In The Arms Of Love Chapter 14
John had taken over the driving again so Bobby could rest, and he kept throwing stern glances at the side mirrors. His body tensed every time a car passed by which wasn't often given the ungodly hour. If John was honest he was permanently tense these days; it had been a hell of a week with one crisis after another, especially for his sons.
Since leaving the forest, and a somewhat mutilated assassin, Bobby and the Winchesters hadn't really stopped for long, except to steal a new set of plates for the RV. The incident with the ghost and Marco's hired gun had left them all shaken, but that was days ago. They were constantly on the move, taking turns with the driving, never leaving the road with the exception of stopping to top up the water tank, food supplies and re-fuel, and that was made with considerable reluctance. It had been a unanimous decision to keep going until they reached the safe haven in Montana, but as they climbed higher above sea level and the temperature began to drop, John was reminded of the new winter coats he'd planned to buy for his sons before the explosion at the hotel, and Christ why did that seem like months ago?
One of the times they stopped for gas Dean had remarked he could already smell snow in the air and John realised he was right. The fresh mountain air combined with the heady fragrance of pine was bracing but cold. Sam, who had been somewhat subdued since being held hostage with a knife at his throat, stared longingly through a crack in the curtains. He ached to go outside, having been cooped up in the RV for days on end. Dean kept a close eye on him, worried that Sam was withdrawing into his shell. His kid brother had barely spoken since they left the forests except to admit that he had little recollection of that night. The only reminder he really had was the thick bandage at the base of his throat where he'd been nicked by the blade, but even then he only had a vague memory of it. Sam had spoken of a soft voice calling to him, telling him she needed him but the rest was just a blank. It was frustrating to say the least because Sam refused to talk much about it, leaving Dean feeling just as helpless as he had when this whole thing started.
"Sam?" Sam turned when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Dean was watching him with a good deal of concern. "You want some hot chocolate kiddo? I picked up some marshmallows at that last gas station."
Sam saw the hope on his brother's face and knew he was only trying to help. Truth be told, Dean had been his rock for most if not all his life, and without him Sam honestly didn't know how he would have survived this last...week? Two weeks? He'd lost track of time. Dean was worrying himself sick about Sam, and that was unacceptable.
So Sam made a silent promise to Dean, a promise to make an effort, to smile more, mope less and generally let his brother in. Looking out for Sam was what made Dean tick, and being denied his job was slowly killing him inside.
So knowing all that, seeing it on Dean's face, the dark shadows under his eyes, Sam for the first time in days smiled and nodded.
"I-I'd lo...love some." The smile became more genuine when Dean's face spit into a huge grin and his hand travelled up from Sam's arm to rest on the back of his neck.
Dean rested his forehead on Sam's for a brief second, his eyes closed in relief as if to say welcome back Sammy, then pulled away. With the chick flick moment officially over, he started pulling marshmallows and chocolate packets out of the cupboards, and Sam rested his folded arms on the counter watching his brother's antics, the two of them cracking jokes and making small talk.
In the middle of another of his filthy jokes, Dean stopped and glanced at the road ahead when he felt the RV slow then finally stop. He raised his eyebrows at Sam's questioning gaze and carried on with the hot drink preparations until their father spoke up from the cab.
"Bobby's gonna get you boys some warm clothes and footwear so make sure you give him your measurements ok?"
"Yes sir!" Dean called back, then briefly filled his brother in on the latest plan as he poured hot milk into four mugs and added the marshmallows. "Here ya go Sammy." He handed over the largest mug and grinned affectionately at the look of pure pleasure on Sam's face as he breathed in the chocolaty steam.
"Thanks Dean." His smile slipped a little as did his gaze. "S..sorry. F...for bein' such a m...moody b...bitch."
Dean's head shot up in surprise, watching as Sam shifted from foot to foot, shoulders slumped in shame. "Sam, you've nothin' to be sorry for. You didn't do anythin' wrong ok?" He leant back against the sink and folded his arms, a deep frown forming. "Seriously dude, you've got to stop with these guilt trips. You didn't ask for any of this to happen to you, to us, and of course it's gonna freak you out, I get that. In fact I'd be worried if you were acting like Mary Fucking Sunshine, pretending nothin's happened." Dean smiled warmly. "Ok now? Lecture over. Now drink up and I'll talk to Bobby about the clothes."
