Chapter Ten - Surprise, surprise

Dean woke up hungry. He sat up in the driver's seat, listened to his stomach growl like an angry Doberman.

The other car at the rest stop was gone.

Dean watched as the spirits of a family of four who'd been killed on the interstate drifted silently across the darkened pavement, towards the woods. It was a mother and father, a little boy and his older sister. The accident happened over six months ago. They were confused. Dean could tell.

He still saw everything unseen around him. That much hadn't changed.

They did this every night at the same time, not realizing that all four of them died instantly in that crash with that wrong-way driver. A part of Dean, buried deep within the darkness, thought that he really should care about what he was seeing, restless ghosts and such.

Another part of him really didn't give a damn.

What mattered to Dean now was keeping his end of the bargain. Keeping the darkness away from Sam and Bobby. Keeping them safe.

Dean sat there for a moment, that red glint in his eyes faintly visible through those dark sunglasses he wore. The darkness curled up inside him, coiled on itself, contented, sluggish as it digested its latest meal.

Dean's stomach growled again, low and rough, and the darkness stirred irritably.

What was that?

"'m hungry," Dean said aloud. It was just a statement of fact. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten something, anything. His throat was dry almost to the point of being raw. His belly was a deep hollow hole inside him.

Dean didn't move. He just sat there. Waiting.

Oh.

This was something the dark thing hadn't considered. Of course his pet needed to eat. It had never had to take such care of its favored ones before. Inside the confines of County General it never had to. The hospital staff would force feed its Chosen Ones if necessary, if they lasted that long. Now that they were out in the wild, so to speak, the darkness had to be careful. It had no desire to run Dean Winchester into the ground like the boy was some worthless pack mule. This was only the beginning of a relationship that would last for the rest of eternity.

You need food, it said flatly.

"Yeah." There was no sarcasm in Dean's voice. He watched blankly as two more spirits floated nearby, both of them wearing motorcycle leathers. Their heads were split open.

They hadn't worn their helmets that day.

What is this place?

Dean shrugged. "Rest stop."

Is there food in there?

Dean shrugged. "Chips and soda and stuff..." His voice trailed off. He pictured each one in his mind as he named them.

But…that's not the kind of food you want, is it?

"No."

Show me.

Catfish fried in beer batter, light and fluffy. Thick slabs of well done hamburger meat nestled between two sesame seed buns, lettuce, tomato, pickle relish and thin slices of onions. Sliced fried potatoes…french fries, the human boy called it.

Thick slices of juicy apple pie, with a buttery flaky crust.

More pies. Cherry, Blueberry. Lemon. A strawberry shake so rich and thick and cold, the memory of it made Dean's head ache a little….

Stop, the darkness said at last. It was all a little overwhelming.

Dean sat there, waiting.

Go find your food.

The corners of Dean's mouth twitched up a little as he turned the ignition. It wasn't his usual smirk, but it was close enough.

The waitress' name was Mandy, and the darkness hated her the first time it looked at her through Dean's eyes. She was about Dean's age, blonde and slender. Just his type. She touched Dean every chance she got, repeatedly on his broad shoulders, on his right hand. The dark one snarled inside Dean's head. It wasn't used to being touched like that.

Dean had a random thought about getting together with Mandy after her shift was over, but the darkness refused to allow it. Any of it.

For once, Dean didn't mind.

It was bad enough that it had to sit there and wait impatiently while Dean ate. And did he have to eat so much?

It grudgingly allowed Dean to remove his sunglasses inside the well-lit diner. It hid the red glint in Dean's eyes. As the meal progressed Dean smiled and was charming enough to Mandy, and the darkness settled itself. It was in for the long haul. It would have to re-think the way it did things, so that it wouldn't squander its precious green-eyed prize.

"Well, there you are," this voice rumbled from behind.

Dean froze. That forkful of cherry pie in his hand stopped in mid-air.

Dad, Dean thought dully. He raised his head and stared at the man who slid into the seat directly opposite him.

"Hey, Dean," Gordon Walker drawled lazily. That smile of his didn't reach his eyes.

Dean huffed. He popped the forkful of fruit and flaky pie crust into his mouth, then gestured at Gordon with his fork as he chewed. "Gonna have to buy your own, dude. I'm not sharing."

Gordon laughed. The sound was totally devoid of any humor.

"Thought you'd be in prison by now," Dean mumbled with his mouth half full.

"No thanks to you. And that demon brother of yours."

"Who? Sammy? Oh, no." The darkness inside Dean chuckled. "You got that wrong," Dean swallowed the rest of the pie.

