Chapter Twenty-One: Don't Dream It's Over
Dean tried not to speed as we drove to the station.
"Maybe another body's turned up," Dean muttered.
"I hope not," I said and didn't want to think about seeing a second mutilated corpse in the coroner's office.
Dean parked the Impala and jumped out. He paused to smooth the wrinkles in his suit and then took off toward the station building, taking long strides.
I followed Dean at a slower pace, somewhat behind him.
When we stepped inside I noticed the station was strangely quiet. Cops who were not bustling around paused to stare at Dean and I.
We flashed our badges and made our way to the Lieutenant's office.
Dean knocked softly on the door.
"Enter," the Lieutenant's voice beckoned and we complied.
"Please, close the door," she said and I pushed the door shut behind me.
"We drove here as fast as possible, Lieutenant," I said.
I could see by her body language that she was angry or upset. She didn't sit but stood behind her desk with her hands flat upon the desk's top. She was looking right at Dean and I.
"Your services will no longer be needed," Lieutenant Crabbe said through clenched teeth.
"What? Why?" Dean asked. I noticed she had not ended the sentence with 'agents'.
"You two are not really from the FBI," The Lieutenant began but Dean started to interrupt.
"We can explain-" he started but she raised a hand.
"I know you are not because two real agents arrived this morning from Quantico and seemed very surprised that there were already a couple of agents on the case," Lieutenant said, slowly as though trying to keep her anger in check.
"When I told them your names they informed me that no such agents exist," she continued.
"Please, Gloria, give us a chance to explain," Dean pleaded.
"I don't know what games you two are playing at. I don't know what kind of sick entertainment you're getting from this," Lieutenant Crabbe said.
"We're trying to help you," I said.
"I don't want to hear it!" the Lieutenant snapped.
"I should be arresting you on the spot for impersonating federal officers… but I am not going to," Lieutenant Crabbe said.
"Leave Lafayette, get out of Louisiana," she said.
"The thing that killed Thom Zimmerman wasn't human Lieutenant," I tried.
The Lieutenant laughed humorlessly.
"Leave this investigation to the professionals and get out of my city," she said coldly.
Dean and I stood as if frozen.
"Get out! Get out!" the Lieutenant screeched.
I turned and flung the door open in my haste to leave the Lieutenant before she really did decide to arrest us.
Dean and I practically ran to the Impala, past stunned police officers, away from the enraged Lieutenant.
Dean and I didn't speak until we got to the motel room and then once there we waited a while longer. I don't think either of us really knew what to say- we had never had that reaction before.
I sat down on my bed and Dean leaned against the table, he loosened his tie and threw it on his bed, he slipped his shoes off and slid his jacket off his shoulders to drape it over one arm.
"I think that went quite well, don't you?" Dean said with a goofy smile.
I just groaned in response and lay back on the bed and rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands.
"We don't need Crabbe's permission to work this case," Dean said.
"I know that!" I exclaimed.
"It's just… I don't want to do this, I thought we were done," I muttered.
"I want this to be over," I sighed.
"So do I, Sam, and it will be as soon as we kill Phobetor and deal with Jonah," Dean answered even though I had not been looking for one.
As I lay on the bed I could hear Dean punching a number into his phone:
"Hey, Bobby, it's Dean," my brother said.
My brother paused as the old hunter spoke.
"We've made contact at least, well, Sam has, anyway," Dean said.
"Dunno," Dean said, "Sam said he's made out of sand."
I heard Dean as he turned, probably to face me. I wasn't looking; I still had my hands at my eyes.
"What exactly did he look like?" Dean asked for Bobby.
"He was as tall as me… he had a, uh, black coat- a long one, like a duster- and a fedora…" I muttered.
"I don't care about his fashion sense," Dean grumbled.
"He has red eyes and small sharp teeth… like needles and claws on his fingers," I said. I wasn't in the mood to fight with Dean.
Dean repeated my description to Bobby.
"See what you can dig up and hopefully we'll be able be able to kill this bastard," Dean said and I heard his cell phone snap closed.
"Well, what do you want to do now?" Dean asked.
"We need to figure out how to kill Phobetor as soon as possible," I said.
Or I am likely to wind up next on the menu, I thought.
"That stake should work Sam, he's just a god, like the others we've faced before," Dean said.
"Why don't you tell me then, how I'm supposed to get that stake," I pointed at the weapon that was leaning against the wall beside the TV stand, out of sight of the door and window, "into Dreamland and kill Phobetor with it."
"Lucid dreaming? You know, manipulate your dream and get a stake or something," Dean suggested.
"He's made out of sand though, the stake may not even work, the thing could just go right through him," I muttered.
"Okay, how do you kill something made entirely of sand?" Dean asked.
I lowered my hands to my sides and stared at the ceiling.
Sand, of course, is made up of billions upon billions of tiny bits of rock and minerals that had been eroded to their small size over millions of years.
I knew we wouldn't be able to use any conventional monster-killing techniques on the Greek god. A bullet or a blade would pass right through Phobetor's body without causing harm.
I really didn't even think a stake would kill him, like it did the other gods Dean and I had encountered.
"Maybe he's like a demon and you can exorcise him," Dean suggested.
I grunted noncommittally.
"It could be worth a try," Dean continued.
"I don't want to piss him off Dean," I said.
Dean and I tossed around ideas for a couple of hours. I washed my pills down with the last bit of coffee in my cup. Dean paused to take a quick shower and fold his suit neatly away since he wouldn't need to use it again. He sat on his bed, eating the last of the pretzels from the night before since I had left the coffee shop without breakfast.
We paused to eat lunch. Or, Dean ate and I just ordered a beer.
"I'm not hungry," I told my brother as he ate his hamburger.
"C'mon Sam," Dean said, "Eat something."
"Later," I muttered.
Dean looked at me worriedly. He didn't say anything but I knew that he'd get me to eat eventually.
I stared out the window and tried to think about how possibly, in a dream, I could kill something made of sand.
Water wouldn't work- if Phobetor washed away I was pretty sure he'd be able to reform himself eventually.
I looked at the beer bottle in my hand, turning it over, watching sunlight reflect on its clear brown glass.
Hold on! I thought, glass is made out of sand. Maybe I could make a bomb that would be hot enough to melt Phobetor into glass and then shatter the son of a bitch into a million pieces.
That might kill him, I thought. But I wanted something that would destroy the god forever.
I noticed that Dean was watching me. I was still holding the beer bottle, not even paying attention to what I was doing.
"You've got that look on your face you always get before you stand up and shout 'Eureka'!" Dean said.
I nodded, "a bomb could work."
"A bomb? What like a pipe bomb?" Dean asked. We both knew how to make those.
I shook my head, "something bigger."
I paused as a couple of people walked past us on their way out, talking.
"… and this guy's going to blow up this entire city with a 'nuke…" a boy probably only one or two years younger than Ben said excitedly to an older woman who was obviously his mother.
"Honestly, Cory, I don't know about that junk you watch on TV…" the woman said, her voice drifted away as they left the restaurant.
"Whoa Sam, hold on a minute," Dean exclaimed when he saw the expression on my face.
"Dean, it makes sense, the radiation released by a nuclear bomb heats up the surrounding material to an equilibrium temperature so that the matter will be the same temperature as the matter in the bomb! The materials surrounding the bomb will vaporize!" I exclaimed.
Dean shook his head, "how are you going to blow up Phobetor? I don't think even you know how to make an atom bomb."
"It's a dream, Dean, and anything can happen in dreams," I said. Taking into account Dean's earlier comment about lucid dreams.
Dean looked extremely skeptical.
"Look, I'll be asleep but we can time it so you can wake me up before the bomb goes off and I'll be fine," I said. I thought that if I was awake before the bomb exploded and not in a nightmare, I'd escape the blast.
"I don't like your kamikaze tendencies, lately," Dean said seriously.
I scowled at Dean. It wasn't like I would have the bomb strapped to my chest or something.
