Chapter Fifty-four.
HOLY HANNAH it has been a hot minute since this has been updated. I really don't have any good enough excuses, so I shan't give them to you. Please, just know that I am BEYOND eternally sorry for the delay, and I hope that this being extra lengthy helps!
I want to throw out so much adoration to each of you who have continued to stick with me in not only a follower and favoriter, but also reviewers. You warm my heart and I love you all. Seriously.
Also, can we please offer a warm welcome to all our new Becca Backers?! There are quite a few since last time, so welcome, readers! I am so thankfully you have decided to join this crazy story train and hope you stick around for the long haul. One day there will be juice and snacks in the back. :)
Extra shout outs and thanks to the lovely ladies who continue to aid me beyond belief. I owe you so much!
Updates in the Becca-verse:
She now has a playlist on Spotify! That's right, people! You can find the appropriately titled "MT/BB" playlist on my Spotify page. It has close to a full 24 hours of music that not only is mentioned/featured in these chapters, but also in the Baby Becca series, as well as music I both think she would listen to, and just inspires me to write her. Plus it's constantly being updated and added to! Not to toot my own playlist making horn, but it's pretty snazzy.
You can find all my handles and such to social media sights on my Profile page.
And, to not take up any more of your time, I give you, Beccaface.
READ. REVIEW. ENJOY. :)
Disclaimer.
My vision was blurring in front of me and my neck was starting to ache from how long it had been bent at this angle. It was like a new kind of torture, what I was having to go through. No one should be forced to do this. Ever. My head was throbbing and I was forcing myself to not reach up and squeeze it in response. I thought my brain was going to explode, leaving goo everywhere, with Dean and Sam standing there in shock. I told them not to make me do this, but they didn't listen. I tried to warn them, but they argued it needed to be done. But when my brain when flying in chunks around the room, they'd learn. They'd see I was right. They'd ball their eyes out. Well, maybe. But whatever. In the end, they would know, I would in fact be dead… from research.
Even though my fingers slowly flipped the pages of my father's journal allowing me more than enough time to read the words, my mind wasn't registering that there was any information embedded on the paper. We'd been sitting in the state, county, town, and motel here for a while now but even the change of scenery to a new coffee shop wasn't helping. There hadn't been a decent case in front of us since the picture demon ghost child thing that went around slicing necks, and believe it or not, I was itching to get a hold of something. Not like, physically, because some of the stuff we go up against is straight gross. I don't need shifter goo all on my hands. God, could you imagine? No thank you, I like to keep my monsters a bullet's distance away, thank you very much.
Steam plastered itself against my skin, creating an almost sticky feeling as the scent of my coffee settled inside my senses. That's when I finally snapped back to reality and blinked my way through a 'thanks' to the waiter who deposited a forced smile and thing of creamer on the table alongside our drinks. I closed the journal and slid it to the side, inhaling deeply and beginning to add the necessary things to make the Costa Rican brew actually drinkable. Just the perfect break I needed to not only wake myself up but give myself enough energy to actually put in a decent moment of trying to find something.
"Well, dude. Not a decent lead in all of Nebraska. What've you got?" Dean sighed and folded the paper he had been reading before leaning forward and sipping on his own black brew. Gross. And can we please talk about the fact that um, I still find it hard to watch my 'tough as nails' big brother sipping from a pristine, dainty ceramic mug in some café? Because it's weird and makes me feel a little out of place. As if the dishes are judging us and screaming internally because our ruffian hands touched them. Eff you, dishes, I deserve to drink out of you, too. Take that! I thought as I began to stir my drink with an evil look into the cup. Feel my worthiness.
Sam leaned back in his chair and gave me a questioning look before a light chuckle came through. Quiet there, twin boy, I'm adorable. "Well, I've been scanning Wyoming, Colorado, South Dakota. Here," he nodded to his always open computer. Dude, he still has the one icon that was labeled "Gift Ideas for Becca". What a good twin that kid is. I should buy him a cookie. "A woman in Iowa fell ten thousand feet from an airplane and survived."
What? How in the actual love of monkeys did that even occur? "Sounds more like That's Incredible than, uh, Twilight Zone," Dean joked.
"Are you nuts? She survived, Dean. He didn't say that she parachuted out, she fell, and lived, and unless a giant golden eagle with mice on it saved her, I'm calling shenanigans and say we look it up," I told him. And seriously, there's no way she's alive. She might be like, a vegetable on a bed somewhere and alive, but that's a different kind of alive – and it still sounds super sketch.
Sam shook his head at my comment and smiled briefly before he sipped at his own drink. "Hey, you know," Dean ignored me and smirked, eyeing Sam, "we could just keep heading east. New York. Upstate. We could drop by and see Sarah again. Huh?"
Ugh. Let me get you up to speed here, okay? Sarah was this really sweet girl we met during the picture demon ghost baby case. She and Sam even went on a date. Yeah. A real date. Fancy clothes, expensive restaurant, the whole shebang. After hard times being given and questioned intentions, I finally said it was okay if Sam went out with her. I had to know, though! I couldn't let poor Sarah get bulldozed over by the guy, he's huge! I had to ask him, and I don't care what you say. Anyway, she and Sam totally were feeling on each other – probably both literally and figuratively but that's gross and I don't want to think about it. In the end we, as usual, had to get the hell outta Dodge and that meant that Sam had to say good bye. The good bye took a while, but whatever, there were Sammy feelings all over the place. Including deep puddles around my shoes. He'd been decently happy.
"She was pretty cool," I told Sam, sort of giving my approval. And I did genuinely like her, and I did genuinely think that it totally blew that we had to leave – but I do genuinely just want to find something to occupy all of our minds. We've been together a while now. A long while. A long, boring while. And I think there are certain tensions, but don't quote me on that. All I'm saying is that if Sam tries to get me to eat one more salad coated in fishy Caesar dressing or Dean sneaks another piece of bacon on anything, I'm gonna be missing a sibling. Why do they always have to go after the food, man? Can't they just like, change my body wash? I use theirs anyway.
"Cool? The girl was smokin'," Dean smirked further while I gave him a well-earned back hand to the arm. Not even acknowledging the hit, he just tipped his head and whistled. "They seemed pretty friendly, don't ya think? What do you say, Sammy? Wanna take a road trip?"
One track mind. I swear. That's what he has. A one track mind and a series of one handed nights to make up for it. You really don't wanna know how I know that. Seriously. Never ask. Never. "Yeah, I dunno, maybe someday," Sam answered instead. My eyebrows knitted together and I faced him full on. He was brushing this girl off pretty easily for having connected with her so well, and that's not super normal for him. Then again, what is super normal for us? Just as I was about to ask, my mouth was even open and I was inhaling the air to do so, Sam spoke up again. "In the meantime we got a lot of work to do, guys, and you know that."
Don't tell me what I know. I know nothing, gigantor. Okay, yes I do. And he was right. We did have a lot of work to do. If we could ever friggen locate it. Since when are monsters hard to find anyway? Maybe we should branch out… hit up another country… beer is cheap in Mexico, right?
"Yeah, all right," Dean sighed, leaning back in his chair and waiting. Both brothers shot a look at me, waiting for a response.
"Hey, what if we expanded our hunting area, to say like… Mexico?" I tried, hoping it would work.
It didn't. Instead, Dean just rolled his eyes. "What else you got, Sam?" he questioned while nodding to the computer. Seriously, why do we even vote? This is so not a democracy.
Sam shot me a smile as I scowled before he turned his full attention back to his computer. "A man in Colorado, local man named Daniel Elkins, was found mauled in his home."
"Elkins? I know that name," Dean was instantly sitting forward again, fully alert to the case now.
Shrugging as Sam looked at me for an answer and I just shook my head and looked to our older brother. "Doesn't ring a bell," Sam told him as we waited for any type of hint to how Dean knew the name.
"It's probably an angry husband or boyfriend he's met before. I wouldn't put it past him," I whispered to Sam while Dean repeated the name to himself over and over. "Look at the concentration. I definitely say the guy had a run in with him. Probably his fists, too," I continued.
Sam made a face and rolled his eyes before pulling my chair closer to his. "It sounds like the police don't know what to think," he informed me.
"About Dean? What do they want to know, I'll tell them anything," I winked with a lying grin.
"About Elkins," he exhaled noisily as he pointed to the page on his screen. "At first they said it was some sort of bear attack and now, they've found some signs of robbery."
Ignoring whatever it was that Dean was doing on his side of the table, I looked at the report. "Seriously? They thought it was a bear attack?"
"That's what it says."
"It also says he was found in his home. I don't know about you, but uh, I don't think bears have thumbs. Not even Smokey, and he is the bear besides Yogi, and that fool just stole picnic baskets."
"So what are you saying?"
"I'm saying a bear can't maneuver a door knob. That bear would have had to have already been in the house."
"Or broke the door down."
"Still, that was more than enough time for this guy to have gone and found a gun. Especially if you live around wildlife, you'd be prepared with protection."
Sitting back with his head cocked to the side, Sam stuck his tongue in his cheek and stared at the computer. "Huh," he breathed, thinking about it. Cocking my own head, I gave him a 'you-know-I'm-right' expression before turning my attention back to the screen. See, I'm smart, too. "You don't think it could have just been a regular robbery then?"
"There, check it out," Dean interrupted. He turned the journal towards us and closed the computer as he set it on top of it. I leaned forward to see where his thick finger kept a firm point on a name. D Elkins 970-555-0158.
"You think it's the same guy?" I questioned, trying to see if there was anything else on the page. Surprisingly enough, there wasn't. I hope you got all that sarcasm I was laying on because it was pretty intense.
Leaning back and sipping from his coffee once more, Dean lifted an eyebrow. "It's a Colorado area code," he told us.
Well then. "I guess it's Colorado or bust," I sighed, looking at the clock over the counter.
Hearing the psst that was shot out towards me I snapped my head around to see Sam had gotten the door open. I stepped towards my brothers, and away from my lookout post, and helped Sam to his feet. Well, it wasn't so much helped as it was stood there and cringed under the weight of his Goliath sized body as he used me for a support beam. Ow.
"Looks like the maid didn't come today," Dean announced while looking around with his flashlight.
I rotated my shoulder in its socket and glared at Sam who was busy looking at the ground. "Hey, there's salt over here. Right beside the door."
Sure shit, there it was. Right next to the door and scattered from the opening of it. My eyes immediately darted for the closest window as I stepped inside, and tripped on the floor molding. Darting my head up, I checked to see if either of them noticed – and nodded cockily when they made no sign that they had. Smooth one, Becca. Anyway, back to the salt. If there's this much salt here by the door, there's gotta be more by other entrances, right? Because this is not normal salt spillage. Inspecting the sill, there was none. No salt at all. What the hell.
"You mean protection against demon salt, or 'oops I spilled the popcorn' salt?" Dean questioned as he looked through some things and I continued to scan my light along the other entrances inside the house. My salt theory would get shot to shit.
"It's clearly a ring," Sam answered. "You think this guy Elkins was a player?"
"Definitely," Dean quickly answered.
"He didn't salt his windows or anything. Maybe he didn't know anything was in the area," I announced, leaving my window and turning to face them. There they were with their noses stuck in a book, whispering. "Hey, are you guys listening to me? Hellooooo." Groaning, I stomped, well not stomped, but like, okay, between a normal walk and a stomp. So a huff? Uh, an agitated walk? Whatever, I made my way over to them and waved my hand in front of them, annoyed that they ignored me. Stepping up onto my toes, I looked at what was in Dean's hands and saw it was a journal full of all kinds of hunter crap. Makeshift code words and even less detailed notes – the only difference from my dad's was the handwriting. "Dude, that looks like Dad's."
