A/N- Another installment of Supernatural :) Thanks to AlaskaForever for your awesome reviews - your kind words are heartwarming.
Chapter 7
Dean ambled slowly along the center of the road, weaving in and out of the yellow segmented line. In and out, side to side…like a wave on the ocean, or an inchworm scooting its way along the ground. The moonlight caught the edges of the tree branches and mailboxes and cast long, distorted shadow here in suburbia. All the houses had lights on in the windows, spilling like honey onto the dark lawns. Dean caught glances of children's heads bobbing up and down and mothers kissing fathers over casseroles and briefcases. He looked away. Somehow, he knew those houses weren't for him. He didn't deserve those houses.
He got the sense that he needed to be looking for something. It pressed on his brain, demanding to be known, but he couldn't bring himself to find out what it was, no matter how hard he scratched. What could he possibly find on this road?
Passing one house, he glanced in and jumped when he saw John and Mary, his mother and father, holding a baby Sam as 4 year old Dean jumped up and down, clamoring for a look. His mom was laughing, rubbing her hands through Dean's hair, and John only had eyes for Mary as he gripped her shoulder tight, a grin wide across his face. As Dean looked through the window, he could've swore his heart stopped beating for a second. He didn't know if this was a memory or just an illusion, but it meant something nonetheless. They were happy here in this picture – even more, they were safe, because they were together. As a family.
Dean could've stayed at the window all night, soaking in his Mom's laughter or his father's smiles, but the tug he felt was pulling him on down the road, away from his family and toward… something else. It was important, he knew that much. Whatever it was needed him, urgently.
Passing another mailbox, he was surprised to see a leather jacket hanging from it, shifting slightly in the breeze. That wasn't supposed to be there, was it? Looking down the walk at this house, he saw the lights were out in this one, unlike any other on the block. The dark windows stared blankly back at him. Behind their shrouded depths was whatever was pulling him, like a lamb to the slaughter.
Opening the door was surprisingly easy. Just twist and pull. This bothered Dean as he walked inside. He should've had to unlock it. The door should've been locked.
Inside the house was dark, and Dean could only see from the faint moonlight streaming in from the large living room window. Something, whatever it was, was here, and it was very, very wrong. Dean's tingly hunter senses were going haywire.
Something was peeking out from behind one the couches – a flash of blonde, bleached white by the moon. Dean narrowed his eyes, and then it hit him – Sara. In a flash he was around the couch and stooping to her prone form. Her eyes were closed and her chest was moving up and down. Ok, alive. Good. She was alive. But rope on her hands and gag in her mouth sent Dean's heart into overdrive again. I have to save her… He reached for the restraints…
Dean shot up gasping like a man who'd just been deprived of air. For a moment he sat and tried to catch his breath, tried to force air into his lungs, but they wouldn't cooperate. Maybe it was his brain – it felt like it was going haywire. Sara. It had Sara. The thought only caused his hyperventilation to worsen. Somewhere to his left there were footsteps, but his brain couldn't connect the dots as to what that meant. Nothing was working, nothing was connecting, he was getting light-headed, make it stop he needed a breath dammit it he just needed some oxygen and oh shit things were getting dark at the edges breathe dammit Dean…
"Dean! Breathe dammit!" Sam was suddenly next to him. Panic was strewn across his features and Dean could see a wild light in his eyes. "With me, just look at me Dean and do as I do…bring in…out…in…out…yeah, yeah, see, you're gonna be ok. In...out…"
Slowly and steadily Dean's breathing evened out, to the point where Dean didn't feel like his lungs were going to explode or start dancing on his gave. In and out, right? This was supposedly easy shit. Come on guys, do your job. Dean blinked and looked at Sammy, who was looking at him like he'd just lost an arm or a kidney.
"Are you ok? I just woke up and it sounded like you were in heat or something. What's wrong?" Sam the inquisitor was back.
Dean thought back to his dream while his breathing settled back into a regular, quiet rhythm. What he saw was still splayed across his vision, permanently etched across his retinas. It was like he was seeing her in real time, like he was really there beside her, reaching for her. But that couldn't be real, could it? He didn't have those capabilities – it was Sam who had extra, weird gifts. Why was this different?
