This chapter is dedicated to Carol for her excellent review. I went back and tried to fix the issue with chapter 2 to smooth the transition into the hunt of chapter 3.
1. "I'm gonna keep getting underneath you." -Panic! At the Disco
A small nose nuzzled the pulse below Sam's ear. Sam groaned and shifted. After a few seconds the soft panting returned and a warm body settled against Sam's shoulder. A flicker of movement and something pawed insistently at his opposite side. Sam's head struggled to reboot. He could feel a sticky trickle of blood matting his hair. The body at his shoulder shifted and a soft tongue lapped at his head, matting his hair further. Sam tried to bat the fuzzy head away but realized his arms were bound. The edge of the duct tape cut the underside of his nose leaving him muzzled. He blinked but the light felt like blades against his eyes. The soft fuzzy mass at his hip licked his side. The snuffling breath tickled, raising goosebumps beneath the soft tongue's path. Sam shifted but the snuffling attention returned. The tongue bath became more insistent until Sam yelped from the nip of teeth. Sam forced himself to squint and found himself looking up into the fuzzy head of a six year old boy. The boy's shy smile was beatific, his pink lips stained dark berry red. Sam felt himself begin to smile back when a sharp tug to his side made him gasp with pain. Another underage boy crawled to sit atop Sam's chest. He peered curiously at Sam before turning his attention to licking his crimson fingers clean.
"Come here Jake," A haggard woman grabbed Sam's elbow beckoning to a tiny boy more bones than body. Nicking the inside of Sam's elbow with a blade she tucked the boy into the bound circle of Sam's arms. The boy wiggled with excitement, making soft grunting noises as he suckled eagerly at Sam's pulse. Realization dawned quickly and Sam bucked and twisted trying to writhe away from the parasites. The boys giggled like it was a great game, enjoying the tussle. The teeth at Sam's hip latched onto bone and growled possessively.
"No!" The woman swatted at the boy. "Maddie, that's no." The fangs released their hold and the boy snapped at the woman. "Don't you give me that!" She countered. "He needs to last." She turned away and the boy redirected his anger at Sam, tearing deep and making Sam howl beneath the duct tape. The vampire's shadowed eyes watched Sam twist and pant with delight. "That's it -Time out!" The woman demanded smacking the back of the boy's head to make him release his dinner. The woman grabbed the boy by the scruff to drag him towards punishment but something unholy lit his eyes. Fast as a snake he twisted and struck, tearing the woman's throat open in wet ropey shreds. Her scream cut short with the loss of her larynx. The boy riding Sam's chest chirped brightly and crawled away to investigate the new feast. Sam could feel the room swivel as his blood levels dropped. He struggled to stay cognizant as the soft slick chorus of feeding creshendoed around him. Sam's skin tingled from poor blood circulation and from a fading distance he heard the clank of loading bay doors.
He watched with surreal disbelief as the Impala slowly rolled into the warehouse. The muscle car's rumble reverberated off the tin corrugation like the thunderous percussive intro to "A Song for the Dead". Sam could feel Baby's heavy purr in his chest. Dean was going to lose it over Vampires driving his car. Sam struggled to swallow past his yearning for his big brother in that moment. The vultures tugging at his flesh stopped as the shadow of the Impala slide past. Dean might be angry enough, or hurt enough, or self-defeated enough to cut himself off from Sam and Mary… but Baby was another matter. The Chevy was Dean's center and seeing her was like a premonition, a promise of rain. The chromed grill heaved over a lip of cement and settled to a halt. The engine cut and the doors protested the exit of her vampiric pay load.