Their eyes both looked up to see my face. Sam sucked in a breath and stood up straight while Dean flipped it to the front and held up the page. "Except this dates back to the 60's." So what? You're telling me that Elkins was an old fart? I don't see why that matters. It's not like we've ever been the only hunters in the world. I mean, hello, we know other hunters. "Come on, let's keep looking. We should get a move on before that thing comes back," Dean spoke, pocketing the journal and handling his flashlight.
We filtered throughout the house into more rooms where the destruction seemed to never end. Man, whatever came after him sure as hell didn't care about leaving behind a mess. "Check it out," Sam called as he pointed his light to the roof – well, where it was, because all that was left was a giant hole. "Whatever attacked him, it looks like there was more than one."
"Looks like he put up a hell of a fight, too," Dean added.
"I told you that bear attack story was bull. There's no way a robber or bear did this. This thing was strong," I told them while creeping around the room, taking in the broken…everything. I mean, sure, a bear could have totally done all the damage, but the hole in the roof? I don't see a bear being able to reach up and just snatch a roof apart. Not unless he's a giant bear – and then we have different issues.
Continuing our search, we scanned as much as possible with our lights before I didn't see Dean crouched down picking at the floor – and almost tripped over him. Turning and catching me with the cat-like reflexes he has, Sam pulled me to my feet beside him. "You got something down there?" he asked Dean, not letting go of my arm.
Not even acknowledging that I almost Samurai crushed him, Dean just continued to stare at the ground. "I dunno. Some scratches on the floor."
"Death throes maybe?"
"Yeah maybe."
Whoa, whoa, whoa, rewind. Death throes? Grody man. I mean, you see it on TV, but it's only when you see the scratches like this that it really puts it in perspective. If these were death throes, then that means that D. Elkins was right here when he died, and those scratches were his last attempt at saving himself. Really makes you remember back to times when trying to dig yourself away could have been your death throes.
Panting, I pushed further through the trees, my pants catching on branches and stumps and anything else that tried to pull me helplessly to the ground. My chest was tight and ached as the snap of the biting cold tore through my lungs. Glancing over my shoulder my eyes went round. Even though he was still behind me, he already wore a face of victory. His teeth were bared and his face was angered as the hunger deepened in his eyes.
Veering left, hoping that the rushing noise I heard was water, I screamed as my eyes shot forward and he stood waiting for me. Skidding to a halt, I spun and tried to begin running away but slipped on the wet, slick, dead leave causing me to drop to the ground. Nails dug into my pant leg, piercing the skin beneath. A shriek sliced through the air, echoing off the trees around me.
My body was being dragged across the earth while my nails clutched at the soil, praying to catch hold of something. I could feel them breaking as I was forced backward. "No! Please don't!" I yelled once I was rolled over and came face-to-face with my attacker.
His breath was warm as he growled and panted, inches away from my skin. It smelled like copper and blood, causing my stomach to churn. Yellow stains clouded his teeth and his lips appeared to be permanently darkened from how many times they'd tasted blood. Claw marks were scars running down his neck and his blonde hair hung past his cheeks, swinging in the air as he snarled down at me. His deep gray eyes were dark with fury and I could see my terrified expression in them.
I had to get him off of me.
As he hovered above me, still growling, he bared his teeth. Bringing my legs up, I pressed my shins to his chest and tried to wrestle my arms from his hands. His body pushed against my legs, and I struggled to keep him away from ripping through my skin. He was strong, and able to keep my arms pinned. I felt his body lift enough that I was able to bring the soles of my shoes to his chest, putting more space between us. Pushing as hard as I could, he did the same, making me believe that soon my knees would be on the ground beside my neck.
Keeping all my strength in my legs, I pushed harder, fighting to keep him off me. When the tips of his shoes left the ground, I rolled us, coming to a low crouch on his chest. His hands were flailing, grabbing at my legs as I brought one foot up and stomped on his face. A tug to my ankle pulled my balance out from under me, and I landed on his chest with a heavy thud.
He gasped for air, his eyes going round and his body curling into itself. I began to tip with his movements as he rolled onto his side, and I quickly yanked out my silver knife and slicked it across his arm. A hand slapped over the wound but before he could react I adjusted my grip on the blade, hilt up, and plunged the knife straight into his chest, aiming for his heart.
The quick tear of paper and nudge to the ribs brought me out of my moment and back to the present. "You okay?" Sam whispered as Dean was hunched over the scratches, shading a paper with a pencil.
"Yeah," I nodded, shaking my head like an etch-a-sketch. "Just… remembering. I'm fine." I could feel his questioning gaze burning holes into the side of my face, but I couldn't meet his eyes. Instead I bit my lip and looked at my feet, clicking my flashlight on and off. "I'll tell you later," I finally broke in a whisper as Dean's gruff voice suddenly broke in. I was so not telling him later.
"Look familiar?" he asked, standing up with the paper in his hand showing us both blood on one side and shaded figures on the other.
"Ew, I don't want to touch that," I groaned as he held it out and I stepped away.
"Three letters, six digits," Sam spoke, not even thinking twice about taking it from Dean. Gross dude, wash your hands. "The location and combination of a post office box. "
"It's a mail drop?" I questioned with a look that said I couldn't believe it. And I couldn't.
Smirking, Dean stood taller. "Just the way Dad does it."
It was dark. Very dark. Night time dark. And quiet. The radio wasn't on. The windows were rolled up. We weren't speaking, barely breathing. Just staring. J.W. That's what it said. That's all it said. Well, so far anyway. We hadn't opened it. But the envelope said J.W. so that was weird enough. Why is that weird? Well let me tell you. It is weird because I personally know a J.W. and if he knew this D. Elkins, then we may have problems.
"J.W. You think? John Winchester?" Sam spoke my thoughts.
It just sat there in Dean's hands, all unopened and daunting. That's right. I know what the word daunting means now. But big brains aside, I think we were all completely unsure of what to do. I mean, do we open it? Do we try calling our father who never acknowledges our messages? Or do we just like, stash it in the glove box? "Dean? What do we do now?"
"I don't know," he shook his head, still staring at the envelope. "Should we open it?"
Before I could even blink my eyes a knock sounded on the window and I screamed, completely startled by the sound. Dean's arm was cocked and ready to punch whoever snuck up on us, while Sam's hand went to the glove box prepared to grab the "what are you talking about, officer, there's no gun in there" gun. I'm definitely gonna be the first one to die between the three of us, aren't I?
Then Dean said a name I definitely was NOT expecting to hear. "Dad?" That's right. He said Dad. Now, I don't know if you have been keeping up, but that is twice that my brothers have stopped everything around all three of us with that word. That single word. It's crazy how powerful it is, huh? You don't even know.
"Dad? Dean, what are you – Dad!" the back door to my left opened and in slid my dad, smiling at me. I don't think my brain was functioning. It took me a minute to even scoot over and offer the man more room.
He had a crinkly-eyed grin on his face and I didn't know how to react. It felt like all the words I would have said were suddenly Chinese and I didn't know how to pronounce them. Not only was my dad here, but he was smiling. And sitting in the backseat. I can't even tell you the last time I saw him sitting in the backseat of the Impala. The whole thing was weird. I didn't like it. Closing my open mouth, I puckered my lips into that duck whatever that Dean calls it, and looked to the front seat. I was so confused.
Sam and Dean both turned in their seats to face my father, who seemed beyond comfortable. Am I the only one not sure what's going on? "Dad, what are you doing here?" Sam asked his voice full of all kinds of concern. "Are you alright?"
My eyes bugged out and I whipped my head around, taking in my dad's appearance. I couldn't see blood, but his clothes, and the sky outside, were dark. That's it. I'm immediately putting into motion that we invest in light colored clothing so that blood is easily spotted. Even with the dark clothes, my dad looked fine. Healthy. Tired, like always, but he actually seemed at ease and dare I say… relieved? He probs missed me bunches. Aww. "Yeah… I'm okay," he answered, cutting into my thoughts. "I read the news about Daniel; I got here as fast as I could. I saw you there at his place."
With his eyes going as soft as his tone, Sam seemed to slouch in his seat. "Why didn't you come in, Dad?"
"You know why. Because I had to make sure you weren't followed by anyone or anything. Nice job of covering your tracks by the way,"
Man, Dean had so much pride in himself right now, it was ridiculous. "Yeah, well, we learned from the best." Kiss ass.
"Yeah, me," I quipped, shooting him a look and getting a glare in return.
"You're supposed to go unnoticed as a look out, Rebecca. And you stumbled on the way inside. Making your weaknesses known like that could get you killed. Work on it."
My face fell. Critiqued. Again. When he hadn't even been around to know how good I'd actually been doing – wait. "Wait. You came all the way here for this Elkins guy?"
Sam's eyes were boring into my face, along with Dean's, but Sam knew. He always did. Sam knew that I'd put it together, and I think our anger linked and grew. Our dad had come all this way for Elkins, but never came for us.
"Yeah," Dad sighed, leaning back into the seat. "He was… he was a good man. He taught me a hell of a lot about hunting."
I was growing livid. This stranger was taking a first class seat to what was considered important to my dad; yet when two of his children desperately needed him, he didn't even pick up a phone. So many thoughts were fighting to come out first, but as I opened my mouth, my twin was quick to talk first. "Well you never mentioned him to us."
Well you never mentioned him to us? Is this kid for real? That, after everything – all the arguments and wanting answers – that's what Sam effing says!? Tightening my jaw to Dean level, I glared at my brother with so much anger I think it took him by surprise. There was definitely some tension now. Tension between me and my dad because yet again I wasn't doing things good enough. Tension between Sam and me towards our dad for being an ass. Tension between me and Sam because Sam is dumb. Tons of tension.
I'm pretty sure my quick change to "pissed off" mode wasn't missed by anyone, because I received a look from everyone that basically told me to lock it down. "We had a… a kind of a falling out. I hadn't seen him in years," my father explained. Then he nodded to the still unopened envelope. "I should look at that." Of course Dean handed it over, no questions asked. Even if I wanted to, I didn't dare try to read what was written. I was angry – not suicidal. "If you're reading this, I'm already dead… That son of a bitch."
"What is it?" Dean jumped at the change in Dad's tone.
"He had it the whole time…" I'm about ninety-nine percent sure my dad wasn't actually answering Dean's question, but just talking. Like, I think he would have said it anyway, even if he were alone.
"Dad, what?" I rolled my eyes with a sigh, annoyed and sick of it all ready.
He looked up and stared me straight in the eyes and I thought for sure I was gonna get it for my attitude. But, instead, he quickly – almost frantically blurted, "When you searched the place, did you, did you see a gun? An antique, a Colt revolver, did you see it?"
A gun? I saw salt and damage and a bloody piece of paper in my face. That's what I saw. "Uh…" I hummed while Dean cleared his throat. "There was an old case, but it was empty."
Turning his head, I saw some kind of emotion flash across my dad's eyes. Anger? Fear? Both? I didn't like what was going on in his head. "They have it."
"You mean whoever killed Elkins?"
Now he was moving, opening his door, moving on without us. "We gotta pick up the trail." Excuse me, we?
Sam reached back to stop Dad. "Wait, you want us to come with you?"
Dad was already standing outside, now ducking into the backseat. "If Elkins was telling the truth, we gotta find this gun."
"Is it like a special gun or something? Why do we need to find it?" I didn't think my question was bad or anything. I mean, don't you think that having more information is helpful? I do. I also don't think that I asking a simple question like I did meant I needed my dad to react the way he did.
I saw the business aspect of life return to my father's face. His eyes, although warm, were harder. The wrinkles by his eyes were now from stress instead of a smile, and the tautness that had been passed down to Dean had settled in his jaw. He looked straight me, angrily, and barked, "Because it's important, that's why."
If I had any guts at all, I would have snapped all over him for talking to me that way. To be honest, if it had been Sam or Dean instead, we'd each be purple in the face. But, this wasn't Sam or Dean. This was John Winchester. THE John Winchester. I've witnessed people completely change their tune when they realized they were speaking with HIM. You didn't just disagree with John Winchester.