"You figure out a way to kill him then, Dean," I challenged.
"I still think the stake will work, you know, old reliable, less suicidal ways of killing monsters… you remember those, don't you?" Dean said.
"I will be perfectly safe," I assured Dean. Of course I wasn't going to go the way of the suicide bomber- I didn't want to die; I wanted to see my wife and children again.
"Okay," Dean said, "let's just scope out the area first before we make any decisions," Dean said, "I think you should try the stake first and then if that doesn't work, you can blow Phobetor to smithereens."
"Alright," I said. I could live with that. Besides, the thing I didn't tell Dean was that I wasn't sure if I'd even be any condition to make a bomb if Phobetor was true to his word and I ended up becoming trapped in a nightmare of Hell.
When we got back to the motel I called Sarah to ask how she was doing.
Her phone rang three times before she answered.
"Hey, Sarah," I said before she could speak.
"Hi Sam," Sarah said. She sounded a little distracted.
"What's up?" I asked.
"Nothing, I just put Aaron and Faith down for a nap," Sarah answered.
I paused.
"What did you do this morning?"
"Tanya and I took the kids to the park for a couple of hours and then Percy came over-" Sarah began but I interrupted.
"Percy? You don't mean Percy Upton your old neighbor?" I asked.
"Yes, well, he's a friend of Tanya's, Sam," Sarah said in a guarded voice.
"Did he say anything to you about us?" I asked. I don't even know why I was asking- I didn't care what the little snot thought.
"Well, he was surprised to say the least," Sarah said.
I thought I heard something in Sarah's voice but I couldn't tell what it was.
"He's really matured a lot actually since you first met him," Sarah informed me.
"Uh huh," I said skeptically.
I watched as Dean went over to the mini fridge and pulled out a beer, offered it to me and then got one for himself.
"I shouldn't be gone for much longer, everything might even be okay before the beginning of August," I answered. It was only the end of the second week of July but if we could kill Phobetor quickly we'd be able to focus on Jonah and then head home.
Sarah chuckled, "I think Percy has a crush on Tanya now, in fact."
"Hm," I said and gulped down some beer.
I could just imagine Upton following Sarah around like a puppy, even now that she was married and had two young children. He didn't seem like the kind of guy who would take 'I'm happily married' for an answer.
"Sam, are you alright?" Sarah asked. Concern in her voice.
"Yeah, yeah," I answered and had some more beer.
"Listen, I have to go but I look forward to hearing from you later," Sarah said, once again distractions clear in her voice.
"I love you Sarah," I said first.
"Love you," Sarah said and hung up.
I closed my phone and put it in the pocket of my jeans.
Dean didn't say anything but looked at me with one eyebrow raised.
"Sarah seems to be having a good time," I said.
"What kind of a 'good time'?" Dean asked.
"She's showing the kids all the sights and I think she likes seeing all her friends from New York again," I answered nonchalantly.
"And Percy Upton, right?" Dean said.
I frowned. I was sure Percy was harmless, an annoying little prick, but harmless all the same. I was sure that Sarah was speaking the truth and her distraction only came from the stress of me being away, not knowing when I would come home and tell her she was safe.
I finished my beer, lost in thought before I spoke again.
"Dean… do you ever worry that Lisa might, you know, cheat on you?" I asked my brother.
Dean looked surprised I would ask, "I don't think she'd sleep with Dwayne Johnson if she had the chance."
I let out a small chuckle.
"Sam, Lisa's practically paranoid that I'm going to leave one day so I don't think she'd ever have an affair because she's probably thinking that I would leave if she did," Dean continued.
I nodded, "yeah."
Dean seemed to be the perfect husband and father. He went to every one of Ben's baseball games; he took S.J. to the park every other day and he was always there when Lisa needed him. Dean was the rock in his family. He had taken the stability and will he had exhibited as a hunter and transferred that to family-life. He hardly showed weakness.
Me on the other hand, I was the opposite of my brother. I tried to be strong; really I did but some days I just couldn't be that. Sarah was often the one to look out for me, especially when I was particularly stressed and the PTSD symptoms flared up. Sometimes it felt as if I wasn't so much Sarah's husband as a thorn in her side. Of course Sarah would roll with the punches and get that determined look on her face that I had come to know so well. I still couldn't help but think, though, if she ever regretted, even for a second, marrying me. Perhaps she thought, like Dean had, that the memories of Hell would subside and she'd have a normal husband like other wives did.
"Sam, you don't think…not Sarah," Dean said, as though reading my thoughts.
I shrugged with some sadness, "We both know I'm not the greatest husband."
"C'mon Sam, Sarah loves you," Dean said.
"Dean, the PTSD…" I said.
"So it's just an obstacle, lots of couples have those and they get over them. I know that Sarah loves you and that she'd do anything for you," Dean commented.
I nodded. I knew Dean was confident that Sarah was faithful but I couldn't help but feel a sliver of doubt grow in the back of my mind.
Dean turned from his serious demeanor, which he apparently couldn't keep up for long, and grinned, "besides, you're a catch. Who else has a husband who knows how to kill vampires or exorcise demons or has angels for friends?"
I shook my head, a smile on my lips despite myself.
That evening Dean and I stuck close to the motel. We ordered pizza for dinner but I didn't eat much- I was too distracted.
I chewed the inside of my cheek as I thought.
Dean finished the pizza without a word but grabbed the bag of M&Ms from the table and tossed them onto my lap.
I was tired but I didn't want to go to sleep. I was genuinely afraid to close my eyes- a feeling I rarely had since first returning from Hell.
I knew I would need to sleep sometime and face Phobetor and whatever he threw at me but… not yet.
It grew steadily later. I had only eaten one or two handfuls of the candy and then put the bag aside.
"Please wake me up if anything happens," I told Dean as I lay down on my bed, still fully clothed in jeans and the black t-shirt from the day before.
Dean nodded, turned out the lights but kept the television on low volume while he watched some movie.
I closed my eyes and forced myself to relax, to calm down and breathe evenly.
I could hear the murmur of voiced from the TV and my brother's breathing.
Just wake up before it gets too bad, I thought, you can do it. It's just a dream, it can't hurt you, I told myself.
No, a voice assured me, but Phobetor certainly can. And he will.
I tried to imagine I was back home in Montana, sleeping in my own bed with my son and daughter just down the hall, Sarah reading maybe, in the living room downstairs or checking in on Aaron or Faith. I imagined I could hear the almost unceasing background buzzing of crickets outside.
I felt my breathing begin to ease and my muscles relaxed. My mind shut out all external sounds and I was on the fringe of sleep, everything a warm, dull grey cocoon…
… I looked around in terror but all I could see was darkness. I could see nothing before me except an all-encompassing darkness.
I closed my eyes and prayed I was having a nightmare and that I would wake up. I prayed that when I opened my eyes I would be in some no-star motel room and I would see Dean grinning at me, his mouth curled in a smirk and some joke on his lips.
But of course when I did open my eyes again all I saw was that darkness. I knew that I was in a waking nightmare. I knew that I was in Hell. In Lucifer's prison.
I was paralyzed, unable to move, to flee from what I know was coming.
I could feel my heart racing in my chest and my blood pounding in my ears.
Sweat poured down my face and back, my hair sopping wet.
My body went rigid with fear when I felt a presence approach.
It was a presence I knew well- it was Lucifer.
My breath came out in shallow gasps, my eyes wide in a futile attempt to see in the pitch blackness.
"Please," I begged, shaking with dread.
"You could have had it all, Sam. You could have had the world," Lucifer spoke in the darkness, his voice calm.
"Don't… please…" I continued, trying to ignore the fallen angel's words.
"You could have been powerful," Lucifer said.
I whimpered in fear.
"But you chose to be weak," Lucifer accused, still sounding almost disinterested.
I was waiting in panicked anticipation for the pain I knew was going to come.
"You gave into human frailty, Sam," Lucifer admonished, "I thought better of you, I really did."