The blond vampire swung up to purvey her domain standing at the Impala's seat of power. She gave a giddy smile and primped her hair in the reflection of Baby's glossy coat. She swung the car keys around her finger like a woman admiring a new engagement ring. A human familiar limped forward eyeing the car. "Ugh," the vampire huffed with disgust at the broken woman. "Where are the other nannies?" The familiar seemed to shrink beneath the vampire's disdain. Her trembling was answer enough and the vampire frowned at the hunters her brood had caught. With a sweet smile to the children she purred, "Did you catch something for me? Cause I caught something for you. Let's see what my boys got me." She swung an ornate crucifix with a bloodied patina at the familiar. "Clean that up. I've decided to keep it." Like a proud mother looking at her child's first lopsided clay pot, she reached for Eileen. The hunter struck back, kicked the blond's legs out from under her and the Vampire retaliated with a sharp backhand that sent Eileen into the wall. "To uppity to be a nanny, but an impressive bag boys." Turning the vampire bent over Linda. "DOA?" she commented with a mischievous glance at the fang boys that had gathered to watch her antics. She grabbed a fistful of Mary's hair. "How about you, any experience with kids?" Mary's glare left the vampire bored. She was about to dismiss the woman when something struck her as familiar. The grip on Mary's hair tightened and the vampire pulled her out into a pool of light. "Why do you look so familiar?" the monster demanded. She glared deep into Mary's eyes but couldn't place the woman. "Hmmm, freckles… it'll come to me," she mused, finally releasing Mary to slump against the ground. "No more snacking on this one until I make a hiring decision," She ordered. She then turned to use her finger to count heads like a soccer mom.
"I've lost 11 of my precious babes," She shrieked. She shook her head and skipped back to the Impala. She swung up onto the trunk of the car and crossed her legs. "I'm done with hired help," She said with a dirty look at the familiar.
"I've… met someone… been a bit impulsive." She smoothed her hair in an imitation of uncertainty. "It's been a few hundred years since I tried anything like this before… but, well I want you to meet your new daddy." She thumped the trunk lid and leaned over it. "Hey handsome, how you doing in there?"
She swung back to the ground and slid the metal key into the lock. The tumbler cycled and the trunk cracked like Pandora's box. There was a momentary pause, while the room was sucked forward in expectation. The explosion caught the head vampire a splitting blow to the chin, snapping her teeth with a crack. Like death himself, Dean surged forward. Bodies fell faster than the natural eye could track; a force of nature amplified by the supernatural poison arcing through his veins.
Rational thought had been trampled beneath a searing thirst he hadn't felt since wearing the mark. Sight, sound, smell, his senses redlined; cutting in and out, leaving him without reference. He couldn't tell up from down, the moment boiled down to the strength of his grip around the blood slick handle of the machete as it shuddered beneath each impact. Dean felt wrong. Pain was the only sensation that hadn't been twisted by the vampire blood that had been forced on him. So he clung to that last vestige of normal; strained towards the sensation of every blow he took like a lover. The vampires hissed and spit as their blood lubricated the gruesome orgy. It was minutes of thrashing before Dean realized his dance partners had stopped keeping step. He sank back against Baby's side; leaving wet streaks against her glossy coat. The material of his shirt and jeans chaffed and strained leaving burns in his skin. At Dean's tap against the car a boy emerged, like a pup emerging from the safety of a den. Wordlessly Dean slung the leader's carcass over the Impala and threw a bucket beneath the chassis to catch the blood. "Bitch," He growled. Dean clutched the Impala's side struggling for a coping mechanism to the impulses boiling over… To hell with restraint, nobody shoves him into his ow TRUNK! With a grunt he spun and punted the vampires head and watched it bounce with a squelch. It took several moments before Dean's jacked senses registered the soft percussive beat of hearts in the room. Dean's stomach growled in giddy excitement and Dean fumbled to control the instinct to feed.
Sam knew the instant Dean's eyes landed on him, but his brother's hesitance to approach put Sam on alert. "Mom!" the boy at Dean's side shouted and leapt to go to Linda's side. Lightning fast, Dean wrapped an arm around the boy and held him aloft. "Crap," Dean muttered. His eyes flicked back to the bloody mess surrounding him and he couldn't find the courage to look his mother in the face. No way hacking up a bunch of 5 to 8 year olds looked good from her vantage point. Dean swallowed, not much he could do about it now. He palmed the handle of his machete and straightened his shoulders like he was wading into the second wave of the battle. He made it five steps in Sam's direction before he realized everything was buzzing; the molecules in the air literally twitching with the inescapable subsonic tone. The boy tucked beneath his arm gasped and went limp. Dean locked his knees and shifted to face the source. Shapes and colors jumped as the pitch increased until light burned out the edges. His head throbbed under the onslaught.
