Here it comes, another update! Next one will post really soon, I have it half written.
Chapter Twenty-one
"What are we trying?" Sam demanded as Dean slid the phone into a pocket.
"That we're being smart about this," Dean replied evenly, leaning forward to inspect the dash again.
Dean being smart about something? Sam snorted through his nose. That would be the day. Even Bobby knew he was the smart one. Hell, Dean usually admitted that too, when he wasn't busy calling Sam a girl.
"And how exactly are we being smart about this?" Sam asked, doing his level best not to reach over and throttle his brother right now.
"Well, first off, we're summoning the brothers to see if we can get them to just cross over. I prefer that to a full salt and burn, don't you?" Dean asked.
How could his brother sound so frigging calm right now? "That's not what I meant!" Sam snapped. He stopped to give himself a moment. Waves of serenity flowed off Dean, as well as confusion. "I'm talking about how you're dealing with Mike." Sam spat the name out, it left a bad taste in his mouth.
"Dude, what is your problem? He was your friend first." He glanced over at his brother. Yep, Dean's eyes had that 'irritated' glow. Like an empath really needed that neon sign. "Sometimes I just don't get you, Sam."
Sam huffed loudly. "Join the club," he muttered under his breath. "So why didn't you tell Bobby about Mike?"
"I did," Dean replied, that defensive tone in his voice.
"Don't pull that crap with me, Dean. You know what I mean." Sam gritted his teeth against the fresh surge of anger. What was going on here? When did he become the hothead and Dean the voice of reason? When did the world turn upside down and inside out?
Dean sighed again. "Right, and have Bobby jump in his truck and head out here to exorcise me? I don't think so, Sam." Dean leaned back in the seat, turning to look out the passenger window. "Besides, I think Bobby can handle Mike just fine. Now, whether or not Mike can handle Bobby…" Dean chuckled, shaking his head.
"I don't see how you can be so calm about this, Dean!" Sam felt at his wit's end with his brother. What an ass. "What if Mike does something to Bobby?" he demanded. "We won't be able to do anything about it!"
Sam wanted to pound on the dash, but he was scared to. Honestly, he no longer knew what he was capable of. How Dean could just allow something as dangerous as Mike to go see Bobby was beyond him. It made his blood boil, but he had to keep it under control. If he did not handle Dean's baby right, he would be banned from driving again. On the other hand, what did he care? It was just a stupid car. If Dean was driving it meant he could read, research or sleep anyway. Wasn't it Dean's job to drive? Seriously, he had to do all the research. The least Dean could do was get them from point A to point B.
"Sam?" Dean's voice cut through his internal rant, crystal clear. "What are you talking about? Mike can't do anything to Bobby."
Sam shot Dean a hard look, but the fact his brother could not lie was one of those terrible facts that kept getting in the way of his otherwise justified rants. "Why not?"
Dean cleared his throat and shifted in the seat.
"Dean?" Sam waited, but his brother offered nothing. "Dean, why can't Mike hurt Bobby? You better tell me, or I'll just keep asking. And asking. And asking." He felt Dean's annoyance. "You know I'll do it."
Dean groaned from his right. "Pain in my ass," his brother grumbled. Sam suppressed his victory smile, knowing it might delay Dean's answer. "Because Bobby is protected."
Sam stole another glance at his brother. "You mean, as in the protections he has on the house?" Sam tried to keep one eye on the road and the other on his brother.
Dean shrugged. "Sort of."
"Dean, you're turning into a bigger pain in the ass than Mike," Sam snapped.
Dean chuckled, that older brother annoying chuckle. "Dude, where irritating you is concerned, Mike is an amateur."
Sam groaned, rolling his eyes. "Tell me about it."
"I could give him pointers," Dean offered.
"Dean," Sam swallowed hard, desperately pushing back that anger which flowed far too easily now. He knew now that touching Dean would push it back, but he suspected it also freaked his brother out. Not to mention the fact it freaked him out too. Really – holding hands? He could do better than that. No wonder Dean kept calling him a girl. "Come on, man. I don't need that."
"Fine, Sammy. Whatever you say," Dean replied. "Check it out. I'll bet I could get a good pool game in there." He pointed out a rough looking bar with a sign proclaiming tournament pool.