Gordon Walker. A hunter, the darkness thought. It knew the complete history between the two men. An obsessed one. Thought Sam Winchester was the Anti-Christ. Walker was the reason Sam disappeared that night. Gordon Walker somehow managed to overpower Dean, use him as the bait in a trap set for the younger brother.

The trap failed. And yet here he was again.

Gordon leaned forward. "We can do this easy, or hard, Dean. After all, you wouldn't want any of these civilians around here to get hurt, would you?"

Dean quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Got some friends with me." Dean glanced over at the front door. Two large burly types glared back at him. Rough looking, capable, and Dean had no doubt that they had guns tucked in underneath their jackets.

"We wanna talk to you. About Sam." Gordon sat back. "Word travels fast, Dean. Heard you were at County General Hospital for about three weeks." Gordon reached out and snagged a fat juicy cherry from Dean's plate. He popped it into his mouth and chewed while Dean glared at him.

"Heard all kinds of things, about how you were in the psych ward. How you saw spirits and vamps and all." Gordon smiled. "Does this kind of thing run in the family, Dean? Did your abilities finally come out, and you couldn't handle them? Freaked you out? Or did Sam infect you somehow? I imagine it would be kind of lonely bringing about the Apocalypse without his big brother at his side."

There was more. Another human stepped up behind Dean just then.

Shielded. They were shielded---

Something cold and metallic was pressed against the back of Dean's neck.

Containment amulet, Dean thought. The pupils of his eyes flashed red, and then the glint was gone.

"There now," Gordon purred. The man standing behind Dean very carefully looped the cord of the amulet around Dean's neck as he slid the metallic object down Dean's shirt. "You in a sharing and caring mood now, Dean?'

"Yes," Dean said dully.

Gordon scowled. "Yes, what?"

"Yes sir."

Gordon smiled. "That's my boy. You don't move unless I say. Understand?"

Dean nodded, his eyes horribly blank.

"Come on let's go, then."

Dean did as he was told. Gordon left enough money to cover Dean's meal. He stiffed Mandy her tip.

Wait, the darkness murmured in Dean's ear. Wait. It was caught off guard, temporarily bound. It had been at County General all these many years, had gotten complacent. It would have to adapt now, if it was to survive.

It still had Dean. His body and his hunter's instincts. Dean had the choice of the knife at his ankle, or the gun in his back waistband.

The gun was closer.

There were six in all, and they surrounded Dean as he stepped out onto the parking lot. Gordon walked in the lead, towards this nondescript looking grey panel truck.

Gordon turned and bared his teeth at Dean. Well, it looked like he was smiling. "I know you're packing, Dean." The two men on either side of Dean grabbed his arms on either side tightly. Gordon flipped open Dean's jacket, reached in underneath his overshirt. "Let's lighten your load, shall we?"

Dean just stood there.

The two men holding him staggered as an unbearable pressure built up behind their eyes. Everything went pitch black for them. They stumbled around in eternal darkness now.

Everything slowed down just then. Gordon remembered how bright Dean's eyes were. Too bright, too green, and Dean smirked a little as he picked up the man behind him and threw him against the side of this tractor trailer nearby. The other hunter was out of Dean's reach, but it didn't matter. Dean turned and gestured at him with fingers outstretched, claw-like, and the man went flying up against the side of the diner.

Gordon drew his own gun, and Dean was suddenly there, right in his face. Gordon heard the bones in his wrist snap like brittle twigs, then he was flying through the air, right into the windshield of the grey van.

Damn. That was the last thought Gordon had for a while.

Pull over, Dean.

Sixty miles down the highway, Dean pulled the Impala off onto a side road. Dean reached underneath his shirt and pulled the containment amulet from around his neck. He rolled down the window, and tossed the damn thing into the weeds by the shoulder of the road.

Then he sat there. Waiting.

Why did you…how did you do that? the darkness sputtered.

Dean shrugged.

Speak!

"Because…you…you couldn't."

You did all that. On your own.

"Yeah."

Why? They could have saved you.

"Not gonna welsh on the deal," Dean muttered softly.

Dean sat quietly, his eyes glowing soft red, as the darkness examined his head from the inside. The head injury was the cause. It had opened Dean's mind up in more ways than one.

It was the only time in its long unnatural life the dark thing was struck speechless.

This one, his Dean, was full of surprises.

Bobby's hands tightened on the Chevelle's steering wheel. Lord, he loved this kid like he was his own, but right now Sam was doing a pretty good imitation of John Winchester, which was just a polite way of saying pig-headed and pissed off.

Sam was pissed. Pissed that they didn't go roaming around at night all half-cocked, looking for Dean. Pissed that Bobby hadn't thought to bring a laptop with him. Huh. What was Bobby supposed to do with the damn laptop, throw it at the critter? Public libraries in these parts didn't open until ten. Sam glanced out the window searching for any signage that would indicate a library nearby. His eyes narrowed, and his mouth twitched into a thin, hard line.