Sam panicked watching Dean collapse to the ground. Sam writhed like a possessed inch worm until he collapsed against Dean's unresponsive side. Cutting himself free with the blade Dean dropped. Sam ripped the tape from his face and shouted for his brother. It took his fingers a few moments to register Dean's manic pulse. He took a controlled breath before taking the plunge and pushing Dean's lip back to reveal retracted fangs; the vamp body slung across Baby; bleeding out into a bucket suddenly made terrible sense. It also gave Sam hope. Sam sent the machete sliding handle first towards Mary so she could free the others. "Dean?" Sam called. He crawled into Dean's personal space looking for clues to what had taken his brother's consciousness.
SNSNSN
A sun soaked air bathed Dean in warmth. The air sang with the joy of spring. "My son," Dean turned into the welcoming deep vibrato. But instead of John Winchester's worn look of approval it was the bottomless intensity of the Alpha vampire. His dark arms were raised, rejoicing to embrace a child thought lost. The visual shifted leaving Dean suddenly at ground zero of a family reunion. Fireflies danced the dusk above a din of laughter. Children darted between the legs of indulgent parents; everything felt colored with an undeniable sense of belonging. The dark haired boy from the church wound his fingers between Dean's with a gap toothed grin. Hand in hand they turned towards the sounds of fireworks. The boy let go to clutch a sparkler and Dean found himself in a dimly lit kitchen. Night had settled and the dusky father figure at the sink held a washed dish out to him. The house felt sleepy but full. Dean accepted the dish and set about drying it. "It's good to see you again Dean," the alpha admitted handing Dean another wet dish. "I'm not staying," Dean challenged making the alpha smile at his spirit. "Whatever you decide. My affection is sincere, just know that you will always be welcomed home."
Dean placed the dry dish on the counter. "I kill your kind," Dean said to deny any association. The alpha turned and held his hands up for display. The moon light played off the blood coating them. "Killing is what connects us." The alpha counselled before the scene changed again. This time Dean was in the driver seat of the Impala. The windows were down and the air was soft against his face. He glanced at the passenger seat and Benny gave him a whisky smooth smile of southern comfort. "It's been a while, brother!" Benny eased back into the leather of the seat and studied the road. "Wouldn't mind if you gave it a spell, I'm feeling a mite nostalgic." Dean draped an arm out the window and opened up the carburetor. "Killing ain't no thing," Benny mused as the Impala surged forward. "Let your boy go have his apple pie life, no shame in letting your mama feather her nest with that. You done your duty." Without turning from the road Dean asked, "It's done?" Without looking he could feel the seat shift with Benny's shrug. "Could be, you babysitting or parenting?"
"Son." The deep affirmation echoed through Dean's head. Tears ran uncontrollably from beneath his eyelids. He ached to follow orders, to be wrapped in the strong arms of a father again. To not be responsible for choosing between crappy options no one wanted to live with. Emotion drowned him and he fought desperately to surface. Daddy's strong little soldier, mother's perfect angel; he knew he didn't add up to either, but was he really any good at parenting either?
"Son" unconditional acceptance drained Dean's conviction like a tapped keg. He suddenly yearned for the unquestionable purpose of purgatory; having nothing more to answer to than the brotherhood of survival; the certainty that you were good at what needed doing because you weren't dead. Dean's eyes open to the soft beckoning flutter of a heart beat beneath warm skin; a promise of home sweet home. Flush with hormones Dean leaned forward, slid his palm beneath the tender pulse point… but the feel of the fangs sliding forward left Dean inexplicably ashamed and he tried to turn away. Sam clutched at Dean without understanding. "Damnit, No means no!" Dean snapped with a violent shove, desperate for distance. But Sam's wounded look had always had the power to break Dean's resolve. Dean fought the compulsion to explain, just as a wave of hunger twisted his gut and his body clenched like a fist. Dean's keening growl of pain set Sam's teeth on edge and helped Sam put together the problem. "Right," Sam answered, "Just hold on". He pushed to his feet to make the dash for the Impala's trunk and the ingredients it stocked for the cure.
