leg work, remember that friend of Dad's, Pastor Jim? I think I tracked him down. Do you have any idea how many priests and reverends there are named James?" Dean shook his head, but he narrowed it down to priest, he remembered the Roman collar the man had worn. And remembered, after deep thought and a lot of whisky, the general area of his church. Now he had a name and an address. "Thought we could go talk to him."

Sam took a deep breath. "Okay... where is it? I have to be back here on Monday morning... I have an interview with the dean of admissions, about getting into Law School." He had come through pre-law at the top of his class and pretty much aced his exams. It was still a matter of passing the interview. "It's at 10am."

"Ten am. Okay, we'll be back before then." Dean said. "Promise. We're just going to talk to Pastor Jim, if it's the right one anyway, see what he knows and go from there. No matter what bombshell he drops on us, we might need a breather after that anyway. So I'll have you back in time for that. But we'd have to leave right now."

"Okay, let me go pack and let Jess know what's going on." Sam said. He had no idea how he was going to explain it. He wasn't sure how he felt about it, hadnt had time to process it.

He went back into the bedroom and sat down beside Jess and gently nudged her awake. "Baby wake up, we need to talk."

"What?" Jess said, waking up slowly. She was a deep sleeper. She'd nearly roused at the sound of Dean hitting the wall, but figured it was the neighbors or something. "Baby, what's wrong?" She looked at the clock. "Sam, it's three in the morning."

"Yeah, I know. Dean is here." He said as he took her hand, needing the comfort her presence gave. His mind was whirling and his emotions were spiraling even faster as he tried to process it all.

Jess sat up a bit more. "Your brother is here? In our apartment. In the middle of the night. Is he okay? This is beyond drunk dialing. Is it Harry?"

"He's okay... they both are... " Sam took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He explained what Dean had come to tell him. "I'm gonna go with him to see Pastor Jim. I'll be back in time for the interview with the Dean."

"Sam, this interview is a real big deal." Jess said. "And, okay, it's completely in character for Dean to be all impulsive, but not you. I'm sure there's a whole other explanation."

"I know it's a big deal. That's why I am going to be sure to make it back in time. But I have to know. There is no way I could concentrate on the meeting until I know what happened to my dad. Hunters talk. If anyone would know it would be Jim. He and this other guy named Bobby are probably the only friends my father managed to have. He should know. I'll be back by Monday morning if I have to fly back on my own. I promise. I can't let Dean go deal with this alone."

Jess sighed. "All right. All right, I get it." She said. "You and Dean try to have a little fun, all right? I'll be here."

"I'll call you as soon as I know anything." He promised and leaned in to kiss her gently. 10 minutes later he was joining his brother in the living room, bag in hand. "Let's go."

"Okay." Dean said. "I really appreciate you coming with." Dean said, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand as they headed down to the Impala. He had no idea what Jim was going to say. If it was him.

It was a long drive, and the discussion along the way was their father. What they remembered about the people he knew, what they remembered about him. In Sam's case, it wasn't as much as he would have liked. He barely remembered the man at all. He remembered feeling loved, up until he left them. Remembered the hunt, although he remembered Dean trying to protect him from that knowledge too. When he thought of that period of his life, most of what he remembered was Dean.

Dean remembered a lot more, and he had a hero worship for their father, even still. Even as much as he tried to hide it in his voice. John was the be all and end all of heroes. But they pulled up in front of the church just as people were filing in for mass. Dean winced.

"Crap, we're going to have to sit in a church." He said. "Sit still in a church." He clarified. He was never good at that.

"We can go in, see if it's him... if not we leave, go get drunk and drive back to Cali in the morning." Sam said. If it was, they could sit there and try not to hurl as their nerves and questions rolled around in their stomachs, get their answers and THEN go get drunk and drive back to Cali the next morning.

Dean nodded and they found a seat in one of the last pews. The moment the priest stepped up to the pulpit, Dean elbowed his brother. "That's him. It's him. I remember the voice." They didn't have a good enough view for visual recognition, and it had been over fifteen years anyway. NOW Dean thought he was going to hurl.

Sam's knee bounced through out the service, hands toying with whatever book was in reach. He was nervous. He didn't remember Pastor Jim as much as he remembered the idea of him. He knew that was who they were to call if something went wrong and their father didn't come back. Knew that they had spent time with him in the past. A five year old's memories were quite distant to a 23 year old man.

Dean twitched and squirmed throughout the service. But he became rock still when Pastor Jim led the recessional out of the church. He was older than Dean thought he would be. But the ever benevolent expression was still intact. The two brothers continued to sit as everyone else filed out, greeted the priest, and left. Leaving them in an empty church waiting for the priest to come back inside.

Pastor Jim came back into the church and paused seeing the two young men seated at the back of the church. He had never seen them in his church before, but there was something strangely familiar about them. "Can I help you?" He asked quietly.

Dean opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. Realized that he didn't want to know. Not really. Maybe a little. Okay, he did. But whatever came out of this man's mouth had the potential to turn his entire reality on its head. He wasn't sure he was ready for that. So instead he stood up. "Nah, it was a mistake." He said. "Come on, Sam. We gotta go."

