Chapter Six
Despite the fact that Bobby's house hasn't been lived in for a while, Sam notes that it's not much worse for wear than it had been when Bobby was alive. There are still piles of books set on dusty shelves, and stacks of old parcels and scrolls littering any available space.
Sam watches Penelope recoil as she tries to clear off a space on the couch to sit down. Her head has a large bruise on it and she is moving around gingerly. Sam knows her injuries, while not life threatening, have to be bothering her. He wishes he would have brought her somewhere a little more comfortable.
As if giving up, she kicks a stack of books off the ancient ottoman and props her feet up. Leaning her head back she looks at Sam. "This place looks about the same as the last time I was here."
Sam frowns. "You've been here?"
"Sure," Penny says. "Everyone's been to Bobby's." She stretches and rubs her bruised head. "Me and Kat used to stop by here on our way to pick up Jo. Geez, I know the man lived alone, but you'd think he could pick up now and then," she says picking up a dirty sock that is draped over the couch arm and tossing it aside.
Sam huffs out a laugh and looks down. A deep sorrow creeps in as he remembers the man. He'd never stop missing him.
"I still don't understand how we've never met," Sam says. "I thought we knew every hunter, especially ones who knew Bobby."
Penny shrugs and has the grace to look ashamed. "Well after John—your dad—died… We just sort of tried to stay away from you."
"How did you know my father?"
Penny blinks as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "He saved us."
Seeing Sam's confused face Penny frowns. "You really don't know us, do you? Nothing?"
Sam shakes his head. Penny laughs and leans her head back again. "I've lived my entire life hearing about you and Dean," she says, looking at the dirty ceiling. "And you didn't even know we existed. Your old man...he was like a—well not a father exactly...but something. He was important. To Kat especially. She worshiped the man. She has to have read his old journal near a hundred times. I still, after all this time, can't really believe he's gone..."
Her eyes go dark and Sam sees sadness there. He is still confused. "Journal?"
"Yeah," Penny says. "John gave Kat his journal, when we were kids." Seeing Sam's blank expressing Penelope begins to tell her and Kat's story. "When we were little we moved into a haunted house with our parents. Whatever was living there killed my mom and dad, probably would have killed us too if your dad hadn't saved us. Then he gave Kat his journal so she could learn to be a hunter too."
Sam frowns. His father must have saved countless children in his lifetime and he's never heard of the man encouraging any of them to be hunters, let alone giving away his prized journal.
"How old were you?" Sam asks.
Penny shrugs. "I was about three, Kat was seven."
"So young," Sam says out loud. Why in the world would his dad have given a seven year old a journal full of writings on the supernatural? He hardly even let Sam and Dean hold the damn thing back when they were kids. He looks at Penelope again. These girls must have been something special. He shakes his head. The old man had been dead for close to ten years and he was still making Sam crazy.
"I don't suppose there's any food lying around here?" Penny asks, interrupting his thoughts.
Sam shakes his head. "Nothing you'd want to eat, I'm sure."
Penny huffs. "How far's the closest grocery store? I'm starving."
Sam frowns. It's fully morning, sun streaks in through the grimy windows. "These Redcaps, they go outside in the daylight?"
"Not usually."
It's good enough for Sam. He stands up and extends his hand. "Breakfast?"
…
Kat takes a sip of the green liquid and makes a face. It's terrible. She glances at Dean who just tore into a bag of chips. Why he bought her this foul stuff is beyond her. She tosses the bottle aside and snatches the bag of chips from him. Startled, he watches her stuff a handful in her mouth.
"So what's the plan?" she asks him, her mouth full. Thunder rolls overhead and fat raindrops ting on the tin awning outside.
Dean leans forward, propping his elbows on his knees. "You tell me," he says. "This is your show."
Kat glares at him through another mouthful of chips. "I'm not the one who drove out of the city into this middle of nowhere. This is your neck of the woods, you hick. I'm a city girl."
"Yeah? And I'm not the one who pissed off a clan of crazy vampire pricks."
Kat swallows and sighs, tossing the bag of chips back on the table, no longer hungry as she remembers Morgan's furious gaze. The woman wouldn't give up until she was dead. "The Redcaps are… potentially problematic," she admits.
Dean snorts. "So we beat them," he says simply. "You girls got those silver stakes, I've got my blade. Easy peasey."
Kat can't help but respect his confidence, but she knows how this works. "Easy peasey, sure. Me and Penny will get killed, you and Sam walk away without a scratch. At least, that's how it's always worked before, huh?"
Dean's gaze hardens. "Look, I know you've got some kind of beef with me and my brother but you need to knock it off. I'm trying to help you here."
Kat bites her tongue. He's right. She needs help. She just wishes it wasn't from him.
Thunder rolls louder overhead and lightning flashes through the windows. It's nearing noon, but the sky is so dark it could be evening. Kat rubs her eyes and stretches, trying to wake herself up. She's still exhausted. She looks at Dean who lets out a huge yawn. He has circles under his eyes and, despite his admittedly good looks (Kat's angry, she's not blind) he looks like shit. Her eyes grow so heavy she suddenly feels so tired she has to go back and sit on the sofa. Dean blinks hard, trying to wake up himself. He staggers to his feet and nearly collapses on the couch next to her.
They make eye contact. "Something's not right," Kat says, rubbing her eyes again. But it's too late. Her heavy eyes close and she falls back on the couch. A warm weight settles next to her and she knows there is no hope for either of them.
Outside a figure stands in the rain. She grins a toothless smile as she chants a rhythmic spell in a strange language. Lightning flashes, showing her face. She is the woman from the grocery store, and she is holding a bouquet of poppies.
