John Winchester slammed the door of his black GMC Sierra and closed his eyes. The tiny iron pendant he had hanging on his rear view mirror swung with the reverberation. He didn't know what he was feeling. Some twisted set of emotions that Ellie always brought out of him.
He knew as sure as he knew his own name that Ellie was in there crying over the harsh truth he'd told her.
She was not Mary. She did not have the right to ask of him things he would have done for Mary.
He opened his eyes and watched the light from the streetlamp reflect off of the silver protection rune Ellie had given him as a gift years ago. It sat in his glove compartment for years until he'd pulled it out one lonely night and looped it over the rear view. He pulled it down, his face twisted, and tossed it back in the glove compartment. Fucking women.
He thought maybe he loved Ellie in his own fashion. In his own loyal, battered, convoluted way. He supposed he must have or else it wouldn't have hurt so much to walk away...and it did hurt. Every impulse he had wanted to go back in and hold her. Or fight with her. Whichever came to pass.
He thought of her on empty nights sometimes over a glass of whiskey. Of her smile and her laugh and her body close to his own. He thought of her sometimes before he fell asleep, body aching for release. Yes he cared for her with whatever part of his heart that still remained open to such emotions.
But she could not hold a candle to Mary Campbell. That part of his heart and soul was given long ago.
No. He would not give up his search, his mission, his battle to save his boys for Ellis Parnecki.
He thought of her little hands on him and swallowed hard. Ellie's parting gift. Her tenderness to shore up his cracked and weary foundation.
He pulled out of the drive and headed back down the suburban road.
He knew that the black Cadillac pulled out behind him without even having to look.
He wasn't surprised. Not even a little.
He glanced in the rear view mirror, kept his speed steady. Now more than a little concerned that he'd led demons straight onto Ellis's doorstep.
'A few days.'
He hadn't been there a few days. More like a few hours.
So they were lying in wait for him at Ellie's.
How had they known he'd show up?
Dammit. This was precisely why he couldn't see his boys.
He could not lead this shit onto them. Or Ellie.
Ellie. Oh God. Poor Ellie wasn't a hunter. What the hell did she know besides a few healing spells?
Fuck.
John saw the long U-haul truck ahead of him pull sideways across the road to act as a blockade.
He looked behind him, saw the Cadillac.
"Here we go."
He caught a glimpse of the driver's black eyes in the dim light as he approached the U-haul, keeping his speed.
The face seemed smug, then curious as John didn't slow.
Instead, he hit the gas, swerved behind the trailer, up onto the curb and over the sidewalk, heedless of taking out a few mailboxes.
Then he was past them and he hit the gas the minute his tires bumped back onto the road.
Taco jumped into Ellis's lap as she sat on the floor, feeling sick. She'd told John her visions, which strangely made them feel more ominous. As if saying it aloud somehow made them more likely to come true. As if thinking about them night after night, seeing them in her mind's eye again and again didn't matter. It was voicing them that made it real somehow. Maybe acknowledging them gave it weight. -Made it something other than a horrible flight of fancy in her mind. Put it out into the material realm.
She knew how things that she dreamt about could manifest into the physical realm. Like having sex with the battered old hunter she'd fantasized about for years. She'd made love to John- let him inside her out of some pathetic desperation to make him stay or to say goodbye to him, she wasn't sure which. She wasn't sure about anything when it came to John Winchester.
Taco rubbed against her elbow, demanding attention and Ellis absently pet him.
She knew one thing, she damned well WAS going to tell the boys that he was alright. No matter what weird reasoning John had in his mind, it was utter bullshit to let his boys worry about him that way.
You're not Mary.
She could still hear his voice in her head.
What a shitty fucking thing to say to her.
You're not my dead wife so you have no value to me? I only loved her and nobody else is going to get in?
The logical part of her, the part that wasn't stung by the words, knew what he'd meant. 'I don't love you the way I loved her.'
That came as no surprise, really. None at all. So why did it hurt so much?
She brushed Taco off her lap and wiped her eyes. When she was certain that her voice would not betray her, she picked up the phone to call Dean.
14 hours later:
Sam leaned his head against the window. Dean's gaze slid over to take him in and his foot went off the gas fractionally. "Sammy, you need somethin' to eat?"
"No." Sam said. He felt drained suddenly. Almost sick.
His hand was shaking as he rolled the window down a fraction, letting in a burst of fresh air.
Dean's foot hovered over the brake. "Dude, you look sick."
Sam endured a small twist in his gut and he felt a jolt of panic surge through him. He couldn't do it again. Could not go through that pain again.
"Dean..." he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. His mind carefully evaluated the pain, what he could place it as. "Oh god. I think my stomach is starting up again."
"What? How is that possible?"
"I don't know." Sam's tone was desperate, almost panicked.
"Okay," Dean swung the car over to the side of the road and put her in park. "Talk to me. What's going on?"
"It just..." Sam rode out a cramp. "Dean, I can't do this again."
The fear was plain on his face.
"Okay, give me a minute..." Dean ran through the options in his head. "We're like five... maybe six hours out from Ellis."
Sam's jaw went tight. "We're farther than that."
"Not the way I drive." Dean countered. He appraised Sam. "Hey. Are you going to be more comfortable there or do you want to stretch out in the back?"
Sam looked miserable. "I don't want either."