Sam didn't budge. "Hi." He said instead. "I'm Sam Winchester and this is my brother Dean... we ... we think we used to know you." He said extending his hand to the clergyman.

Jim shook Sam's hand in an automatic gesture as he paled as his eyes went wide. "Winchester?" He repeated. "As in John Winchester?" He looked in shock between the two brothers, yes, now he could see John in them. "Dear God in Heaven..." He breathed out. "I have to sit." He said, releasing Sam's hand and sitting in the pew in front of them, turning so as to look at them. "Dean and Sam...I never thought I'd see you two again."

"So you do know us?" Dean said, sitting back down. His chest felt like there was a huge rock in it that he couldn't make go away as he looked at the priest. "What happened to our father?"

"Your father... well..." He said and took a deep breath. "After you two went missing you father... well he went a little crazy for time. Which he was never the most stable of men. At least not after your mother was killed. He searched for you boys for a couple years, until they found the people that had taken you. With them dead we feared the worst. There was no way to track you after that. Eventually he threw himself back into the hunt even harder than before. He hasn't kept in contact with any one in a long time. Keeps to himself, I think Bobby Singer sees more of him than anyone and that's a rare occurrence. " He couldn't believe he was actually looking at the Winchester boys. It was all so surreal. "Come back to the rectory with me." He said. "I think this conversation calls for something a little more substantial than communion wine."

Dean followed mutely behind. This was a bombshell. Their father was a live. He looked at Sam as they headed to the rectory. "So you have no idea where he is?" He asked as Pastor Jim found his vodka.

"I haven't heard from him in two years." He said apologetically as he poured a belt into three glasses.

"What about Bobby? Do you have any idea how to get in touch with him?" Sam asked.

"I haven't spoken to Bobby in years myself but he's still where he always was, don't think he will ever move on." He took a drink, exhaling slowly. "I'll get that for you when you leave. There's a road house that Ellen Harvelle runs. Alot of hunters come through there. Someone there might have seen your father as well.Or at least know what he was hunting last. " He shook his head. "Where have you two been all this time?"

"Chicago." Dean said. "We were told by those people, Erin and Tom, that he was dead." It was all too much conspiracy like for Dean's taste. "So we've been in Chicago pretty steadily since then. We did good, we're holding our own."

Sam wondered at why Dean was being so closed about it all, but he supposed he didn't blame him. "Look ahm... could you put the word out that we're looking for him? Or maybe that you're looking for him instead. Don't know that he would believe we're alive just on some random grapevine thing. "

"He probably won't." Pastor Jim agreed, in fact he could barely believe it himself. Though there were flashes of the children they were. Dean, standing ever so slightly in front of his brother, ready to shoulder him out of the way of harm. Sam with his curiosity and endless questions. The children that he had known were part of the men that they had become. "But I'll pass the message that I'm looking for him."

Dean nodded and wrote down his cell number. "And when he calls, call us." He said. Until then. he'd track his father along with everything else he was tracking.

Sam gathered up the information on Bobby Singer and the road house. "It was good to see you again." He told Jim and led the way out of the rectory and back to the car. He was even more confused than when he had walked in the door. He wasn't sure what to feel or think about it all.

Dean refused to think of anything at all. All this time their father was alive. It was too trippy. "I'll talk to Bobby." Dean said. "We have to get you back for your exam and Bobby's in the opposite direction."

Sam nodded. "It's an interview... aced the exam... " He was numb. "If ahm... he knows anything let me know and I'll fly out. " He didn't want Dean dealing with this on his own. It was far too much for either of them to deal with on thier own. He wasn't sure it wasn't too much to deal with together just yet.

"Oh. Okay." Dean said. "Either way, turn on the charm and the puppy dog eyes, and you'll ace the interview too. Might actually be easier than the test. You're a people person, Sam." He said with a chuckle. Filling space. Not leaving Sam room to ask how he felt about this. Because he didn't know. "So I'll go look up Bobby, see what he knows, then I don't know, maybe we'll leave it alone. I mean, we'll know he's alive. That should be enough, right?"

"Dean..." Sam said looking at his hands for a moment then back at his brother. "He thinks we're dead... I don't know... don't you think we ought to at least... talk to him?"

"And say what? Guess what, we're not dead?" Dean said as he went through his box of tapes with his free hand. "I'm not sure I have anything to say to the man...look, let's just see what Bobby has to say. I mean, Pastor Jim hasn't seen him in a couple of years, he could very well be dead. I'm not going to make any what if plans until I know."

"Dean... he came back for us... he had to have or he wouldn't have known that we were missing." Sam said. "I ... I at least want to see him. I don't know... just... He's our father. Whether we ever speak to him again after that, who knows."

"Sam, he couldn't have looked really hard. It's not like we've moved around when we were kids!" Dean shot back. He was hurt, because his father couldn't have looked very hard, which in Dean's mind meant he didn't want to. "Damn, my name's been all over the financial papers since Uncle Justin died...speaking of which, that was his brother in law. Sure they probably hated each other, but if he had come to the funeral at least..."

