Chapter Thirty Eight
The drive to Tennessee was long, and mostly quiet. Sam drove through the newly arrived rain without comment, and Dean stared out the window absently. He was silently reliving the past months, and agonizing over every detail that had could have gone differently. Once he had spent several hours torturing himself about his time with Lilly, he moved onto to other things.
Sam was at the forefront of that list. Dean felt as though he'd failed his brother in a thousand ways, some of them major, most of them not. If he had been more understanding when Sam had left for Stanford. If he had kept in touch. If he hadn't dragged Sam off to find their dad. If he had done more to stop Sam's psychic abilities, way back when they dealt with the Yellow-Eyed demon. If he hadn't gone to hell. If he had put a stop to the Ruby thing, instantly. If he had stopped Sam sooner…
If, if, if. None of it mattered anymore.
Thinking harder, he reasoned that if he had ever had faith in God, or if he was more of a righteous man than he was, maybe he could put on a brave face, and say yes to Michael, and be the big hero.
At the cost of the entire world, destroyed in an Apocalypse that he had helped bring about in the first place.
Dean leaned his seat back, resting his hands behind his head in the best pillow he could manage. It was cold, but he made no effort to button his jacket or turn on the heat. The rain outside poured down, coming in thick sheets that threatened to swallow up the view of anything more than a few yards from the car. Dean saw an exit with an advertisement for a motel.
"I'm taking it," Sam said, noticing the same sign. Dean didn't protest or say anything. "What, no comment?" Sam said, half-joking.
Dean just shook his head. He steeled his gaze, hiding away all the misery and disgusting self-pity he felt. Somewhere, he knew that getting a grip on it would not only keep him from breaking down and bawling like a baby, it would keep him from losing his mind and his grip on reality. There's only so much pain the mind can take, and Dean was intimately familiar with exactly where those boundaries were. In hell, he had crossed them several times, and sometimes worried that he'd never fully come back, not all the way.
Sometimes dead is better, he thought cryptically. If he'd stayed dead, he wouldn't have had to deal with the problems that came with life.
They checked into the motel, and Dean grabbed his duffel from the backseat and headed straight to the room. It was fairly late, and he had no interest in anything but sleeping. Sam seemed happy to oblige, and was snoring in minutes.
Dean couldn't make himself fall asleep. Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw Lilly… He couldn't keep his mind off her, and getting her back. He couldn't stop focusing on her being in danger, or needing to find her, or how he was possibly going to convince her he was sorry.
What if she takes off again? Dean suddenly realized he hadn't considered the possibility that Lilly might not come back. She might not believe him if he said it wouldn't happen again, and after half a year of thinking someone she loved hated her, he wouldn't blame her. But he couldn't let her leave. It wouldn't happen.
Dean finally fell into a restless sleep a few moments later, after convincing himself he would find a way to make Lilly see how he felt.
Dean dreamed he was being chased. He and Lilly were running, always running, but never fast enough. The demon chasing them was strong, and couldn't be held in conventional devil's trap. Lilly urged him, begged him, to go faster, to not slow down and get them caught. No matter how fast they went or how far ahead they were, the demon always caught them.
And it always made Dean watch as it tortured Lilly, before starting in on him.
Dean woke up in a cold sweat, his heart pounding rapidly. He shook the dream from his mind, reminding himself that's all it was- a dream. It was still dark out, and from the sound, still raining. Sam was still asleep across the room.
After he checked that his gun was still on the nightstand and the knife was still under the pillow, he let himself relax. He grudgingly realized he probably wouldn't get much sleep, at least not until they found Lilly.
( )
In the morning, Dean woke up before Sam. Sam was obviously surprised and concerned.
"Are you sure you're okay? You never wake up early."
"Couldn't sleep," Dean said absently as he stared around the room, sipping coffee.
"Dean…" Sam began. "I know-"
Dean interrupted him with a glare. "No, you don't know. You have no idea. Don't start, just get the car."
Sam looked at him sympathetically. "I lost Jessica, remember?" he said quietly. "I didn't get to chase after her and convince her to come back."
Dean instantly regretted being so self-centered and made himself see the bright side of things. Lilly wasn't dead, after all. He could convince her to come back. He had to.
"Sorry, Sam," Dean said quietly.
Sam nodded curtly and headed out the door.