"Look. You may not have a choice. If it's going to happen its going to happen. Might as well be prepared." Dean paused. "Okay."
He tried to think of what to do.
Call Ellis back? See if she had any advice? Head back to her house with an ailing Sam in tow?
Take Sam to a hospital?
The hospital wouldn't be able to do anything for something supernatural.
Call dad?
Who was he kidding? Dad hadn't cared when he was DYING. He wouldn't give a single fuck about Sam's bellyache.
Sam whimpered a little and Dean nodded to himself. "Sammy, let's get you settled in the back. That way you can sit up or lay down."
Sam nodded tightly and got out of the car.
He looked petrified and Dean felt a stab of sympathy wash through him.
Dean folded his leather jacket at one end of the back seat and motioned Sam in.
Sam sat heavily on the other end.
"Hey Sam. Lay down, okay? Go ahead and use this as a pillow."
Sam didn't feel like arguing. He gingerly rested his head on the makeshift pillow. It smelled like leather and gunpowder and whiskey and Dad and Dean.
He closed his eyes. "Where are we going?"
"Back to Ellis's."
Dean pulled out his cell and gave Ellis a call. There was no answer.
He left a message. "Ellis. Call me back. Something's still not right with Sammy."
Sam pressed his back up against Baby's seat for comfort and curled his legs up. It felt good to have something solid behind him. He took a breath.
"Hang in there Sammy. We're gonna get you help, bud."
"Maybe it won't be as ba-" Sam's statement ended in a strangled cry. "Nevermind." He panted.
"Breathe." His brother coached.
"Shut up Dean." Sam snapped. "I'm not in labor."
Dean smirked. "Hey man, witches spell, for all we know you could be."
"I hate you."
Dean pulled into Ellis's driveway and cut the engine. "Sam, we're here."
Sam cracked open his eyes.
"How are you feeling?"
"Pretty horrible, Dean," he said wearily.
"Like road kill horrible or I mixed the wrong liquor horrible?"
"I'm going to kill my only brother horrible." Sam groused, rubbing at his eyes with his jacket sleeve.
"Oh shit, dude. That must be really bad." Dean teased.
He was about to get out of the car when Ellis's orange cat leapt onto the hood of the Impala with a thump. It was a big thump for a cat who couldn't have weighed more than 12 pounds. Although when it had spent the last several nights on Dean's head it felt more like 20.
Sam jolted up with a startled cry. "What was that?"
Dean sat with his hands on the steering wheel. "It's Ellis's stupid cat." He said.
Sam blinked. "Taco?"
"Yeah." Dean hoped the cat's claws were retracted and it didn't scratch the paint job or he was going to have to kill it. Which he had a hunch wouldn't got over too well with Ellis.
The orange tabby placed its paws up against the windshield in desperation and meowed at Dean.
Sam furrowed his brow. "I thought she didn't let him go outside."
"She doesn't," Dean replied. He squinted at the house and grabbed his pistol out of the glove compartment.
The curtains were drawn. Dean glanced around. Acutely aware of his surroundings.
"You...think...something's wrong?" Sam asked. The gnawing pain in his belly was still there. He breathed though his nose in a few short puffs.
"Yeah." Dean said. "Yeah, I do."
"Here." He reached into the glove compartment again and tossed another gun over his shoulder at Sam.
It hit him in the knee before it bounced onto the floor of the back seat. "Ow! Friggin jerk! The safety better be on that thing."
"Sam I wouldn't throw a gun at you without the safety on."
"That's comforting." Sam said, sucking in a breath of air before he bent over to reach for it.
Dean swung the door open and got out. "Stay here. I'm gonna have a look around."
"Be careful." Sam said. "If something is in the house it had to have heard us pull in the driveway."
Dean halted. "Good point."
He abruptly ducked back into baby, closed the door and started her up. The cat jumped down off the car in surprise at the growl of the engine.
"What are you doing?" Sam asked.
Dean turned around so he could see out of the rear windshield, using the back of the passenger seat to rest his arm on as he looked behind them and swung out onto the road.
"We're leaving?" Sam croaked, feeling panicked and somewhat helpless.
Dean gunned the car down the road a block and then swung her into the driveway of a little red brick bungalow with a "for sale" sign and cut the engine.
"There. Now we can get out of here and sneak up on foot to get a look at what we're walking into." He shot Sam an appraising look. "Or I can, I guess. You wanna stay here?"
"N...not particularly." Sam winced, panting. He put his arm around his waist, pressing in.
"Yeah. You look like you'd be super stealthy right now...I think maybe you should wait here and let me go in."
Dean got out and ducked back in to talk to Sam. He tucked his pistol into the back of his pants. "Just stay here and lock the doors and I'll be back."
Sam rolled his eyes. "You sound like Dad."
Dean shook his head. "That's it Sammy, don't let too long go by without taking a swipe at him."
He closed the car door and ducked into the bushes.
Thank you for all my reviews last chapter. Jenmm31, Mariamo (my partner in crime), Domino Darkwolf (my even bigger partner in crime), Fanpire101 (love ya!), shadowhuntingdauntlessdemigod, MarbleWolf, and XOXO (whose review made me burst into laughter. Thank you for that). I'm having a crappy week, so I hope you'll leave a review to cheer me on. Thanks guys.