I gasped as agony engulfed my body. I writhed in pain and shouted although I knew my cries fell on deaf ears.
The pain stopped and I slumped, panting.
Sweat dripped into my eyes, stinging, insignificant compared to the pain I had just experienced.
"You had to take The Leap, didn't you? You couldn't have just been complacent, could you?" Lucifer asked.
I didn't answer.
I bowed my head, my chin almost on my chest. I didn't have the strength to hold it up anymore.
"I lost because of you, Sam Winchester. One inconsequential little human got the better of me," Lucifer chuckled to himself almost as if he couldn't believe it.
I muttered something unintelligible, even to myself.
"I would have destroyed all those filthy humans you worked so hard to save, Sam. I would have shown my brethren and our Father what you humans really are," Lucifer continued.
"I can't understand why you would sacrifice yourself to protect them from me. All of those murderers and rapists and child molesters and everything else even you humans abhor about your own species- allowed to go on living and making a mockery of the Free Will you were given," Lucifer said as though he truly wanted me to answer his question. Why had I allowed the worst of the worst to continue on oblivious that their doom had been so close?
"They're not all bad, Lucifer, despite what you may think," I answered.
"Ah, Sam, it is the greatest good to the greatest number of people which is the measure of right and wrong," Lucifer smirked in the darkness.
I closed my eyes again.
"No matter, no matter. I may have lost my chance for the Apocalypse but I still have a consolation prize," Lucifer grinned.
Agony tore at my limbs. It seemed relentless, endless. I knew it would never end. Lucifer would never let me rest; he would always be there, to remind me of what I had done.
Eventually the pain disappeared and Lucifer's presence vanished.
The pain was not constant. Lucifer wished to torment me not only with physical pain but with psychological and emotional torture as well.
I knew he was trying to break me. I ground my teeth and tried to remind myself that I had done the only thing that could be done to prevent the Apocalypse and stop Lucifer dead in his tracks.
Despite the fact that millions of good people were alive because of what I had done, I felt no better. I did not feel heroic or courageous especially when I was in so much pain I cried.
I looked around in the darkness with dull eyes. My limbs trembled from pain and weakness.
A great loneliness had taken hold of me and I thought that, more than anything would crush my will.
I lifted my head slightly and in the darkness called out for my brother.
"Dean!" My voice sounded plaintive in the vast darkness.
"Dean," I whispered to myself. I knew that I would never see my brother again and that filled me with a profound sadness.
I glanced around when I sensed another presence, coming nearer and nearer. It wasn't Lucifer but its malignance seeped from it like a vile sludge.
I realized that this was a demon!
"Sam," the demon said and my heart leapt into my throat as I recognized this monster.
It was my brother! It was Dean!
"No," I moaned in misery.
"Yes," the demon hissed.
"This isn't you Dean," I said, "you're not evil."
The demon just chuckled at my attempt to reach its human side that had long since been erased.
"Why are you here?" I asked.
"You called," the demon said matter-of-factly.
I shook my head in disbelief. Dean couldn't be a demon. I was sure that if and when he died Cas would make sure he went Upstairs.
I felt sick to my stomach.
"Look at you Sam," the demon said.
I said nothing.
"You really are taking a beating," the demon who had once been my brother, continued.
"I only wish I could have joined the party," the demon spoke almost wistfully.
"Leave me alone!" I shouted and my voice echoed.
The demon chuckled, "you really are up shit creek without a paddle this time, aren't you Sammy?"
I flinched when the demon called me by my nickname.
"You're trapped here. Forever," the demon said with finality.
"How does it feel to know that for all eternity you are destined to remain here? With Lucifer- who doesn't seem like he's going to get tired of torturing you anytime soon. I wouldn't hold my breath if I was you," the demon continued.
"At least I'm still human!" I snapped.
The demon did not seem at all offended.
"I may not be human any more, little brother, but at least I am not Lucifer's punching-bag," the demon smiled.
I lowered my head.
I knew the demon would not leave without tormenting me but I didn't really care. If it wasn't the demon, it would be Lucifer.
"You're making this too easy," the demon chided.
I closed my eyes and waited for the pain.
I cried out as agony ripped into my body- thousands of shards of glass seemed to tear at my flesh as though to strip it from my bones.
I panted and begged and cried but the demon would not stop.
My heart was pounding as if it was going to burst.
The agony seemed to sap the strength from my limbs and I shook violently.
All I could hear was the demon laughing, laughing in Dean's voice…
SPN
I tried to stay awake, I really did but it grew later and later, or earlier because when I woke with a start a quick glance at the clock showed that it was a quarter to four in the morning.
I was lying on my back on my bed, the TV remote still in one limp hand.
I sat up and rubbed my face, wondering what had woke me up.
I turned off the television- it was some infomercial selling some sort of vacuum cleaner and looked over at my brother's sleeping form.
Sam was lying curled on his side, tangled in the bed sheets. Both of the pillows were on the floor. I stood and crept closer. I saw that his t-shirt was dark with moisture and his hair was damp- there was a sheen of sweat on his face even though the A/C was on.
Sam's breath was fast-paced and came in short bursts, as though he engaged in some physical activity- running a marathon maybe- even though he was asleep.
I frowned- this was exactly how Sam had slept when he had first been brought back from Hell and had been staying with Lisa and Ben and I.
I was about to go sit down on my own bed when Sam's eyes snapped open and he cried out. I jumped and practically shouted his name.
Sam curled even tighter and shook. I was pretty sure he was fully awake though.
"Sam!" I said and moved to his side with urgency.
His eyes were squeezed shut and he was talking but his words were coming out so fast they all jumbled together I couldn't understand him.
"Sammy," I touched my brother's shoulder and Sam flinched away from me.
His eyes opened and I saw they were glazed with pain. The haunted look in them came to the forefront.
"Don't touch me!" Sam said and swiped a hand at me.
I took hold of my brother's arm and held it down.
"Sam, it's okay. It was a nightmare, you're safe, okay? Just calm down, take deep breaths," I instructed.
Sam struggled against me for a moment and then relaxed; his body went from being rigid to slack in seconds.
I moved away and filled one of the plastic cups the motel provided with water and handed it out to my brother as I sat down on his bed.
Sam sat up and raked a hand through his hair- his bangs flopped onto his forehead and stuck there with sweat.
Sam took the cup gratefully and gulped down some of the water.
I reached up and gripped his shoulder comfortingly.
"It was about Hell," Sam said. I could have guessed that, judging from his reaction upon waking up but only nodded.
"Do you… do you want to talk about it?" I asked tentatively.
Sam shook his head, "Phobetor was just trying to scare me."
He drank the last of the water and set the cup on the night stand in between the beds.
"Why don't you take a shower?" I said, "It'll make you feel better."
"Okay," Sam agreed, stood and grabbed some clothes that had already been worn this week and closed the bathroom door behind him.
We should get to the Laundromat today, I thought as I pawed through my own dwindling supply of clean clothes. In the rush to get to Bobby's neither Sam nor I had packed a lot of clothing.
Sam was in the shower for nearly half an hour but I didn't mind. I thought that standing under the hot spray of the showerhead would do him some good.
I was worried about Sam, with the PTSD he already had nightmares but now that Phobetor had apparently targeted Sam there was no telling what fears the Greek god would dredge up, what memories he would play with to suit his own purposes, not that some of Sam's memories, especially the ones he had of this time in Lucifer's Cage weren't particularly nice, but still…
I wished silently that Phobetor had decided to attack me instead. I remembered my time in Hell, of course I did, how could I forget? At least I could handle them; they didn't consume my sleeping mind as Sam's did his. Besides, there were other things I feared more than Hell- flying was a big one that the god could easily take advantage of. Anyway, I didn't really fear Hell, it had happened and it had been awful but I wasn't afraid of the memories or the thought that I might one day end up there or something.