Unless you were Sam.
"Dad, we don't even know what these things are yet," he challenged. I think he did it partially for the way my dad had talked to me. When we were little and my dad would talk to me that way, I would cry. I remember that Sam would get so angry because "I'd done nothing wrong and couldn't help that" whatever was the issue. Eventually I hardened and Sam started retaliating. I guess we both learned to cope in our own ways.
An aggravated sigh left my dad before he sat back down in the seat. "They're what Daniel Elkins killed best. Vampires."
"Vampires? I thought there was no such thing," Dean's head had shot up at the word. I didn't know they were real either. Until just now, I honestly thought they were the only mythical thing in the world. But what about unicorns? They exist. Scotland knows it. Go ahead, Google, I'll wait.
See.
"You've never mentioned vampires, Dad," Sam told him.
"I thought they were extinct. I thought Elkins and – and others had wiped them out. I was wrong," Dad answered, staring at the envelope and letter. I can't say it was for sure, but there was something in that statement. He hesitated. Part of me wanted to ask if he was one of the "others". "I was wrong," he continued. "Most vampire lore is crap. A cross won't repel them, sunlight won't kill them, and neither will a stake to the heart."
"What about garlic?" my mouth questioned before my head could tell it to shut up.
"Too much garlic would make anyone run away," he answered with a squeeze to my knee. Dean smirked. Sam grimaced. "The bloodlust, though, that part's true. They need fresh human blood to survive. They were once people so you won't know it's a vampire until it's too late."
Looking to Sam, I could see the information work its way around his brain. Even with all the information he'd been given – it still wasn't enough. He wanted to know everything; about the gun, why Dad was really here, what exactly Dad knew about vampires. When Sam's eyes narrowed, while listening to Dad and Dean go on talking, and his jaw set – I knew that something much bigger than vampires was about to become a problem.
The room was pretty much quiet except for the heavy breathing and light snores of my brothers as they slept. Some calls had come in over the radio clutched in my dad's hands, but other than that – silence. Lying on the couch, I watched my dad, keeping my head propped up with a few extra pillows I'd snagged from house-keeping. Snagged, traded for beer, tomato, potato really. But even with the extra pillows, I couldn't sleep. Too much was on my mind, and all of it seriously wanted to come out. There was so much I wanted to – needed to ask him. Why did he come for this stranger but not when Dean was dying? Why didn't he come when Sam had been kidnapped? Or when Dean cried, telling him he needed him? Why didn't he answer our calls? Why did he really leave us in Chicago? Why did he leave me to find Dean by myself?
"Dad?" I croaked my voice coming out like it'd never been used before.
His eyes left the face of the radio and met mine. "You're up."
"Can't sleep."
"Feelin' okay?"
"Mostly."
"Stomach problems?" Code for cramps.
Sighing, I sat up. "No, Dad, I'm fine. I just…"
His eyes stayed on my face as my knees went up and my arms crossed over the tops of them. "Spit it out, Becca."
"Are you really okay?"
He didn't blink for a long time, but my green eyes stayed locked on him for as long as they could. "I told your brother I'm fine."
"But are you? Why are you here?"
Leaning back and dropping one hand from the radio, he then ran it over his face. "I read about Daniel in the paper and came to see what happened."
Continuing to watch him, listening to him answer me, I was pulled back to all those times growing up where it was like just him and me, late at night – talking. It was like the night was the only time he was ever truly honest with me. It was the same way I'd first learned about what my dad did when he was gone. "Did you know about the gun? Before you'd read the letter?"
Simply nodding, his eyes closed. "For a while."
"And it's an important gun."
"Yes."
Silence. I wanted more information about the gun, but if the moment in the car earlier meant anything – it was definitely not a subject to push. There was a lump in my throat, suddenly. "Why have you been ignoring our calls?"
"Rebecca," he began, causing me to shake my head. I was so sick of the sighs that were always followed by my name. Those two things are probably the most heartbreaking combination I've ever had the horrid time of dealing with. Doesn't it just make you want to cry immediately – like you can't deny the negative crap that follows? I'm not some ten-year old who doesn't understand anymore. I can handle things, and I'm just about through with everyone acting like I'm some… some…. thing that needs to sit down and just deal with it. I think I've been handle things fine lately, and if he were around, he'd see that. Opening his mouth to say something else, the radio suddenly sounded.
"Unit 22 let me confirm. Mile marker 41, abandoned car. You need a workup?"
"Copy that. Possible 207. Better get forensics out here."
The call ended and my father was already moving, throwing on his jacket. I moved as well, throwing the blanket to the side and grabbing the shirts to put back on over my tank. "Sam, Dean, let's go," he ordered while I slipped on my shoes.
Dean didn't move much, but I watched his body jolt at the words. "Mm-hmm," he hummed out.
I rolled my eyes with a smirk as I stood and threw my hair into a pony tail. Sam finally pushed himself sort-of up and sitting and Dean rubbed his eyes, fully sitting with his feet planted on the floor.
"I picked up a police call," Dad explained, waiting with the door already open and his things gathered.
Stretching, I stood and stared at Dean whose eyes were still closed. I think he was even swaying on the bed. And I thought I was hard to get moving. If this guy ever gives me crap again – ooh! I'm so getting a picture of his face. "What happened?" Sam managed to get out as he watched me open my phone and take a snapshot of Dean's half-asleep face and lazily raised middle finger.
Throwing Sam's jacket to him and then grabbing Dean's, Dad explained, "A couple called 9-1-1, found a body in the street. Cops got there everyone was missing. It's the vampires."
Getting all the way out of bed, Sam put on his coat and shoved on his shoes. "How do you know?"
I caught my twin's eyes as I went to shove a gun inside my coat and was stopped by a large, outstretched hand. "What?" I asked my dad.
"You're staying here."
I think the words seriously didn't register with my brain. There's no way he'd tell me I had to sit back, right? After watching me get ready, and knowing I knew they were leaving. There's no way that he'd have made me stay back. It's got to be the lack of sleep. That's the only explanation. "I don't understand," I told him with a light scoff. "What do you mean I'm staying here?"
My dad began tucking the gun into his own waistband after throwing Dean's coat on the bed. "If we're gonna be able to get these things, I'm gonna need to be sure that nothing will hold us back."
"And you think I would hold you back?" I spun, looking at him, holding a hand to my chest.
"I told you. You were an obvious lookout," he began.
"I can hang back, be a better lookout –"
"You tripped going into the house, Rebecca," he finished, cutting me off.
Trying to find the words to respond was almost impossible. Gasps just sputtered from between my lips and I could feel my eyes going back and forth, trying to figure out where everything had suddenly gone back to the way it was. I could feel a sharp squeeze in my chest and fought against it. "Just because I tripped doesn't mean I can't do my job."
"We can't take that chance."
"What chance?" my voice was louder and I think it was safe and fair to say that all parties in the room were now awake.
Just as when we were younger, Sam stepped forward, his pissed, annoyed, puppy, sandcastle, whatever face on full display. "Dad, she's been doing fine with Dean and me. She can handle it."
The next move my father made caused my veins to physically burn within me. He turned, looked at Sam, smiled, and said, "Well, I'm here now. You don't have to worry about her."
Are you serious? You must physically be effing shitting right on me. What the actually hell? "I can worry about myself, Dad. I'm going with."
"You're staying here," he barked, facing me again.
"That's not fair!" I cried, clenching my fists and glaring at him.
"Fair? What about you going out there and getting in the way? Is that fair? Is it fair that instead of giving all of our focus to these damn things, we'd have to watch you also? You get yourself into more trouble when you're out there. You're safer here, in this room," he pointed a thick finger to the ground and gave me a look that suggested I stop right where I was. "Now, I said we're leaving."
"Dean!" I shrieked, turning and facing my brother who although awake and holding a stern look, still looked half asleep on the foot of the bed. "Dean, tell him how good I've been doing. How I saved you and Sam! How I'm the one who came up with the idea for the Tulpa, Dean, tell him!"
His eyes seemed to fall when he looked me in the eye, and I felt my own rims build with pressure. He wasn't going to tell him. He was going to do exactly what Dad was telling him. He was going to leave me back here, again. "You have been doing good, Bec. Real good."
Clenching a jaw, I jutted my chin out at him. "Then tell him to take me with you."
Dean sighed, hanging his head and standing up. "It's better if you stay here."
"How is it better!?"
"Because if you're not out there with us, you can't get hurt," Dean quickly argued, as if he'd thought about it for a while. "Sam and I haven't faced these before, we can't take any chances."
Sam shifted his stance on his feet and gave Dean a disappointed look. "Come on, Dean," he tried.
"No. Dad's right. We gotta go."
"You didn't see her in that barn, Dean. She can do it."
My father was quickly losing his patience, snapping now. "And what if taking her is an extra risk? You willing to put her out on the line like that? She's not ready to take on a vampire. She's not strong enough."
"How do we know that us going isn't just as risky without her? She's strong enough, Dad," Sam continued to argue, sticking by my side, just like the old days.
Looking me up and down, I met my dad's eyes and expected him to give in. I should have known better. Instead, he shook his head, pointed to my brothers and ordered, "Just follow me, okay? And you," he looked at me again, his eyes showing no guilt whatsoever. "Find a map. I want you to have a good idea of the area when we call you, got it?" Biting my tongue to the point I thought there would be blood, I looked away from him briefly. "Do you understand me?" he enunciated sharply with a step towards me.
"Yes, sir," I answered with the attitude that was eating me alive.
With a second glance, nod to the head, and lock to the door knob, my father lead the three of them through the door and to the cars. Telling Sam to not bother wasn't even worth it anymore, and he avoided my eyes as he quickly followed. Dean sighed, watching me, but I didn't give him the satisfaction of knowing I saw his guilt. I wouldn't let it eat at me this time.
When I heard the Impala start and saw the lights on the walls as it pulled away, I screamed and grabbed the nearby chair to the table. Flinging it as hard as I could, I released it and the back legs broke off, dropping all parts to the ground. Moving to the table itself, I flipped it and its contents went flying through the air before crashing to the ground. Everything in my path fell victim to my rage until finally I found it hard to breathe with hot tears dripping off my jaw line and I looked down to stare the provided map in the face. Breathing deeply and smoothing my hair, I swallowed and grabbed the laminated guide. After finding a pen, I sat among the now completely destroyed room, studying the grid in front of me. Twenty-three years later, and I'm still the rat trapped in the cage.
"There's a large area here that used to be farmland. I made a few calls while you guys were gone. It's supposedly been abandoned. It seems like the most likely place for a nest based off what you were telling us earlier," I informed my father as he sped down the highway. Following the line of the highway on the map with my eyes, I double and triple checked our path.
Glancing over, I caught the nod of his head as a response. The whir of the tires on the pavement filled the cab of the truck, making my anxiety climb. Puffing out a mouthful of air, I leaned farther back into my seat. "Sam said something about you found a tooth?"
"Vamp tooth. They have a second set that retracts when they attack."
"Like a cat's claw?"
"Yeah."
It grew quiet again, causing me to squirm. "Dad?" I finally sighed, setting the map to the seat between us. Looking over at him, I saw he raised an eyebrow but kept his attention back on the road. "Why am I here?"
"What are you talking about?"
I turned as much as my seatbelt would allow for me to face him. "Why could I come now, but not before? You said we're going to the nest now. Why are you taking me with to fight the vampires?"
Smirking at me while he continued to face forward, his eyes flicked back and forth between my face and the road. "You're not going to be fighting them. You're staying in the car. I need you for your brothers' get away."
Screwing up my face, I began scratching at the side of my thumb. "Get away?"
"When we get out of there, they're gonna need to be able to get away as fast as they can. I need you in the car so that there's nothing stalling them."
