A/N: Update, update, another-other update...sorry. Little too much caffeine. Okay, so here is the over due update to Tuesday's Child. I know the end might disappoint some of you, since the brother's have to part ways for a while, but I came across this amazing quote on pinterest. It goes- " Do you think the universe fights for souls to be together? Some things are too strange and strong to be coincidences."
I absolutely love the idea behind this, and decided I wanted to explore this idea just a little bit in the first few cases of Tuesday's Child. So don't worry, they won't be apart forever. I just want to explore how the universe might be them together a couple of times before these stubborn boys pick up on the game plan.
So, "How To Fix A Winchester" updated yesterday, with an amazing prompt from Colby's Girl, and "All The Pretty Monsters" should update this afternoon or early evening.
Speaking of Pinterest. NaNo starts in less than a week. My Mom's heart attack/surgery/recovery through me off my game this year. I did not get a chance to do any pre-work on a NaNo idea. I have decided to ride the wave of NaNo enthusiasm in my own way instead. My NaNo goal is to get 150,000 words up, spread out among my five open projects. That's about 50000 more words than I average in a normal month, so it's still a killer goal. Also, I have set an entirely insane viewership goal for my projects. I beat this month's goal a few day's back, so I am upping the ante for November.
Anywho, back to Pinterest. My last goal for NaNo is to spread the love around. I have been gathering inspirational quotes for writers on one of my Pinterest Boards for several months now, and I legitimately feel like they really help when my discipline is flagging.
So, for every post from today forward, I am going to attempt to share one with you, since many of your are writers, and even more of you should be (because once you start writing that story you're thinking about, I promise it will be awesome!).
So I am inviting any of my readers to share their favorite writing-inspired quote with me, and I'll share it, with credit to the original author, as well as the Ffnet reader who sent it to me. I'll also share your profile link, if you'd like, so that my readers can check out your work, if you'd like.
The best thing about FFNet is the support and encouragement we give each other, and NaNo is definitely a time when every author needs to feel the love, whether or not they are officially participating.
So, BlueRiverSteel sent me a great one this morning.
"There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside of you"-Maya Angelou.
She has some amazing Supernatural and Lord of the Rings Projects, and my favorite is "It's Sam".
I'd post the actual link, but somehow why computer always messes it up.
Reviews are Love!
As Always,
EverReader
Disclaimer: Not mine...
Tuesday's Child – Chapter Eleven
"Sleep Like The Dead"
John's first hunt was very nearly his last. It was only his utter and absolute determination that allowed him to survive the angry poltergeist's attack.
But John has a secret weapon of his own.
No matter how angry the poltergeist was, it could never match the simmering fury in John's soul, an ever-burning fire kindled by a murdered wife and stolen child.
Missouri had said the greatest hunter in the world would be outmatched against the evil that had killed Mary.
John was willing to take that bet.
Nothing could bring Mary back, but John was determined to get Sam back.
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Dean eased the back door to the antique store carefully open, shining his pen light around as discreetly as he could.
The back room appeared to be for storage purposes, towers of boxes and piles of items piled haphazardly here and there.
It was also empty.
Dean let himself in, closing the door behind him as quietly as he could.
He wasn't sure where to start looking for Melinda's bones.
Human remains (bones, at least), could fit into a surprisingly small container, which meant they could be in anyone of the dozens of boxes in this room alone.
However, Dean had a feeling the shop-owner would keep them somewhere easily accessible. There was a door directly in front of him, that Dean assumed led to the store's showroom, and a staircase over to his left. Most likely, there was an apartment of sorts up there.
Dean chose the stair case, picking his way up with caution, stepping with care lest an unwanted creak betray his presence. His suspicions proved correct, the upstairs did house a small, shoddy apartment.
It was messy, with dishes in the sink, and clothes on the floor. Early morning sunlight streamed dimly through grime streaked windows.
The kitchen was clear, and Dean found nothing of interest in the living room or bathroom either. Opening the last door, he entered what looked to be the man's bedroom.
"Oh, man. That's just wrong." Dean said, louder than he meant to, the words shocked out of him by the sight before him.
Melinda's bones were arranged with care and precision, each bone in it's rightful place, laid out almost lovingly, on a piece of black velvet cloth.
On the shop keeper's bed.
"So judgmental. But then, most hunters are." Dean turned quickly, raising his weapon, but the psychic was one step ahead of him, and Dean didn't have a chance to dodge to cast iron skillet aimed at his skull.
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Book slowly started to lever himself off of Amanda's sofa. Dean hadn't been gone long, but Book had an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.
Maybe it was a warning, maybe it was just because it was Dean, maybe it was because of this whole, crazy mixed-up situation, but either way, Book was becoming more and more convinced that letting Dean go on his own was a bad idea.
"Book, I was going to make some eggs—whoa, whoa, buddy! Where do you think you're going?" Amanda said as she walked into the room.