Sam felt his eyes burn with tears at the sheer kindness on his older brother's face. Sure he always knew Dean loved him, had shown him in his own subtle ways over the years. Usually by light hearted teasing but sometimes by Big Brother Protectiveness, such as when Sam came home from school one afternoon sporting a black eye. Dean had handed him some pain killers, a glass of water, an ice pack then steered him carefully to the living room sofa.
Once Sam was settled Dean stared hard at the rapidly swelling bruise before beginning the interrogation. Sam had resisted at first, not wanting to make his situation at school any worse but Dean was the Master of Wheedling when it came to his little brother, and soon headed out the front door with an angry scowl and a dangerous glint in his green eyes. When he returned a few hours later nothing was said, though Sam could clearly see Dean's bruised and bloodied knuckles. From that day on Sam was left alone, the school bullies setting their vicious sights on some other poor bastard, and when Sam accidentally bumped into one of them in the hallway one morning the kid had muttered an apology and moved on, Sam staring at his retreating back in disbelief.
But lately Dean's protectiveness had carried an almost desperate edge that even Sam had noticed. Sam got the feeling he was missing something, that his family hadn't told him everything about the last few weeks. He really didn't want to think about it right now because he had enough to deal with, and if his father and brother were keeping something from him then he had to trust that they had good reason. Unfortunately, Sam's curious and fiercely independent nature often got in the way of such mature reasoning, and he found his need to know growing stronger. But along with that need came something else: the nasty feeling that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't going to like it.
He felt eyes on him and it broke him out of his quiet musings. Sam turned just as Dean made his way back to the small kitchenette, a triumphant grin on his face.
Sam frowned. "What?"
Dean grinned and waggled his eyebrows. "You'll see."
"Oh c..come on Dean! Tell me Pl...please?"
"Nope. It's a surprise so quit asking or I'll withdraw it." Dean folded his arms smugly when Sam's mouth shut with a snap. "Now go sit down and watch some TV and I'll get lunch ready."
After a few minutes of watching his brother, Sam felt guilty again.
"I c...can help you m...make lunch Dean." Sam offered softly, wishing his brother would get some proper rest and look after himself for a change.
Dean put down the knife he was using to slice some bread and stared at Sam. "I know you can kiddo, but there's no room in this shoe box they call a kitchen. And besides," he grinned again. "It's your turn for the washing up, bitch!"
Sam shook his head, returning the grin. "Jerk-off!"
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With the RV parked up behind a dense patch of pines, John was scouting the area, looking for signs of trouble. He kept a close eye on the road and the surrounding landscape even when Bobby approached him. John refused to make the same mistake twice.
"Dean gave me their sizes, amongst other things so I may as well head off now." As well as the clothing measurements Bobby also carried another scrap of paper that had the real important orders, at least that was the way Dean saw it. He'd chuckled a little at the glow that lit the kid's face when he handed it over, and the mischievous grin that accompanied it. "Anything you need?"
Casting a brief smile at his old friend and continuing his careful watch, John replied "Nah. I think Dean has it covered. Oh, there is one thing though; an extra order of sweet and sour sauce." His stomach growled. "For dunking the prawn crackers."
When John grinned boyishly Bobby chuckled and shook his head. John had obviously guessed at Dean's request for Chinese takeout; the restaurant resided by the Out Door Clothing Store a couple hundred yards back on the road and even with the speed the RV was travelling everyone had sniffed the air appreciatively at the aromas and spices that briefly filled the cab. Dean, John and Bobby had seen Sam's face light up with longing and that in turn had spurred Dean into pulling Bobby aside, quickly writing up a takeout order. It would be the first time they'd had Chinese food in a while, having feasted mainly on canned produce since they'd hit the road. John hadn't objected to the small delay since they all deserved a little something special, and if it helped cheer his boys up then that was fine by him.
Bobby chuckled again and trudged off back down the road, placed the order at the restaurant then headed into the clothing store.