"Why didn't you just leave me back at the motel then? Wouldn't that have been easier all together?" I could feel my face getting hot and the rims of my eyes fighting pressure. The anger from yesterday was resurfacing and mixing with the anger I was beginning to feel now. I'm surprised it didn't tear me open from the inside out to be honest with you. "That way you wouldn't have had to worry about taking time away from the hunt."
"If this goes south, we can't have any loose ends sitting back in town. We had to get you out of there."
"So, what, now I'm some kind of liability to your hunt? Jesus, Dad, give me some kind of credit. You know, I've been doing perfectly fine with Sam and Dean these past months."
God, his "are ya done" face matched Dean's almost identically, and I felt the bubbles of anger bursting inside of me. "What about the last time I saw you? You were beat to hell and your brothers said you'd just gotten a cast removed? Where in there do you see you doing perfectly fine?"
Growling at him, I whipped myself back into the seat and crossed my arms. "You haven't even been around, how can you say that?"
"Because I know you, Rebecca, and I know what you're capable of."
"Then you know that I'm capable enough to handle this hunt – not sitting in the car like some dog along for the ride."
"And what happens if you get hurt? Or bit? Once a vamp bites you, you're dead. The minute they smell your blood, you're traceable. They can find you anywhere. Are you willing to have that hanging over your head? Or your brothers? Why should there be any extra reasons to protect you?"
"You act like I'm incapable of protecting myself."
"You are."
Reeling, I clenched my fists and dug my heels into the floor of the truck. I wanted nothing more than to turn and connect my fist with his face. "What about you?" I managed to seethe between clenched teeth. "You don't seem very capable of protecting us, let alone me, either."
"You wanna run that by me again?"
"I'm serious, Dad. We have been calling you for months and you didn't show a single sign that you even cared. Do you even know what it's been like without you? The amount of things we have had to go through without you? Where were you then? Because you sure as hell weren't there protecting us."
"Careful, Rebecca," he warned, his hands flexing over the arc of the wheel. "I told you, I'm closing in on this demon that killed your mother. It's safer if I'm not with you."
Closing my eyes and willing the screams to subside inside of me, I calmly lashed back with, "You have no idea what safe is." Opening my eyes once more, I watched the front of the Impala in the side mirror attached to my door. "Why did you leave me back there?"
"I told you –"
"Not just now. In October. Why did you leave me all alone in that motel, with no money, no way of knowing where you were, and nothing but a rushed, handwritten note – to find Dean all by myself?"
"I'd picked up on the demon and I knew that taking you would be a risk."
"For me or for you?"
He didn't answer me right away – causing the angered pressure in my eyes to only build and begin to blur my vision. I sniffed, trying to be discreet and keep my feelings at bay. There was so much inside of me that I wanted to tell him – scream at him. Even now, with just the two of us, it was frustrating and a struggle. I honestly think that one of the biggest struggles in my life has always been talking to my father. No. I lied. It hasn't always been the biggest struggles. Not when I was younger. Back then it was easy. I was "innocent". I guess it got to be a struggle when Sam and I became more involved and I suddenly had a different set of standards to set as his kid. Run the extra lap. Stay the extra hour. Take apart and put the guns back together one extra time. It was always me who did that one extra stretch but got no extra recognition or use for it.
Sighing, and attempting to talk to him once more, I continued to watch the Impala in the mirror. "Sam's really angry with you, you know."
"I can handle your brother," was all he said in reply.
"Dad, can you just talk to me straight, just once?"
"What do you want?" he suddenly snapped, slamming his hand into the top of the wheel. "Damn it. Why do you always do this? What makes it worth it? Now I'm pissed off and you're hurt and crying."
"I'm not crying," I argued, feeling a single tear break free and slip down my cheek as a lie. "I just want you to tell me the truth, like you used to. Why could you tell me when I was six and not now?"
"I'm telling you the truth," he grunted.
"No, you're telling me part of the truth. You keep so many things secret I don't know what's going on half the time anymore. You say you want to keep us safe, but you don't come when Dean is dying in the hospital or when Sam is kidnapped by some freaks who were going to hunt him like he was some sort of animal. And you sure as hell didn't bat an eye in Chicago when I almost died because of a stupid whatever it was. Dad, I just want to know why."
His eyes stayed locked on the dark highway. Shaking my head, I looked away, knowing that it was useless. He would never tell me. "What exit?" he questioned after clearing his throat. I looked to my left to see him pushing the map towards me, indicating for me to do my job.
"The next one," I mumbled, already knowing. Curling myself up, I settled into the corner of the seat and door, watching the lights of the Impala as they reminded me that at least two people cared enough to give me answers.
Passing me his phone, my dad resituated himself and his jacket, relaxing a bit in his seat. "Call and tell your brothers."
Without a verbal response I did as I was told, dialing Dean and placing the phone against my ear. When the click sounded and he grunted out a "Yeah", I sighed. "We're getting off on the next exit. We're thinking that it's gonna be close to where the nest is."
"Yeah, Bec. All right, got it," Dean responded before the click sounded that he'd hung up.
"Done," I spoke, setting the phone onto the seat and keeping my eye on the mirror.
The Impala's headlights were steady beams, shining ahead for just a moment before they veered to the left and disappeared behind the truck. My head shot up, looking around, panicking that something bad had happened behind us. "Dad," I yelped, watching the beams speed by the driver's side of the truck and then the Impala cut across the front of us. Spinning, the Impala was suddenly sitting in the middle of both lanes, making my dad swerve to avoid crashing into them. An arm shot out in front of me, as a sort of barrier between the dash and my chest, and then the truck was shifted into park.
"Damn it," Dad growled, throwing open his door. "Stay here," he barked. "What the hell was that," I heard him snarl out before stalking off to where Sam was standing by the door of the Impala.
I could only see Sam's face due to the headlights and by the looks of the shadows on his face – he was ready to kill. I've only seen that look on Sam's face a few other times, and each were just as terrifying. "We need to talk," Sam yelled back.
Rolling down my window and unbuckling, you can bet your sweet ass I was eaves dropping. Sam just about killed all of us with that stupid stunt. Something's got to be wrong. My dad walked up, face-to-face with Sam, and I swallowed. I never really realized how big Sam was compared to my dad. I knew he was big, I mean, he's obviously part sequoia or something – but it gave me shivers to see him towering over my dad like that. And not the good shivers. "About what?" My dad barked, clearly ready for a fight.
"About everything. Where we going, Dad? What's the big deal about this gun? Why is Becca here if you were worried about her before?" Sam was angrily barking back, his hand pointing directly to me.
Dean appeared at Sam's side, speaking quieter than both Sam and my dad, making it hard to understand what he was doing. But I didn't need the words. I'd witnessed this many, many times before. Dean was trying to break it up before it got too bad.
My father's stance changed in the light and I saw him almost slouching on one leg. He was relaxed, as though nothing was going to really bother him.
"Last time we saw you, you said it was too dangerous for us to be together. Now out of the blue you need our help," Sam continued, suddenly yelling. "Now obviously something big is going down, and we wanna know what!"
My heart lurched. I could tell just by the electricity in the air between them that this was going to head south. "Get back in the car," my dad ordered, his stance returning to a straighter posture – causing me to worry.
"No."
"I said get back in the damn car."
"Yeah. And I said no."
I wanted nothing more than to be outside of the truck, but fear had me rooted to the spot. Fear of what would happen in front of me. Fear of what my presence would do. If Sam saw me standing outside of the truck, he was likely to bring up something involving me, and then it could only get worse. Sam had been defending me since birth practically, and my dad always argued back. This was their fight – I couldn't make myself a part of it. But damn it, I really, really wanted to.
My fingers were wrapped around the handle, ready to pull and push the door open. Half of me wasn't ready to ignore my dad telling me to stay in the truck; the other half was ready to bolt and step between them to stop it. My ears rang as Dean barked at Sam.
"Okay you made your point tough guy. Look, we're all tired; we can talk about this later. Sammy, I mean it, come on," he dictated, grabbing Sam's jacket and shoving him towards the car.
With a pissed off look, Sam listened, still glaring at Dad. He mumbled something, but I wasn't able to understand. Apparently my dad did, though, because he scoffed out a "What'd you say?" You know the kind. Where the parent is testing you to see just how brave you are. The worst kind.
"You heard me," Sam snapped, swinging back around and towering over my dad once again.
"Yeah. You left. Your brother, sister, and me, we needed you. You walked away, Sam," My dad yelled, closing whatever distance was between him and Sam. Dean tried to get in between them, to stop the fight and panic rose in me. I don't think I'd ever seen my dad ready to physically fight one of my brothers. I mean sure, they'd argued, but they'd never gotten this kind of physical. This is the kind of thing that stays in your mind like some seared nightmare. It's a panic and fear you can't describe because you know that they could probably kill each other – and both of them have the mind that won't realize what they've done 'til it's over. My dad's hands were on Sam's jacket and bone chilling terror raked through me. "You walked away!" My dad's face was growing red and I could see that this was pent up anger coming to a surface. I could see it because it was how I acted, too.
Sam didn't flinch, coming even closer, which I didn't think was actually possible, with hatred in his eyes. "You're the one who said don't come back, Dad."
The next part happened so fast. There were no words – just movements. I saw my dad's arms pull Sam closer, and I recognized Sam preparing himself for the attack. They were actually willing to fight one another. It was one of the scariest things I've ever encountered. My breath caught in my throat and I froze. I barely recognized that Dean was trying to wedge his way between the two of them while they continued to grab at each other's shirts and jackets. Words were still being yelled over Dean's head, cheeks growing red and tones getting angrier and angrier. "You closed that door, not me," Sam continued as though Dean wasn't even there. "You were just pissed off that you couldn't control me anymore!"
"Listen!" Dean finally managed to get them apart. "Stop it, stop it!" As Sam and my dad went to go at each other again, Dean stepped in between them. Dean faced my dad as I swallowed and let out a series of panting breathes that I didn't know I was holding in. "Stop it!" That's enough!" Dean ordered.
Sam and my dad didn't budge, just glaring at each other over Dean's head. Dean finally got Sam to move as he continued to face our dad and barked out, "That means you, too."
Angrily turning away and then throwing himself behind the wheel, Sam slammed the door shut as my father turned around. It only took him a few steps before my dad threw open his door once more and climbed into the truck. The slam shook the cab and I just stared ahead, completely wide-eyed, unsure if I should even move. The Impala slowly pulled off to the side of the highway, allowing my dad to yank on the shifter and speed past my brothers. "I can handle your brother," he spat out angrily. Not moving outside of breathing, I just watched the road, undecided if he was talking to me or himself.
Sitting in the trees alongside the highly testosteroned people I call my family, I was squeezed in between Dean and my dad. Because we were "casing the joint" I was allowed to participate. Funny how all this crap works, huh? I think it also helped that I was a distraction from Sam for my dad. How am I a distraction? Well, how am I not a distraction? Look at me. Plus I ask questions that make everyone else roll their eyes. Sorry if I like clarification, people. Damn. Double plus, we were just watching and working out details. I get to know details when it involves me saving possible ass. Which again, you'd be surprised how often that happens. I didn't learn to stitch a wound at a young age for nothing. But hey, sometimes your dad comes back and you just really gotta pee and your little six year old body can't hold it so you walk in on your dad trying to sew a cut. Not everyone is a contortionist, okay? We can't just sew the outside of our upper arms easily. That's not the point though. The point now is that I was staring ahead, quietly watching a beat up Camaro roll in making my heart squeeze. One, I like Camaros, so part of me is pissed at the owner. Two, this is a real life vampire, right in front of me.
