Chapter Eleven: It's worth it
Tarboro, Edgecombe County, North Carolina August 22, 2003
The O'Malley house
Delaney was sitting on the front steps of the O'Malley porch with a large cup of coffee cradled in her hands. Patricia had let her sleep for an hour or two in one of her extra rooms. She'd been too tired after helping clean up to head back to her motel room. She'd wiped the dirt off of her face and arms but the mud on her jeans and jacket had dried as well as the one caking her blouse.
They'd all been extremely quiet after the eye-opening incident that had destroyed Emily's room and the living room. They hadn't seemed to resent Delaney for it, or even the ghost. The shock hadn't worn off by the time they'd made it into bed.
The sun was rising over the horizon, casting orange and yellow light against Delaney's pale face. She squinted at the sun, not bothering to lift an arm.
Her injuries were aching more than ever but she wasn't going to let them ruin the moment. She'd saved them. All of them. Jason had to die, but in the end she'd changed something.
And it felt pretty damn good.
No one had approached her since the night before and Delaney was already too used to it to even sigh, tiredly. It was the way it had to be so whatever.
The creak of the door opening made Delaney turn around. Patricia stepped out in a long pajama robe and fuzzy bunny slippers.
"Like the shoes," Delaney smiled, taking another drink from her coffee.
"Yeah. Emily gave them to me as a birthday present. I could tell she wanted to keep them for herself, though."Patricia returned her smile and walked forward until she was next to Delaney. She quietly sat next to her.
"I don't blame her. How… how is she?"
Patricia turned to her, with such a calculating eye Delaney instinctly flinched slightly. She turned away embarrassed and pulled at her jeans.
"Sorry. I just… She's uh… a little spooked. Like all of us," Patricia chuckled without humor. "I just still can't believe all of that was real! It was a lot to take in over the course of what? Forty, fifty minutes?"
"Yeah," Delaney nodded. "But at least you're all fine."
"Thanks to you. I'm so sorry for not believing you before. It just seemed so…"
"Buckets of shit-load crazy?"
"Yeah. I really am sorry."
"It's okay. You aren't the first to want to beat the hell out of me for coming up with stuff like that. If I didn't know better I'd have slapped me too."
"Yeah, sorry about that too." Patricia laughed and this time it did have humor. "You got me back though."
"That wasn't to get you back, though! That was because you were freaking out." Delaney pointed out, laughing softly.
"I think I had a right to freak out. We all can't be as fearless and awesome as you." Patricia bumped her with her own shoulder and smiled. Delaney held back a whimper and smiled back.
Slowly, as a thought striked Patricia, her smile faded. "How old are you, Delaney? For real."'
Delaney mulled over the consequences of her answering truthfully. None came to mind and she was leaving town in an hour or two. "Twenty-two."
Patricia couldn't hide the surprise from her face. She opened her mouth to say something then closed it slowly, nodding.
"I don't know if I look it but yeah…"
"And uh… how long have you been doing this?"
Delaney didn't want to answer that question. Because every time she did, they always looked at her with this pity in their eyes. She didn't want pity. None of it.
But she didn't want to lie anymore. She did it so much and the ease in which she did it, made her feel dirty. Bad."For a long time."
"And you like doing this? Did you ever think about going to school? College?"
Delaney smiled bitterly, shaking her head. "I can't do that."
"Why not? You could catch up on what you're behind on. They have special classes for people like you. I could recommend a few pe-"
"That's not what I mean," Delaney sighed. She turned to Patricia, a tired look on her face. Patricia was surprised to find such bitter and tired lines over her smooth young face. Like she'd lived a long time. "I accepted a long time ago that I'm not like other people. And that I can't be. Not ever. This is my job and I'm going to do it."
Patricia placed a warm hand in hers. "Is this what you want?"
Delaney hesitated, holding her breath for the right words. What could she say? That she would take any other job over this? That she would give anything in her hands for the life Patricia had? No. That was giving up. That was letting go. "No. It isn't."
"Well, then you have a choice, honey. It's still not too late for you."
"It is, Patricia. I've seen so many things. It's too late for me."
"That's not true. There are people willing to help you. I'm willing to help you. This isn't a path you have to continue on. Not someone as young as you with so many choices and paths. Don't you want a choice?"
"I have a choice. I've always said that no matter what, not matter who, you always have a choice and you do. I can walk away from all this if I want. I know I can. I've seen it done by other people like me. But I won't. There are always two choices. A good and a bad and sometimes it's hard to see which ones the right one. It took me a long time to see that continuing like this is the right one. Maybe not exactly right for my state of mind but it's the right choice because I have a job that needs to be done. I have a job that allows me to save people. And as much as I hate it sometimes I'm not throwing it away."
"You also need to worry about you, Delaney. You can't always take saving people as your job."
"Then who is?"
Patricia stared at Delaney closely, falling silent. Delaney turned away, pulling her hand out of hers. She took another drink of her coffee and stood up. "Thank you. I have to go now. Take care of that pretty little girl you got upstairs."