"Do you really see Dad reading the financial pages?" Sam asked. "Hell, do you see him reading anything that wasn't occult related? And how many funerals do you think Dad really goes to? That don't involve him salting and burning the corpse. What reason would he have had to go to Chicago? For all we know they led him in circles. It's what I want to find out. It's going to eat at me until I know."

"Fine, fine." Dean said, shaking his head. "Maybe he's got something on the demon that killed Mom. God knows I'm running into dead ends." Because he was going on a four year old's memory of that night. Which, while more complete and vivid a memory than any four year old should have, was still a memory of a four year old.

"Okay. Besides... if he didn't really look for us... wouldn't it be more satisfying to punch him in the nose then pretend that not talking to him is punishment enough?" Sam said with a laugh.

"Now, Sammy, you know that violence isn't the answer to everything." Dean said, imitating his brother's cadence. For that was Sam's mantra to Dean on more than one occasion. "But it would be a lot more satisfying. You're right. So we'll find him, surprise him, beat him up and leave. Once you get your interview overwith. He's not allowed to screw up your life."

Sam laughed. "Okay. Agreed. Jess would kill me if I let him screw things up. " He looked over at his brother and smiled. "I bought a ring."

Dean did a double take. "You bought a what?" He asked. "Whoa. That's...that's big, man." He said, grinning. "Now you just have to get her to say yes. Guess you better not miss the interview after all."

Sam smiled broadly. "Yeah... it's not like we have to work in order to pay the bills while going to school. We could get married anytime. " Sam had been having strange dreams the last few months. Things he couldn't explain that had him wanting to cement his future. Force it down the road he had chosen.

"Yeah, well, if you miss this interview, she'll kill you." Dean said. "And she doesn't strike me as a necro type, so guess you have to live after all. Her mother will probably take out a full paged ad in all the big newspapers about this too."

"Oh I know. Hoping to avoid telling her until oh... the week of the wedding." Sam said with a laugh, but knew that was completely unreasonable. "You know... it's scary. Most people worry about the mother in law not liking them... I think Branwen likes me too much. Or at least the bloodline."

"Oh she loves the bloodline. Makes me glad I'm a magical null zone. Keeps me off the radar of most of the matchmakers in the wizard community." Dean said. "I just gotta worry about debutantes who want me for my money."

"Money dates money, Dean. It's supposedly to prevent gold digging. Who knows? I'm just glad Jess isn't like her mother. She wouldn't have put up with me for this long if she were."

"Dude, you wouldn't have put up with her this long if she was." Dean said with a chuckle as they stopped for drive through and drove straight back to Palo Alto. "I'm gonna get a hotel, dude. Gotta hook up the lap top and go over some stuff for the company once in a while, right?" And Jess and Sam and his lap top in one place spelled trouble.

"Okay. Call me tomorrow." He said as he got out of the car, and grabbed his bag out of the back. "I'll let you know how the interview goes." He said his goodbyes and headed back up the stairs to their apartment.

"Jess?" He called out, as he set his bag down. "I'm home." He smiled seeing the plate of cookies and love note awaiting him. He walked toward his bedroom, barely able to keep his eyes open.

He lay down on the bed, and closed his eyes, hoping that Jess would be back before he drifted off. He twitched a little as the first droplets hit his face. He wiped at the next, opening his eyes.

"No!" He screamed out seeing Jessica pinned above him, blood dripping from an open would. "Jess!" He got out as the flames erupted around her.

Dean was driving toward the hotel, he got a block away from his brother's place when his radio started to conk out. He narrowed his eyes at it as he checked his cell phone. It was recieving a weak signal...

Something gnawed at the pit of his stomach, so he turned around and headed back to Sam's, pulling up just as he saw one of the windows break from flames on the inside. That was Sam's apartment!

He raced up the stairs, kicked in the door. Sam's bedroom was on fire. He followed the flames to Sam's room...

And saw Jess. Memories flashed in front of his eyes. And Dean did the same thing he had done twenty two years ago...

He grabbed his brother and ran. This time pulling him off the bed and dragging him out of the apartment, even as Sam protested and fought him.

"No!" Sam screamed hysterically as his brother pulled him out of the building. "Jess" He sobbed. "Oh god, Dean..."

Dean pulled and pushed and shoved his brother until Sam was in the front seat of the Impala. His father's words echoing in his head. 'Take your brother outside as fast as you can. Don't look back! Now, Dean! Go!'

It was still good advice as Dean dragged him into the hotel room. Dean started pacing. And it just got faster as he realized it was past midnight. He pulled out a bottle of tequila, took the top off and pressed it into his brother's hands. "Drink. Now." He said. Oh god, why did this have to happen? Especially today?

Sam moved over to the far corner and sank down to the floor and pulled his knees up to his chin and rocked.
Jessica was dead.

Gone.