Reasoning with himself, Dean recognized that he really wasn't that bad off. They knew where the car was. They were going to get it back. They knew about where Lilly was, and that the car she was in wasn't exactly inconspicuous. They knew she was okay. Michael and Lucifer had been leaving them alone.
Stopping there, Dean realized Lilly was the only reason for that. They needed her back, fast.
Once in the car, Dean took charge of the maps, directing Sam to Tennessee in the fastest way possible. He listed off back roads and smaller highways that would have less traffic and fewer cops to pull them over for speeding.
"Dean?" Sam asked after about an hour. Dean looked up expectantly. "I know how to drive." Sam said.
Dean sputtered for a response for a moment, came up with nothing, and snapped, "Well, drive faster. I'm not getting any younger here."
Sam rolled his eyes and increased his speed, the rental car starting to whine as the speedometer reached seventy-five.
Dean glared hatefully at the dashboard, as if he could will it go faster.
"So, ah, I did some reading last night," Sam said, keeping his eyes on the road.
Dean chuckled. "What, buffing up on James Joyce?"
"What?" Sam asked. "What, no, how do you even know-"
"Never mind." Dean waved a hand. "Seriously, anything good?"
Sam shook his head. "Revelations," he said, frowning. "The Whore of Babylon was what, a week ago? Less?"
Dean nodded, musing.
"That's right in the middle of some crazy stuff. Way I see it, the whole Apocalypse thing shouldn't just drop off the map with the Whore of Babylon." Sam's face twisted with confusion. "I don't get it, man."
"So you think something big's coming."
"Yeah, pretty much."
"Fantastic. Well, we'll keep an eye out." Dean said, turning back to the map.
Sam eyed him. "That's it?"
"Huh? Yeah, that's it. Take this exit." Dean said, motioning to his right. Sam turned onto the exit ramp and glanced at his brother.
"You can't ignore an Apocalypse, Dean," Sam said. Dean's eyes flicked up, and he spoke quietly.
"I am finding Lilly, and I am getting her back. Then, we can merrily go back to saving everyone else's world. Right now, I'm worried about saving mine."
Dean's voice had a hard edge, and he noted how Sam stopped himself from saying something when he mentioned saving Lilly. He couldn't believe that Sam thought Lilly didn't need saving, especially after Castiel- an angel of God- had told them she did. Not to mention a prophet telling them the same thing.
Settling back down into his seat, Dean glanced around at his surroundings, and the map situated over his legs.
"Sam, Dean," A voice from the backseat made both men jump.
"Hey, Cas," Sam said, glancing in the rearview mirror. Dean turned slightly to give the angel a smirk and a nod as a greeting.
Castiel fixed his gaze on Dean, and Dean found himself staring into bright blue eyes that looked impossibly angry.
"I see you do not have the dreamwalker with you."
"She has a name-" Dean began.
"Indeed she does," Castiel said, his voice hardening, "But maybe you need to be reminded of what she is. What with your frustrating and inconvenient habit of losing her on a regular basis, you seem to need a refresher course on her importance."
"Why do you all need her so much?" Sam asked, receiving a glare from Dean.
Castiel leveled his gaze, sighing. "She killed Conquest. She is now the only dreamwalker we know of with any talent. As it is, she can kill demons, Reapers, or even angels with little effort. And she has the capacity to do much more, if she could work at it."
Dean frowned. "She can kill angels?"
Castiel nodded. "In theory, yes."
Dean's frown deepened.
"On the other hand, if the demons get her, she's not invincible, not against all of them. There is a special… Special group, of demons, that is composed of the very powerful and… Uniquely talented. If this group takes her, things could go very badly."
"What do you mean; they'll torture her into doing what they want?" Dean asked. Castiel didn't reply. "No. She won't break, just like that."
Castiel looked up, his eyes boring a hole in Dean's head. "You did," the angel said, causing Dean to glare and old memories to flare up. "Anyway, they don't want her, specifically."
"What?" Dean questioned again.
"Never mind," Castiel said, waving a hand. "Just don't let it happen, and you'll never have to find out. I can guarantee you won't like it, Dean." He added.
"Well, we're on our way now to find her," Dean replied. The thoughts Castiel's comment had stirred up still swam around in his, unwilling to be banished back into his subconscious.
"Good. By the way, you might want to drive faster. Michael and Zachariah have realized she's not with you, and they're looking for you now."