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Sam was dozing in front of the TV when Dean slipped out to speak with his father. John was excellent at camouflage and concealment but he'd taught his sons well, and Dean soon found him.
"Dad, can we talk?"
John frowned at the expression on Dean's face and nodded. "Sure son. What's bothering ya?"
Dean was crouched next to his father, chewing on his bottom lip worriedly. "Sam still doesn't remember much about that night in the forest."
John shifted a little to get more comfortable. "Ok. You think he'll recall it at some point?"
Dean nodded miserably. "Yeah, but that's not the problem. He's been through so much, Dad. What..." he swallowed hard, "what if he, ya know, figures out about the car? I mean, he already suspects we're holding something back and he's not stupid. I'm just scared what it could do to him."
"The fact those bastards buried him alive in the Impala?" At Dean's nod John sighed. "I don't know son. But if he does remember then we'll help him deal with it..." At the same time as John's eyes widened at something over Dean's shoulder, a soft frightened voice reached their ears.
"I...is it true?" Sam gulped fearfully, and Dean closed his eyes for a second in despair. Shit! His little brother must have woken up; realised Dean was gone and went looking for him, only to stumble upon his father and brother talking about him. Behind his back.
Sam had obviously read John's lips and Dean, on turning to face him, was dismayed to see the near panic on his brother's face.
"Well?" Sam demanded, scared eyes searching his family for the truth. "W...was I? I m...mean d...did they b...b...bury me alive?"
Dean and John leapt to their feet and Sam shrank back.
"Did they?" He yelled.
"Sammy, kiddo..." John held his hands out trying to placate his frightened son, "It's gonna be ok. You didn't need to know son, we were just trying to protect you. We'll help you through it..."
"No." Sam whispered, his eyes growing distant as he gradually disconnected. Weird memories assaulted him, draining him...
...lying in the trunk, overheating, tied up so tightly he could barely move, the lid of the trunk slamming down one final time...thirsty, scared, alone...
...the strange thumping and vibration running through the car and his body, not knowing what was happening...
And now it all fitted together; he'd had to lie helplessly locked in the trunk as they poured tonnes of sand on top of him. Sam backed away from his family in terror, realising this was what they'd been hiding from him.
...burying him, leaving him to suffocate and rot...
"Oh God..." And Sam was running.
He didn't know where he was going only that he had to get away, as his senses went into overload and he stumbled through the trees blindly, a deep seated nausea building inside, bile rising up, and panic invaded him anew.
He had to get out, get out, get out...claustrophobia rapidly taking hold, it felt like he was back in that damn trunk, crying out for help and no one listening.
Sam didn't realise he was in the middle of the road until a loud air horn blasted out, and he looked up dispassionately at the giant semi bearing down on him. It was so close that Sam could see the driver frantically waving at him, and someone tackled him at the very last second, pushing him out the way as the truck thundered by. Sam and his rescuer rolled over and over into the long grass on the other side of the road, finally coming to halt, Sam tucked tightly into someone's desperate and shivering embrace.
"Sam? Sammy?" Dean stared down into Sam's dazed and glassy eyes, shaking him lightly, trying to get a response. "Talk to me, please Sam." He kept brushing Sam's hair back from his face, felt his father crouching down beside him, and heard him gently calling to Sam.
His little brother was breathing too fast and hard, his eyes rolling wildly in their sockets, and Dean could see his face growing pale.
"Sammy calm down little dude. Slow, even breaths." But Sam wasn't responding, already locked deeply in a waking nightmare, and Dean was on the verge of losing it.
John quickly took charge and pulled Dean away. He gently lifted Sam up, rubbing his back and pushing his head between his knees. "Dean, he'll be ok. It just came as a shock but he'll be ok." I sure hope I'm right about that.
Dean hadn't fully let go of his brother, still clutching his arms and praying this wasn't the final straw. He met his father's gaze and saw the same anxiety nestled in his eyes.
"Dad, what can we do for him?"
John honestly had no idea. Training had taught him that talking calmly to a sufferer of severe trauma often helped to temporarily push solid ground back beneath their feet, but Sam couldn't hear. Not knowing what else to do, he gently grasped Sam's jaw and lifted his face.