The tears started to fall silently, and his shoulders shuddered with each hitching breath. All thoughts of college, their father, the responsibilities of his council seat were all gone...Nothing remained but a searing pain in his chest, and the desperate desire to have perished along side her.

Dean stopped his pacing and looked at Sam. Right now he looked like a five year old trapped in a huge body. With a sigh he sat down next to his brother and took the bottle from him, drinking. Because if Sam wasn't going to, he sure as hell was.

"It was the same thing that took Mom." Dean said quietly. Because he remembered the flames from that night. He'd never forget those flames, and tonight, it was like a flashback. Mom pinned to the ceiling, bleeding, before she burst into flames. Jessica pinned to the ceiling, bleeding, before she burst into flames. Baby Sam in his crib below, Adult Sam in his bed below. "It's November second." He said, even quieter.

"What?" Sam asked, looking up. Dean's words had barely registered through the grief. "I don't understand." He said. He didn't remember anything of his mother, and Dean didn't speak much of her death other than it had been a demon that had killed her.

Dean took a long drink out of the bottle before answering Sam. "Mom. That's how Mom died. Today, twenty two years ago, Mom died like this." It was painful to even remember. And every other year he was able to convince himself it was just another day. Sure, ten to one he'd get wasted by the end of that 'just another day,' but this...this was too close to home. "We gotta find Dad now."

Sam nodded. "In my nursery... I remember hearing it happened in my nursery. was it... was it because of me?" He asked. Jessica was dead because of him, he knew that of a certainty. But his mother... was his mother's death because of him too?

"What? No!" Dean said and passed Sam the bottle. "It was a random demon attack. Because humanity is their favorite snack food, whether literally or through misery and pain. It just happened to happen there. He's probably stalking our family because we're just too fun to leave alone."

"A demon that just gets its jollies pinning women over my head and setting them on fire?" Sam didn't believe that. A random attack wouldn't have been repeated. "You're right. We have to find our father. I don't care why he left... don't care if he looked for us or not. I want to know what killed Jessica."

"Then looks like we've got a mission." Dean said. "You want me to call her mother? Or wait for the cops to do it?"

"I ahm... it should come from family...I should... god I can't do it... I can't even process it myself, how can I explain it to her mother?" Sam was falling apart.

"I'll do it." Dean said and took out his cellphone, one steadying hand on his brother's shoulder. "Hi, Mrs Moore? This is Dean Winchester, Sam's brother. No, I'm good. I'm in California. That's what I was calling about. There was...there was a fire. In their apartment. I don't know how it started, the fire department is looking into it. They're saying accidental right now. No...No, Jess didn't make it." He paused as Branwen went off on Dean. "I know, I'm sorry. No, no, I'll handle everything out here, promise. I understand. Got it. All right." He hung up and took another drink.

He remembered the investigator coming to his father and saying it was an electrical fire. Yeah, sure, an electrical fire that started in the ceiling where there were no wires. Sure, that made sense. But his father knew the truth and let the man think what he wanted. Much like Dean was going to do with Jessica's mother.

Right now, Mrs Moore wasn't his priority. His brother was. He was back in 'Take Care of Sammy' mode, if he ever really got out of it.

"How did he do it? How did he take care of us after losing her? I... " he shook his head and downed the alcohol, wondering how much it would take to get the images out of his head.

"He didn't have a choice." Dean said. "We kept him going, and he needed to keep going. Other than that, I don't know how he did it." Though Dean did know. Dean did it.

"I'm going to cancel the interview tomorrow." Sam said. "They'll understand." Not that it really mattered now. That future was tied in with Jessica. They were both gone now.

"Why don't you just put it on hold?" Dean suggested. In the meantime they'd find their father and demand some answers.

Sam shook his head. "Can't face this place... I'll apply at Loyola. Move back home." It wasn't exactly a lie. He couldn't face the world he had shared with Jess. Couldn't face their mutual friends. He wasn't even sure he could handle a mirror right that moment. Loyola... it was a good stall. Something amorphous in the future he didn't want to look at.

Dean nodded. Now wasn't the time to talk about that anyway. So he went to his bag and took out a few bottles of painkillers and muscle relaxants, tapping out a few of each and handing them to Sam. "Take these. And go to bed. We've got a long drive ahead of us." He had to call Harry.

Sam looked at the pills in his hand, staring at them blankly before finally swallowing them. He rose slowly and made his way to the bed, tears falling unchecked as he draped his long form over the bed, closing his arms around the pillow.

Dean waited until Sam was lying down and stepped out into another room, turning on his lap top and calling Harry. "Harry...it's Dean. Are you sitting down?"

"Yeah, How did your trip go? Bob told me about your father's ashes. Sorry I wasn't here."

"I'm still in California, some hotel in Palo Alto. We found a friend of my dad's who confirms he was alive at least two years ago." Dean said. "Harry...Jessica was killed tonight."

"What?" Harry said, feeling the blood drain from his face. "How? By whom? Please tell me you are bringing Sammy home."