I looked up, my thoughts stopping as I saw Sam. He looked better for his shower. His hair was damp from the water, not sweat and his long-sleeved brown shirt and jeans looked pretty clean. His eyes were dark with that permanent haunted look though but at least I didn't see any pain in them anymore.
Since it was still far too early for any decent person to be awake, I laid back down on my bed and tried to get a few more hours of sleep in.
When I woke next, the alarm read eight o'clock. I sat up and smoothed the wrinkles from my shirt as best I could.
Sam was sitting on the end of his bed, fiddling with his wedding band, twisting it on his finger, a silver flash every couple of seconds.
When he saw me watching, Sam dropped his hands to his sides.
I stood and yawned, stretched and made my way to the sink to brush my teeth.
I decided that we could take it easy today, there wasn't much we could do anyway until Sam went to sleep again and either had a nightmare or a meeting with Phobetor.
Once my morning grooming was done I turned to my brother.
"Let's go to the Laundromat," I said and stuffed all my dirty clothes into my duffel bag.
"Sure," Sam answered and copied my gesture.
We drove around, found a coffee shop and got ourselves something to drink, then made a bee-line to the nearest Laundromat.
The place was tiny and deserted. It smelled of soap and warm clothes. The floors were yellowing linoleum; the walls were a beige colour that had accumulated stains and scuffs over the years. Besides Sam and myself, the only other patron was an elderly Chinese woman who sat on one of the plastic chairs provided, knitting something that looked like a scarf while her clothes spun around and around in a dryer.
There were a half dozen washers and dryers but it wasn't like Sam and I were in much of a hurry to get back to the motel so we could just sit and twiddle our thumbs.
I dumped my clothes on top of a washing machine and began sorting them into piles: whites, darks, jeans, coloured, and reds.
I couldn't help but chuckle to myself as I put some money into the slot and put my jeans in the machine.
"What?" Sam asked. It had been a while since he had spoken at all; I thought he might be thinking about the nightmare he had had so I didn't bother him.
I shook my head but answered, "I'm just thinking about the first time Lisa saw me doing the laundry. She had been out grocery shopping and I decided to do something nice for her so I took all the clothes from their hampers and sorted them and started the laundry. When Lisa heard the machine going and I told her I had started it, she looked like she expected all the clothes to come out pink or splotched with bleach or something. She had been impressed- she said she'd never had any man in her life would could do laundry to save his life- her own father included. I told her that you were screwed if you were a hunter and couldn't do laundry- it's kind of a necessity what with getting covered in blood or dirt on a regular basis."
Sam smiled. He leaned against the washing machine that shook slightly as it cleaned his clothes.
"Don't worry Sam, we'll defeat Phobetor," I said.
"I know," Sam answered, "I just thought we were through with hunting- that's all."
"I guess we're going for our victory lap then," I said with a grin.
Sam looked at me, rolled his eyes and took a drink of his coffee.
My stomach grumbled audibly and I wished we had grabbed something to eat while we had been at the shop.
I jumped when I felt my cell phone vibrate in my pocket and the ring tone go off.
Fishing the phone out, I glanced at the caller and flipped it open.
"Please tell us you have something, Bobby," I said without a greeting.
"Sorry boy, but I've come up with Jack Shit. Oh, I found a lot of stuff on Phobetor and his siblings but nothing that's of particular use to anyone other than a Greek mythology buff," Bobby said.
"Really?" I asked, not that I thought that Bobby would lie but I just wanted there to be some sure way to kill the son of a bitch.
"I looked everywhere I could think of," Bobby apologized, "even called up a couple of professor friends but they were at a loss as to come up with how to kill Phobetor."
"What about Greek gods in general? How did they die?" I pressed.
"No mortal man could kill them, just another god," Bobby said.
I sighed.
"What's wrong?" Bobby asked, suspicious that I wasn't telling him something important.
"Sam had a nightmare," I answered.
"And?" Bobby asked.
"It was bad, I don't know- he didn't want to talk about it- but you know with Sam's PTSD and all that- Phobetor probably was screwing around with his memories of Hell or some shit," I said. Sam was only feet away from me but he didn't seem to mind that I was talking about him with Bobby- if we were not in public I would have put the old hunter on speaker-phone and Sam could be telling Bobby this stuff himself.
"How are you planning on killing Phobetor? Come up with any bright ideas yet? Still think a stake will work?" Bobby asked.
I hesitated.
"Sam thinks he can blow Phobetor up with a nuclear bomb- he says it'll vaporize the bastard," I answered slowly and waited for Bobby's reaction.
"Give your brother the phone," Bobby said in a deadly voice.
I complied and handed my phone to Sam.
"Bobby?" Sam said and then he was cut off as the old hunter began yelling at him.
Sam scrunched his face up and held the phone away from his ear.
"B- Bobby, listen-" Sam tried but he was interrupted again.
I could only watch as Sam attempted to speak to the old hunter but he wasn't able to get a word in edge-wise.
After what must have been five long minutes Sam held the phone out to me, his face expressionless.
"You didn't have to go and tear a strip off him Bobby," I said.
"He's thinking about blowing himself up Dean!" Bobby said forcibly.
"We have it all planned out Bobby. Sam's gonna wake up before the bomb goes off," I assured the old hunter.
"How do you know Dean? How do you know it's gonna work?" Bobby asked.
"I don't know. I just have to trust Sam's judgment I guess," I answered.
"You two boys are all I have and I don't want to see anything happen to ya," Bobby said softly, "when you two went off to Alaska… I felt like I was losing my sons."
I took a deep breath. I had never heard Bobby actually say that he thought of Sam and I as his sons before.
"Just make sure the both of ya come back in one piece," Bobby ordered.
"Don't worry, Bobby, I'll make sure you see us again," I answered.
It wasn't only Bobby who would be crushed if anything happened to Sam and I, there were our families as well. They were the reason we were on this hunt in the first place- we were trying to protect them from Jonah.
I closed my phone and put it back in my pocket.
Sam's laundry had finished washing and he now bent down to gather it to take it to one of the dryers.
I couldn't see my brother's face but his back and shoulders were tense and I thought maybe Bobby had something to do with that.
"You okay?" I asked once Sam had returned and put another load of clothes in the washer.
Sam nodded, his expression still unreadable.
"Bobby shouldn't have chewed you out like that," I said, "you're just trying to find a way to kill Phobetor."
"Yeah," Sam muttered and didn't speak the rest of the time we were in the Laundromat.
Whatever Bobby had said, yelled at Sam had definitely hit a nerve.
When Sam and I got back to the motel we just sort of hung around for the rest of the day. There was really nothing either of us could do until night fell and Sam went to sleep again. We were on Phobetor's time now and I didn't like that idea very much.
I normally am a pretty patient guy, even when I was on a hunt I didn't mind staking out some beastie's position for hours on end but not with this one. I think it was because I wasn't really involved with it. All I could do was stand back and watch and support my brother- it made me feel useless and vulnerable- it reminded me of the year Sam had mysteriously been brought back from Hell and I was unable to help him.
I turned on the TV and surfed aimlessly through the channels, not planning on watching anything anyway, before I stood up and told Sam I would be back in a half an hour or so.
"Where are you going?" Sam asked, confused.
We had practically just stepped in the door and here I was on my way out again.
"I'm going to get some supplies," I said and grabbed the keys to the Impala and walked outside.
Sam didn't say anything. He knew 'getting supplies' meant 'I need some time by myself to think.'
I got into the Impala and turned on the radio: 'Night Prowler' came blaring out of the speakers as I exited the parking lot and drove down the road, obeying the speed limit for once. I drove to the nearest grocery store and picked up a case of bottled water, then went down the junk food aisle and grabbed a couple of bags of chips, pretzels and a bag of 'Twizzlers' licorice.
I stood in a long line for the cash register- the 'One to Eight Items' check-out was unfortunately closed. Slowly the line moved forward- I was behind some old man holding four bushels of bananas and a case of vanilla Ensure and a young woman juggling a baby on one arm and a bag of diapers, six jars of baby food and a copy of People Magazine in the other. I sighed as the customers inched forward. I glanced at my watch and saw that I had only been gone for twenty minutes.