"Let him see you Dean. It's the only link he has now, let him see your face, your lips move, and keep talking to him."
Dean nodded and took over from his father. He kept his face in Sam's line of sight, talking, moving his mouth carefully until Sam's breathing evened out. Dean had no idea if Sam could understand him but at least his brother no longer seemed on the verge of passing out.
Then he slipped an arm under Sam's knees, the other round his back and hoisted him up, John rising with them. The three of them kept a slow steady pace back to the RV, Dean keeping up a constant chatter but Sam's eyes seemed vacant. Once or twice they had to stop when Sam vomited and Dean wiped his mouth gently, promising himself and Sam that he wouldn't use it as ammo at a later date, partly because it was too funny that he'd thrown up over their father. John had rolled his eyes at that and even chuckled lightly, especially when Sam began to stir, awareness slowly creeping back.
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It took time but they eventually got Sam settled, and Dean watched him constantly, nervously, as he tucked his little brother back in bed, smoothing the covers down gently.
"Get some sleep Sammy. I'll be right here, I promise." And Dean felt utter despair that his little brother, although making his way back, still looked so lost. He curled up miserably on the bed beside Sam, wishing like hell he hadn't brought the subject up. He heard mutterings outside the RV as John explained things to Bobby, and wondered who was really to blame for this.
Because it sure felt like it was his fault.
Should've kept my mouth shut.
He glanced over as both John and Bobby entered the RV. Bobby headed for the kitchenette, laying various shopping bags on the counter, the Chinese food going straight in the cooler for re-heating later, but managed a friendly wink at Dean. His father slid behind the steering wheel and without another word started the RV, pausing for a moment to offer Dean a reassuring smile before swinging the wide wheel round, the vehicle heading back for the road.
They didn't stop again until the next day.
Dean couldn't sleep and chose to watch over Sam, hoping like hell that the bad dreams wouldn't re-emerge. But as the journey wore on, Dean realised that Sam seemed able to sleep much better when they were on the road, and he wondered if it was because the soft, rocking motion soothed him or if it was the thought of putting as many miles between him and Marco as possible. Somehow he reckoned it was a combination of the two.
By the time morning once again rolled around, Dean had switched on the TV and was alternating between eyeing Wile E. Coyote's endless pursuit of Roadrunner, and keeping his brother grounded. In the end he gave up on TV when Sam began crying out and thrashing violently in his sleep, eventually waking up, clinging to Dean and staring around him in wide eyed fear.
Waiting until Sam got his breath back and calmed down a little, Dean shifted him round so he could see his face better, rubbing his back and watching as the panic in his brother's eyes gradually faded. It was becoming a familiar routine and when the clock struck midday, Dean felt that enough was enough.
"Sam, I think you need to talk about it." Although Dean was insistent, not giving his brother a chance to back out, his words were soft and his eyes were filled with sympathy and concern.
His brother appeared to think for a moment, before slowly nodding. After a deep breath, gathering his composure, Sam started to explain.
"I dreamt I woke up in a coffin. I started panicking and tearing through the fabric lining, then scratching at the lid." Sam raised his hands, examining his fingernails with some surprise. "I almost expected them to be torn to shreds like they were in my dream. My nails caught in the grain of the wood and my hands were bleeding from all the splinters. It seemed so real. I couldn't get out. Dean..." Sam turned his gaze on his older sibling, seeking answers. "When I was in the trunk...they weren't gonna let me go, were they? No matter what you and Dad did."
Dean thought about denying it but that really wouldn't have been fair to Sam, who was already struggling to make some sort of sense of all this. "No kiddo." He replied sadly. "But we wouldn't stop searching for you; we wouldn't have left you out there."
"I don't understand." Sam seemed so much younger than his fourteen years as he stared up at Dean. "Why? How could they have so little regard for human life? I never did anything to them."
"I wish I knew Sammy," replied Dean, with a deep sigh. "I sure wish I knew."
Sam evetually managed to sleep for another hour, snuggled close to his brother, before hunger pangs got the better of him. He stayed silent but felt Dean's grin directed on him when his stomach grumbled loudly, opened his eyes and cast a sheepish smile at his big brother.