"I can't." Dean said. "We gotta find our dad. Harry, it was the demon that killed my mother. It took Jess, I had to pull Sam out of the fire. I...I gotta find Dad. We need answers."

"Don't let that hunt for answers destroy the life you have now, Dean. I'll start putting out feelers for him. See what I can come up with. Hunters and Wizards tend to cross paths more often than they think."

"Life?" Dean said. "I attend business meetings and kill demons and banish restless spirits. Most wouldn't call any of that a life. We got one more person to talk to, a Bobby Singer. He used to watch us when we were kids. If that doesn't pan out, we'll come back to Chicago."

"You have a home, a business and family that cares about you. You have a life, Dean. More importantly you have a choice in how you live that life. Just don't want to see you endangering that choice. Call me when you get into town, and I'll come over. Tell Sam... well... just let him know I'm here if he needs anything." What else could he do? Tell him he was sorry a hundred times? This time it wasn't Harry that had taken a loved one from him. It would just sound empty

"I'll call you either way." Dean said. "So you don't worry." Choice? He didn't have a choice now. That demon was on his hit list, sitting in the number one spot. He wouldn't rest until it was sent back to hell.

Sam woke late the following morning, not that he wanted to. He shifted position on the bed, and closed his eyes once more. He was still trying to process it all. It played out in front of his eyes over and over again, and it still made no sense.

He sat up and ran his hand through his hair, and sighed

"Well good morning, sunshine." Dean said as he finished up a conference by webcam. News of Jessica's death would hit the Chicago society by that afternoon, most likely, so it was very believable that the Winchesters were going into seclusion to deal with it all. Nice cover, luckily. "Ready to hit the road?" Sam didn't look like he was in the mood for small talk.

Sam nodded. "How do you do this willingly?" He asked his brother. "I just want to crawl under a rock and hide from it all...but you choose to live with it when you don't have to."

Or maybe Sam was in the mood for small talk. Dean raised an eyebrow at his brother. "What 'this'?" He asked. "The fact that a demon killed Mom and I will walk to the ends of the earth and back again until it's dead?"

"This being... grief...my god...you get up every morning and deal with this for 2 years. I wanted to die with her last night." Sam said as he pulled on his shoes.

"It sucks." Dean said with a shrug. "And you don't get over it. You just...deal with it. It gets easier to deal with, I promise." He finished packing. "Alcohol helps, fighting helps, I won't lie." He twisted the white gold ring on his right hand briefly before resuming packing up his lap top and moving onto the bags.

"Fucking Winchester Curse." Sam said as he headed into the bath room. "So where is Bobby these days?" He asked. He was even more determined to get rid of the spell on his brother.

"South Dakota." Dean said. "So we've got a drive ahead of us. Which is fine, I like to drive." He'd sold the jet shortly after Melissa. Now if he absolutely had to go overseas, and couldn't get out of it, he chartered a jet. He still hated flying. And someday he'd even admit that it terrified him, which is why he dosed himself with sedatives and sleeping pills before every flight. "He's always been there, runs a salvage yard. I remember that, I just couldn't remember where it was."

"Let's do it then." Sam said as he came out of the bathroom and grabbed his bag on the way to the door. He wanted to get moving. Do something. Anything to keep from thinking. From feeling.

Dean nodded and checked out of the hotel. All he knew to do was be there for Sam. Just sit there and let him vent, or let him be quiet, just be there. He might not participate in a heart to heart, but he'd let Sam do it all he wanted. He'd just...be there. He didn't know what else to do as they got to the Impala and started to drive to South Dakota.

They got there a few days later, just rolling on up the driveway. Staying a safe distance from the dog that was barking and knocking on the door.

Bobby Singer closed the book and his research notes and made his way to the door. He wasn't expecting company and it was too late to be business. At least the sort of business that made him money.

He looked out the window as he walked by and paused, staring out at the driveway. How many mint condition black 67 Impalas could there be in the world?
"Ah hell, Winchester." He said, figuring John had purchased another one somewhere. He grabbed his shot gun with a sigh as he opened the door.

Dean stared at Bobby. The man hadn't changed at all. Oh he was a little older, but he was betting it was the same hat Bobby had worn in Dean's childhood. Then he saw the shot gun. "Whoa." He said, hands up. "We don't want trouble, promise."

"Sorry, thought you were someone else." He said with a chuckle. "What can I do for you boys?" They looked familiar, and that wasn't always a good thing in Bobby's world. So he didn't put the gun away, simply rested it against his body almost casually.

"Surprised Pastor Jim didn't give you a heads up." Dean said.

"How do you know Jim?" Bobby asked with narrowed eyes.

"Recognize the car? I got it when I was sixteen, my uncle gave it to me." Dean said instead. "Inherited it from my father, thought he was dead. Pastor Jim tells me, on the other hand, that he last saw John Winchester alive two years ago."

Bobby looked at both brothers. "Dean? Sam?" He shook his head. "You boys better come on inside." He would have to have a word with Jim later about this, although he figured he didn't give him a heads up cause he wanted Bobby to exercise his usual caution.

