Chapter 14

The Social Services offices weren't open on the first of January, so they didn't get underway until late in the day on the second. Sam sat in the backseat with Dean and Dad in the front. He'd campaigned for everyone in the front seat, but Dad had rejected that idea flatly.

Dean let out a whoop when they crossed the Tennessee state line. "Good bye, Georgia!" he announced.

"Hello Tennessee," Sam said, sitting forward and leaning on the front seat.

"We'll be stopping in Murfreesboro," Dad said. "About another hour and a half."

"I'm just glad to be out of The Peach State," Dean said, stretching. "How many hours do you usually drive at a stretch?" he asked.

"Depends," Dad said. "But I'm tired. It was a long day, and I was just riding shotgun."

Dean nodded and rested his head back against the seat. Sam had stayed outside with the car while Dad and Dean had taken care of Dean's business. Jake had shown up to meet them in the parking lot so they could go into the office all together, and it had given Sam a fair amount of pleasure to watch the jerk walk on eggshells around his dad.

They pulled up outside of a motel in Murfreesboro that they'd stayed in before, and Sam leaned up between Dad and Dean again. "You want me to get the room, Dad?"

"I got it, tiger." Dad got out of the car and walked into the motel office.

Sam looked over at Dean. "We'll probably just have one room. You mind sharing?"

"Sure," Dean said. "You don't want to share with your dad?"

Sam shook his head. His dad tended to move a lot in the night unless the bed was really tiny. "You seem like a pretty quiet sleeper."

"You haven't seen a night terror."

"Yes, I –" Sam broke off, flushing, and Dean met his eyes in the mirror.

"What?"

"I . . . uh . . ." Sam bit his lip. "You had one a few nights ago, or at least that's what Dad called it."

"Why didn't either of you tell me?"

Sam shrugged. "Dad didn't want to stress you out."

Dean scowled. "Which night was it?" he asked.

"The night after your trip to Garrettville," Sam said, and Dean's scowl deepened. "Don't be mad, Dean. I think Dad just –"

"I'm not mad, Sammy," Dean said. "I'm just . . . I guess I'm stressed out, so your dad was right. It drives me nuts, though, not remembering."

"It's no big deal," Sam said. "It doesn't happen very often, does it?"

Dean shook his head. "That would be the first time in months," he said. "Jake would have told me. He'd bitch about it the morning after."

Sam shrugged. "No problem, then."

Dad came out with a key and drove them to the far end of the motel. "Second floor, boys, just take what you need."

Sam grabbed his smaller duffel, which just held enough for a night or two. Dean had one, too, Sam had explained it to him. Sometimes they stayed awhile in a place, and then they needed to bring all their stuff in, but when they were just staying the night, it made more sense to leave most of it in the car.

Dean headed straight for the bathroom, and Sam dropped his bag on the floor next to the bed farthest from the door. By tradition, that was his. "Dean and I will be sharing," he said.

His father's eyebrows went up, but he just nodded and started getting changed for bed. Sam grabbed some cash and went out to hit the vending machines. When he got back, Dean was sitting on their bed in his boxers and t-shirt, and Dad was flipping through channels. Sam tossed Dad a bag of Doritos and a can of Coke, then stopped and stared at Dean. "I didn't even think about what you'd want," he said, aghast.

Dean shrugged. "It's no big deal, Sammy," he said.

Sam handed Dean the Coke and chips he'd gotten for himself and shook his head. "I'll go get you something. What do you want?"

"You don't need –"

"What do you want?" Sam asked again

"Sammy –"

Dad sighed. "Dean, just tell him what you want, because he won't stop until you do."

"A bag of Doritos would be great," Dean said, and Sam hurried out to get that for him. He felt like an idiot, forgetting that they had a third person, but he'd gone on habit. They watched a couple of Law & Order episodes on A&E, and then they went to sleep.

The next day's driving was delayed on the trek through Missouri by a semi accident not more than five cars ahead of them. Between wind and rain, a semi tipped over on a curve in the highway, catching two cars going the other way beneath it. Dad managed to avoid the mass pile-up that occurred as a result, but other cars weren't so lucky. All three of them got out of the car and started helping with the casualties. When the crisis was over and the police reports were filed, they were all three dirty, exhausted, and ready to get cleaned up. John drove them to the nearest motel.

"If you guys let me shower first, I'll run to that truck stop across the street and pick us up some dinner," Dean said as they walked into the room.

"Sounds good, Dean," Dad replied, and Sam nodded tiredly. "Don't bother with drinks, we'll get them from the vending machine."

Dean showered quickly and emerged, hair still dripping, to drag clean clothes on and trot across the street. Sam was prepared to let his father take the next shower, but John shoved him at the bathroom. "Go. Just be quick. I'm going to call Bobby and let him know we'll be another day."

Sam got cleaned off as quickly as he could, but his mind felt a little bent. He'd never seen anything quite like that before. He knew how to deal with one or two people hurt. When it was ten or fifteen, and no one seemed to know what to do, it was harder. He'd had to convince adults that he knew what he was doing, and that had gotten annoying.

He'd seen Dean and Dad helping other people, and he felt really proud of his little . . . family. Family worked. They'd stepped up to the plate and dealt with things.

Once he felt clean, he got out and dried off, getting dressed in his PJs. Not much point in getting really dressed. They weren't leaving till morning, and he wasn't likely to go any further than the vending machines. When he came out of the bathroom, his dad put a hand on his shoulder. "Good work, today, Sammy. Really good work."