"Hungry Sammy?" At Sam's eager nod, Dean's grin broadened. "Well, I guess it's time for that surprise huh? You get the plates ready, I'll do the rest." To the front of the cab he yelled out "I'm gettin' some grub ready! You guys want anything?"
The RV immediately slowed and pulled over into a picnic area, John and Bobby deciding that now was as good a time as any, and if they left the boys to it then all the takeout food would soon be gone in seconds. Honestly, John could swear his boys would put a swarm of locusts to shame.
Sam's eyes widened with hunger when he smelt the Chinese food reheating and smiled at his older brother with pure pleasure. It was that smile that set Dean's mind at rest; he was more than pleased that Sam's appetite hadn't been affected and that the youngster was virtually quivering in anticipation of eating his favourite food.
"Ok, here we go and no hogging the prawn crackers Dad!"
John was already stuffing two into his mouth and grinning smugly all at the same time. It wasn't a pretty sight and his sons both rolled their eyes in disgust. Bobby just shrugged, leaned over and snagged the container of crispy chilli beef, whilst Sam helped himself to the duck in hoi sin sauce and a large pile of special fried rice.
"Well boys, the good news is that we're only about two days away." John sat back, digging into a plate of lemon chicken. "Then we can relax and take it easy for a while."
Sam stopped chewing and dropped his fork, the loud clatter echoing round the cab.
"Dad?" Beseeching young eyes stared up at John. "C...could we just k...keep on going?"
John frowned and glanced questioningly at Dean who shook his head a little.
Dean turned to face Sam and touched his shoulder to get his attention. "We can't keep on runnin' Sam. And where we're heading? There's a doctor that might be able to help you. We'll be safe there, Dr Mac promised us."
"But Marco's managed to catch up with us at every turn, right?" Sam's eyes filled with angry tears as his gaze swept over John and Bobby. "What makes you think we'll be safe there? Huh? Can you make any guarantees?"
He was starting to sound almost hysterical, and Dean wrapped an arm round Sam, tightening his hold when Sam tried to shrug him off.
"Sammy...hey!" Dean forcibly turned Sam's head towards him. "There are no guarantees, but we're here to protect you ok? That bastard won't get his hands on you again."
Sam stared at him. "I'm scared. He's human and as far as I know there aint no wards or rituals that can keep him out, or stop him finding us."
The RV went silent at that; no one had much to say in response.
Because they all knew Sam was right.
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It was yet another long night of watching his sons sleep, albeit an uneasy one. Several times John dozed off, woken minutes later by Sam's cries followed by Dean comforting him. But all the while his mind was ticking over, considering Sam's earlier words, coming up with plans only to nix them, occasionally hashing it out with Bobby. In spite of the turmoil and rage, the worry and fatigue, an idea was slowly forming.
Dean was vaguely aware of some brief muttering from the front of the RV and knew what was going on, but he was just too tired to listen in. Instead he trusted that his father and Bobby would let him in on anything they had planned, slid back down in the bed next to his brother, and let sleep take him away.
A few hours later and John was taking another turn behind the wheel.
"What dya think?" he muttered gruffly, feeling less than enthusiastic.
Bobby scrubbed a tired hand over his face and nodded. "Well, it aint the best, but then we don't seem to have a whole lot of other options." Rolling his neck to work out the aches and pains, Bobby stared back at the sleeping boys. "Ok. Let's do it."
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The RV rolled forward up the steady incline. It was little less than a muddy track, sludge and snow causing the wheels to slip occasionally, and conifers lined the route like sentinels. It seemed a pretty bleak place, not much to look at beyond the thick pines, and Sam stared out through the window, filled with apprehension.
He didn't like this plan. Any of it. He didn't like the idea of his family splitting up. Surely they'd be stronger together instead of going their separate ways, and a small part of him felt as though he were being abandoned. And he knew that was stupid, because he understood why it had to be done, but the thought of his Dad and Bobby running round the country acting as a decoy in the RV whilst Sam and Dean recuperated in the middle of nowhere...