That's right. The vampire was right in front of me. In the sun. And he wasn't even burning to a crisp! What kind of crap is that!? I at least wanted to see some like, smoke or something come off this guy – something that would give an obvious sign to what he was. But no, he just rolls in all normal and shading his eyes from the sun like he's forgotten some Ray-bans or something. Color me upset. I watched as the vampire spoke to another man, and then both headed into the barn in front of us.
"Son of a bitch," I heard Dean swear beside me as we watched from the trees. "So they're really not afraid of the sun?"
"Ahh, direct sunlight hurts like a nasty sunburn. The only way to kill 'em is by beheading," my dad explained on the other side of me.
Grimacing I threw a hand to my throat and began massaging. "Lovely," I croaked. Beheading? Didn't that happen to the guy with the window a while back? Dean wouldn't even let me up there to look at it, there's no way he'd let me go beheading a guy. I don't know that I could actually behead a guy. Sure, it's a little different to aim a gun and pull a trigger. There's a distance to it. There's a separation where you don't necessarily get your hands bloody. Stabbing, sure, that's a little more of a closer contact sport. But a lot of my experience has shown me that stabbing comes more out of a self-defense situation. You'd be surprised how much easier it is to live with yourself when you know what happened was so you could live. But cutting someone's head off? I didn't see how that could just… not tear you apart inside. And finding ways to not have things tear at you with this job is like a whole second job on its own. My life is damn near exhausting.
"Wait," I suddenly gasped, realizing something. "What about sleeping? Do they not sleep during the day if these two guys are up?"
All three of our heads turned to our dad with questioning looks. I think I was totally valid in my curiosity, right? "Yeah, they sleep during the day," he nodded, continuing to stare forward. "But that doesn't mean they won't wake up."
Pursing my lips, I turned my head and stared at the barn. If those damn things could wake up in the daytime no problem and were as nasty as my father was making them out to be – then there was nothing to keep me from thinking that all of this was a very bad idea.
"So I guess walking right in's not our best option," Dean sighed, looking forward as I scratched at my thumbs. I really wish I was next to Sam right now. He'd straight know what was going through my head and at least let me know he knew and all that. Dean would be silent with Dad here.
"Actually that's the plan," my dad announced.
I spun my head so fast my ponytail smacked Dean right in the face. "You can't be serious," I spoke, my voice not even muted. My answer was a grunt and shove as my dad pushed himself up and began walking back to where we'd parked the cars. Not giving up, I pushed myself away from my brothers, even with Dean growling after me. "Dad!" I snarled, coming up hot on his footsteps. "Tell me you're not serious!"
"Having that kind of surprise could help us, Rebecca," he explained, continuing to walk.
"I don't care," I bit after him. "It's stupid."
"What'd you say?" he turned on me, glaring down at my angered face.
"You're honestly willing to just run in there with no idea what you're up against? You don't even know how many are in there!"
"We're hunters, Rebecca, this is our job," he growled, a finger in my face.
Clenching my fists, I shot a hateful look from his finger to his face. "Last time I checked it was my job, too. If you three are going in there as unprepared as you are, then I'm coming with," I announced, stomping past him toward the cars.
Footsteps were thudding loudly behind me and I swallowed as a fear seeped into my mind and face, knowing he was probably only a hair's length away from me. A quick and firm pull to my arm whipped me around and my stance was held up by his grip. "If you step one foot in that direction, you won't have to worry about being left behind on jobs," he threatened.
"If it's that dangerous then none of you should be doing it," I argued. "They're just as prepared as I am, and you're willing to risk their lives no problem."
"Your brothers aren't the ones who will walk in there and lose focus, you are. They're less likely to get hurt, and I'm not going to have your injuries or death on their hands. You can't handle yourself in there, and I'm not taking the chance."
"You don't know what I'm capable of because you haven't been around!" I snapped anger and built up aggression behind every syllable. It was all coming forward and to be honest, all I wanted to was to hurt him like he'd hurt me. I'd been trying how hard to get answers from the man, and he wasn't giving them. He was barely listening to anything I had to say, and I was damned if I was going to have him standing in front of me and not knowing exactly how I felt. "You left me in a motel room with nothing, expecting me to find Dean all alone. How can you look me in the eye and say you actually care if something happens to me."
My chin was suddenly jerked up as his large hand wrapped around the base of it and my neck, forcing me to look at him. Fear filled my eyes, causing them to grow to the size of pool balls, my hands clawing at his palm as it sat tightly, causing me to struggle for breath. I felt the heels of my feet leave the ground and could barely hear Sam and Dean's shouts over the menacing words my father spit at me next. "You don't know what I've done to keep you alive! I worry about you day and night, wondering when you'll screw up next and forget everything I've taught you – putting yourself and your brothers on the line. I already lost your mother because she wasn't protected, I'm not risking that with you, too," his eyes were darker than I think I've ever seen them, and I didn't know what that meant. The glare he sent me caused a coldness to settle deep within my core and finally I was released. Breathing deeply through my nose, I couldn't tear my eyes away from his face, or blink, afraid of what would happen next. "Get in the car," he ordered. My feet immediately responded without any hesitation.
Sitting behind the wheel of the Impala, I just stared at the bottom curve of my dad's truck tire as it sat parked in front of me. I couldn't look Sam or Dean in the eye and a very large boulder sat unmoving in my throat. I was embarrassed, scared, hateful, angered, broken, and about a million other things and I wanted nothing more than to be completely and totally alone. I heard Dean and Sam rummaging in the trunk, but I paid them no mind as my dad worked through his own weapons in the bed of his truck.
"Dad," I heard Dean call through my opened window. "I've got an extra machete if you need one"
"I think I'm okay. Thanks," my dad quickly bit, still a little harshly. I desperately wanted to look up to see this weapon that had Dean murmuring out an impressed "Wow" but I couldn't bring my eyes to move. If I looked at my father, I don't know what would have happened. "So, you boys really wanna know about this Colt?" my dad sighed out as my brothers came to stand beside him.
"Yes, sir," Sam quickly answered, not surprising me in the least.
"It's just a story," our father began, "a legend really. Well I thought it was. Never really believed it until I read Daniel's letter…. Back in 1835, when Halley's comet was overhead, the same night those men died at the Alamo. They say Samuel Colt made a gun. A special gun. He made it for a hunter, a man like us only on horseback. Story goes he made thirteen bullets, and this hunter used the gun a half dozen times before he disappeared, the gun along with him. And somehow Daniel got his hands on it. They say… they say this gun can kill anything."
I felt my chin begin to tremble. Kill anything. The gun was the answer to all my dad's prayers and it would allow him to make up for the loss he was still mourning twenty-two years later. A loss that overpowered any care or feelings or love he seemed to have for us. This gun meant more to him than making sure any of his children were okay and safe and able to protect themselves. It felt like I'd just learned my place. With the new realization and truth settling deep in my heart, a pressure built along the rims of my eyes and I set my jaw.
"Kill anything like, supernatural anything?" Dean asked.
I knew the answer before Sam asked the next question. This gun could kill the demon that killed our mom. That was why my dad left me. That was what was more important than me the moment he took off.
"Yeah," Dad answered in response to Sam's questioning whether or not it would be able to kill the monster that essentially destroyed my entire life. "The demon," he agreed. "Ever since I picked up its trail I've been looking for a way to destroy the thing. Find the gun – we may have it."
My dad finished up his story and closed the bed of his truck, double checking they were set and ready to go. In the next blink of an eye, my brother was at my window, leaning down and watching my face.
"You okay?" his voice was quiet and concerned. I couldn't answer him and instead just tried to stop the trembling in my chin, attempting to set my jaw once more and swallowing. "Here," he sighed, continuing to watch my stormy eyes and conflicted face. His hand reached in front of me, holding a machete, waiting for me to take it from his hands. "In case one of those things finds you up here, I want you to be prepared. Don't hesitate on the attack, got it? You can't question yourself if they're as bad as he says, Bec. You gotta be able to protect yourself."
Wrapping my small hand around the handle of the blade, I gripped it tightly, staring down at the shiny metal. "Dean?" I barely whispered, still unable to look him in the eyes.
"I know," he answered with a firm hand on my shoulder.
"Don't die, okay?"
With a fallen face and reassuring squeeze, he turned and left to follow our dad down the hill to the nest.
I can't tell you how many ungodly slow minutes passed, but I felt like the world had stopped. My eyes were glued to the barn for any sign that my family would be emerging victorious and safe, ready to come back so we could all just leave. The machete handle was held so tightly in my grip that my hand had begun to go numb and my fingers were beginning to tingle with that "sleep" feeling. The keys were ready to be turned, my foot already hovering over the break. I wasn't even itching to go down to the barn – I was that engrossed with the impossibly long wait. My heart was pounding in my ears and with each exhale I hated myself a little bit more. They weren't coming. I could tell – they'd gone in and now I was left out here and would be the only survivor because they were all recklessly stupid for doing this.
I couldn't go on without them, without any of them. I needed Dean to be the big brother I resented and clung to all at the same time. He drives me insane but it was our relationship and it was my favorite thing in the entire world. He got me, amazingly, and being able to communicate the way we did just make my whole life easier. Sam was the only person who could stand in front of me and slap me in the face without actually doing it. I didn't even have to say half the things that bothered me when he was around, he just knew and there was nothing more beautiful to me than that. He was the only one who had been around and experienced almost every single moment of my life with me, he was my twin, my second half. God, and my dad? Jesus, the man pissed me off and made me angrier than any other human being but I understood him. Even though I didn't understand him at all. My dad was so much a full example of who not only I was, but each of my brothers were – he was us. The worst parts all rolled into one and he still survived… he was beyond stronger than I could ever be.
If any of them died, there was no way I could go on… I'd be lost. I don't even know where I'd begin to pick up pieces. I'd never been alone, and I wasn't ready to be it just yet, just because they were stupid and went after vampires.
Then the barn door burst open and my eyes widened when my brothers ran from it and began heading towards where I was waiting. My body instinctively lurched, frantic and scared. Shooting my right arm up towards the keys waiting in the ignition, I hissed when I felt the blade in my left hand cut the skin of my opposite forearm. The blade dropped to my feet and my left hand went to cover the gash and blood began to build between the small spaces, making a red smear across my skin. I bit my lip to hold back the cry of pain and squeezed my eyes shut before bringing the car to life. Not caring about the small trails of blood that were spreading and dripping from beneath my clenched hand, I focused on the footsteps that sounded right outside of my window.
I expected the driver door to swing open and for Dean to throw himself behind the wheel like normal – really making my whole job pointless. That's what normally happened when we did things like this, not that they happened all that often to begin with. Instead, Dean turned around and looked back towards the barn. "Dad!" he yelled, his voice echoing and booming off of everything around us.
Dad? Both of my brothers were out of breath and scanning the area while I climbed out of the car. My hand left the cut on my arm and before I could rush past him, Sam caught me at the waist with an arm.
"Where is he!?" I cried. Grabbing a hold of Sam's arm that was still tightly wrapped around my waist and digging in my nails I faced him with terror on my face. "If he's still down there, Sam –"
"Becca, are you bleeding? " His voice was full of shock and he used his other hand to grab my right wrist and bring it up to look at.
Sam's grip is seriously that of like, something really strong because it was like I wasn't even tugging. Shooting me his broken but super disapproving look, he turned and grunted angrily to our brother who was still looking for our dad.
Dean's eyes were angry, as though Sam had just pulled him from something important – which he was. However, when Dean saw my bleeding arm clutched in Sam's paw, shock took over his face. "Did one of those things find you?"
"No," I answered, watching as he looked around the area. "I did it to myself."
"You what!?' they both barked, turning on me. "Becca, do you know how stupid that was? What were you thinking? You could have been found, especially with how much blood is everywhere," Sam continued, yanking my arm around as he spoke.
Wincing at the sharp tugs, I finally yelped when his nails dug in near the edge of the cut. Sam let go and I immediately cradled my arm to my chest. "It was an accident," I explained. "It wasn't like I was trying to draw them up here – but now that you mention it, maybe I should have."