The brothers followed Bobby in, and he went to his liquor cabinet, pouring three shots and passing Dean and Sam theirs. Dean looked at the glass dubiously and drank it. And made a face after Sam had drank his. "Warm water? That's not the Bobby I remember." He said and shook his head. Well, people grew old, right? Maybe Bobby couldn't handle his liquor anymore. "Where's our father?" He asked, not beating around any bush.

"Can never be too careful." Bobby said then pulled out the real thing. "Two boys come back from the dead, you damned well make sure it was a mistake, not necromancy." He sat down and poured the Cuervo. "Your daddy and I haven't been on speaking terms for a few months now."

"Great." Dean said and tossed the shot back. The week was shaping up to be a complete disaster. But why should it be easy to find their father? That would be just too nice. "We gotta talk to him, obviously. I thought he was dead for fifteen years after all."

"Believe me, we all thought the same about you two. Where the hell have you been all this time?" He asked, wondering at Sam's silence. The boy he remembered was the talkative of the two, always asking questions. Now he reminded him of John, quiet... broken.

"Chicago." Dean said. "We went there after we recieved word he was dead. After all, he left us with perfect strangers." Who didn't want to be saddled with two young boys any more than John had, in Dean's opinion. "Look, that demon...the one that killed Mom...it's back on the radar, and we need to talk to him. He's the only other one I know of that's hunting this thing."

Bobby sighed. "Dean... your daddy had planned to be back in just a couple of days. Wound up in the hospital. He almost WAS dead. He never meant to abandon you, he just...he had almost lost you in the hotel that night as it was." John had told him the details when he had called for help all those years ago. "That car was stolen from the hospital parking lot. So who ever has had you all this time... you can't trust what they've told you."

Sam spoke up for the first time since arriving. "I don't care about that... Dad did what he did, Uncle Justin did what he did...we wound up with a better life than we would have had with Dad. " His voice was ragged, and the words spoken hastily as though they were bitter in his mouth. "But the demon... it killed my girlfriend... same way it killed Mom...exactly the same way it killed Mom. I want the demon dealt with before someone else dies dripping blood into my face, alright?"

"On the same day as Mom was killed." Dean said, green eyes clouded with knowledge and memories before he shook his head and nodded to Sam. "We just want to find Dad. Either you know where he could be, his last location, or you don't."

Bobby sighed. "I can put out feelers. Last time I spoke to your dad, I threatened to fill him full of buck shot. He might not answer me. But I'll try. I'll put it out that I have word on ole yellow eyes activities and he'll show up."

"Thanks." Dean said and wrote down his cell phone number for Bobby. "But I'm not giving the car back." That was a definite. He loved that car. "And if you do find any information on it, let us know too."

"I'd appreciate it if you would do the same." Bobby said and looked at John's Boys long and hard. Sam said they had a better life, but Bobby wasn't so sure. They both looked as though they were holding onto their sanity by a thread right now. "It's good to know you two are alright. But listen... when you find your daddy, he isn't the same man he used to be, losing you two pretty much did him in."

"He survived." Dean said flatly. "And we're not the same kids he left at those people's house either. Changes all around, Bobby. Time moves on whether we like it or not. Tell you right now, if we find him, I don't see it going well."

"It won't go well at all. " Bobby agreed, and there was no way that it could. No matter what those boys thought or felt, John Winchester had lost what little humanity remained in him all those years ago, and the only place he had been able to find it was in the bottom of a bottle. The only thing he cared about anymore was the latest dog he took with him on the road. And killing anything that wasn't human in his eyes.

"You're right." Dean said. But dammit they needed answers. "Well, we gotta get back to Chicago." He said. Sam needed some down time before they did anything. And Harry was understandably worried.

"Well." Bobby said, getting to his feet. "I hope you boys will keep in touch." He had loved those boys. Thought of them as nephews, hell there had been times he had wished they were his.

"We will." Dean said. He remembered things about Bobby, he was a helluva researcher. That could come in handy. And...he was a connection to a time, no matter how screwed up, when life had been a little simpler.

Sam nodded in agreement. This place, this house, held a sense of security to it. Sam remembered that. He remembered laughter here. He remembered playing and being a kid. Not specific memories, but he knew they had been boys in this house.

"Good." Bobby said. He figured when John was finally tracked down he should be there to pick up the pieces afterward. No one else would, that's for damn certain.

Dean and Sam headed out to the car, and Dean spent a second just gripping the steering wheel and exhaling. "Okay, that's one step closer. Harry's working on it too." He said. "We'll find him Sam."

Sam nodded. "I just want to go home... need to be there before Branwen sets up the..." his voice cracked, and he closed his eyes, not finishing the sentence. Simply laying his head against the passenger's door window and let it be. "Just... take me home."

Dean nodded. He understood. Melissa had never gotten a funeral, or a memorial service. Her existence was pretty much denied in the magical community. Jessica's wouldn't be. But he made good time back to Chicago, pulling in just after two in the morning. He'd called Harry and given him a heads up that they'd be there.