At the sight of Book trying to get up, she hurried over, placing an insistent hand on Book's shoulder as she urged him back down.
"Dean said to stay there." She said in concern.
Book was already shaking his head. "I shouldn't have let him go without back up."
She looked him over shrewdly. "I'm not sure how much help you would have been, Book. You nearly passed out on my living room floor."
"Yeah, but that was over an hour ago. I'm better now, the juice helped. Thanks, by the way. I'm sorry if Dean came across as rude, he can just be a little..." Book trailed off.
"Protective? Possessive? Rabid?" Amanda offered.
Book looked at her in amusement. "Intense." He said.
She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I'm just betting he gets real 'intense' with me if I let you up. He was really worried. I don't think he wanted to leave."
"Well, we are unfortunately on a bit of a schedule. And I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to be protecting you, not the other way around." Book observed wryly.
"I won't tell if you won't." She quipped with an understanding smile. "And if that...spell thing of yours helps Dean locate Melinda's bones, then I'd say you protected the hell out of me. Thank you, Book. You and Dean are literally saving my life."
"Thank us when it's over..." Book said softly, sitting up straighter as he registered the temperature in the room start to drop. "Amanda, get the salt..."
"Shit. Shit-shit-shit..." Amanda mumbled, looking around wildly as she handed the canister of salt to Book with shaking hands. "What do we do?"
"We wait. Once Dean burns Melinda's bones, she loses her tie to the physical plane. Until then, we just have to hold her off." Book replied, as a ghostly wind began to stir the curtains and the papers on Amanda's desk.
"What if he can't find them? What if he fails?" She said, as the wind began to gain strength.
"Dean doesn't fail." Book said.
"You have a hell of a lot of faith in a man you just met!" Amanda said, pitching her voice to be heard over the wind.
"Long story."
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Dean struggled against the ropes binding him to the wooden kitchen chair. The shop keeper obviously didn't have much experience in tying people up, but he had made up for it in enthusiasm.
The shopkeeper himself was only a few feet away, chanting lowly as he swung a stick of burning incense over Melinda's bones.
"Hey!" Dean said, trying to distract the man from his ritual. "What the hell kinda kinky shit have you two been getting up to up here, huh?"
The man whipped around, two spots of angry color burning high on his pale cheeks. "Like you could ever understand, hunter. I'm a real psychic, I have genuine ability. Not like those phonies and frauds with their street fairs and their crystal balls. I'm an actual psychic, like your little friend from earlier. But none of the stupid tourists who come to Lily Dale are interested in hearing the truth. No, they want some phony psychic with a turban and a magic mirror to tell them they're going to come into money soon. I was helping people, I was telling them the truth."
"Yeah, well, some people don't want to hear the truth. Like you, for instance. You probably have no interest in hearing that I'm a hunter, and even I think you're creepy as fuck. You got a dead woman's bones in your bed, man." Dean stalled, twisting his wrist back and forth, trying to free it.
The man narrowed his eyes. "Insult me all you want, but once I've taken care of the Woodsby girl, you're next."
Dean struggled harder, knowing that Amanda was a sitting duck, back at her house, with only a weakened Book to protect her.
And who was going to protect Book?
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Book brushed his bangs out of his eyes, dodging as another vase flew at him where he crouched, shielding Amanda with his own body inside the circle of salt.
A book glanced off his shoulder, the stinging pain just one among many. A small cut high on his cheek dripped blood slowly, and Amanda was cradling her arm where another book had smashed into her.
"Book, what do we do? Should we run?" Amanda called out fearfully.
"NO! Whatever you do, don't leave the circle of salt." Book replied, ducking as a globe flew by, nearly taking his head with it.
"There's not much salt left! The wind's blowing it all away. We need another plan!" She yelled, frightened eyes locked onto Books.
Book swallowed, nodding.
He knew she was right. But nothing would eliminate the threat until Melinda's bones were salted and burned. Dean was the only one in position to do that right now, and Book had no doubt that he would.
It was just a question of whether or not he would get to them in time.
Book closed his eyes, concentrating desperately. Dean had been right, he didn't have a whole lot of mojo left at the moment, but maybe he had enough to strengthen the defense of the salt line. It was a relatively small circle.
He really had no choice, anyway. Dean needed more time, so Book would hold the line.
Literally.
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The volume of the shop keeper's chanting rose again, and Dean took advantage of the man's distraction to finally work his right hand lose.
Quickly, with deft hands that had far too much practice, he yanked on the man's amateur knot, the whole pile of rope falling away like a poorly performed magic trick.
"Hey!" Dean shouted, and the man jerked in surprise, wheeling around to face his hostage.
Dean grinned ferally as he cold-cocked the asshole.
The shopkeeper dropped unceremoniously dropped to the ground, and Dean lunged for his bag of supplies where they had fallen when he had been attacked.