Sam sniffed miserably. The thought of losing his father and Bobby was terrifying, but at least Dean would be with him, all the way through whatever therapy he'd have to endure.
He gasped and moved closer to the window, hands splayed out on the glass as the track widened and became a forecourt. A large sprawling house came into view, with tall chimneys and a large front door set up on a veranda. It was a strange mix of French, English and American style, and Sam found that he rather liked it.
But what really clinched the deal for him, what really made him smile, was the herd of dogs that ran towards the RV, appearing to bark at the top of their doggy voices. Sam felt a tinge of sadness that he couldn't hear them, but the wagging tails and the big soppy grins with large tongues lolling from their chops more than made up for it. As the RV made a smooth circle and came to a halt, Sam had already catalogued the seemingly vast number of breeds. There were at least two young black Labradors, three Gold Retrievers, one of which was little more than a puppy, a German shepherd, a Border Collie, an elderly looking Rottweiler, a seemingly nutty liver and white Springer Spaniel, and at least three dogs of unidentifiable heritage, though Sam could swear they had Red Cloud Kelpie in their blood given the stocky, pointy eared appearance and handsome crimson colouring. But the one that made him laugh out loud was the gargantuan jet black Newfoundland that immediately pounced on Dean as soon as he left the RV, knocking him to the ground with a deep WOOF! Which made the gound shake. The dog proceeded to give his brother's face and neck a long wash with his huge pink tongue. Whilst Dean squirmed and writhed on the cold, wet ground, cursing and laughing alternately.
Sam stepped out of the RV, gently fighting off wagging tails and long wet tongues, though he did notice how gently he was being treated, especially by the half-grown Retriever pup who seemed to stared up at him with big soulful eyes. It struck him that these dogs all instinctively knew he was injured, knew they couldn't be too rough in their affection, and the rush of warmth that gave him...
"Hey there boy." Sam didn't even notice that he was no longer stuttering. He reached down to gently stroke the pup's ears, giving him a good scratch under the chin. The young pup started shaking with pleasure, whining softly and rubbing his upper body against Sam's legs, his soft eyes filled with love for the boy he'd only just met. Oh yeah. Sam had made a friend already, and as he moved away the fur ball stayed with him. In fact, the young dog refused to leave Sam's side, kept his small warm body hugged close to Sam's legs, almost tripping him up.
Sam glanced at Dean who was watching him with a mysterious smile whilst half-heartedly wrestling with the Newfoundland. Dean would later learn to his shock that the damn thing was also just a puppy, and still had some growing to do.
Bobby and John, tough, hardened hunters, both ex-military men, were reduced to the consistency of melted butter by the black labs, who were fawning over them as though they'd just met up with their best friends after a long absence. John shrugged and cast a mock-guilty glance at Bobby before giving in to the black lab's beseechingly silent request to have her tummy rubbed. She predictably squirmed in delight.
A loud squawking started up and Sam glanced over to the opposite corner of the yard to find an angry looking goose glaring at the newcomers. It had to be the largest bird he'd ever seen, and Sam felt more than a little intimidated as the thing seemed to track him, waddling slowly forward, belting out the most appalling noise, wings spread wide. The pup at Sam's side sprang into action in front of his new charge, legs spread apart in defence stance, noble head held high, teeth bared, hackles raised, and a growl started low in his throat, which soon rose to a threatening snarl. Whenever Sam tried moving to either side, the pup seemed to know and moved accordingly. He had to admit that in spite of the gangly appearance, the young dog was a fine example of the Gun Dog breed.
"Uh, Dad?" Dean, having managed to extricate himself from the excited Newfoundland, stared worriedly at the goose, wondering how the hell things had gone so badly wrong that the Winchesters were now afraid of a Christmas dinner.
"NAPoleON!" and everyone turned to stare at the small woman with the loud French accent who came stalking down the veranda steps, glaring menacingly at the goose. The evident Napoleon amazingly seemed to cringe away, but with an attitude that suggested it would be back later with reinforcements. "You be nice! Or I turn you into main course!" She hissed, frowning fiercely at the goose. "I have a nice La Corbiere rouge with your name all over it you stupid great duck!"