Dean raised his eyebrows in alarm, panic stealing over his features. "What the hell-"
"This will help," Castiel said, putting a hand on both Sam and Dean. Dean felt a sharp pain before he relaxed again. "Don't let them find you," Castiel added. Then he was gone.
"Fantastic!" Dean shouted.
"Hey, look at that," Sam said. He pointed out the window, where Dean saw a sign welcoming them to Tennessee.
"Finally," Dean said, his nose almost pressed into the glass. "Shouldn't be too much longer," he said, quieter. They were so close to getting the Impala back. Once they had that, Dean knew he could catch Lilly.
( )
Some time later- two or three hours; Dean was so distracted he wasn't keeping track of the time- they arrived in Bartlett. Sam called the rental car company, telling them there was a federal emergency and they had to switch vehicles, leaving the rental in Bartlett. The receptionist who answered bought the lie quickly, and sounded concerned for their safety.
After Sam had reassured her several times that their lives weren't in danger, but that the car change was necessary, he hung up and gave Dean a frustrated look. Dean didn't pay attention, and was just eyeing the surrounding neighborhood. He didn't see the Impala, or a car shop, or a storage garage.
"Maybe Bobby got the wrong place," Dean said anxiously. Sam shook his head, returning to car from a gas station.
"Nope. There's a car shop not five minutes from here. Guy in there said it's the only one around."
Relief washed over Dean like a tidal wave, and he suddenly wanted to embrace Sam, and maybe do a little dance. Quickly the feeling passed, he regained his composure and dignity, and reminded himself why they needed the car back so badly, other than the simple fact that he wanted it.
"What are you waiting for?" Dean griped. Sam just rolled his eyes, and nudged the car out of the small parking lot.
Dean's face was pressed to the window as he searched for a car shop, or garage-like structure. He almost screamed and bounced when he saw the sign proclaiming Joe's Auto, and he saw the shiny gleam of the Impala around the corner.
Sam pulled into the lot, and Dean was out the door before the car even stopped moving. He raced to the car, touching the hood reverently. He ran a loving hand over it, checking it for scratches, dents, bumps, anything. There were none, and it even looked freshly washed and waxed.
"You must be Agent Stark," a man said from behind him. Dean turned and nodded, flashing the badge from his pocket out of habit, more than anything else. The man- Dean assumed he was Joe- chuckled lightly, and motioned with a rag to the Impala. "Lady who dropped it off said there was a mark on it, her partner would tear me a new one."
Dean beamed. Even in her anger, Lilly knew him well, and respected what she had to know he'd want. It didn't occur to him until much later that perhaps it was less in respect for him, and more for the car.
"Anyway, I enjoy lookin' after a classic like that every now and again. Nice car you got there, Agent." Joe said sincerely.
"Thanks," Dean replied, a hand still on the hood of the car.
"Well, she's all yours," Joe added, throwing in a smile. Sam moved over to Dean.
"Do we owe you anything?"
"Nope. Your partner already paid in cash."
"Awesome," Dean said, grinning at Sam. "Well, thanks for taking care of her," he said, motioning to the car.
"You're welcome," Joe said, still smiling a bit. "Guess you want that rental left here till someone picks it up."
"Please," Sam said. "If it's not too much trouble."
"Nope," the mechanic replied. "Have a nice day, agents." He touched the brim of his hat and disappeared back into his garage.
"Oh, baby," Dean said softly, running a hand again over the shiny black surface.
Sam had already climbed into the passenger seat, and Dean slowly slid behind the wheel. The keys were on the dash, and a note was taped to the steering wheel.
Just try and catch up.
Dean recognized Lilly's handwriting, and grinned at her challenge, even though she probably meant it as an insult.
"Oh, I will, baby, trust me," he whispered.
"You say something?" Sam questioned.
"Nope," Dean replied, putting the key in the ignition and crumpling the note. "No, I did not."
He smiled again, genuinely, for the first time in days. The purr of the engine sang to him as he pulled out of the parking lot, giving a wave to Joe as he passed.
The Impala roared back to life when they hit the highway, and Dean floored the gas pedal, feeling the car vibrate and respond with a burst of speed, sending them flying south.
Dean thought cockily that a Caddy stood no chance of outpacing his Impala, especially with a driver like him behind the wheel. That thought at the front of his mind, he flipped on the radio, turned it up, and roared down the long, black highway.
( )
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