Dean looked back at Sam, his eyes wide and his hands shaking. "Sara. She's in trouble." His voice cracked on Sara's name.
Sam's eyes bore into his. "Dean…are you…are you serious? How could you know that? Is that what you dreamt about? Are you sure?"
Dean nodded. "I…I saw her Sammy. She was in a house and she wasn't moving, and I tried to help her but then I woke up. We have to save her."
Dean quickly hopped off the bed and yanked his shoes on. That's what he had to do – he had to save her. He was vaguely aware of Sam trailing behind him as he headed out of their room and trooped down the stairs, saying "Dean, wait, hold up…".
"DEAN!" Before he was out the door, Sam's gigantic hand grabbed his shoulder and yanked him back. Dean felt anger unfold somewhere inside him, and it slowly coursed through his veins like a drug, burning everything in its path. "Dean, stop. Just… just think this through for a minute before you go barreling in, guns blazing."
Before he could stop himself, a growl slipped from between his teeth. "Sam. Do you not understand what this means? Don't you get it? Sara's been taken. They, or it, or whatever the hell is doing this has her. If we don't do something, she's going to end up like all the other people we haven't been able to save. Dead. She's going to be dead Sam. And I can't let that happen. I won't. Not if I can do something about it."
Something was emerging in Sam's eyes that looked suspiciously like pity…and realization. "We're not going to let that happen Dean."
"What going on here boys?" Bobby had joined the two quietly, and his insightful, crockety eyes didn't miss a thing as they danced between the two brothers.
"They have Sara. I'm going to go save her," Dean said brazenly.
"That so," Bobby asked.
"Yes," Dean replied stiffly.
"Well, go on then. Save the girl. Defeat the beast. Oh, I forgot to ask – how exactly are you going to do that, pray tell? Because, I figure the only way we can properly do this whole hunting thing is to know what we're going up against and how to gank the son ofa bitch. You tellin me you already got it figured out? If so, do tell. I'm dyin to hear what your theory is."
Dean's jaw clenched shut and he saw a flash of red as he stared at his father figure, who he never resented more than that moment. He was so angry his blood was boiling inside him. "Bobby, I'm going. I can't just sit here."
Bobby took a step closer to him. "Listen here boy. I get it, I really do. Whatever this is has taken too many people and we've got to stop it. It's our job. But I can't ignore the fact that you've given me good, solid evidence to work off of, and you still want to charge in like a half cocked idjit. Give me some time, and I guarantee I will find you all I can so we can go in smart."
Bobby's logic was irrefutable. Dean felt the anger ebbing away, leaving a sort of buzz that made him feel drained and fidgety at the same time. He nodded numbly. "I just…we have to find her Bobby. I can't…"
Bobby placed a hand on his shoulder. "I know Dean. I know." He guided him to the living room and he plopped down on the sofa. He was aware of the others around him, talking and referencing the books they had spread out around them, but the words didn't seem to permeate his skull. The shadows on the floor grew longer as the sun set and night crept in.
His brain kept returning to the same thought, like it was playing on a loop. He had to save Sara. He had to. He couldn't just sit here and do nothing. That wasn't Dean. Dean was the Hulk – he smashed and roared, and asked questions later. He was an immovable force, hellbent on his goal. Dean couldn't think, couldn't research. That was Bruce Banner's job, which Dean was not. Sam was his Bruce Banner, and Dean just couldn't tap into that reservoir of patience and logical reasoning. That's why he had Sam. But Dean couldn't just sit here surrounded by ifs, ands, or buts, by words that meant nothing to him. Dean had to do something. He had to save Sara.
It was like a switch had been flipped somewhere in his brain. Slowly, as if his motions weren't in his control, he found himself making his way to the kitchen. Sam's eyes were practically burning a hole in him, but he felt them drop as Dean did what he normally would – grab a beer out of the fridge. He stood there for a moment, holding the cold drink in his hand, and then slowly made his way to the front door. After opening the door carefully, he slipped through and set the door carefully back against the frame. Not a peep.
His feet steered him across the junkyard, his feet quietly padding against the noises in the night. He was well aware that he probably shouldn't be driving in his condition and he got into Bobby's quieter cars and took off down the road. He was numb, numb to control and numb to emotions. His limbs were functioning separately from his own, and everything seemed detached and irrelevant. He had to save Sara.