The duck in question appeared to take offence at this, or maybe the thought of being cooked in a cheap red wine, and turned its back, waddling out of the yard, occasionally glancing over at the newcomers with what looked like a childish, petulant scowl.
Sam had to grin. He'd seen that look before, usually on his brother when the cookie jar had been hidden.
He turned his attention back to small, loud woman. She was plump but pretty with shoulder length blond hair and kindly blue eyes. Which seemed to fix on his father.
"You must be John." She swept forward and embraced a surprised John in a vibrant hug, kissing both his cheeks. "My father told me so much about you." With her voice softened her accent seemed to lighten, but her smile saddened. "He missed you when you went away." The French lilt washed over Bobby and the Winchesters like a sweet summer breeze.
A cheeky grin emerged as the lady spoke again. "And I think that my mama...she had a liking for you. N'cest pas?" She winked. "I can certainly see why!"
Sam, Dean and Bobby noticed that John was still staring at her, eyes narrowed.
"My God. You do look just like her. Uh...your mom...I mean..." John, to the amazement of his family, was stuttering like a school kid. But before any of them had the chance to say anything, Nicole Le Monnier released her grip on John and stared in delight at his two boys.
"And you two must be John's sons, no?" And Dean felt his heart melt a little when her gaze alighted on him. "Dean. You must be. Oh those eyes...c'est beau mon cheri! The hearts you will break!"
Dean felt a part of him melt even further on hearing that sweet, husky voice, but shifted subtly as another part of him...rose to the occasion. Fortunately, Nicole soon turned her attention to Bobby, and Dean sighed inwardly with relief, and a little regret.
"Ahh...Bobby Singer." Nicole tilted her head to one side, then spoke so softly that John and Dean couldn't hear, but Sam could read her lips and it confused him. "So much pain in your heart that you don't believe you'll ever be at peace again." She took his hand and smiled sadly. "But you will, though it will be a battle hard fought. Believe it or not, you've already made a start just by being here with this family." She leaned forward and laid a gentle kiss on each cheek.
Before Bobby could blink she'd already moved over to Sam, and now the men fell silent, desperate to hear what she had to say.
"Samuel Winchester, though..." She inclined her head to the sky for a second "you prefer to be called Sam. You can call me Nick." Nick turned her head back to him and smiled warmly.
Sam blinked. "What?"
She shrugged in that well known French way. "I hate to be called Nicki, sounds childish. And Nicole sounds so formal, like Dr Le Monnier. I only reserve those titles for more formal occasions." Another casual French shrug. "Or people I just don't like uh?" She smiled at him conspiratorially, waggling her cute eyebrows.
Sam found himself smiling back. He couldn't help it, and a glance at the rest of his clan told him that they felt the same way.
A wet nose nudged its way into his hand and Sam smiled down at the pup. "What's his name?" He asked softly as his hand stroked the soft silken ears, and felt a gentle touch to his arm. He still forgot sometimes...
Nick grinned when Sam's gaze met hers. "I haven't named him yet. I was waiting for the right person to come along." With a sly wink she added with an equally sly lilt to her voice, "I think that's you."
"Really? You want me to name him?" Sam was flabbergasted and had no idea what to make of all this. This wasn't his dog, could never be. Yet...and yet...
The pup stared up at him and the words came plainly into Sam's mind.
You never really own a dog, the dog owns you. The only thing you really get to decide is his name.
He crouched down and wrapped an arm around the young dog. "How do you feel about Kerak?" The pup seemed to wonder about it, then licked Sam's nose with approval.
Nick crouched down, an eyebrow raised. "Suits him. Kerak, as in the fort during the crusades in the Middle East?" When Sam nodded she thought for a moment. "Yes. Kerak, protector of the pilgrim roads. And your family are certainly pilgrims of sorts."
Sam smiled shyly. "I'm glad you like it."
And that seemed to be the end of the interrogation where Sam was concerned.
As far as Nick was concerned, they had plenty of time. So she offered her hand to Sam.
"Would you care to escort a lady to dinner?"
Sam felt a little flustered. "Uh...shouldn't we wash up first? I mean, we're a little worse for wear."
