Chapter Summary:
Max has been taken and Sam and Dean are on her trail. Will they find her before it's too late?
Chapter 7:
Sam was able to wrestle Dean back to their room, pretending that he was drunk to the few onlookers who popped their heads into the hallway as they passed. Dean was slumped over and shuffled like an old man. Sam heaved him onto the bed and lit the candles. "Dean, I know you're not going to like this, but I need to talk to John Watson. Maybe he knows what happened to Max. Who did you mean by 'they'?" Sam led Dean to the chair that was placed at the table and he sat on the edge of one of the beds. He grabbed both of Dean's hands and looked up into Dean's glassy stare. Sam was barely able to keep Dean upright, but knew that this may be the only way to find her.
Sam hadn't bothered with the salt lines, but used a handful of salt to douse himself and Dean, hoping that would be enough to protect them. "John, John Watson, I invoke you to speak with us! Show yourself!"
"I told you, they need her." Dean said in a low voice and let go of Sam's hands. He leaned towards the center of the table and grabbed the edges. "Annie's in trouble. Why aren't you helping her?"
Sam was scribbling every word he could make out onto a napkin that was left on the table. "Where is she? How can we help her?"
"She's the key. To finish what they started. They need her." Dean's eyes closed and he seemed to sag back into his chair. Before Sam could catch him, Dean fell forward and cracked his head on the table.
"Shit!" He yelled and sat up quickly as he rubbed his head. "Whoa, head rush. What happened?"
"You were telling me about why Max was grabbed. Do you remember anything?"
"This guy, Watson, had a strong feeling that her father was involved somehow in this. Watson thinks he knows why Max was taken. That's all." He started to get up. "I think we know what to do next, don't we?"
"Find her father." They answered in unison.
"You got it. Let's go." Dean started to lean over to grab his keys off the top of the TV set, but kept toppling forward. "Uggh." He stopped and grabbed the edge of the TV. "Vertigo, bad. Throwing up on shoes, also bad."
Sam grabbed his shoulders and guided him back to a sitting position on the bed. "Whenever you channel this guy, he takes some of your energy, you know, sometimes a lot . You have to be careful. Take it slow." Dean shot Sam a look, but Sam pretended not to notice. "Do you remember anything useful about Max's father that would help us find him?"
"We know that he may have had something to do with the steel mill in Huntsville. We could start there." Just talking to Sam took out Dean's all remaining will power to stay upright and he sagged down until he was laying flat on the rumpled bed. He was getting damned tired of feeling like a sack of shit and just about as useful too. He closed his eyes and tried to remember any details from his dreams of John's or Max's experience to see if there was anything else they could use.
A name popped into his head. Images of a little girl. Other things that he couldn't quite get a hold of. "I remember her mother's name was Helen."
Sam proceeded to run the most complicated Google search string ever known to man. The screen came up with all sorts of useless crap, but one link to an article in a Houston newspaper caught his attention. "Local mother dies trying to save child from abduction." It was dated April 17, 1990.
It listed several names including a child named Maxine and an absentee father. Helen James was killed while trying to stop intruders from taking her child, her throat was slit. A small, obviously distraught child's face was featured along with the story. Sam quickly scanned the article to see if Max's father was mentioned. Near the bottom, "The child's father, Charles James, was being located for questioning." Sam ran that name through the search engine and pulled up a telephone listing in Huntsville. He wrote down the address.
"This gets more interesting by the second. C'mon, Dean, I have an address and a story to tell you." He dragged his sibling out to the car and helped him into the passenger seat. "You're the navigator." He told Dean and shoved a map at him. Dean shot him a scathing look, but took the map. Sam knew Dean probably wouldn't even be able to stay awake until they got out of the parking lot. Sam glanced over at his brother as he turned onto the highway. His eyes were open but had a very faraway look in them. "Dean, go to sleep. I'll wake you up when we get there."
Dean eyes fluttered closed and he was quiet the rest of the trip. Anxiety had crawled into Sam's stomach and was setting up camp as his mind wandered back to the last time he had seen Max. She had just gone out for a few moments. Goddamn it! He hit the steering wheel with his left hand in frustration and regretted it as soon as he had done it. His eyes darted back to Dean, who stirred but didn't wake up. The sun was coming up over the horizon as they finally pulled off the highway at the Huntsville exit. Sam rubbed his eyes, trying to ignore the grittiness that ground against his eyelids. He felt like he hadn't slept in a week.
Sam squinted against the rising sun in an effort to identify a place to stop and gather some information. A diner appeared on the right hand side of the road as he topped a hill. Dean appeared peaceful as Sam pulled the black car into the parking lot, tires crunching on some loose gravel.
"I don't want anything to do with this shit, Helen. You don't let your family do anything to her, you hear me? When I get back from this job, I'm taking her the hell out of here! You choose between your own daughter and your crazy family." Charles slammed the door and shook Dean out of his slumber. Sam was walking back towards the car with several bags of food in his hands. Dean's head was pounding in tune with his heartbeat, but he ignored it.
Sam pulled open the door and was surprised that Dean was awake. He seemed to be almost in a coma when he left him only ten minutes before. Dean even tried to smile, but pain pulled at his eyes. Sam carefully kept his expression blank. "Hungry?"
"As a horse."
"I think the expression is 'I'm so hungry I could eat a horse.'" Sam corrected automatically, knowing full well that Dean could care less.
"Whatever." Dean grabbed one of the bags and tore it open. He pulled out one of the sandwiches and practically inhaled it. "Any information on our man?"
Sam pulled out a page from the phone book. "Yup, I got an address, he's not too far from here. We'll go when you're finished."
Dean popped the last morsel in his mouth, "I'm done. Let's go."