After what seemed like ten minutes later I sidled up to the cashier and she punched in my purchases with a bored expression. She had one long red braid over her shoulder and green eyes accented by greener eye shadow. I was reminded uneasily of the young red-headed girl Lucifer had possessed two years ago when Sam and I went to Alaska and couldn't help but wonder if she and the cashier were related, sisters perhaps.
I gave the girl the money and told her to keep the change. I walked out still thinking about her.
C'mon Dean, that was nearly three years ago and that poor girl could have come from anywhere, I told myself as I set the groceries in the passenger side of the Impala and go into the driver's seat.
What would you do if she was that girl's sister? What would you say to her?
I shook my head. I couldn't go the rest of my life wondering if every girl with red hair was related to that girl in Alaska. I just felt bad that I hadn't gone to her family and said something, anything- then again, maybe it was better for them to believe their daughter had been kidnapped instead of the truth.
At least I could give them closure, I thought as I started the engine. As far as they knew- the people who had taken their daughter was still out there.
I drove back to the motel slowly, still thinking obsessively about that girl. I felt guilty about her death even though I had nothing do with it.
If we had stopped Lucifer the first time, she'd still be alive, I thought.
If we had stopped Lucifer the first time, Sam would still be in Hell; I reminded myself and regretted my earlier musing.
I sighed, "Why bother worrying about things you can't change, Dean?"
I parked the car in its designated spot and grabbed the groceries. I stepped to the door of the motel and opened it. Sam wasn't inside.
I felt a moment of panic before I saw a scrap of paper on the table with my brother's distinct, almost flowing writing scrawled on it- 'Took a walk. Back in 10.'
I shrugged and broke open the plastic holding the bottles of water in place. I put as many as would fit in the mini fridge and set the rest, still in the cardboard container, atop the long dresser that sat against on wall. I left the food in the grocery bag and moved it to the table.
With nothing to occupy myself with until Sam returned I saw his laptop sitting on top of his duffel bag and grabbed it. I opened the computer and smiled when I saw that I needed a password to get in. I could get onto Sam's computer fine, I knew the correct password but if I was going to try and snoop around at his stuff I would have more difficulty.
Good thing I wasn't trying to hack into his files then. I brought up the internet and typed a few keywords into the browser: 'Jensens Cemetery, Alaska', '2011' and 'Deaths'.
At first glance the results only showed a list of people who had died in 2011 and were buried in the cemetery but after some rearranging of the key words- adding new ones or taking one or two away I found what I was looking for.
'Jensens Cemetery: The Scene of Horror' the first newspaper's headline read.
I scanned the article and it explained how two young men and one young woman had been found in dire condition in the cemetery on the morning of November second of 2011. The article described what the paramedics had found upon arriving at the cemetery: three people severely under-dressed for the winter weather in Alaska and in serious conditions. I scanned through the article until I found what I was looking for:
I paused. I had a name now. Marcie Gables.
I pulled up another browser tab and typed the girl's name into the search engine. After a little bit of navigation I found out that Marcie Gables had indeed lived in Louisiana- Lafayette to be exact and she was survived by her parents, Hector and Claudia and her twin sister, May.
I gulped and looked at the photo of Marcie; it had to be a high school picture. She was wearing a white uniform shirt for a Catholic school. Her curly red hair puffed out around her face like a mane and her green eyes were crinkled at the edges with her smile. I could count all the freckles on her face if I wanted to. The paragraph at the bottom said that she had been on her school's Honour Role and was one of the school's top achievers. She had been a member of the Photography Club and the Humanitarian Committee and the Prayer Group at her school. From all appearances she seemed like she had been a happy sixteen-year old high school student- one of the few- so another thing that bothered me was why then would she allow herself to be possessed by Lucifer?
I was just about to do some more searching when the motel room door opened and Sam stepped inside.
I exited all the browsers and closed his laptop, trying not to look guilty.
"Hey," Sam said, he seemed surprised to see me back already.
"Hi," I said and stood.
"What were you doing?" Sam asked, not suspiciously or accusingly, more out of curiosity.
"Ah, just checking out the news in Indiana," I lied.
Sam nodded.
There was an awkward pause for a moment and then Sam spoke, "what'd you get?"
"Some water, and some snacks," I answered and moved to the table and pulled the chips, pretzels and licorice out of the bag to show my brother.
Sam just rolled his eyes and gave a slight smile. He looked tired though, I noticed.
"Maybe you should take a nap or something," I said as casually as I could.
"Nah, I'm fine," Sam waved away the offer.
"So, uh, what did Bobby yell at you about?" I asked. I wasn't sure Sam would tell me but I wanted to get my thoughts off of Marcie.
Now that I knew she was from this city I was tempted to go drive past her family's house- if they still lived there, anyway.
But what are you going to do? I asked myself, offer your condolences? Tell her parents and sister what really happened? Ask them personal questions about their daughter to try and figure out why she did what she did? Why? It doesn't matter anymore, she'd dead.
Sam hesitated and then spoke, "he accused me of having a death wish."
I chuckled, "yeah, you're a real Charlie Bronson if I ever saw one."
Sam shrugged.
"Look, you know he didn't mean it right?" I said.
"Yeah,' Sam muttered.
"He's like Dad was," I continued, "he can be a real hard-ass but he cares about you."
Sam nodded. There were a lot of times when Dad was less than kind, or so it had seemed to Sam, surely, but I knew that he was just trying to protect his youngest son.
"Bobby's not gonna stay angry at you for long," I offered.
I thought back to that day when Sam and I had gone to Alaska and Bobby had abandoned his gruff hunter's façade and had spoken to my brother with a sensitivity I had rarely seen before.
"I know," Sam said, "it's just…"
Sam paused and didn't continue.
Maybe Bobby's words had hurt Sam more than I thought they had. I knew my brother could be emotional sometimes but I didn't think he was that bad.
I raised an eyebrow and waited but Sam wasn't going to speak again.
I grew a little worried and spoke, "Sammy?"
Sam looked at me almost as though he had forgotten I was in the room with him.
"It was kind of difficult, you know, to hear that from Bobby," Sam answered, covering up his over-long pause.
I nodded and turned on the TV and settled in for a long afternoon.
SPN
I hadn't told Dean everything Bobby had said to me. While he was busy yelling at me, the old hunter had said that I didn't know how hard Dean had worked to save me while I had been in a coma. I had no idea what that meant and Bobby was too incensed to explain.
I was hesitant to ask Dean about it because I had a feeling Bobby had let it slip. I had just shrugged it off and chalked it up to my brother getting the doctors to do anything and everything they could to revive me again. I knew that Dean wouldn't take 'there's nothing else we can do for him' as an answer.
I was still stunned to think that I had survived the wound. When I had asked Sarah about it she didn't have an answer and after I spoke to Dean I only had a little better than that.
Dean had told me though, that Cas and Abdiel had had nothing to do with my miraculous survival. My brother seemed as shocked as I was that I hadn't died. That was what I prepared for- to the best of my knowledge, no one had ever lived after being stabbed with a Seraph Blade.
Now though, as I sat in the motel room, watching some random TV shows with Dean I couldn't help but think of what Bobby had said over the phone.
You think too much Sammy, Dean's voice said in my head, annoyingly.
Just drop it, I told myself, it means nothing.
Dean channel surfed at lightning speed until he stopped on a real-life medical drama about a man had apparently just woken up from a twenty-five year coma.
Dean took one look at the show and changed it.
He found an old war movie and stayed on that channel.
It didn't look so much like a movie as footage from the World Wars- there were mud-covered soldiers running out of trenches and fox holes, planes dropping bombs on London, some shots of concentration camps surrounded by barbed wire fences and search lights.