Like Dean, Linda's son awoke high on the Alpha's message, more beast than man. He rolled to a crouch without anyone's notice. Like a lion in the grass his eyes tracked the herd moving around him. He tracked Sam's reluctantly turn from Dean to make a desperate play for the spell work in the Impala's trunk. He watched Mary split the duct tape around Eileen's legs and Eileen's distraught dive for his mother's still form. He watched Mary straighten with a look of concern, her uncertainty creating the distance between her and her sons. He watched the unnoticed flicker of movement in the shadows behind Dean's kneeling stance.
The human familiar shook with a palsied rage. Her family, her devotion lay in bloody ruin. For the first time in a decade she couldn't feel the assurance, the connection, the control of her mistress and she could feel her mind unravelling. With fingers that trembled like spider legs she clutched a shard of window pane to her breast. The smell of her own blood brought on a powerful nostalgia for the family she had just lost. Her thoughts howled like a banshee, extreme and chaotic they spun like a cyclone with its central eye fixated on Dean, the man responsible. She took him from behind, sliding the glass edge beneath his jaw line and twisting to ride his chest hard into the floor. Licking her lips, she rocked forward fascinated to watch blood well up beneath her pressure. She could feel his chest shift between her thighs. She hesitated; awed by her own audacity to take something for herself and the moment finished her. Linda's son hurtled her sideways, savaging her like she came with the instructions "shake before opening". Lightning quick Dean grabbed the boy. He came free in an arc of blood, frenzied like a wild thing, all teeth and claws, but Dean held on. "Sam!" Dean's yell communicated the need to hurry.
Sam rushed forward with a mason jar of foul sludge. Eileen waded into the fray and the three of them managed to get most of it into the boy. In delayed reaction the kid deflated before diving sideways retching. Cautiously, Eileen peeled the sick boy from Dean's grip; leaving Dean to confront the second jar Sam held in offering. Dean accepted with the enthusiasm of the condemned. Mary advanced on Dean armed with bandaging for wounds she should have tended days ago. But Sam blocked her before her actions could cause Dean to retreat further. Sam ignored her parental look of disapproval, his focus on his brother's hesitance. Some innate sense warned Sam there were dangerous currents churning beneath Dean's unflappable countenance. "C'mon man," Sam coaxed. "You always take it black. Don't tell me vamp Dean takes his with cream and a double pump of amaretto." Dean huffed appreciating Sam's attempt and tossed the cure back, doing his damndest not to gag. Sam stepped forward reaching for the jar as an excuse to crowd Dean. "Hair of the Dog?" Sam asked, working hard to keep it light.
Dean's eyes met Sam's, "Just waiting for the party to start."
Sam pulled a hefty trash bag from his back pocket and flapped it open. "There's no way you are convincing me that designated driver isn't the better option here," Sam countered. Dean snatched the garbage bag with a bravado that belied the color fleeing his face. "Ass," Dean managed to hiss before bending to other matters.
Sam hooked Dean's shoulder to anchor him, but the violence of Dean's stomach clearing the decks brought them both to their knees. There was no time for Sam to be concerned by smell or sound. Dean was lost to the storm and Sam couldn't do anything more than hold on. It was more visceral than Sam remembered. In his head he struggled not to panic rationalizing the difference was due to Sam's lack of soul the first go round.
Something didn't feel right. "Sam!" Eileen cried in distress. In between heaving the boy hung limp and swinging in her arms; she shifted so the Winchesters could see the ruby hue of the sludge his body was rejecting. It didn't match the oily black Dean was producing. Sam shook his head, too busy to brush away the hair that stuck to the sweat on his brow. "I followed the directions exactly," he panted. But in his head he questioned himself, realizing Samuel had mixed it last time while he had watched in detached interest.