Delaney handed the coffee cup to Patricia and she took it carefully. Delaney dusted her jeans off and began to walk down the dirt road to her car.
She heard footsteps behind her and a hand grabbed her shoulder.
"Thank you for helping us. I can't ever repay you for that but… honey, if you ever need anywhere to stay at, don't be a stranger. I know your travelling must be hard and if you can really care that deeply about keeping me and my family safe, I can at least return the favor."
Delaney didn't answer but nodded numbly. Patricia hesitated before hugging her to her chest. Delaney felt her throat choking. The hug from such a caring maternal woman reminded her deeply of her mother.
"Take care."
Delaney gave her one last shaky smile and walked down the long road. She climbed into the front seat if her car and turned the radio up, so it could drown out the humming of her car.
Her favorite band, The doors was playing and she smiled softly when she recognized the song. The Unknown Soldier.
She appreciated the offer Patricia had made her but she wasn't ever going to see Delaney again.
Delaney would make sure of that.
…
August 24, 2003 In the middle of nowhere in Kansas
Delaney hissed, slapping at the steering wheel until the burning subsided. "Son of a …" She didn't finish the sentence, but let her head rest against the wheel.
She'd pulled over on the road, confident no one was going to bother her. The road wasn't used much and she didn't mind the quiet. She needed to disinfect the wound on her lower back and take care of her arm but she couldn't do much but just dab alcohol on the cut. She definitely couldn't stitch up something on her back.
Delaney reached for the old t-shirt she was using to wipe away the blood and carefully dabbed at her back. She looked at it to find she wasn't bleeding anymore. She had tried to at least place a bandage over it but it kept on falling off or it ended up slanted. She didn't want to wrap a super long bandage around her whole waist. She decided to just place her t-shirt over it and leave it like that. She'd make Bobby stitch it up later.
She took another cotton ball from the compartment and rubbed alcohol on the tree scratches on her arms and face. They didn't burn as much as the bigger cut but they burned enough.
The ringing of her cell phone pierced the silence and Delaney grabbed the phone from her dashboard. She flipped it open and pressed it to her ear. "Yeah?"
"Everything dealt with? No more dead people?'
"Yeah. The ghost is where it was supposed to be all along," Delaney sighed, throwing the used bandages and cotton balls into the open plastic bag resting next to her. She stuck the first-aid kit back into the duffel that was laying at her feet. She brushed her hair back and finally let her back carefully press against the seat. "Hey, Bobby?'
"Yeah?"
"Sorry for being such a pain in the ass and for snapping at you the way I did," She hadn't had enough time to feel bad about it in the line of action but after, it had bothered her. She didn't want to talk that way to Bobby. No matter the circumstance.
"No problem kid. And as for being the pain in my ass, don't worry about it. That's who you are and God knows I don't want you to change,"
Delaney laughed happily, "Yep. Delaney "Pain in the ass" Mannings. Fits like a shoe."
"Yeah well," Bobby sighed over the phone, making the sound crackle. "I researched more on that Fiona chick and now it all makes sense."
"What?'
"Well, I read some old newspaper articles saying she'd bothered the town police a couple of times in her adolescence. She'd claimed there was a Banshee down at the river."
"Oh."
"Yeah. She became pretty obsessed about it before she died. Guess once she was dead she wanted to be something like the thing she loved reading about,"
"She couldn't just be herself. Ghost and their insecurities these days. Oh well. It would've saved us a lot of time if we'd thought about it that way, sooner. But at least the things re-dead."
"Yeah, well, I'm gonna hit the hay,"
Delaney looked over at the digital clock that her radio had, "Bobby, it's one in the afternoon."
"I know."
The click of the phone hanging up made her sigh. She dropped her cell phone in the cup holder and turned the engine on.
She wasn't heading for Bobby's yet. She had one person she wanted to check on. Even if it took all day and night getting there.
…
Dean wasn't in Tulsa anymore; she'd assumed he'd had to run. He really didn't take the time to be extra careful so he wouldn't have to leave the town like a roadrunner. But all in all, he'd done okay.
She hadn't wanted to bother Bobby so she'd done researching herself. She'd stopped at a gas station and after refilling the tank and sipping from her Gatorade, she'd pulled out her own computer and researched for the nearest Supernatural occurrence.
Dean wouldn't bypass the closest one because John had drilled into his head that no hunter ever passes up a hunt. So she knew he'd be in New Mexico, dealing with what looked like a ghoul or… a shape shifter.
The thought of a shape shifter instantly made cold shivers run up her spine, no matter the weather. She guessed shape shifters had a thing for southern states.
Delaney couldn't help it. She still dreamed of the time she'd spent in that shape-shifters grasp. She remembered all of it. Every pick of its knife. Every word it whispered with its raspy breath. The look of unsatisfied sadistic intentions in her own face. The monstrosity she'd seen in her own eyes had left her with a sense of disgust towards herself. She knew it was unreasonable and she could never, ever see herself doing something like what had been done to her. But, the incident had left her with this thought at the back of her head that rubbed up against her brain, rubbing her thoughts raw until she couldn't help but get back to that one hungry doubt.
