disclaimer-I own nothing you recognize
Thea & Dean Series
Shot guns and loaded shells
He'd been sittin out on the deck, in his old chair waitin. Waitin for the impossible. His shotgun beside him, leanin up against the old wooden siding.
Resurrections seem to be popular. Well, at least in his circle anyways. Sammy, Dean, and now, possibly, Thea. He should've called the boys, should've said something to Garth but what good would that do? Sam hadn't called to tell him Thea was kickin, neither had Dean.
So either this was all a sick twisted plot or it really was Thea, just Thea 2.0.
The orange judge pulled into the drive, the orange paint covered in the dust of old dirt back roads. Sitting in the drivers seat was a brunette, bangs covering her eyes. The car idled for a moment then turned off, the drivers door swinging open.
His whiskey glass was carefully put aside and traded for his old side kick, the shotgun propped up against the house.
Tall. Long brown hair caught in a ponytail with just the bangs framing her face, uncertainty flickering in her features. The tan leather jacket was the same she'd worn to their first and last, their only Christmas. Her hand dug deep into her pocket.
"You Bobby?"
"Depends."
"On?"
"If you're who you say you are?"
Holding out her other hand, she showed him the phone. Motioning that she was gonna toss it to him, she gently let it fly. Catching it clumsily he kept the gun trained on her, if it was her.
"And this proves what?"
"Look I don't know who you are to me, but I know we used to be close. Please." The last word comes out strangled, she's terrified. Better move things along.
"Cristo."
Nothing. No flash of black eyes, no shudder, no nothing. Just a look of recognition rushing across her face. Not that it meant much to begin with. Unless this was a lower level demon, there wasn't going to be a reaction.
Taking the flask from his pocket, unscrewing it carefully, he lashed out with it. Spraying her in holy water.
"Gee, thanks. Did I look dehydrated or something?"
Nope, no smoke. Nadda. He can feel the tears starting to build, this girl, rather this woman was the closest thing to a daughter he'd ever had.
Tossing the silver dagger on the ground he motions for her to pick it up. "Uhm…?"
"Roll up your sleeves, make a nice little cut for me." She doesn't even grimace as she does what he asked.
"Happy?"
"Thea, I'll be damned."
Dropping the shotgun he hugs her. Maybe things are starting to look up. They'd all missed her. Hell, Dean practically needed her to function.
"Come on in, let's get that looked after."
SUPERNATURAL/SUPERNATURAL/SUPERNATURAL/SUPERNATURAL/SUPERNATURAL/SUPERNATURAL
They're sitting together on one of Bobby's old sofas, hunched over a stack of pictures. In each one, there's smiles and laughter. Bobby has a story to go with each one, all revolving around Dean doing something dumb.
He watches her face carefully, waiting for any reaction, any sign she remembers them. Every now and then, her fingers linger on a picture, tracing the outline of whoever it is. She'd taken everything remarkably well, her cool calm composure, her readiness to believe the crazy life she'd gotten herself tangled up in.
He tells her about the night she found them, beaten, bloody and incredibly strong. He tells her about her night she left, the night she died. He tells her everything in between her end and her beginning. Who she was back then, how she'd been a mechanic, how it broke his heart to lose her, to lose them.
When his voice starts to shake, she takes his hands in hers, rubbing small circles. They're laughing and joking, drinking his finest scotch when the rumble of the impala breaks it.
Her head whips round to the window, the headlights streaming through.
"Is that…?" Her eyes light then darken, he can't help but cuss. This isn't gonna' end well for the boys, especially not for Dean. Fool boys and their god awful timing.
"Thea wait…"
He's too late. She's striding away from him with his shotgun in hand, she's pissed. One hand swings the door open, the other swings the shotgun up and aims it. He can see Dean's surprised look illuminated by the headlights, he steps out from the car and lets the door close quietly behind him.
Thea notches the shotgun just a bit longer, right at his feet. "Come on, we can talk bout this. Thea put the gun down."
Bang.
It hits the dirt right by Dean's feet, the younger man flinches and swallows hard.
"Hey, come on. Lets talk."
Bang.
This time just a little closer, the dirt spraying his boots. "Watch it! Are you crazy or something?"
Bang.
Clearly he's said the wrong thing, again.
"Crazy? Am I crazy? I'll tell ya what's crazy. Wakin up in your house but it aint your house. Known that some how you don't fit anymore. Findin a stach of 007 weapons hidden around your clean little suburbia home. Being terrified of dogs and not knowning why. Having pictures of random guys I cant remember." A deep inhale. "how do I know you Dean? Hmm? How do I know that you have a birthmark on the bottom of you foot in the shape of an octopus? Or that tattoo on your chest? That Sammy hates being called Sammy, that all you listen to are cassettes that are decades old? Explain to me why I was chased by some bitch with black eyes, how I knew how to exorcize her. Tell me Dean. Cause if I'm crazy then how the hell did I get here?"
The gun dropped to her side and tears are rolling down her cheeks.
"Why'd you lie to me Dean. Why?
Her knees give out and she hits the porch, her entire body wracked with sobs. Dean's moved to her, falls to his knees and cradles her to his chest. "I'm so damn sorry baby, I'm so so sorry."
Bobby can see the tears in the younger mans eyes, the regret, the hope, the look of love, pure and simple.
Sam has tears in his eyes to, hell they all do. They're family. If one hurts so do they. They're his boys, this is their girl, their small, dysfunctional family.