"Okay, both of you shut up," Dean cut in. "Sam, keep a look out for Dad. Bec," he continued, reaching into the backseat and finding an old rag, "you're gonna need stitches. Where's that machete I gave you?"
"Car," I answered quietly as he tied the rag around my arm. "Dean, I screwed up," I started, all the anger from before coming back. "He's right, I can't do this."
Nodding and tightening the knot, he looked at me. "Well, I'll give you one thing. You definitely screwed up."
Footsteps and Sam's call of "guys" drew our attention to the hill where our father now stood. "What happened?" Dad asked, seeing the bloody mess in front of him.
"I –"
"Tell me in the car, we gotta go. They won't follow us now; they'll wait 'til tonight. Once a vampire has your scent, it's for life; and once they get a trace of your blood – it's only a countdown 'til they find you."
"What the hell do we do now?" Dean fumed, indicating to my arm and the entire situation. I'd really screwed everything up this time. More so than usual, and the added tension because of it was beyond blatantly obvious.
Sighing, my dad switched the machete into his other hand. He looked down the hill and then towards my arm once more. "Sam and I are gonna patch your sister up. You gotta find the nearest funeral home; let's move," he spoke before turning towards the truck.
My eyes watched Sam continue to pace back and forth across the room. I hissed and made a face the entire time my dad worked on sewing up my skin, and I don't care what anyone says. Pouring alcohol on the wound and down your throat does not help.
"It shouldn't be taking this long. I should go help," Sam insisted, ready to walk out the door.
My dad didn't even bat an eye as he continued stitching and said, "Dean's got it." I felt the final tug of the now knotted floss. A final splash of alcohol made me glare as his calloused hand wiped the liquid and blood away. "Put something cold on that," he nodded. Standing and grabbing as much as I could, I cleaned up and headed towards the bathroom. "Sammy," I heard my dad sigh as I flipped on the light and partially closed the door behind me.
Looking at my forearm, I groaned. I definitely screwed up. All this was proving to my dad was that he was already right. I couldn't even sit in a car and not hurt myself – there was no possible way I was going to be able to help him hunt something as crazy as a vampire. And to make it all worse, my blood was spilled. They were going to be able to hunt me now like I was some sort of deer in the middle of November. It was just like he said it would be. I got hurt, and now my entire family was in danger because of my stupidity. I really was nothing more than a liability to all of them.
Wetting a rag, I lightly padded my cut with it, cleaning away the stickiness of both blood and whiskey. The tender area stung horribly, and I bit my lip to keep in a hiss. If I had already screwed up this much, I didn't need to make it worse by being weak.
That was really my whole problem, wasn't it? I wasn't super tough and strong like Dean, nor was I anywhere near as smart as Sam. So that just meant I was… nothing. I didn't have anything to bring to the table to help them at all, and that's probably why it was so easy for Sam and my dad to leave in the first place. I don't offer anything for them to think to stay, so why should they? I guess that's my skill… easily abandoned. Except Dean, I guess. He never abandoned me – yet. And he always said it wasn't my fault. I don't know what he was talking about, though, because this is obvious that it is. I'm the one who causes these problems for myself not anyone else.
Sighing, I lightly dried the damage to my arm and threw the towel in the sink, turning towards the door, ready to leave the room. My hand hovered over the light when I caught onto the tone of my father's voice. There was something there… something… sympathetic. Honest. It was the voice he used when he would talk to me when I was little. The I want to shield you voice. The one he wished he didn't have to use because he shouldn't have to. His regretful voice. Except this regret wasn't for me.
"So when you said that you wanted to go away to school, all I could think about, my only thought was that you were gonna be alone. Vulnerable. Sammy, it just… it never occurred to me what you wanted. I just couldn't accept the fact that you and me – we're just different. I heard Sam huff out a laugh before I left the bathroom. "What?" my dad voiced, matching my raised eyebrows in curiosity.
"We're not different. Not anymore. With what happened to Mom and Jess… Well, we probably have a lot more in common than just about anyone."
That was definitely not all they have in common. Are you kidding me? Those two are practically the same person. Both of them were stupidly stubborn; they both judged people hella quickly; they were two of the –
"Dad, Bec… Becca told me what happened to her."
Sam's words were like a vacuum sucking all of the air from my chest. My thoughts couldn't even comprehend the idea of forming any further than they already had and I just stood there, standing in the bathroom with my hand sitting against the light switch.
"She blames herself," Sam admitted.
A breath shuddered through my chest and my mouth was suddenly dry as I tried to lick my lips. Every other time Sam had brought this conversation up, I'd reacted so angrily – but I'd never heard my dad talk about it. After that first night, he didn't say much. He kept a closer eye on me and maybe kept me on a shorter leash, but that was the end of it. We didn't talk about it. I didn't want to, and part of me didn't think he knew how to.
The creaking of the chair under my dad's weight screamed in my ear. "No one told her it was her fault."
"I don't think what we tell her is going to matter… Dean said she was broken afterwards. Like he'd never seen her before."
"She was." There was the sound of my dad's leather jacket adjusting with his movements and if I didn't know any better, I would have assumed he reached forward for the bottle of alcohol in front of him. "But your brother helped her. He brought her back."
A half scoff half laugh thing left Sam's throat. "Did you help her?"
Swallowing, I thought I would throw up. Why was Sam doing this? No one asked him to step forward and take on my dad about this. I don't even remember the last time I'd talked to him about it. If at all. I mean, I… what was happening?
"Sam," I called, clicking off the light and coming to join them. "Stop."
"No, Bec, I want to know. Did he help you?"
The look on my father's face was so confusing. You could tell he wanted answers, something to just push him that little bit further to provoke him. He was on the defensive, but lowly. If Sam didn't stop, anything that just came from the regret filled voice and bonding he had with Dad, was gonna come crashing down in worse ways than that stint outside the cars.
"Sam, listen to me. Just let it go," I tried, walking over and beginning to usher him towards the door. If he wanted answers, he could get them – from me.
Holding a hand up, my father stopped me. "Let him, Rebecca. What are you trying to say, Sam? You don't think I did my part as her father?"
Not bothering to acknowledge my hands were even on him, Sam looked over my head. "I just want to know I wasn't the only one who wasn't around for her. She needed you, Dad. Were you there?"
"Whew," Dean's voice suddenly cut in and I blinked. "Man, some heavy security to protect a bunch of dead guys."
"Get it?" Dad questioned. It still amazed me how quickly his voice could switch over to business like that. It was like something clicked inside of him and his body just robotically responded. It was nerve wracking and to be honest, a little bit of a lot of terrifying.
My eyes danced from Sam's once again upset face to my dad's. Both still had hard eyes settling on each other and I swallowed. Nothing about this spelled good. Before anyone could ask another question though, Dean pulled out a bottle that was completely full of deep red blood, and handed it over to our dad. He nudged me on the drawback of his hand, but I avoided his eyes, keeping my face ahead. My dad held it up and looked at it for a moment before squeezing it in his hand and saying, "You know what to do."
"Sam, I know what to do," I gritted through my teeth in a whisper as he reminded me yet again on how to aim and shoot.
"Raise your elbow," he continued from the corner of his mouth.
My eyes turned to slits and I physically bit my tongue when I turned to glare at him. "Rebecca," my dad clicked, reminding me to focus on Dean on the road.
Going back to watching Dean under the hood of the Impala, I swallowed. We were using him for bait instead of me, because at least this way I wasn't fully alone on the road with blood pumping through my veins. Because it was my blood that would have been found and tracked. On a positive note though, at least I wasn't stuck back in the motel room. So I guess cutting my arm had been a blessing in disguise. Can't stay locked alone in the tower if the monsters can find and kill you while the knights are off skipping through daisies, now can you? Nope. So instead I am between Sam and Dad, watching Dean; both protected and doing my fair share of protecting. After we'd gone through and established a plan, Sam actually cleared his throat and suggested that I help. This way he figured I could prove how much I'd been doing and how well. Dean nodded, saying that I wasn't actually too bad lately. Even if I was still clumsy and knocking shit down all the time. But, this way at least my dad could see. Which, whatever, if it meant that I had less time alone, then I was all for it.
So, here I sit. Crossbow up and trained towards Dean with Sam mimicking me perfectly and my dad gripping a machete, in case a quick dash was necessary. Adjusting my grip slightly, I fixed my arms, waiting. It didn't take much longer before a woman appeared behind Dean. I don't think I blinked much as a guy came up a few feet behind her and watched the exchange. Tensing the minute the smack against Dean's cheek rang out, I readied my bow and set my jaw.
"Not yet," I heard whispered from my right.
I breathed deeply, almost shaking when I saw Dean's feet lift off the ground and the vampire's hand around the base of his face, near his neck. "Dad," Sam breathed from my left, his head looking over mine towards our dad.
"Not yet."
All I was seeing was red. The vampire had lowered Dean to her level and kissed him. Sam and my dad continued their whispered argument of when the right time would be when I finally released my arrow. The sound of the string snapping forward brought both sets of eyes towards me. Before Sam could react, I had another arrow loaded, aimed, and released into Kate's back, stopping her from doing anything further to Dean.
"Damn it, Rebecca," My father snapped angrily.
"The guy was gonna move. I wasn't willing to take that chance," I told them both before standing up and gripping the bow tightly. Without a second thought, I stepped forward from the trees towards Dean.
All heads looked towards my footsteps, and I only glared death at the vampire. "It barely even stings," she mocked, giving me daring eyes.
A growl ripped from my throat and I wrapped my small hand tightly around the shaft of the arrow. Ready to run forward and stab her directly in the face, a strong arm came and snapped around my waist.
"Give it time, sweetheart," my dad spoke, walking past where Sam was holding me tightly to his chest. "That arrow's soaked in dead man's blood. It's like poison to you, isn't it?"
It was like those words were the detonator to the bomb inside of her, because her eyes went round then she just like, dropped. Straight to the ground. Right down to the dirt. My whole body stopped and just watched, surprised. "Is that… is that how it really happens? Because I'm calling shenanigans," I told them. Sam slowly released me and I stretched out a leg and kicked her leg with my shoe. This is a joke, right? There's no way it acts that fast.
"Load her up," Dad announced, walking to where the other vampire sat like a drunk on the ground. "I'll take care of this one."
I saw the machete blade glint in the sun as my dad's arm pulled up into the air. Gasping when it began to lower, Dean appeared in front of me, trying to step into my line of sight and make me look him in the eye to deter me from what was going to happen. Only problem is… you can't block out sound once it's been heard.
My face felt warm as the campfire crackled and popped in front of me. Sure, the smoke burned my eyes a little bit and my jacket would smell like this for at least a week because there is no way I'm washing this smell off. I love this smell. I live for this smell. Sort of. Then again… the last time we'd been around a campfire was when we were hunting that Wendigo. And that had been terrifying. But this one wasn't so bad for now. Sam was patrolling the area with his machete, Dad and Dean were working in the trunk of the Impala, and I was staring at the burning logs, listening and lightly fingering the arrow in my hands. You know normal campfire stuff.
"I wish we had marshmallows," I sighed when Sam came to stop behind me.
"What?"
"Marshmallows. I wish we had them."
The log I was using for a seat rolled a bit from Sam's weight as he sat down beside me. "You don't even like marshmallows."
"Not true. I don't like the stickiness of marshmallows. I do however like the idea of roasting them. Dean would probably eat it for me anyway." I could almost feel his grin more than see it. "Sam… was I wrong? To shoot those vamps so quickly?"
Turning towards me, Sam eyed the trunk and then licked his lips. "Dean's alive, Bec. That's what matters."
"Yeah, but he's Dean. So who's to say that he wouldn't be alive regardless?"