Harry was waiting for them. He and Sam had gotten Dean through the first few days of Melissa's death, he and Dean would get Sam through Jessica's.

He and Sam exchanged a silent hug before the younger man walked up the stairs to his old room like a man walking down death row. Once he was out of sight, Harry turned to Dean. "Her mother is already on the war path. Apparently she knows how your mother died..."

"Bitch." Dean said and shook his head. "All right. We keep them separated." Meaning Sam and Branwen. "Anyone who wants to talk to Sam, Council included, goes through us first. He's been through enough, they're not adding to it. I mean, Harry, I barely got him out of that room."

"He doesn't look good at all, Dean. I mean, locking up the guns, meds and sharp objects not good." Harry suspected that Sam fought against Dean during the rescue. What ever killed Jessica took part of Sam with her.

"I know." Dean said with a sigh. "So we'll give him a few minutes, then intrude on his private space." They'd done it for Dean after all. "We'll get him through this. Not sure how much will be left, but he'll make it through it. But I don't care if this is a demon the council has a treaty with or not, it's going down. I will march into hell and squirrel it out myself if I have to."

Harry nodded. "This thing is after your family and I hate to say it but it seems like it's focusing on Sam. We'll find it and deal with it." Harry didn't care what the council thought about it either.

"Got some people working on that. And who knows? Maybe my father has information he'd like to share." He was still adjusting to the idea of John Winchester among the land of the living. And now this. On top of everything else. But he had a job to do, that was take care of Sam. So he grabbed a few bottles and he and Harry went to Sam's room. He opened the door and sat on the bed Sam was laying down on. And just sat. Sam didn't need words, or to be told how sorry everyone was.

Sam was all but mute as the time passed. He didn't know what to say or do anymore. Didn't know how to function. It felt like he had been abandoned all over again, and the words just wouldn't come.

The council had kept their distance as far as he knew, and Dean had been content to allow him to be quiet, as he had been when they were children.

He adjusted his tie for the 12th time and sighed, sinking down on the bed. He didn't want to go to the memorial because that would make it real.

Dean rapped on the door and came in. He took one look at Sam and sat down on the bed next to him. "You don't have to go." He pointed out quietly. "We can skip it. It's all right to do that."

Sam shook his head. "She deserves better." He said, his voice whisper soft. He was sure he was going to implode any moment."I- I should have left her alone... let her go to Vassar like her mother wanted...it's all because of me. I have to go and face them..." It was more than he had spoken the last two days combined and it felt alien.

"Sam, this is not your fault." Dean said, shaking his head. "Hey, hey, look at me. This was not your fault. We'll get through this. Then we'll go hunt the son of a bitch who did this and give him a beating straight from the heart. I promise."

"If she hadn't been involved with me...she would still be alive." Sam knew that was what her mother thought. He knew she was right. "There isn't even a body Dean. There was nothing left... nothing of her... nothing of our life."

"Sam, nothing I say is going to make it better." Dean said. "But you don't have to go. Definitely not to please Branwen of all people." From who Dean was screening calls. That psycho wasn't talking to Sam and that was that.

"What's it going to say about her...about our relationship... if I don't go?" He shook his head. "I have to go. I won't have them talking about her .. about us that way." It wasn't like Branwen could say anything that he didn't already tell himself. It wasn't as though it could possibly hurt more than it already did.

"All right." Dean said and helped his brother up. "Then let's go, dude. Get this over with." Harry was going to meet them there. Run interference for Sam's entrance.

He could feel their eyes on him the moment he entered the funeral home. Branwen was creating something as normal as possible for the funeral. He had expected the casket, the flowers, and the organist. But the illusion of Jessica laying in the casket was too much and he nearly buckled where he stood.

Dean held him up and got him to a seat far from Branwen as quickly as possible. He thought the illusion of Jessica was low, even for Branwen. It was obvious just to punish Sam and he had to clench his jaw as he sat there. Listening to the service with half an ear, having a box of tissues passed for Sam and exchanging glances with Harry.

Branwen got up, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. "Thank you all for coming." She said in a slightly tremulous voice. "Jessica was a people person, I know we all only had the warmest thoughts for her. Even as she went to California, to try and start a new life with a boy she thought she loved. Even as she was taken from us far too soon, before she could realize her full potential."

Thought she loved... Sam closed his eyes, and tried to close his mind to what was happening. Just a week before, Branwen had been asking him when he was going to ask Jessica to marry him. She had visited them and been warm and accepting. He almost didn't hear when she announced that Sam would be speaking next.

Sam froze. Didn't breathe. Didn't move. Didn't blink. Bambi staring down an on coming semi couldnt have looked more horrified. But he let the air out slowly and got to his feet.

Dean put his hand on Sam's shoulder and forced him back down. Sam? Speak? Right now? Publicly? Feet away from the illusion of his dead girlfriend? That was cruel.

He got up to the podium instead. "For those of you that don't know me, I'm Dean Winchester. I'm Sam's brother. I've known Jessica just as long as Sam, we met her on the same night at one of those parties that always bores children..."