"Forget it," Sam snapped. "Not after what happened last time."
"Last time? Sam, that poor schmuck needed our help." Dean sounded way too calm. "He's lucky we showed up."
Sam gripped the wheel, counting backwards from ten. "Why are you being so calm about all this?"
Dean shrugged, turning serious eyes on him. "Well, you're stressing out enough for both of us."
Sam clamped his mouth shut, his jaw muscles protesting the extra workout. "Where are we going?" he asked after a few minutes of silence. "The building or the graveyard?"
"Graveyard," Dean replied, voice still cool and calm. "We don't want to summon them on their home turf."
Sam nodded, his neck stiff. It wasn't like this stupid summoning would work anyway. Even if Dean was right, what hope did the younger brother have of convincing his older brother of anything? The real world just didn't work that way and that, above everything else, really ticked him off.
Bobby stared at his phone for several minutes after hanging up with Dean. The boy's voice sounded, well, different. It was definitely Dean, he was certain of that, but something had changed since the last time he saw those boys.
He hoped those boys weren't in over their heads in something. They tended to do that. Of course, that was usually John's fault. The man had been so intent on protecting his sons, he never bothered to really teach them about everything out there. Hell, up until a year or two ago, both boys thought vampires were just a myth. That was just foolhardy.
A knock on his door interrupted his thoughts. Bobby walked around his desk. He peeked through the window set in his door. "Who is it?" he demanded through the nice, solid wood.
The man standing on the other side of the door was a big guy, but not huge, with messy dark hair and sharp blue eyes. He almost looked too pretty to be real. How did these people find Dean?
"Michael." His voice was smooth and comforting. Bobby shook off the comforting thoughts, hoping the man drank beer. Hiding holy water in beer was highly effective. "I believe Dean called?"
Bobby pulled the door open, eyeing the man critically. "You're Mike?"
The man blew out a sigh. "I see Dean did call you. Yes, I am Mike." He did not sound happy about the nickname.
Bobby chuckled, allowing the man to walk into his home. "Can I get you something to drink? Beer?"
The man shook his head. "Water would be fine. Thank you."
Bobby smiled. Water? That made things much easier. He tried not to look rushed as he headed into the kitchen to fix a glass of holy water for his visitor. If this guy could tolerate it, then Dean was right and there was no demon here. He handed over the glass of water with his best not-trying-to-look-innocent smile. It usually worked.
Mike accepted the glass and downed it in one gulp. His eyes opened wide and glowed faintly blue. Bobby gasped, taking a step back. "That was wonderful!" Mike gushed. "I don't suppose I can have more?"
Bobby took the glass back with a trembling hand. "What are you?" he whispered.
"I told you," the man replied with a brilliant smile, "I'm Michael."
Bobby shook his head. "Can't be," he managed to whisper, stumbling backward until his back hit the wall.
"Yes, it can," Michael insisted. He stepped forward, blue eyes piercing right through Bobby. "And I'd really like to talk to you about Sam. About his childhood." Then a smile wiped away all signs of hostility. "I'm just trying to help."
Bobby's hands shook so bad he lost his grip on the glass. It tumbled to the floor, shattering in a million pieces. Michael snapped his fingers and the glass reversed, the chunks and slivers reforming into a drinking glass in Michael's hand. "It would be a shame to destroy a vessel that has held Holy Water," he said, setting it on one of the stacks of books Bobby had nearby. From the tone of Michael's voice, Bobby could hear he capitalized the words Holy Water.
Bobby swallowed hard. "What do you want with Sam?" He tried to sound tough but this wasn't some demonic creature. This was a real, live, honest-to-god archangel, and he had no idea how to act.
Michael motioned to Bobby's couch. "Just to talk. Really, I'm trying to help. I kind of have a soft spot for Winchesters."
"So you could tell that was holy water, huh?" he asked weakly, sinking into the worn cushions. Last time the boys stayed here, he remembered, Dean spent most evenings on this very couch watching terrible old horror movies.
Michael smiled at him again, but it did nothing to reassure Bobby. Did Dean know? Then he came to that awful realization, this was why Dean bothered to even call. He knew. Bobby was going to find that boy and throttle him.