Nick glanced around at them with a small frown. "No. That can wait. You need to sit down and eat first. There are many bathrooms in this house and you can all clean up later."
And this time Sam shyly offered his arm, and escorted the lady to dinner.
He couldn't stop grinning.
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And what a feast it was.
Roast potatoes in Cajun spices with a minted mayonnaise dip for starters, grilled honey glazed duck breasts in an orange sauce, followed by Sea Bass fillets slow baked in lime and coriander. It was all too delicious and all too much.
That was until the desert arrived.
Dean's eyes boggled.
Velvet mint chocolate torte served with a black cherry jus. Dean had no idea what a 'jus' was but he pretty much decided that it was now top of his list of most favourite deserts.
It came as a surprised to his family that he even made it this far without asking for a burger and fries.
The meal itself was slow and relaxed, full of laughter, ranging from high and French on Nick's part, to low a masculine rumble from John and Bobby. Wine was poured and flowed freely, even Sam being allowed some with water, as was considered tradition in French society, and eventually they all ended up outside the vast house, singing and laughing round a small fire that Nick had set up nearby. Dean and Sam had one of the best nights of their lives, and never felt so at home. Nick wasn't even trying to act like a mom to them, more like a good friend or distant cousin, and Dean soon got over his attraction to her, realising that this woman could really help Sam...and in spite of it, could help him.
Sam had the best feeling about all this, and the relaxed expression on Dean's face set his mind and heart at rest. They could be happy here; he had no doubt about that. But his Father and Bobby were leaving tomorrow, and the fear that settled in the pit of his stomach kept on building.
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"Dad?" In spite of all he said to tell himself the night before, Sam had to try.
John turned and slowly grasped his youngest son's arms gently. "I know what you're going to say, but we'll be fine Sam."
Kerak glanced from one Winchester to the other, already certain of his place, which was resting up against Sam's thigh, and on the occasion that he fell asleep, on Sam's stomach. He really was in doggy heaven when Dean was there too, because it meant that someone was stroking his ears and his tummy, and that. Was. Just. Heaven.
Though as much as the young dog adored Dean, he truly felt that he belonged to Sam. And right now he didn't like the anxiety his master was feeling. He whimpered softly.
"I know." Sam nodded miserably. "Please just...stay safe and come back soon?"
John smiled and wrapped Sam up in a tight hug. "I will, I promise." He whispered in his youngest son's ear. "I love you Sammy. Always have." And with that he abruptly turned away, striding towards the RV, Bobby already at the wheel.
John didn't look back but Sam and Dean, with Kerak waiting for them faithfully, stared as their father drove away.
"Dean? Will they be ok?"
Dean carried on staring long after the RV disappeared. "Yeah. 'Cause they will kiddo." He answered softly, though he wasn't sure how much he believed it. They were soon drawn away into a game with Kerak, who had already appointed himself as both boys protector.
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"Caleb? It's John. What you got?"
"Oh he's already on your tail, I can promise you that. Those RV plates you sent me? Worked like a charm. He thinks you're on the other side of the country right about now. Good work boys!"
John said his goodbyes then snapped the cell phone shut. He shared a silent worried glance with Bobby.
For how long...?
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"Please tell me you got somethin'!"
"We're working on it boss..."
"That's not good enough!"
"No, seriously. We got a lead on a Chinese takeout in Montana. My cousin owns the place and..."
"Then what the fuck you talkin' to me for? Get on it!" Marco shut the phone off, glowering. His contacts had already figured out that the plates had been changed, and that the Winchesters were heading into Montana. Someone had been using the RV plates to throw them off, but Marco wasn't that stupid.
We're getting closer...
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Author's notes:
I'm trying to make these chapters longer and now that I have most of my multi-chapter stories out the way, I'm pouring all my energies into this one; I do worry about just how sappy I'm making Dean. Would a teenage Dean get this bad? I don't know. I don't have much to go by; I'm the youngest in my family so I have no idea what it takes to be the protective oldest. I only really have an idea from Sam's perspective.
As for the dogs...all part of the story. And even if they weren't I'd make no apologies 'cos I just love dogs.
Many thanks for your reviews so far my darlin's.
Kind regards,
ST.xxx.