Like father, like son.

Sam was actually more like John than he ever dared admit. Dean apparently was tempered by having his Mom around for the first four years of his life. He could get prickly at times, but nothing beat Sam Winchester's bitchface.

Hell of a way to start the day. And it wasn't even nine twenty yet.

Bobby huffed. "Sam, we gotta talk about this sooner or later. I've seen all kinds of demons in my time. Those red eyes of Dean's, that's not a good sign. We might have to re-think this whole thing."

"Rethink how?"

Bobby sighed. "There ain't a heck of a lot that heaven and hell agree on, but there is one thing. Free will."

Sam's frown deepened. "I'm not following you."

"Dean gave himself to that critter."

Sam huffed a short burst of surprised laughter. "No he didn't. This is Dean we're talking about. Dean hates everything supernatural. Dad might have made a deal with a demon, but Dean wouldn't. He couldn't."

Bobby pulled up to the red light behind this dump truck. He quirked one eyebrow and stared pointedly at Sam. "Boy, you just proved my point for me. John made the damn deal to save Dean. Dean made this deal to save you."

Sam shook his head. "No. you're wrong."

"Am I?" The light turned green and the dump truck rumbled away from them. "That thing in the hospital…didn't it tell you that Dean was behaving himself now? Isn't that what you told me? We both know how Dean is, Sam. He'd fight that thing until he breathed his last. He's not. Why not?"

The memory floated to the surface then, that thing clothed in Jess' image, standing over his bed. Touching him. Taunting him.

"Your wonderful, self-sacrificing big brother."

Sam's gut tightened painfully.

"I think he'd do anything for you. Lucky for me."

Sam shook his head, again in the negative. Once. Twice. He looked dazed, shocked out of that pissy mood of his.

"We gotta be clear on this," Bobby rumbled on. It had to be said. "A voluntary possession, if that's what this is, is one of the worst things I can think of. If Dean's cooperating with that thing, that'll make our job just that much harder."

All the spit in Sam's mouth suddenly dried up. "How do…how do you drive the demon out then?"

Bobby shook his head. "You can't."

The air was thick with the smell of gunpowder. Only the cool night air coming in through that broken window made breathing bearable. Sammy was coming back to himself now, crying, and the damn witch was gone.

"What happened?" John Winchester gritted out. He held Sammy to his chest like the boy was a precious thing, and why not?

Sam's his favorite, the dark voice inside Dean's head whispered. Always has been. You're just the bodyguard, the good little soldier. Daddy's little blunt instrument.

"I -- I j-just went o-out," nine year old Dean stammered.

" What?"

"Just for a second. I'm – I'm sorry." God, he was such a fuck up. There was no sense in saying anything else.

"I told you not to leave this room. I told you not to let him out of your sight," Dad said quietly as he hugged four year old Sam to his chest like a precious, fragile thing.

Dad's got the son he wanted all along, this voice inside Dean's head whispered. He just kept you around to look after the brat. It sounded more like his voice now, but it wasn't. Not yet, anyway.

Nine year old Dean just nodded. He couldn't tell who he was agreeing with. He stood there in that one spot. And he didn't move.

John sat Sam on the bed, and Dean didn't even tense up when John turned towards him.

Whatever he's gonna do to me, it's fine. It's fine. I deserve it…

John brushed past Dean as if he wasn't even there. He stalked over to the duffels on the floor, threw one in that chair nearby, and started packing.

They were leaving.

You're not even worth being yelled at anymore. Not even worth the energy it would take for him to hit you.

Dean Winchester lay curled up on his side on the bed in room 11D at the Cheshire Motor Lodge. The people next door were loud and noisy. Radios blasted, doors slammed all night long, and at one point an argument broke out and the police were called to break up the fight.

None of that bothered Dean. He lay there staring blankly into space, his green eyes covered with a transparent red glaze. His breathing was slow and steady. His head was filled with scenes from the past, memories of his life on the road. It roared inside his skull like the echo of the ocean trapped inside a sea shell.

John ignored Dean for four weeks. An entire month.

Dean relived it all. Every snub, every time John looked at him and through him. Dean became silent, mute, the same way he did when Mary Winchester died.

That was bad enough.

Dad looked at me different now, which was worse…

Dean still held onto those memories after all that time, over two decades. And the beautiful part was, John Winchester inflicted this damage on his eldest son in the mistaken belief that he was helping the boy somehow.

It was ironic, but the darkness realized it owed John Winchester a debt of gratitude.