Shooting the occasional glare at Branwen for her merciless assault on his brother, he delivered an off the cuff eulogy, bringing out the lighter aspects of Jessica, to where there was even laughing out loud before he headed back to the seat. "I should seriously hurt that woman." He said under his breath as he sat back down.

"Thank you." Sam managed to get out around the lump in his throat. "She would have liked that." He told his brother and leaned forward, resting his head in his hands as the tears came once more and his shoulders shuddered with each hitching breath.

Dean didn't know what to do other than just let Sam know he wasn't alone. He'd have to go through it alone, Dean knew that from personal experience, but he wasn't alone at least. He wasn't a big hugger, he wasn't going to pat Sam's hand and say 'there, there.' So he just kept passing the tissues as the service continued on, until it was over.

"Get him out of here." He said to Harry. "I'll run interference."

Harry nodded and slipped an arm around Sam's shoulder. "Le'ts go to my place. No one here would be caught dead there." He said and started to lead Sam out of there. For no other reason than being alive, Sam had made an enemy of Branwen Moore. But she didn't want to start anything with the Morningway family. Not if she was wise.

Dean watched as they slipped out and turned his eyes back to Branwen, joining the recieving line. A chilly embrace ensued, and when Dean went to kiss her cheek, as was customary, his mouth lingered close to her ear.

"Don't try that again with my brother. Leave him alone, he's been through enough." He said so only she could hear, a warning growl to his voice, before he pulled away and slapped a polite but subdued smile on his face.

She raised an arched eyebrow. "Don't think for a moment I don't know that this is his doing somehow. Some Morningway experiment gone wrong. Just like your mother with her ... dealings. He took my daughter from me. This isn't over."

"Lady, you don't know what you're talking about. So you should shut your mouth before you embarrass yourself." Dean nearly snarled. "You don't want a war with me, Branwen. I only warn once. Grieve your daughter, and leave us alone."

"The council is investigating her death." She stated. "I'm not the one you have to worry about... Get him out of town before he brings you and Harry down with him."

"Magic didn't kill your daughter. But I know what did. And your council can't do shit about it." Dean said. He knew there would be an investigation. Wonderful. "Try not to play the victim too much." Dean said as he walked out and saw Morgan. "Magic didn't kill Jessica, leave my brother alone."

Morgan stared at the elder Winchester. "No. But who summoned the demon that did. I doubt they were interested in Jessica Moore. The Moore family isn't even in the food chain."

"Morgan, you know as well as I do that demons are not all pawns for magicians to play with. The demon might not have been summoned at all." Dean pointed out. "I'm on it, don't tell me to back off. And, dude, don't drag Sam into an investigation. He's already ready to break."

"Your mother was slain by a similar demon. Samuel was an infant at the time. I doubt he summoned it then either. This is more than a coincidence, and you aren't from a purely hunter family. The Morningways have dark secrets you know nothing of. "

"I don't doubt it." Dean said evenly. "However, the only ones that would have known any of those secrets are long dead. Just leave my family alone."

Morgan faded from view. But he wasn't gone. There was something going on and he intended to find out what it was.

Dean made it back to his car, and sat there for a little bit. Just thinking. Then he wiped his eyes and headed over to Harry's. He was human, he cried. He felt pain and grief. But right now, the last thing Sam needed was someone else crying. And it was his job to take care of Sam. Always had been.

"Hey." He said, coming into Harry's apartment.

"Hey." Harry said in return,

Sam looked up and nodded in acknowledgment. "So what did she have to say?" He asked. Not really sure he needed Dean to tell him. She blamed him, rightly so.

"Usual bull shit. She called a council investigation because she believes magic did it." Dean said with a shrug. "So she'll look like an idiot soon, which suits me just fine."

"Explains why the council has been silent." Sam said, picking up his beer and peeling at the label.

"They'll be nosing around here soon then." Harry stated with a sigh.

"Well, none of us did anything." Dean said. "Let them nose around. They're just wasting their time. But Sam...how do you feel like a road trip?" His brother needed to be distracted.

He shrugged. "Where we going?" He asked. Sam didn't care about much of anything, but if it made Dean feel better to try and make him from better, then Sam would go along for the ride.

"Wyoming." Dean said. Pastor Jim had called and said someone like their father had been there recently, within the last few months. It was a good place to start. "It's away from Branwen at least."

Sam nodded. "Okay. Let's do it " He finished off the beer and tossed the bottle. "Thanks Harry. I'll see you when we get back." He wanted to reassure his cousin who seemed convinced he was going to suicide any moment.

Dean drove back to the mansion to pack. Talking on his cell phone with Donald, getting connections set up. Donald knew what he was REALLY doing, but it would be explained as a leave of absence for a family tragedy, which was close to the truth. He went into his weapons room and started to pack weapons. "Pack light." He called to Sam. "We can hit laundromats."

Sam packed only necessities in one bag. A few changes of clothes, and a second bag he filled with weapons and magical components. He didn't want to go into a potentially dangerous situation as the helpless party. That would put Dean in danger.