Mary looked surprised. She had heard talk about a cure, but never witnessed it. "You've seen this before?" She asked.
Sam's eyes looked haunted, telling her more than his words. "A few hours in the bathroom and Dean wouldn't admit it but he had no appetite or energy for about a week."
"Dean's…?" Done this before, Mary realized with horror. "Sam!" Her desperation was contagious catching Dean's awareness. "Easy diet," Dean shrugged off. Sam twisted his fingers into the back of Dean's shirt; leverage against Dean's attempt to stand on his own.
Wiping his face against his sleeve Dean fought another wave to add, "too much pie… anyway."
"You think this is a game!" Mary was so furious she grabbed Dean, completely unprepared for the way his weight swung free.
The fall would have been painful if Sam hadn't reacted. He grabbed Mary's arm and with a twist redirected her momentum back onto her feet while he did his best to slow his brother's weight. They landed in a tangle, Sam jumped to take his weight off Dean's bandaged chest, but Dean had more pressing concerns, fumbling to get the Hefty bag open. Sam turned on Mary like the hunter he had been trained to be. His eyes intent and his expressive face challenging. Mary grabbed his collar, closing the space between them. "It's cumulative," she breathed. "That's why the cure won't work if you've fed. The poison is cumulative." The reflexive clench of Sam's grip was his only tell. His eyes were hard, unrelenting and Mary realized, if pushed Sam was just as deadly and capable as his brother. "I'm fine," Dean declared breaking up the standoff, shaking Sam free to go focus on the boy.
With a glare of warning at his mother Sam turned to help Eileen. The boy was pale and panting. His skin had a dry, monotone quality like skin in a morgue. "It's ok, Jamie. It's going to be fine." Eileen chanted to the boy, rubbing his back. But the fear in the look she sent Sam made her words fiction.
SNSNSNSN
Three in the morning was an unnatural time to be trying to move the world. Sam drove the impala with one hand. The windows were open despite the chill in a desperate bid to escape the smoky lingering traces of Linda and her son's funeral pyre. Sam had allowed Dean his autonomy until the embers had died and Dean's final bout of dry heaves had left him too spent to climb up off the dirt. None of the survivors spoke as they rushed to put the tragedy in the Impala's rear view mirror. Sam had gone alpha male over Dean trying to seclude himself in the back of the Impala. Sam had gotten his way but it worried him how easily the battle had been won. After Dean succumbed to sleep against the passenger window Sam had tugged his brother down to lay against the bench seat. The heater was cranked to max and Sam kept his free hand curled over Dean's shoulder to keep his brother's head against his thigh, where he could feel his brother quiver with life without looking. Mary held an opened bottle of Gatorade over the seat back for Sam. Sam glanced to ensure Dean was out before accepting the offering.
"Dizzy?" Mary asked, draping her arms over the seat back. Sam glanced in the mirror on the windshield and found Eileen's eyes on him. "This helps," he avoided. There was a rustle and Eileen handed an energy bar to Mary who unwrapped it for her son. Sam gave her a tight smile and accepted. The sugar would help combat the effects of blood loss. Mary reached forward to brush her fingertips through the short bristle of Dean's hair. Sam couldn't help the possessive impulse to bat her hand away. The sentiment must have shown on his face because Mary pulled her hand back with a frustrated look. "Verbalize Sam," She commanded. "The attitude isn't working for you."
"He needs rest." Sam answered throwing her a superior look.
Mary shook her head knowing it wasn't that simple. "You're touching him," She argued back.
Dean gave a soft groan, that had sounded so wrong. "If you two don't cut it out I'm turning this car around." He grumbled softly.
Sam managed to suppress his smile, Mary wasn't as successful. "I think that was supposed to be my line." She replied pleased that Dean seemed to be doing better.
Without opening his eyes, Dean sighed theatrically, "Are we there yet?"