Aware of just how little time Book and Amanda might have, he wasted no more as he swamped the bones with salt and kerosene. Normally, he'd take bones outside, to avoid setting an entire building on fire, but he was beginning to think that torching the entire town of Lily Dale might not be such a bad idea.
With a hard flick of his wrist, he tossed the lighter onto the bed, and with an angry 'whoosh', the bones lit up like the fourth of July.
As soon as he was satisfied that the fire had had time to do it's work, he dumped a bucket of water onto the bed, and practically ran out the door, desperate to check on Book and Amanda.
"Fucking hate Lily Dale..." He muttered.
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"Wait...so...in his bed?" Book repeated again in disbelief. "His bed?"
"Right?" Dean said with a tired chuckle. "It's a new personal best for me. Or worst. Or...something. Jesus. I'm telling you Book, as far a psychics go, you're one of a kind for simply being sane. Monsters, I get. Monsters have real reasons. People? People are crazy. Dingo-ate-my-baby-crazy."
Book smiled wanly. "Yeah. People can do some crazy stuff sometimes." He pushed off from his seat on Amanda's porch steps.
Dean stood immediately also. "So, um. Thanks. For your help, and everything."
Book smiled again, warmer and more genuine. "Don't thank me. I'm just glad we were able to save Amanda." His smile faltered. "And, I'm sorry I don't have any information about..."
"My Dad?" Dean offered, running his hand through his already mussed hair. "Yeah, me too. But you've already saved my ass once, and now you saved Amanda, so I can't really complain."
"We both saved Amanda." Book corrected.
"Yeah. Yeah, I guess we did. We...made a pretty good team, actually." Dean said awkwardly. "You know, I keep saying this, but I can't help it. You never traveled through the Roadhouse or Singer Salvage before? You're positive? Because I'd swear..."
Book cocked his head. "What?"
Dean shook his own head. "It's just...most people, I can't wait to put a few hundred miles in between me and them. You're...I just...feel like...I don't know." Dean stammered, angry at his own inability to word his thoughts with any clarity.
Book smiled his one sided smile. "Yeah. I get that sometimes. Just one of those faces."
Dean shook his head. "I don't think so. But, whatever the hell it is, we did make a good team."
Taking a deep breath, he went out on a limb. "You know, it's time for me to move on, and I know you just came into town to work the case also. Can I...give you a ride somewhere?" Dean held his breath.
An hundred emotions seemed to flicker across Book's face in between one of Dean's heartbeats and the next.
Book looked at Dean carefully, as if memorizing his features. "I...I wish I could. But, there's somewhere else I need to be. Like I said, I'm a wanderer, Dean."
"Any chance you're wandering north?" Dean asked.
Book laughed. "Well, just about everything is north of South Florida, but I have another stop to make. Thanks, though. You..." He swallowed, and laughed a self-deprecating smile. "You looked out for me, which is...cool. It's really cool."
Dean grimaced. "Yeah, well, you've seen my car. Cool is obviously what I do. Okay, well, I get it, you have places to be..." He shuffled his feet, obviously feeling embarrassed that Book had turned down his offer.
Book couldn't bear for Dean to feel so...rejected.
After all, it wasn't Dean's fault that Book had once destroyed his whole damn life.
"Um, look...this is my number. Call me if you ever need any help. If I'm nearby..." Book shrugged, holding out a torn piece of notebook paper with a phone number on it. It actually went straight to a voice mail he had set up, that he checked a few times a day.
Dean took the scrap of paper, tucking it inside his wallet. "Yeah, yeah. I'll do that."
Book watched as the Impala drove off, feeling two lifetimes worth of conflicting emotions crush down on him.
Dean was safe, which was the most important thing.
He was also driving away, which felt a little bit like dying.
"Was it worth it?" Gabe's voice sounded from behind him, and Book sighed, turning to face the angel.
"Was one case worth the pain? The danger?" Gabe said with repressed anger as he stalked over, placing two fingers on Book's forehead, healing his myriad cuts and bruises in an instant.
Book met his eyes straight forwardly. He'd known Gabe was there, had felt him lingering in the shadow's as he'd said goodbye to Dean.
It had made it easier, and so much harder, all at once.
"I don't know." Book answered honestly.
"It's not too late, Book." Gabe said, voice suddenly pleading. "Anna's just up the coast. We could grab her up and pull a Hermione Granger. Go spend a year in the Australian outback."
Book shook his head. "I don't know if this was worth it, or if it was right, or just plain stupid, Gabe. I don't know. What I do know is, I'm not running away. Dean and a lot of other people are in danger because of me, and I'm not abandoning them. If they need me, I'm going to be somewhere I can get to them."
"I don't give a crap about Dean, Book. Or John Winchester, or the Queen of England. I care about what happens to you, and to Anna. And this country, hell, this whole continent is about to go to the dogs, literally."
Book shook his head again, taking a few steps back from Gabe. "I won't run. I promised I wouldn't hunt Azazel, or John, and I'm not. But I won't run."