"What did you expect him to tell you? That an angel would be visiting?" Michael asked. "He probably thought you'd head out to exorcise him."
"I probably would've," Bobby mumbled.
"Well, now that we have that settled." A brilliant smile covered Michael's flawless face. "Tell me about Sam. Every good thing you can possibly remember."
Bobby rubbed at his temple, pushing his hat back on his head. "Uh…okay. Going how far back?"
"From the beginning," Michael replied, settling next to Bobby on the couch. "I want to hear everything. We have plenty of time."
Sam set out the candles in the proper formation over Ben's grave. This was stupid, he told himself, there was no way it could work. But Dean was right, when he had a strange idea his brother always went with him on it, so doing this for Dean was the least he could do. Then why did it irritate him this bad?
Sam rubbed his sweaty palms against his jeans, hoping his extreme irritation did not show too much. Dean lounged by the headstone, keeping a sharp eye out for passersby. It was not quite dark, so there could still be visitors out.
"When do you want to do it?" he asked, his voice sounding sharp even to his own ears.
Dean winced at him. "Now. Let's get this over with."
Sam nodded, standing. He held the book with the summoning ritual in one hand as he read the ancient Latin. When he finished, the grave looked the same as it had before. He shot Dean a questioning look, wondering if he should go back to the car for the shovels.
Dean shook his head, nodded towards a couple walking away from a grave in the darkening graveyard. If they got the shovels out now, they would undoubtedly be spotted. Sam wanted to growl, throw this useless book to the ground and use it to torch these stupid brothers. Who the hell names their kids after those ice cream guys anyway?
So now they had to wait. Great. Dean wasn't the most patient person, maybe he would come up with a way to sneak the shovels over. Sam watched his brother, expecting a mischievous grin and a crinkling around those green eyes that typically meant they would be committing a felony all in the name of saving lives. Instead Dean ran one hand over Ben's full name and the words 'beloved brother.'
The candles on the ground flickered. Sam stared at those little flames, trying to distract himself from how much his big brother had changed. He would give anything for Dean to start acting normal again. Well, you know, normal for Dean. This nice guy routine grated on his last nerve, especially where that jackass Mike was concerned.
He watched the tiny candle flames intently, as though they could whisper the answer to this haunting. The flames flickered again. Gray mist billowed up from just under the headstone. Dean jumped back, moved to stand beside Sam. Well, at least they were in this stupid idea together. And would probably both pay for it by being flung headfirst into the nearest headstones. Dean would break his, as hard as that skull had to be.
A boy, pretty young, early teens, formed out of the mist. Except for the fact he was translucent, Sam might think he was just out here visiting a grave. He wore jeans and a t-shirt, similar to what he and Dean had worn their whole lives. Yeah, no resemblance there, nothing to find creepy at all.
"Who are you?" he asked, looking genuinely afraid.
"I'm Dean," big brother said, taking a single step forward. "This is my brother, Sam. Are you Ben?"
The boy nodded, looking around for something. "Have you seen my brother? He said he wouldn't leave me."
Dean turned his head away from Ben to give Sam a knowing look. This kid did appear to need protecting, just like Dean said. Sam still didn't think it added up.
"Didn't you leave him back at the building?" Sam demanded, keeping one hand ready to yank his brother away from this ghost if it made one false move. Did false moves really apply to ghosts? Their lives were so screwed. "Or did he even come back after he died?" The ghost's eyes blazed with fury. "That's it, isn't it? He crossed over, without you, and left you here all alone."
"Sam," Dean whispered, motioning to him.
"No, Dean!" Sam snapped, so damned tired of all this foolishness. "We're going to salt and burn him, right now!"
"Uh, Sam?" Dean motioned again to the area behind Sam.
Sam turned his head slowly. Another ghostly figure stood behind him, only this one was much larger and older and, if he had to guess, probably a lot angrier. At least that last part was typical of older brothers. Well, you know, normally, when his older brother wasn't infected by some meddling, know-it-all archangel. So he wasn't really surprised when he felt that too familiar feeling of being yanked off his feet and thrown backwards. Sam just hoped it wouldn't hurt too much.
tbc…soon…