SNSNSNSN
Dean reached for the outer door of the bunker and realized too late that he had picked up a tail. Taking a steadying breath Dean turned to confront his brother with a raised eyebrow. Sam stopped short, "Uh," he floundered. "You going out?" Dean gave Sam an unamused look before turning to head out the door. Sam grabbed Dean's arm, "No, I mean wait for me."
"Sam!" Dean growled warning his brother that he wasn't going to have another conversation on the topic of how he was feeling. He was headed out the door to run six miles exactly so he wouldn't be able to feel anything past exhaustion.
"C'mon," Sam stalled trying to draw the correct conclusions from Dean's attire that would grant him a pass to stick to Dean's side. Sweats, a frayed hoodie, and sneakers… "Conditioning! Weren't you telling me to stop draggin ass?" Sam grasped, "I'll be ready in five."
Dean gave Sam a flat "you aren't kidding anyone" look, but his brother's big hand hadn't let go. "I'm walking out the door in two," Dean gave. Sam nodded, his hair flopping in his enthusiasm. Dean cocked his head but it took Sam another moment before he realized the timer had started. "Oh," Sam started. He spun and sprinted down the stairs for his room.
Dean's ratty sneakers struggled to keep the steady rhythm against the asphalt. His lungs wheezed and stuttered playing catch up. His focus had narrowed to an internal stream of encouragement that his father's drill master would have been impressed with. He pushed past the mile marker and let his body coast to a halt. "Thank heaven" Sam exhaled slowing and bending forward to catch his breath in Dean's wake. Frost crusted leaves crunched as Dean drifted to a roadside Beech tree to wait out his internal organ's battle for use of his esophagus. Nausea had become a standard and Dean wasn't going to advertise unless forced.
Sam moved through Dean's shadow to collapse at the tree's base. The run had been brutal and internally Sam was trying to decipher why his brother had felt the need to punish himself like this. He glanced up at Dean's profile a moment, assessing his brother's health before tugging sharply on the hem of Dean's hoodie. Dean leveled him a warning look but obeyed the request to sit. There was so much Sam wanted to fill the silence with… But he couldn't figure out an angle that would actually net what he wanted. Sensing the direction of Sam's interest Dean decided to head them a different direction. "Kansas State?"
Sam jumped at the bait, "The online class interaction is asynchronous, so if there's a hunt, we can meet the class requirements around the job." Dean didn't respond, so Sam continued, "I like Brown's online program too… but it's expensive." Sam turned when Dean didn't engage when Sam gave him the opportunity. "What did you like?" Dean just shook his head and dropped it into the privacy of his hand. "I can't do this without you," Sam said. But the immediate tensing in the set of Dean's shoulders had Sam realizing that his brother hadn't forgotten the points Sam had made by leaving for Stanford. Dean pushed to his feet and Sam back pedaled, "I mean… " Sam cursed and grabbed Dean by the shoulder. He was exhausted from chasing his brother for the last six miles and felt desperate to explain himself before Dean put another six on the speedometer. "Just hear me out, as a criminal lawyer I could help people like us. Hunters who end up on the wrong side of the law because of the good we do. But to be successful I need you to get certified as a detective." Dean gave Sam a look of disbelief. "I don't trust anyone else," Sam pleaded.
Dean smacked Sam's hand away and put an extra step between them. But he could feel himself caught in that little brother emotional tractor beam. "I'm not going to be your…"Dean fell silent, he didn't have time for private dick jokes. He needed to figure a way out before Sam found his way in and saw how truly wrecked Dean was. This wasn't just another job gone wrong; another kid and mother dead because he wasn't good enough. His mother didn't approve of him, confirming pretty much every self-doubt he had ever suspected about himself and now Sam was trying to get him to grab an olive branch Dean knew for a fact would burn to ash in his hand. His social popping up on the grid was sure to bring flashing blue and red lights accompanied by drawn guns. And he sure as hell didn't want to find out there were loop holes that would allow a fake ID to qualify for the type of background check law enforcement would give to a detective certification accompanied by a concealed gun license. Never mind that you put anyone in a room of law enforcement types, over eager to prove themselves and even super man would get nailed with indecent exposure or illegal use of public property. In the end it came back to the point that when he went down, the fallout would ruin Sam and his mother's chances. He belonged with the very things he risked everything to eliminate. Suddenly Dean lost the battle with his stomach and he bent over to empty what little he had in the tank.