Where his arms were steering him to, he knew not, but it didn't bother him. Wasn't numbness preferable to all the pain of knowing that Sara might as well be dead? If this monsters track record was any indication, she couldn't be saved. Clearly they were battling something out of their league – it was every bit as devious as a demon, but had the cunning and wit to leave no fingerprints, leave no traces. Sure they'd seem a flower that looked suspicious. But where had that really gotten them? Nowhere.
Dean's heart clenched as he realized Sara's name might go down on their list of 'people you probably could've saved'. So many innocents, so many people like Sara who were powerless against immense forces like werewolves, demons, and gods out for their blood. People like Sara couldn't protect themselves, not from forces that realistically should only exist in fairytales or nightmares. That's why people like Dean and Sam existed – to protect the innocent, and take a stand for humanity that no other people in their right mind would do. They were champions for the weak. But they couldn't always do enough, couldn't always be enough, as this life forcefully reminded them time and time again.
Is this what Sam felt like when Jess died? Or Madison? Maybe not. Sam had stronger ties with the loves he'd lost, whether it was Jess, whom he was about to marry and the yellow eyed demon killed to 'keep him on his toes', or Madison, who he'd only slept with, but then had to kill himself so she wouldn't harm others. Dean hadn't had ties like that to Sara. All he had with her was potentials and maybe's. If he was being truly honest with himself he knew that it would probably just amount to a one night stand. That was safest. He couldn't allow himself to think about more. He couldn't allow himself to think about what could have been.
After all, this was the life he had committed to, the life he had returned to again and again. He knew underneath it all he and Sam both resented how different it made them feel, like it separated them from the rest of humanity. It gave them hardships and deaths and struck them down again and again, but they both returned to it each and every day because it gave them the rare opportunity to change the world in the way they knew best. This life gave them a way to save innocents. All it required of them was complete dedication – no weaknesses, no cracks your enemies could get through. Love, in this world, was a weakness.
Dean knew Sam had it harder. He wasn't really programmed to love and leave like Dean was – when Sam loved, it was genuine and long lasting and he was the most devoted man a girl could find. Sam was the marrying type. And as much as that wasn't Dean, he wanted that for Sam. He wanted to see his brother happy and safe, somewhere in suburbia with a minivan and a mortgage to complain about and a wife that loved him and 2.5 kids that he adored. As much as he teased Sam, as good as Sam was, he deserved that, Lucifer's vessel be damned.
Dean…Dean was a different story. On one hand, he was good at being a ladies man. He could pick up women without trying, and in this life it was something he used effectively. On some days though, when he was being unusually introspective, the thought crossed his mind. Did he want a family? Yes. The answer surprised even him sometime. And Sara…Sara was someone he wouldn't have minded doing it with.
When Dean focused back on the road, trying to let his thoughts dissipate as they caused too much pain, he was surprised to find himself in the same suburban town he'd walked in his dream. Somehow, his subconscious had found the place. Not that my subconscious should be the one driving the car…
As he petered off on the gas, he found the house he was looking for. The house where he'd found Sara in his dream. There were no leather jacket hanging on the mailbox, but he'd know that house anywhere.
His heart beating insanely loudly in his ears, he exited the car and made his way toward the house. Honestly, he didn't know what to expect. He had the Colt in one hand, a gun carrying silver bullets in the other, and a machete in a sheath hanging along his belt. A canister of holy water was in his pocket. Realistically, he was about as prepared as he would ever be.
The door opened quietly in front of him, and warnings sounded in his head. This was so, so wrong. He knew that, but that couldn't stop him even if he wanted to. He was here on a mission, and like a man on a mission, he planned to see it through. He had to save Sara.
His hunter eyes scanned the room, looking for anything at all. He crept further into the house, his every sense tingling, adrenaline coursing through his blood stream.
There it was. A hint of blonde hair splayed across the floor behind the sofa, and Dean's heart stopped. It wasn't just a dream – this was real life.
One step toward Sara, and that was all it took. One step had Dean fading into unconsciousness as Dean was struck from behind and fell bonelessly to the floor.
TBC- Please read and review! I encourage everyone to review- reviews keep me going, and I always enjoy reading them.