I tapped my fingers against my leg as I watched the pictures flash by- catching glimpses of the faces of soldiers, most of whom couldn't be any older than Dean or I, their faces drawn and pale (even in black-and-white or sepia), their eyes wide with fear or pain.
"Can you find something else?" I asked as casually as possible.
Dean looked at me.
"Wha-" he began but stopped, "hey, you feeling alright?"
"Yeah, just find something light-hearted, don't care what it is," I muttered.
Dean, instead of changing the channel, turned off the television altogether.
"Watch the TV Dean," I protested.
Dean stood and walked the few steps over to me and immediately put a hand to my forehead.
I pulled away, "what're you doing?"
I stood and walked to the bathroom and took a look at myself in the mirror. I don't know what I expected to see- I had dark circles under my eyes which made my face seem pale but I didn't see anything that would cause Dean to react like a nurse.
I exited the bathroom and scowled at my brother for over-reacting.
"What was that about?" I demanded.
"You just had that look on your face," Dean said.
"What look?" I asked in a softer voice when I heard the worry in my brother's.
Dean shrugged, "doesn't matter… you're okay, right?"
I walked over to Dean and sat down on the edge of my bed, "what did you see?"
"That, uh, faraway look you sometimes got when… when you were sick, you know, when you came back," Dean said quietly.
Oh, I thought and then nodded.
"I was just anxious for a moment," Dean confessed.
"I'm fine, Dean," I assured him.
Dean nodded.
"Turn the TV back on," I said but my brother shook his head.
"Nothing good on anyway," he paused as he grabbed his duffel bag and took a deck of cards out, "wanna play poker for potato chips?"
I couldn't help but smile and Dean grinned back at me, relieved that I was alright.
We played cards until we had emptied the bag of ripple potato chips Dean had bought. When we called it quits it was almost four thirty in the afternoon.
"You hungry yet?" I asked my brother.
He had wolfed down his chips but I was sure he'd still be willing to eat.
Dean looked at me seriously, "only if you are."
I knew I hadn't been eating very much lately so I nodded. I just had no appetite, I don't know why, I guess it was stress.
Instead of going out we ordered Chinese and sat at the round table as we ate out of the white take-out boxes, using chopsticks awkwardly but still managing to get the food to our mouths.
When we finished, Dean glanced at me and I knew that like me, he was thinking about the last time we had scarfed down Chinese in a motel room- we had been in Albuquerque and that night I had told Dean what had happened to me while I had been trapped in the Cage with Lucifer.
I didn't say anything and neither did Dean. I wasn't sure what to say exactly.
After about five minutes Dean spoke up, "now all we need is Abdiel."
I wasn't sure if he was trying to be funny or not so I didn't react.
Dean sighed and rubbed his face with one hand.
"Dean…" I said and then paused.
My brother looked at me, unsure of what to do or say.
"That girl's family lives right here in Lafayette," Dean said before I could speak.
"What girl?" I asked.
"The one Lucifer possessed, the red-head," Dean clarified.
Ah, how could I forget? I thought and shuddered involuntarily.
"Okay," I said slowly.
"I think I want to go and see her family," Dean said.
"Why?" I asked, not out of any sort of aversion to the girl or her family but I didn't see a point in going.
"I don't know," Dean said, "I think I just want to let her family know her killer's not out there somewhere."
I gave Dean a surprised look, "you know you can't tell them the truth."
"I know, but still, I feel bad," Dean continued.
"You had nothing to do with it though," I said.
I felt guilty about the girl as well; she had died when she didn't have to. If things had gone the way they were supposed to have, Lucifer would have remained trapped in his Cage.
"Dean, I think you'll only add to her family's grief if you go over there," I said, rationally.
Dean sighed and nodded.
"You're right Sam," Dean said.
"Is that what you were doing on my computer earlier?" I asked.
"I saw this girl with red hair at the store and I couldn't help but think if she was related to the girl Lucifer possessed," Dean confessed.
"So I looked up the cemetery in Alaska and I found a couple of newspaper articles and got the girl's name from that," Dean finished.
"What was her name?" I wanted to know.
"Marcie. Marcie Gables," Dean answered.
I nodded and tried to picture Marcie Gables as a happy, average teenage girl and I could only envision her as I had seen her, Lucifer's puppet.
I shook my head as though to clear the image from my mind and sighed.
So much had occurred since Dean had shown up that night at Stanford to tell me Dad was missing, sometimes it became overwhelming to think it had really happened to me and not someone else. I felt a twinge of sadness when I thought of the last time I had seen Jessica before she was murdered. A thousand times I had asked myself if I had done the right thing by not telling Jess about my past, maybe if I had said something she would know what was out there and maybe, just maybe she wouldn't have died.
But then I knew I was fooling myself if I thought telling Jess the truth about monsters and demons and hunters would protect her. It felt like she had been marked for death the moment we had said 'hello' to one another in that lecture hall for first-year sociology.
Dozens of names raced through my head, some belonging to friend and some to foe, people we had helped, others we were too late to save. I recalled hundreds of cases and missions as if they had just ended yesterday. I thought of the times, over the years when Dean and I seemed almost inseparable and other times when we were at one another's throat- when we fought and it seemed like we'd never recover… but we always did, eventually.
I looked at Dean and saw that he was also lost in his own thoughts.
"Why do you think she did it?" Dean asked suddenly.
"Who? Marcie?" I asked.
"Yeah, why'd she agree?" Dean prompted.
"Lucifer lied. Whatever it was he said he'd do he lied to her," I said.
I knew that no one was likely to willingly agree to be possessed by Lucifer unless he knew something he could use as leverage.
"What was his angle though?" Dean continued, "I mean, what can make a happy teenage girl do something like that."
I shrugged. I didn't know and I was sure I didn't want to.
"She was part of some church group at her Catholic school so you'd think she…" Dean trailed off.
"You'd think she'd what? Dean, you know people, you've read the Bible, you've talked to Pastor Jim just like I have and if Lucifer says he's an angel either Marcie would think she's gone crazy or she's experiencing a miracle or something," I answered.
"I'd think about driving to the nearest loony-bin and booking myself a room," Dean muttered.
"Me too, but what about Jimmy?" I asked, using Cas's vessel as an example.
"Yeah, he actually believed Cas," Dean agreed, nodding.
"So it doesn't take a big stretch of the imagination to think that's what happened with Marcie," I confirmed.
"So what? Lucifer just appears to her, says he's an angel and starts telling her all this bull shit about how she has some grand purpose or something?" Dean said.
I shrugged. It was likely.
Dean still looked skeptical.
"I don't know Dean," I said, slightly exasperated.
"I know you don't, I don't expect you to," Dean held his hands up defensively.
I ran a hand through my hair.
"Okay, let's change the topic," Dean said, sensing my agitation.
By now I didn't feel like talking either way. I grabbed the TV remote and flicked through the channels, trying to find something I could pretend to watch.
At one in the morning Dean and I prepared to sleep. Before getting into bed, though, I set my alarm on my cell phone- a rather annoying beeping when activated- and set the phone on the night stand between the beds so that it was close to my head.
"What're you doing? The alarm clock not good enough?" Dean asked.
"I want to see if this will wake me up," I said, "so you can set it when I kill Phobetor."
Dean nodded grimly.
We turned out the lights and I heard my brother lay down on his bed.
I sat still for a moment and then lay on my back, staring at the whitewashed ceiling.
I tapped my fingers idly against the bed sheets, searching for sleep.
I was lying spread-eagle on the bed, a rather vulnerable position and not how I usually slept, especially since my return from Hell- I often slept on my side, curled up sometimes which made me feel more comfortable, safe, even though I knew Lucifer was dead… I don't know, I felt protected, even if it was only from the nightmarish memories that still plagued me.
I tried to relax, to allow the stiffness to leave my limbs, to let my muscles to go limp. I listened to Dean's slow, soft snoring and tried to imitate his breathing.