Sam rushed forward getting far too handsy for Dean's comfort. Dean exploded shoving his brother back and stumbling over the lip of the asphalt road. Spitting to clear the taste from his mouth he growled, "No… Just No! I can't…"
"Dean," Sam interrupted staring at the vomit. "You're not ok. This," His brother gestured at the mess, "This is not OK! You should have been over this days ago, are you..."
"Focus, Sammy." Dean ordered. "School was never my deal, just… Let this be a you and mom deal. I don't need to be involved."
"Are you feeling any… cravings?" Sam demanded.
Dean's laugh had a self-destructive undercurrent. "Why are you out here Sam?" Sam's face telegraphed that he had been taken off guard. He looked at Dean like he might just be wishing he had a flask of holy water to ensure he was still talking to his brother. "I may not be the egg head you and Mom want, but I'm not the village idiot. What exactly is so wrong that you can't even let me go for a run." Sam blinked a mixture of surprise and indignation wrestling for supremacy. "It's not all about YOU Dean!"
Dean nodded. "Fine, then set me straight." The dismissive response set Sam in motion. A vicious right hook and Dean was flat on his back before Sam realized he had thrown the punch. "Oh," Sam gasped appalled that he had just clocked his ill brother. Dean carefully touched the bruise forming on his jaw before collapsing flat on his back. Sam watched his brother shake, laid out flat in the middle of the road. "Dean?" he called glancing nervously to ensure the country road was still empty. Dean gasped and a giggle bubbled up. "Are you… Laughing?" Sam asked inching closer. Sam couldn't believe it, his brother was laughing, laying in the center of a road in the middle of nowhere.
"Damn," Dean crowed. "Dad's sure as hell looking down right now and damn proud of you Sammy. No one put's Baby inna corner." Dean slurred. Sam shook his head with disbelief, unable to suppress the warmth Dean's compliment lit him with. "Such an idiot!" Sam huffed. He lent down and grabbed his brother's arm to help him back to his feet. "There is something very wrong with you!" Sam sighed.
Dean's nod seemed to answer no doubt. Sam stared at his brother, the oddest combination of frat boy BFF, mother, father, and small town hero; Dean defied stereotype. "Fine," Dean said giving Sam's chest a solid smack. "Fine?" Sam repeated, thinking the word had never been so unspecific.
"Yeah," Dean agreed with a shrug. Sam frowned trying to understand where in the conversation they were. Dean certainly wasn't fine, but this fine didn't seem to refer to that fine, so... "You'll enroll in college?" Sam deduced.
"You're right, we've faced worst odds. So who am I to be the voice of reason,"Dean relented walking away in the direction of the bunker. "What do they say about having to take care of your parents?" Sam thought, throwing his hands in the air. He noticed Dean was listing slightly and jogged to catch up, grabbing Dean's shoulder to steady him. "Jerk!" Sam huffed. No way was Sam going to entrust his brother's keeping to anyone else. It was his duty to screw up.
Dean chuckled, "Bitch."
Sam smiled at Dean's worn but easy response. The tone clueing Sam in on what care instructions he was going to follow when they got back. Dean carefully rubbed at the tender spot Sam had given him. "You realize," He added conversationally. "You decided to tag along for PE with your big bro rather than spend quality face time with Eileen's hot ass… That's messed up man. Someone didn't raise you right."
"Don't come to me for stitching up if Eileen catches you referring to her like that. Keep in mind there's no such thing as out of hearing distance with her." Sam's good humor dimmed. "You know… she slipped and called me John."
"Eileen?" Dean asked for clarification.
"No!", Sam said with alarm. "Mom."
"Guess you should reset your facebook status to complicated." Dean shot back.
Sam grinned, "You realize you just admitted to knowing how to use social media, right? Isn't that going to ruin your reputation or something?" He loved it when Dean slipped up and proved himself to be more intelligent than the broads and beers persona he projected.