Was she able to do that to someone? To something? Hadn't she been doing it to monsters all her life? Wasn't she a monster in her own sense?
Delaney felt indescribably weak compared to Bobby and John and even Sam and Dean. They hadn't ever whined to her about the things they'd seen. She knew they were all messed-up. She'd been born to do this. Kill things that hurt people. But know she had the unrelenting feeling that she wasn't even good at what she was born to do. And it made her feel like a piece of crap.
Bobby had tried to tell her that it was okay to feel bad, to have nightmares and cry out in your sleep. She'd never heard Bobby do it. Or John. In the end, she guessed she wasn't made of the same tough stuff.
Although, she'd grown harder over the years. Harder, so that her lack of emotions at time made her worry.
Delaney turned the car engine off, and forced herself to get out of the car. She didn't care if she'd locked it or not and as she walked, she had no idea if she had.
Her movements were sluggish, due to the fact that she'd only slept two hours the night before and it had been midnight one or two hours ago. She was beat.
She didn't bother to ask for Dean. She just traversed the parking lot, looking for the dark as night Chevy Impala.
…
August 25, 2003 two in the morning
"Hey."
The scars on her face and arms were healing, scabs already visible. Her full pink lips were dry and the upper one had the red/brown scar of a busted lip. Her dark eyes were red and drooping, the eyelashes long and naturally curled.
The dark skinny jeans she was wearing looked already worn and her light brown heel-less boots were caked with mud and dry grasses. Her t-shirt at least looked clean, the name of her favorite band plastered at the front.
"Hey," Dean wasn't sure what to say about the state she was in but he knew it was best to keep his mouth shut. Delaney didn't appreciate when you told her she looked bad. He'd learned the long tedious way. So, he settled for a somewhat neutral approach. "You look tired."
Delaney picked her head up a little from the downward position her neck had put it at. She searched his face for any type of insult and when she didn't find it she said,"Yeah, well. I am. Very."
"You cheap player. Instead of renting a room you came for me. It's nice to know we're on that type of basis."
"You only have "Free stay at my motel room for some dirty favors" plastered on your forehead."
Dean raised an eyebrow, "Dirty favors?"
"Oh, I'm so regretting saying that."
Dean chuckled then sighed, "What are you waiting for? But I better get some pie for this."
"It's so easy to get something from you. Such a push-over." Delaney slipped past him and immediately began to take off her jacket. "What are you still doing up?"
"Researching," The tone in which Dean said it resembled the tone with which he used when speaking about witches. A tone of complete total distaste.
"Ooo, you know, hot girls go for geeks all the time. I guess it's just something about the over-alls." Delaney dropped her jacket over the back of the sofa and gave him an unusually bright smile for the tired state she was in.
"I don't have trouble keeping my pants on."
Delaney looked up from taking off her boots, "Yeah, actually, you do."
Dean, catching what she meant, just shrugged.
"Ugh, I'm beat." Delaney groaned and dropped on the sofa. She adjusted the pillow under her head and closed her eyes.
"Delaney."
"Huh?" She mumbled softly, without opening her eyes.
"Come on. You can take the other half of the bed."
Delaney opened her eyes, thinking over what she'd just heard. "What?"
"That sofa has some pretty disgusting fleas. Size of my thumb."
Delaney sat up, a confused expression on her face. She turned to Dean, her eyes squinted, and one side of her hair, messed up. "Are you telling me to share a bed? With you?"
"Hey, it's not like it hasn't been done before. We'd always have to bunk beds."
"Yeah, but we were kids and that was before you got your hormones in a bunch."
"I can control myself fine." Dean smirked, leaning against the table by his bed.
"Ha! You hit on everything that has boobs." Delaney rolled her eyes and lay back down. She closed her eyes again and found a comfortable position.
"Hey, we're both adults and I can control myself."
"Can you?"
"Can you?"
"Go to sleep, Dean. I can handle some damn fleas."
"Well, don't come crying to me when they bite your skinny ass."
"Hey. You leave my ass alone."
The tone in which she said it, a playful growl made Dean laugh. He climbed into bed, removing as much as his clothes as he could without it being too uncomfortable with another person in the room.
Delaney slowly opened her eyes, listening to the sounds of him getting into bed. He'd never asked her something like that, and it made her feel a little bad that the only reason he was doing it now, was because he felt alone.
She felt so ridiculous that it'd hurt her. Something so small. But no, it wasn't small. It was way bigger than what Dean was letting on.
But what worried her the most, was that while she had been gone, Dean had perfected his closed-off "okay" face. She'd seen no sign of Sam's departure in his face.
But she knew it was there.
Another chapter, my friends! Short and un-beta'd but at least a little bit more... non-problematic. Still very unsatisfied but since I haven't written for this story in a while, I've kinda lost my umm... flo?
Working on getting it back, though. You bet!
Oh! My rhythm. That sounds so much better. :)
Thank you all,
Mar98