Minutes passed and I began to feel my eyelids grow heavy and my own breaths became even…
…I opened my eyes and found myself in that foggy, dimly lit region that Phobetor called home. I listened for any sound of the Greek god but heard nothing but for the sound of my own breathing. My eyes were wide against the scarce illumination and I turned a full 180 degrees in an attempt to make sure Phobetor had not snuck up on me.
I sighed with relief when I appeared to be alone.
I took a few steps forward and heard my sock and feet pad dully on whatever substance constituted as a floor or ground in this odd landscape. Curious, I crouched down and laid a hand, palm downward on the floor. It neither was cool nor warm to the touch and smooth as glass - a strange feeling.
I straightened and allowed myself to relax only the tiniest bit- I was well aware that Phobetor could appear at any time.
I continued walking, I wasn't afraid of this place and it didn't seem dangerous- wherever this land was it was better than being in a nightmare with some personal tweak thrown in by Phobetor just for good measure.
I don't know how long I walked before I heard the crying. I might have walked only a few feet or a dozen miles- either way there was no way of telling just how far I had gone from my original position.
The crying began as a distant sigh, almost like the sound of the wind but as I continued onward it grew high and keening, full of fear and sadness.
"Hello?" I called out and my voice echoed.
I was only answered by the cries.
I stopped walking and listened- there was something familiar in the sound.
I picked up the pace when I realized it sounded like a small child weeping.
"Hello? Is anyone there?" I called out again.
"I'm coming," I said.
I wasn't sure what I was moving towards- for all I knew it could be some trick of Phobetor but I could not ignore the sound.
Closer and closer, I followed the sound until I saw a small shape outlined in the curling fog before me.
I hunkered down a few feet from the shape and it resolved to reveal it was a young girl, dressed in purple pajamas, her legs pulled up to her chest and one cheek resting on her knees.
She had blonde hair that was tousled with sleep.
"Hello there," I said quietly, trying to make myself as small as possible, trying to not be imposing.
"What's your name?" I asked and inched forward a little bit.
The girl looked up at me. Her cheeks were wet with tears and snot dribbled down her face to her chin.
The little girl scooted backwards and whimpered.
"It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you. My name's Sam," I said, speaking softly and in a friendly and encouraging voice.
Inch by slow inch I came forward until I could reach out and touch the child.
She looked up at me with wide, light blue eyes.
"What's your name, sweetheart?" I asked quietly.
"S-Sh-Shelly," the girl said and wiped her face on her sleeve.
I smiled.
I reached out and laid a hand on her head. She moved away from my touch, still unsure of me.
"It's okay, I'm a friend," I assured her.
"Did- did the Bogeyman bring you here too?" Shelly asked.
I nodded.
That seemed to convince her and she moved close to me, she leaned her small body against me, looking for protection.
I sat down with my legs out before me and Shelly moved onto my lap. She sat with her chin on my shoulder. I could feel her jaw move as she spoke.
"I want my Mommy and Dad," she whispered.
"I know. I'm going to take you home, okay?" I said and rubbed her back like I would for Faith when she was upset.
Shelly nodded and began to cry again. The shoulder of my shirt soon became damp with moisture.
I moved to stand up and as I did so I scooped the girl up. I held her so that her bum was supported by my arm- something I did with my own daughter. She wrapped her arms around my neck and clung on for dear life.
My other hand was on her back, between her shoulder blades for further support. She wasn't very heavy, less than ninety pounds.
I began walking forward- still very aware that Phobetor could be nearby and attack.
I wasn't sure at all how I was supposed to take Shelly back to her parents when I heard an incessant beeping.
Confused, I stopped and shifted Shelly a little higher, wondering if I needed to get ready to fight.
BEEP, BEEP, BEEP-
…I opened my eyes and sat up immediately. I jumped when I saw something move at the end of my bed and relaxed when I saw it was Shelly- somehow I had brought her back with me!
"Sam… shut that noise off," Dean muttered in his sleep.
I grabbed my phone and hit the alarm button.
"Dean! Wake up!" I demanded and he instantly snapped awake.
I turned on the light and my brother looked from me, sitting up to the seven-year-old girl on the end of my bed.
"Shelly Wilson," I said.
Dean shook his head.
"What…?" Dean asked.
"I brought her back," I said.
"How?" My brother asked and rubbed sleep from his eyes, blinked and seemed surprised to find Shelly still there.
I shrugged.
"We have to take her home," I said and stood.
"It's alright Shelly," I said softly to the girl, "he's my brother, Dean."
Ten minutes later Shelly was sitting at the round table, drinking from one of the bottles of water Dean had bought earlier that day and munching happily away at the last of the peanut butter M&Ms.
Dean was trying to figure out how we could return Shelly to her folks without looking like a couple of perverts.
"Her parents will still think we're FBI agents," I said.
Dean nodded, "okay, but how are we going to explain to them how we found their little girl?"
I was at a loss for words- I had no idea what my brother and I could say that wouldn't make us look like we'd just escaped from the local mental hospital.
"Let's just concentrate on getting Shelley home, okay?" I said instead.
Twenty minutes later Dean, Shelley and I were on our way across town. Dean and I had grabbed our FBI badges before leaving; we didn't bother changing into suits- even Feds didn't wear theirs 24/7.
I was nervous. I didn't know how Mr. and Mrs. Wilson would react to seeing us show up on their front step with their daughter. I also didn't know how safe Shelley was- what was stopping Phobetor from kidnapping her again?
Dean parked the Impala on the road and got out of the driver's seat facing the road.
I got out next and paused to help Shelley out of the back seat. She took hold of my hand and didn't let go as the three of us walked up the driveway and stood before the front door.
It was Dean who raised a hand and rapped his knuckles against the door.
We waited. I shifted from foot to foot and Shelley looked up at me, smiling.
The door opened and Mrs. Wilson looked extremely surprised to see my brother and me.
"Agents-" she began, looking confused as to why we were making house-calls in the wee hours of the morning when Shelly threw herself at her mother with a gleeful shout.
"Mommy!" the girl said and hugged her mother around the legs, her head reaching Mrs. Wilson's waist.
Mrs. Wilson hugged her daughter back, held her at arm's length to get a better look at her than embraced her once again.
Dean and I stood somewhat awkwardly.
Mrs. Wilson looked up, brushed tears from her eyes and cheeks and asked one word: "how?"
"Do you mind if we come inside, Mrs. Wilson?" I asked.
Mrs. Wilson nodded, "please, call me Jackie."
Jackie turned on the lights as we went. I saw her husband peer at us from the bottom of the stairs, recognize his daughter and come over and hug Shelly as well.
"Agents, we can never thank you enough," Mr. Wilson, Geoff, said.
We all gathered into the kitchen and Jackie put on a pot of coffee. She set a glass brimming with chocolate milk in front of her daughter.
"Sam found me Mom. He saved me from the Bogeyman," Shelly said as she looked up at her mother while pointing in my direction.
Jackie looked at her daughter curiously and Geoff looked at me with a mixture of unease and gratefulness.
The four of us sat silently for a few minutes, watching Shelly drink her milk. When the little girl was finished I saw her eyelids begin to droop and her head nod.
I was nervous about her falling asleep- what if Phobetor kidnapped her again?
I glanced at Dean from the corner of my eye and I saw a look on his face that read 'if he does take her, you know where to find her.'
Geoff picked up his nearly-sleeping child and took her deeper into the house, not too far away, just the living room I guessed and he returned and sat down, looking at my brother and I with an expression of expectation.
"Does this mean it's over? Have you found the other victims?" Geoff asked.
"How did you find her in the first place?" Jackie asked.
"Where was she?" Geoff continued.
"Did you catch the guy who took her?" Jackie wanted to know.
I was slightly surprised that they hadn't asked 'where are the other police officers?' or 'why isn't Shelly in the hospital?' or 'who are you two, really, and what were you doing with my daughter?'
Dean held up a hand, "one question at a time."