"What's really bugging you?"
I tapped the tip of the arrow against the ground gently. "Dad beheaded that guy no problem, and even though he was a vamp – he didn't look like one. He looked like a human… Just like a human."
Sam watched me repeatedly move the arrow and then set the machete down by his feet. "What's this really about, Becca?"
I sighed, beginning to tap the arrow harder until eventually I just threw it to the ground. "Why is he here, Sam?" I questioned, whipping my head around to stare at my twin.
His hazel eyes reflected the fire, and I swear it only intensified whatever anger he was harnessing. "He's after the –"
"The gun, yeah," I finished. "It's good to know that a gun is more important than the three of us." My words were mumbled and I crossed my arms over my chest, glaring at the fire.
"That gun can kill the demon that started this whole mess." Sam's voice was getting edgier. Leaning forward, his eyes shot to the Impala once more before he lowered his tone and looked back at me. "If we kill this demon, we're done. We can finally have our normal lives. We don't have to move motel to motel – and you don't have to be under Dad's thumb. You can come with me."
Closing my eyes, I sighed. "Sam, I hated high school. There's no way in hell I'm going to college by choice."
"You don't have to go to college. Just come with. We can live off campus, get roommates. You can get a job; we can put all of this behind us."
Facing him, I saw the raw determination behind every emotion on his face. He wanted this, desperately, and he would stop at nothing to get it. "I can't leave Dean. He can't be alone like that." Turning to where the rest of my family stood, I sighed. "I don't know that Dad will actually ever stop hunting… and if he does, I'm almost afraid that he'll just pick up another bad habit. I can't let him drag Dean along with him."
Sam's eyes followed the direction of mine, and we both just sat there, watching our brother. The lights that had been set to illuminate the trunk showed the hard lines on Dean's still young face. He was focused, jaw set, head nodding, taking in everything in front of him as though he'd have to memorize down to the exact angle of a string. "Dean'll make it without you," my twin finally told me.
"He shouldn't have to." Shaking my head, I turned back to Sam with a sour look on my face. "It's bad enough that Dad doesn't seem to care enough about us. The least I can do is show Dean that he's got some sort of family left by his side."
"Look, I know I left for school –"
"You cut us out of your life completely. That's the difference. You didn't just leave – you erased yourself from our lives. No phone calls, no updates, nothing to let us know you were even alive. It was up to us to spy on you just to make sure that you ate your vegetables…" Laughing, I pulled my sleeves over my hands. "In fact, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you did exactly what Dad does."
"I'm not like Dad. Not like that."
A soft smile spread over my face as I watched the dancing flames. "Yeah. You are. But it's okay. I'm not going to hold it against you anymore; because, even with the anger and pigheadedness – there's still a whole lotta good in you, Sam. I think that's the difference."
"You don't think there's any good in Dad?" Sam's voice was quiet, his eyes waiting.
Leaning forward, I thought about it. Obviously I thought my dad was a good guy. He had a shotty outlook on things but he did at least always try to do his best. That's what'd I'd been telling myself. Growing up, he was hardly there, and when he was – part of him was gone. His mind was always on the hunt. Searching, guarded, pained – he was never fully whole and I think essentially it was killing him.
"I think they're different kinds of good. Your good is more… honest. You want a life beyond this – and I finally get it. You're not free here. You're just as trapped as I am." Throwing a nearby stick into the fire, I took a deep breath and continued. "You know, after this whole… demon thing – if you want to leave, I'll understand. Go back to school, reapply for law school, have normal friends. Just don't… don't erase us again. Because, believe it or not, we all missed and needed you. I'm just the only one who'll admit it."
The trunk of the Impala slammed against its latch and I jumped at the sound. Turning my head I saw my dad hand something to Dean as they both made their way over to where Sam and I both stood to meet them. "Toss this on the fire," my father explained. "Saffron, skunk's cabbage, and trillium. It'll block our scent and hers until we're ready."
Stopping beside me, Dean sniffed what was in his hand. Coughing, he held it away from him. "Stuff stinks!"
"That's the idea. Dust your clothes with the ashes and you stand a chance of not being detected. Extra on your sister," Dad nodded towards me. "I don't want to take any chances on them tracking her after they found her blood."
The hairs on my arms stood on end as the evil smirk played on Dean's lips. "C'mere, Bec," he looked at me, bouncing his hand up and down, waiting.
My eyes went wide and I held my hands up. "No, no, that's okay. You keep all the stink for yourself there, homie."
"Don't call me homie," he said pointedly with a finger directed at my face. Throwing the stuff on to the fire, he then sniffed his hand and made a disgusted face. Looking from his hand to me, he discreetly tried to be smooth and wiped his hand on my jacket.
"Damn it, Dean!" I whined, jumping away from him. "Now I'm gonna reek!"
Brushing his hands together before sticking them in his pockets, he rolled his eyes. "What are you talking about? It smells like you just stepped out of the shower."
"It smells like your feet, you giant boob!"
"Knock it off, you two," my dad barked, sighing at our antics. I don't know why he and Sam just let these things happen. They easily could have stopped Dean from being a total big brother to me.
Smiling at my glare, Sam just turned to our Dad and picked up his machete from earlier. "And you're sure they'll come after 'er?" he nodded towards the truck.
Dad rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah. Vampires mate for life. She means more to the leader than the gun. But the blood sickness is going to wear off soon, so you don't have a lot of time."
"A half hour oughta do it," Sam sighed, looking from the truck back to the rest of us.
Without missing a beat, Dad continued. "And then I want you out of the area as fast as you can. Especially you," he pointed to me. "You get away from there and lay low until I tell you otherwise."
"But, Dad –" Sam and I began at the same time.
Cutting us off and stepping up a few feet, Dean half snorted. "Well, Dad, you can't take care of them all yourself."
"I'll have her," he motioned to the vampire still held hostage. "And the colt. But they've got a taste for your blood, Rebecca, so we have to get you in the clear."
"But after, we're gonna meet up, right? Use the gun together. Right?"
Sam's voice just hung there in the air, waiting for the answer I knew would never come. Dad's mouth pursed and I saw his lids soften around his eyes in the fire's light. Nothing was changing the minute he got his hands on that gun.
"You're leaving again, aren't you? You still wanna go after the demon alone," my voice was solid, but small. Even with all the hope that was officially destroyed inside of me; I felt the familiar ache of stone appearing in my chest. That's what I always compared it to. Hardening myself like stone. Like, some statue that was damn near impenetrable. What's worse is that even though I just told Sam how I didn't think my dad would ever really be there for us – not like if our mom were around – part of me deep down, really, really wished I was wrong. Sad silver lining though? At least this time when I woke up, I'd already know he'd be gone.
The outburst from my twin totally was both expected and unexpected. Why expected? Well, it's Sam. Unexpected? Because it's Dad. "You know, I don't get you," Sam snapped. "You can't treat us like this."
Groaning and twisting his head toward my twin, Dad looked completely over the conversation. "Like what?"
"Like children."
And que all of the past fights they've had coming to my memory bank. Ah yes, there they are. Many moments of voices shouting, faces going red, Deans breaking up arguments, and me frozen – not knowing what to do because choosing a side only meant a bigger war.
"You are my children. I'm trying to keep you safe," Dad barked back, quickly losing any patience he still had.
Shifting my feet on the ground, I bit my lip. Unsure of what to do. Sam was still going on fumes from what had happened in the motel room, and I didn't know how to step in anymore. It was like everything I said just caused more problems for someone, but not talking was like some invisible curtain was suddenly laying on me. I wasn't heard, I wasn't seen, I wasn't a concern. I heard Dean clear his throat and naturally assumed that he was stepping in to end the argument – like always. He would step up and say something along the lines of, "Dad, all due respect but, uh... that's a bunch of crap."
What? No. No no. That is not what Dean would say. Are you nuts!? He always says something like, "Sammy, that's enough. What do you want us to do, Dad? Bec, shut up and listen for once in your damn life." What has happened here tonight!? Oh, it's the end of the world. That's it. That's exactly it. My brother has lost his damn mind and is now going to die. And I'm gonna have to burn this dumbass' body because there is no way in the my twin hell that I am having this guy back and haunt me. No no. No no no.
Everyone kind of just looked at Dean like he was crazy – because he is. Clearly. Did you hear what I told you? He flipping said that Dad just spoke crap. CRAP, PEOPLE. Not once in my life have I heard Dean speak to him like that. I mean, yeah, there were moments where Dean stood up for Sam or me; and he almost always took the brunt of whatever Dad was gonna throw at him – which I'm definitely repressing – so that we wouldn't catch it… But Dean had respect and mad love for our dad. So I'm lost right now. Sam's the one who talks back. I'm the one who snaps and attacks via emotional hot buttons. Dean listens and fixes. Those are our roles. And here I was thinking that I was out of line earlier. Apparently this is just a rebellious night for all of Dad's kids.
"Excuse me?" Dad narrowed his eyes and stepped towards Dean. Talk about scary.
"You know what we've been hunting. Hell, you sent us on a few hunting trips yourself. You can't be that worried about keeping us safe," Dean continued.
"It's not the same thing, Dean," my dad didn't bite back like I thought he would. He was just back to his normal, tired self.
Chewing on my lip, I slowly lifted my eyes to him. "Then what is it? Why do you want us out of the big fight?" My words were quiet, barely above the pops from the wood in the fire, but I know he heard them.
His eyes softened in the dim glow and his shoulders slumped. "This demon? It's a bad son of a bitch. I can't make the same moves if I'm worried about keeping you alive."
"You mean you can't be as reckless," Dean countered.
"Look… I don't expect to make it out of this fight in one piece. Your mother's death… it almost killed me. I can't watch my children die, too. I won't."
I don't expect to make it out of this fight in one piece. That's the only part that stuck in my mind. He not only had already decided that he was going to be seriously hurt – or die; but, he was willing to. He was completely willing to end his life to make sure that his revenge was totally served. Call me selfish, but I did not think that was okay.
"What happens if you die?" I cracked. I had to keep my tears at bay – that was always the rule around my father. Keep it down and don't show emotion. Emotion meant I was weak and couldn't focus… It meant that I was a liability. No. I had to be strong. I had to be strong. Taking a breath, I lifted my chin. Reminding myself one more time that I had to be strong. Swallowing, I clenched a fist and pushed it down, all the way until I felt it in my toes. And then I shoved it into the ground below me. I had to make it nonexistent, because with my dad… It was. "What happens if you die, and-and we could have done something about it? Are we supposed to just accept that? Just move on, get over it, deal with you being gone forever?"
The way he looked at me, you'd think I was four years old and learning all this for the first time again. He wanted to shield me. I could see it in his eyes. He wanted to protect me, and lie to me, and to tuck me under his chin and just hold me close until I believed whatever he told me. Except I'm not four years old and learning this for the first time. I'm grown. I'm educated about what goes on…. I know that there's no denying, escaping, or changing that this is exactly what will kill my father. This life has doomed him from the minute my mom walked out of her bedroom that night.
He didn't answer me though, and even if Dean hadn't stepped up and continued my questioning, I don't know if my father would have. The fact was that it was another moment of truth between us, and just like last time, I don't think he was ready for me to hear it. "You know," Dean began, coming to stand beside me and watch my unchanging face, "I been thinking… I think maybe Sammy's right about this one. We should do this together."
Standing on my other side, Sam completed our wall of three. Three children standing in front of their father, begging him to listen, for the first time in what was probably each of our lives, we wanted him to listen to what we were telling him for once. It was our turn to protect him from the damage he was causing himself, and none of us were ready to watch him go down. "We're stronger as a family, Dad. We just are. You know it," Dean finished, securing his stance beside me and giving me strength. Straightening myself out, I held my head high, staring at my father. If he could just see how strong we could be, he'd know we were right.