Sam grinned up at him. "Thanks, Dad." He dug in his pants for his wallet and went out to the soda machine. It was downstairs next to the parking lot, and before he reached it, Sam was wishing he'd pulled his shoes on. He figured he'd buy a Coke for each of them even though Dad would probably have a beer. While he was flattening out a dollar, a man walked up to use the snack machine.

"Sam Winchester?" he said.

Sam looked up automatically, and he was just in time to see the man swing something towards his head. Sam ducked, but not far enough. Blinding pain shot through his head, and he lost consciousness.

John heard the phone ringing as he came out of the bathroom. He walked over to it, still scrubbing at his hair with a towel. "Hello?"

"John, this is Michael Purdue, do you remember me?"

John straightened, startled. "Yes, I do." He looked around the room. Dean wasn't back yet, apparently, and Sam must still be out getting the drinks.

"You killed my brother, John," Purdue said, and his voice was flat with anger.

John grimaced, wondering how Purdue had found him. "He was a werewolf," he said. He picked up the phone and walked to the window to see if he could spot either Sam or Dean coming back. Neither was in view. His heart began to beat a little faster. If Purdue knew they were at this motel, he must have something planned.

"I kept him contained, you bastard!" Purdue growled.

John shook his head. "I caught him mauling a nine-year-old girl," he said.

"So he got out once!" Purdue retorted angrily. "He didn't deserve to die. He didn't even know he was doing it!"

"He would have gotten out again," John replied calmly. "It's impossible to contain a werewolf for long. I'm sorry. I had no choice."

"You're going to pay," Purdue said, his voice gone flat. "You don't have a brother, but you have a son."

John felt the blood drain from his face. "What are you talking about?" he demanded.

"I'd rather kill you than this fine boy I grabbed, but you'll have to be quick."

John's hand clenched the phone, his gut going cold. "Where are you?"

"Come around behind the motel, there's a stand of trees back here. If you want to save your boy's life, don't bring any weapons."

John dropped the phone and charged out of the room. He didn't need any weapons to take this bastard down.

When he got to the bottom of the stairs, he saw a white bag carelessly tossed aside, the styrofoam cartons scattered and fallen open to reveal cheeseburgers and fries. Next to those was Sammy's wallet. John breath caught in his throat. Which son did the bastard have?

He took off running around the building and into the stand of trees. It was thick with underbrush and leaves. He slowed as he entered, but he was still going too fast for silence. As he approached what looked like a small glade, he slowed further.

A voice spoke from within. "I see you, John. Come in nice and slow."

John took a deep breath to control his rampaging anger and walked into the clearing, his hands held visible to reassure Purdue that he'd come unarmed.

Dean made his way as quietly as he could among the trees. He'd wondered what was going on when he saw the man go around behind the motel with an odd-shaped burden. Then he'd seen Sammy's prized new wallet lying on the ground and put one fact with the other to come up with a very ugly picture. His heart had leapt into his throat at the thought of Sammy being grabbed by someone or something. The trouble was, he didn't know whether to hurry or to go slow. He didn't want to tip the kidnapper into drastic action, but he didn't want to be too late to stop him either.

His heart beating rapidly, he'd eased into the woodland, and then he started to hear the bastard talk. Sammy lay limp on the ground, and the bastard was talking to John on his cellular phone about how John had killed someone. He barely listened. He wasn't sure it mattered much right now. Sammy was in danger, and that was all he gave a damn about. He was afraid that if he went into the clearing in front of the guy, he'd startle him into killing Sammy ahead of schedule. He needed to get behind him without alerting the guy to his presence. Then John came crashing through the woods, and Dean took advantage of the noise to hurry a little faster.

He eased up to the edge of the trees and froze, his gut twisting. The man held a knife up against Sammy's throat.

John stared in horror at the knife Purdue held in his right hand, poised above the jugular vein at the side of Sam's neck. Where was Dean? "I'm here, Purdue," John said. "Let Sam go."

Purdue looked at him balefully. "You know, I was there when you killed my brother."

John nodded with impatience. He remembered the way the elder Purdue had cradled the younger in his dying moments, but he wanted his son out from under that knife. "You said you'd let him go," John reminded him. It was at that moment that he saw Dean in the edge of the trees, just behind Purdue and to his left. He looked frozen, petrified, and John realized that his phobia was preventing him from approaching any closer.

Purdue's eyes caught him again, full of hatred and vengeance. "I saw you shoot him, I had to watch him die. I think you should get to watch, too." He focused down on Sam, and John realized that the promise to free his son in exchange for him had been a ruse. He was ten feet away. He was going to be too late.

Dean saw the bastard's back muscles tense up and knew that it was now or never. He focused on the man and not the knife and launched himself towards him, grabbing for the right wrist and jerking it up and away from Sammy's throat.

The bastard turned as Dean grabbed him, and their momentum carried them both to the ground. Dean landed across him at full length, his hand still around the man's right wrist. The blade of the knife glittered red in the westering sun, and Dean's eyes were drawn to it. He struggled to maintain control, but now that Sammy was no longer threatened, the sight of the blade froze Dean's mind. When the guy struggled under Dean's weight, the knife moved, and he felt himself falling to the side. Then he was lost to evil memories.