He hesitated before speaking again, "no, this isn't over. But we're pretty sure it's over for Shelly. We think she'll be safe now."
The Wilsons looked relieved to hear that nothing would harm their little girl again.
"To tell you how we found Shelly we need to tell you something that you might not believe," Dean continued.
Jackie paused and stood, poured the just-brewed coffee into four mugs and handed them out after asking if we wanted milk or sugar with it.
Dean took a mouthful of coffee before he spoke again.
"We're not really Federal Agents. We're brothers- he's Sam and my name is Dean and we have a lot of experience in this sort of thing," I was surprised he was giving them the 'Monsters are Real' speech.
"So, what? You're like those psychic investigators on TV who find missing people when the police can't?" Jackie asked.
Dean snorted a laughed before stifling it by taking another drink of coffee.
"Not exactly," I answered since my brother was preoccupied.
"There are things out there, not human, which would hurt innocent people," I said as slowly and carefully as I could, trying to ease the Wilsons into the idea that monsters exist.
"What are you talking about?" Geoff asked, looking at Dean and I like we were off our meds.
"Monsters, Mr. Wilson," Dean said forcefully but not unkindly.
Geoff scoffed, "there's no such thing!"
Dean shook his head, "I wish that was true."
"A… a monster kidnapped our Shelly?" Jackie spoke up, looking frightened.
For lack of a better word (and since I didn't want into a long discussion about the existence of gods) I answered yes.
Jackie put a hand to her mouth in a gasp.
"How can you prove something like that?" Geoff asked, looking at Dean and I with suspicion on his face.
"No human could take your daughter from her room in the middle of night in a locked house without leaving any evidence," Dean answered.
"Why do you think there was no broken window or jimmied locks or sign of struggle in Shelly's room?" Dean continued and Geoff looked thoughtful.
"When we came to talk to you, you said that only you two and your brother have the key to the house," I said, speaking to Jackie.
"But your brother couldn't possibly have anything to do with Shelly's kidnapping," I continued.
Jackie's brother lived in Italy for eight months of the year and wasn't about to fly over the ocean just to kidnap his niece.
Jackie nodded, "what… what kind of monsters are out there?"
"Almost anything you can think of," Dean said.
"But what took Shelly; it isn't going to come after her again?" Geoff asked.
"We don't think so," Dean answered.
"How sure are you?" Geoff asked, "We heard that they found one of the other missing people dead."
"If she goes missing again, we'll get her back," I said.
I know that didn't really comfort anyone but it was the best I could do if the unthinkable did happen.
"Do you have children?" Jackie asked me suddenly.
"I do," I nodded and as if to prove it to her I took my wallet from my back pocket and pulled out a neatly folded photograph to show her.
The picture had been taken the day Sarah had come home from the hospital with Aaron. She was sitting on the couch in the living room with Faith standing up on the cushions, peering over her mother's shoulder at her new baby brother. Sarah had a gentle, maternal smile on her face, she was tired of course, but it didn't show. Faith was grinning with pride.
"You have a lovely family," Jackie complimented and handed the photo back to me.
"Do the police know what you're doing?" Geoff asked, "Do the FBI?"
"No, and that's the way we'd like it to stay," Dean said.
"But you know we'll have to tell the police," Jackie said and looked worried.
"Just don't mention our names," I said. Even though Dean and I were thought to be dead, thanks to Agent Hendrickson's hard work (and sacrifice), it wouldn't be a good thing to suddenly appear alive and well in the FBI's criminal database.
Dean and I stood, ready to go. My brother had finished his coffee but, looking down, I saw that I hadn't even touched mine.
Geoff and Jackie stood and walked us to the door.
"I don't know how we can ever thank you," Jackie said sincerely.
"You can thank us by pretending we were never here," Dean said softly.
Jackie actually hugged Dean and I and Geoff shook our hands.
"Wanna grab some breakfast?" Dean asked even though it was only two forty-five in the morning. We were driving in the general direction of the motel but my brother certainly wasn't making a bee-line for it.
"Is anything open?" I mused.
"If there is, I'll find it," Dean said and grinned. He was feeling good- a little girl had been saved and returned to her family- one of the rare happy endings our job had. Or ex-job I should say- Dean and I were still retired. I remembered that but I was starting to wonder if Dean did.
"Yeah, your stomach will lead the way," I muttered
After ten minutes of driving Dean found an all-night diner and pulled into the parking lot.
We stepped inside and I saw that the place wasn't exactly one of the nicer diners we'd been in. The place was old- the linoleum floor was scuffed and faded and peeling in places, the tables were covered in graffiti and the lighting was strange due to the miss-matched light bulbs of differing intensity.
The place was also, practically deserted. Really, I looked over to the cash register and the bar and saw no one.
"The OPEN sign was on," Dean said.
As though Dean's words had been some kind of signal a waitress with dyed black hair and purple eye shadow, dark red lips and multiple ear piercings stepped out from the back and looked at us with some surprise.
Dean and I made our way to the back of the restaurant and sat in a booth across from each other. I grimaced as my shoes crunched old food crumbs under the table.
The Goth waitress moved to our table and poured coffee into the chipped mugs on the table.
She set a couple of menus on the table and walked away and disappeared into the back again.
I watched her go, unsure why Dean had decided to stay and eat here when I felt the place wouldn't pass a Health Inspection.
Dean picked up the mug and gulped down the coffee. He opened his mouth and almost choked.
He coughed, "it's really strong."
Taking his word for it I grabbed the sugar bowl and put about five tea spoons worth into my coffee before I tried it.
Dean looked at his menu but I wasn't sure I wanted to eat anything from this place. I could only imagine what the cook looked like- a five hundred pound ex-con with tattoos covering ninety percent of his body- a Hell's Angels guy or some other gang-banger.
Dean said something.
"What?" I asked.
"How did you find Shelly and get her back?"
"Oh, well, the first time I dreamt about Phobetor I was in this sort of strange world- and that is where I was tonight. I heard Shelly crying and I followed the sound until I found her," I answered.
"What was this 'strange world' like?" Dean asked and sipped some coffee.
"Foggy and dimly lit," I answered.
Dean nodded.
"Cold or hot?" he continued.
I tried to remember. The first time I had been there it had been a little cold but on my second visit I didn't think there was a climate.
"Neither, it was comfortable," I answered.
"Did you see Phobetor tonight?" my brother asked just as the waitress was coming back to take our orders.
"No," I answered and then looked up at the approaching Goth.
She didn't say anything so Dean began. He ordered a couple of fried eggs, bacon, toast, pancakes and sausage.
I looked at him: I don't think I'll ever get used to his huge appetite.
I chose scrambled eggs and bacon. I thought I'd be safe with that and not go for anything fancy.
When the waitress walked away, taking the menus with her with an air of indifference Dean turned back to me.
"How do we know Phobetor's not going to take Shelly again?"
"We don't," I said, "but you know that gods like to have a strict schedule and they generally follow it to the T."
"Yeah," Dean chuckled, "like you."
"Maybe he only takes ten victims at a time," I suggested, ignoring his comment.
"Let's hope so," Dean said and busied himself for a few minutes by drinking his coffee.
I took that time to lean against the vinyl backrest and drink my own. It was strong and slightly bitter and had a burnt taste but the sugar cut through most of it.
"You know, maybe I can rescue the rest of the victims and then set the bomb," I mused.
"If you can find them," Dean interjected.
I nodded. What happened with Shelly could have been a fluke and the other victims could be unreachable- trapped in their own nightmares.
"I'll find them," I said with more confidence than I felt.
Dean nodded, "I know you will Sam."
The waitress brought our food and we ate. Dean wolfed down his food as if he hadn't eaten in months.
I ate more slowly, the food was just above crappy but I didn't say anything to my brother.
After eating, we each had some more coffee, it was better this time. I guess they had to brew some more, maybe they'd finished the previous pot on us.
We were looking to another boring day- there really wasn't anything we could do until I fell asleep again.