"We're running out of time," he answered, beginning to turn away from us. His eyes slid along each of our faces and I saw the slightest sigh escape from his throat. "You do your job and you get out of the area. And that's an order."
I felt Dean shift before staring at the ground and Sam's arm bumped mine as he adjusted his grip on the machete. Me? I didn't move. I stood there, continuing to stare my father in the eye, neither of us blinking.
Walking back to the barn with my bow, I met my brothers at the front of the car. There was blood spattered across their jackets, and after taking in all the stained fabric, I nodded to the building behind them. "You get them all?"
"Yeah. You lead all those people to safety?" Dean's eyes moved past me to the way I'd led all the prisoners.
Nodding, I looked behind me. "They're good. But we need to get moving. I don't think we're gonna have much more time."
"What are you talking about?" Sam questioned, moving towards the trunk of the Impala, ready to put his machete away.
"I'm talking about helping Dad. We need to get to him, and we need to get to him now. Something's wrong, okay? I don't trust it."
"You know somethin' we don't?" Dean perked up, shifting his stance, eyeing me.
I shook my head slightly. "I don't know, homie. Something doesn't feel right, that's all I know. Those vamps left this place really unguarded. It took you guys a lot less time to take the rest of them out, okay? There's no way it should have been that easy. It's like their main concern is taking out Dad – and I don't know about you but I'm not ready for that to happen right now. He's walking right into some sort of trap."
Dean shook his own head, walking to where Sam was now in the trunk. "Dad knows what he's doing and don't call me homie."
I immediately moved to the trunk. "So what if he does? Doesn't mean he knows what the other guy's doing. We need to get out there, and we need to get out there now."
"You heard the order. Do our job and get out of the area," he argued.
"Dean," Sam stepped in, running a hand through his hair, "what if she's right? This place was easier than it should have been. That means the big guys are gone – and they're going after Dad. What if he is stepping into a trap?"
"You said it yourself, we're stronger as a family, okay? So family protects each other. That's been the biggest rule our whole life – look out for one another. Right now we need to look out for Dad," I told them.
Dean threw his machete into the trunk and went to reach for my bow before I snapped it away from his outstretched hand. "Give me the bow, Becca."
"Come with me, Dean."
"What do you mean come with you, if we don't go, you're not going."
"I'm going, whether you're by my side or not. I have a bad feeling about this, and I'm not stepping down from it. There's no way that Dad is going to be able to take down those vampires all by himself. Especially when that blood wears out of her system. He's gonna have at least three of them to go up against, and if these assholes are really as bad as he's making them out to be – he's beyond outnumbered."
Dean tried to stare me down, but I wasn't giving up. My gut was already decided on this, and so was my mind. Whether Dean came with me or not, I was going. And I had already determined my willingness on cutting open my arm again as a distraction. I was going to save my father this time and maybe he would see just how strong I really could be. "I think she's right, Dean," Sam spoke suddenly, taking me by surprise.
Turning on my twin, Dean's face twisted in upset. "So what, now you're taking her side, too?"
Sam huffed before shrugging and throwing his hands in the air. "I don't know, Dean, but it seems like Dad would have a lot better chance of walking away if we are there to make sure he does. You were all for going along, so why not now?"
"He gave us an order –"
"He needs us, Dean. Dad's a good hunter, hell, probably the best, but these things took out Elkins, and they were his specialty. Dad's good, but I don't think he's gonna be able to survive this one without us. And if he's gone, then so is that damn gun, and then it was for nothing. He fought them for nothing and that demon will terrorize the country forever." The silence that settled was heavy and thick and agonizing. It felt like my heart was beating out the seconds it took for my body to finally lose patience. "Look, I'm going. So you either come with me, or you follow Dad's orders. What's it gonna be?"
The darkness of the night only helped in our sneaking around the cars. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't terrified and that my breath wasn't being held in my throat. I mean, these things knew my scent, and here I was, just practically offering myself up to them. If I survived this, my dad was gonna kill me.
I'd given my bow to Dean and he and Sam flanked my sides as we watched our father drag a slowly reviving Kate out to the other vampires.
"Kate, you all right?" the main one asked.
"Watch the guys in back. I don't trust them. If the main one's focused on Dad, the others are watching everything else," I told my brothers, my arms shaking beside me as I held onto the machete in my hand.
I couldn't see clearly as their eyes danced around the darkness, but I could feel them – and it made me feel like the jig was up. Watching one twist his head in my direction, my free hand snatched around Sam's forearm. The vamp could smell me. Letting go of Sam, I inhaled and stepped away from my brothers. If this vamp was going to make a move towards me, I wasn't putting them in his line of bite. Dean made a sharp, almost too loud hiss from behind me while Sam clicked his tongue, but I ignored them both, glaring ahead as I walked towards the front of the truck.
"I want the Colt. Elkins' gun. Trade," my dad's voice was much more powerful the closer I got to where he was standing. Being sure to duck, I did my best to stay hidden while also looking through the windows of the truck to keep an eye on things.
"Is that what this is all about? I mean, you can't shoot us all right? We'll kill you," the vampire responded, seeming way too cocky in himself. Also, jokes on you, fool, because you don't know it but me and my brotherly duo are here to kick your vampiric ass.
Clutching the machete tighter and gritting my teeth, I forced myself to not step forward and show this guy just what he was in store for. "Oh, I don't need it for you," my dad told him. "I'm saving it for something else." I watched as confusion spread across the faces of the vampires while my dad just adjusted his hold on Kate. "Put the colt down, or she goes first," he nodded to the girl in his hand as he pressed the blade of his knife into her throat.
The main vampire held his hand up, the gun showing in the air. "All right. Just don't hurt her," he instructed before placing the gun on the ground at his feet.
"Back up," my father barked. Immediately the vampire did as he was told, pure terror in his eyes. It wasn't new, but it was still a shock to see something we considered so dangerous to be so afraid of my father. "Further."
After more space was put between my dad and the male vampire, I watched as my dad then pushed the girl forward and leaned down with her to grab at the gun. "It's a nice move," the vampire almost seemed to smile in happiness, "you almost made it."
To my horror, Kate swung around and knocked my dad into his truck. Jumping back I sprung into action and sprinted around the truck, coming to my dad's side just in time to watch as the vampire slapped my father against the open truck door. Glass shattered towards me and my dad dropped to the ground, unconscious.
"Don't touch it," I growled, coming forward, brandishing my machete.
Stopping in mid bend, the vampire eyed me. He smiled, his eyes landing on the mark on my arm. I noticed Dean and Sam emerging from the woods, their bows drawn. "You're the one that my friends have a taste for, aren't you? I gotta say, leaving all that blood around probably wasn't that great of an idea."
Tipping my head, I secured my grip on the sword. It was like all of the being locked up and wanting to prove just how good I'd become was now surging through my veins. This was disobeying orders, and while, yeah, sure I'd done that in the past – never to this extent. This was a whole new level of stepping out of lines for me. But none of that really mattered. It was there in the back of my mind, but it wasn't important. My dad was lying unconscious on the ground and I was standing here alone, taking on something that could kill me before I'd blink. I was officially extremely stupid. "Yeah? I've had worse."
"I'll bet," he spoke, standing up straight and staring at me. "Like this for instance. Coming along to stand up for him, all by yourself. I would have thought he'd bring the other two."
"Don't think about it too much. I wouldn't want you to get a headache or anything," I sneered, not liking the way he was playing with me.
"Know what's good for a headache?" he stepped forward, his mouth parting around his extending teeth. "A snack." Just as my eyes widened, a thuck sounded and the vampire spun around to find that one of the others had dropped to the ground, an arrow in his chest. My brothers were running forward, Dean stopping and shooting another vampire while Sam charged forward, coming straight towards me. With a quick move of his hand, the vampire backhanded Sam and followed the movement of his now dropped body. Raising my machete, I was ready to move when I saw him suddenly put an arm around Sam's throat.
"Don't!" the vampire shouted, making Dean and I both freeze. "I'll break his neck. Put the blade down." Dean caught my eye and nodded, and I bent down, my eyes moving to connect with and not leave Sam's. Setting my blade on the ground, I eyed the gun directly towards my left and leaned forward, doing my best to seem like I wasn't moving. Dean didn't lower his blade thought and I heard the coughs and struggles for breath that came from Sam as the vampire only tightened his hold on my brother's neck, facing my eldest brother as some sort of threat. Freezing, I panicked. Dean finally dropped the machete and I felt a breath leave my throat. "You people. Why can't you leave us alone. We have as much right to live as you do," the vampire growled, turning to Dean.
Just as my fingertips touched the cool metal of the gun, I saw my dad watching my every move. Catching his eyes, I could see the worry and panic behind them – and all I could do was bite my lip and snatch the gun from under his quickly moving hand. Standing and turning, I aimed forward to the vampire who held my brother. "I don't think so," my father quickly interjected from behind me, taking control of my arm and angrily forcing my finger against the trigger. I watched as the bullet smacked right between the vampires eyes, causing him to let go of Sam. Once Sam left my line of sight, I was transfixed on the impact of the Colt. A sigil appeared where the bullet passed through the skin and then a light shone from inside of his body – lighting up his skeleton. Falling to his knees, my mouth hung open as Kate shouted out Luther. Another flash of light ripped through Luther's body and he then fell over, dead.
I couldn't move. I didn't know what happened, but I knew that I'd never seen anything like it. I just did that. I just caused that crazy death because of this supernatural gun in my small hand. A growl tore through the air and I gasped to see a very pissed off vampire running towards me, only to be stopped the minute a blade passed through her neck and her body moved forward, her head going into shock and dropping to the ground like a ball.
The scream that left my throat was beyond my control. I hadn't even realized it was me making the noise and I spun into my father, discarding the gun to the ground, grasping at his shirt and continuing my shrieks. I didn't hear the footsteps behind me, or the contact of the heads of the vampires against the ground, but I could still see hers. I could still see Kate's eyes going round the second that sharp blade sliced right through her neck, separating her head from her body.
I hadn't said a whole lot since Dean killed those vampires. Sam had explained that it had to be done since they knew my scent and the only way to make sure they could never hunt us, or more specifically me, down, was to kill them. And I totally understand that. Believe me, I did. But that didn't make what happened any less scarring. My face was still slack and my thoughts still spun around the last look on Kate's face as it changed from rage directed at me to pure shock and pain mixed with realization as her head was cut off. Shuddering, I had to pause in shoving some pants into my bag.
"Bec?" Sam came beside me, a hand gently touching my arm as he watched me.
I shook my head, biting my lip as both hands fisted around the denim. "Sam, I –"
"So kids," my dad interrupted, coming into the room.
Swallowing and taking a breath, I prepared myself. I knew this was coming. I mimicked my brothers and turned to face our father who was standing in front of us like a very upset drill sergeant. "Yes, sir," Sam answered, out of habit most likely. Except the way he said it, he was already preparing himself for a fight.
"You ignored a direct order back there."
"Yes, sir," my twin repeated, standing up straight beside me.
"Yeah but we saved your ass," Dean answered.
My eyes practically bugged out of my head at his words. Watching my father's expression, it didn't change much from the angry disappointment it had when he walked in. Dean was so getting his ass kicked. "You're right."
….What? God. I don't know if it's this case or what but my family has gone all kinds of oddball crazy shit as of late and I don't know if I'm able to handle this. "He is?" I blurted out. They might even have been the first two words I spoke since everything happened, and they definitely drew my brothers' eyes to my face. I thought for sure we were gonna die here because of what I'd made them do.
"It scares the hell out of me. You three are all I've got. But, I guess we are stronger as a family. So… we go after this damn thing. Together."
"Yes, sir," my brothers answered as the tension in the room disappeared while I instead looked at my father like he was crazy.
"What!?" I shrieked, not even sure what the hell was going on in my family anymore.
I think I'm gonna need a drink.
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