"I can see it," Dean admitted. Giving Sam the compliment easily; leaving Sam at a loss for how to respond.
"Uhh, If I'm so much like Dad, when are you going to start following my orders?" Dean shoved his brother and sped up. "What? No witty come back?" Sam teased trotting behind his brother.
SPSPSP
And this last scene is for timetowaste247
Mary paced ten steps then returned to crack the oven to check for color. She popped the door closed and grabbed the packaging to study the picture. Maybe another 5, she muttered trying not to overthink what she was doing. She shook her hands out nervously. She couldn't recall the last time she was this jittery before a hunt. Not that this was comparable… She cracked the door again, feeling the heat against her face. Good enough she decided, grabbing a mitt. She pulled the take'n bake pie and set it atop a cutting board. The crust had cracked allowing sweet red to bubble over the lip on one side. Mary sighed, she felt just as out of her league as she had with John. She could smelt silver for a bullet or salt and burn a body without batting an eye, but making a home cooked meal? What a laugh! She smiled remembering the ridiculous extremes John had gone to to fake enjoy her "home cooking". Her favorite was probably the time he had seduced her on the dining table as an excuse to sweep that horrid casserole onto the floor before it poisoned them both. She counted herself lucky he was too besotted to let her lack of susie home maker skills deter him. Carefully she cut a wedge and managed to lever it onto a plate. Grabbing a fork, she went in search of her son.
Walking down the tiled corridor to the bedrooms Sam burst from his just as she was passing. With a startled yip he managed to right the plate before the slice ended up plastered to either of their chests. Both of them froze, staring at each other as the shock of the near miss wore off. "Um," Mary frowned glancing at the plate that Sam now held. "Pie?" she offered, looking back into his face with a difficult uncertainty. Sam's eyes widened, realizing what he had just disrupted. "No," he gasped, shoving the plate back into her hands. He hopped back, half turned, then paused. "I mean…" he pointed a finger at Mary's peace offering. "That will work," he offered her a bit of confidence before beating a hasty retreat, failing to hid the delight that left him smiling.
Mary hesitated at Dean's closed door, feeling ridiculous. Hadn't she pledged to herself that she would try to start treating him like an adult? She sighed and took a deep breath. Besides, pie had been John and his mother's thing. She had been desperate enough to try using it as a way to lure John back to the family table when things had gotten difficult between them. However, her four year old's sweet tooth hadn't complained even on the nights that the pie ploy hadn't worked to draw John out. Mary had to start somewhere. Gently she knocked before entering.
Dean looked up from his thoughts to see his mother. Shoving the skin mag he had tried to distract himself with beneath his pillow he slid off his bed. Quickly he brushed a few wrinkles in the bed cover out and gave his room a quick once over for any other contraband he should shuffle out of sight. "Mom?"
Mary smiled tentatively. "Do you still like cherry pie?" She asked holding her peace offering to him.
"You made me pie?" He whispered, taking the plate like it held mana.
As he took a reverent bite Mary glanced around the neatly kept room. She was a little surprised at herself that she hadn't ventured in here yet. "Looks like your dad taught you how to make your bed," She commented, noticing the crisp tucked corners. She turned to find Dean staring at her with timid adoration; déjà vu of a four year old who had just come off five minutes time out. The look had her opening her arms before she thought through the gesture.
Dean stepped into the hug, the pie abandoned on his desk. Her arms collapsed around him and heaven help him, it was just as he remembered. The strength, one arm wrapped around his chest, the other cradling his head. Her fingers caressing the curved base of his head, her warm breath teasing the nape of his neck… He couldn't move afraid he might crush the dream.
"It's ok, Baby," Mary crooned feeling a tremor rattle Dean's core. "I'm here," She promised. She brushed her fingers over the top of his hair surprised by the softness. "I still love you."
SPSPSP
So, that's the last stanza of the song. This was my first song fic. This chapter was difficult to write. I had a happy version, an agsty version but ended up feeling like I needed to stay in the horror genre. Did it work?
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