Thank you so much Shadowhuntingdauntlessdemigod for beta'ing, and thank you Ncsupnatfan and VegasGranny for pre-reading xxx
Chapter Twelve
The week since Christmas had passed quietly, with no more visions for Sam, and Dean was settling into life as it used to be for them when Sam was there. He didn't forget about the yellow-eyed demon or the danger Sam was in, but he was able to see more than just that while Sam was in a better headspace. They all seemed more relaxed.
He was doing the breakfast dishes, planning to start on the journals when he was done. Bobby was sitting at his desk in the library, a heavy book of lore open in front of him while he researched something for another hunter, and Mary was collecting the dishes from the table and bringing them to Dean to be washed. Sam was outside somewhere, having gone for a walk after they'd eaten. He said his back was almost healed, but he was still doing the exercises the physiotherapist had advised. Dean thought it also helped Sam to get back to something normal. He and Jessica had been athletic—Jessica more than Sam—and Dean didn't doubt that Sam would be jogging when he was completely fit again.
He was pleased that Sam was getting back to that part of his life. They had seemed to lurch from crisis to crisis, drama to drama lately, and they'd all been left reeling. Even with the threat that was hanging over them and the mission to find the Colt, it felt like they were finding their feet in that new life and getting back to themselves.
"That's the last of them," Mary said, setting two coffee cups down on the counter. "I'll dry."
She picked up a cloth and moved to the drainer, reaching for a washed bowl and then stopping as the door opened and Sam came in, bringing a blast of cold air with him. He was on the phone, speaking quietly, and Bobby looked up from his book.
"Hold on, Missouri," Sam said. "I'm putting you on speaker."
He pressed a button and set the phone down on the table then unzipped his coat and hung it on the peg.
Mary moved to the table and asked, "What's going on, Missouri."
"I've found someone to help Sam."
"That's good," Bobby said, coming into the kitchen and leaning a little closer to the phone. "But I'm still not clear on why you can't do it."
"I can do a lot, but I can't do it all,"Missouri said. "My abilities are rooted to the spiritual. The person I have found is an expert on much more than I am. He can help Sam move forward."
"What kinds of powers are we looking at?" Bobby asked.
Missouri hesitated before answering, and Dean thought she was deciding how much to tell them, weighing their need for information with Sam's need for privacy. "I can't be sure. I can only see the potential for more."
Bobby's lips pressed into a thin line, and Dean thought he was also aware that there was more that Missouri wasn't saying.
Dean was pleased she was giving Sam a chance to tell them himself though. They had all had a part in what was happening to him lately, each with their own worries. Now he was in a better place, it was right that he had more choice in what to tell them.
"Who is this expert?" Mary asked.
"He's called Clark, and he's a little… different."
"Different how?" Sam asked, a muscle twitching in his jaw, looking stressed for the first time in a while.
"I can't really explain. You'll need to meet him to see for yourself. He's in town now. Can you come?"
"We'll be there," Sam said, exchanging a glance with Mary.
She nodded and said, "We're coming today."
"Good," Missouri said, her relief obvious. "Call when you're ready to come over, and I'll arrange for him to come meet you."
"Thanks, Missouri," Sam said. They exchanged goodbyes and Sam ended the call and tucked the phone away.
There was a moment of thoughtful silence and then Bobby said, "Do you want me to come along?"
Sam's eyebrows pulled together as he considered and then he said, "No. I think we'll be okay."
"You've got repairs booked in," Mary reminded him. "And the Shelby needs work."
Dean knew she was thinking of money. They hadn't taken a paid case in two months, so they weren't earning. It was unlikely they'd be taking cases for a while as they couldn't abandon the search for the Colt or leave Sam alone in case the demon came. They still needed money, even with everything else going on. A lot of hunters funded their lives with credit card fraud, but Mary would never do that. She was too honest.
"If you're sure," Bobby said.
"We are," Sam said confidently. "Thanks though."
Bobby patted him on the shoulder. "I'm only a phone call away if you change your mind."
Sam smiled, and Dean thought it was a genuine one. He was still handling it. He had seemed much better since they left Lawrence, and even more so after he and Dean had spoken in town. He wasn't his old self again, but he seemed to be at peace in a way he hadn't been before.
"Come on, Sam," Dean said, tugging his arm. "Let's get our stuff together. We don't want to keep Missouri waiting."
"Or her expert," Sam said, a hint of doubt in his voice.
"Nope," Dean said. "Him neither."
Dean thought he understood. He was feeling pretty curious about this person and how he was 'different'. He figured they could deal with anything as long as it helped Sam, but it would be easier if these differences were just a little eccentricity and not another issue. Sam needed to be able to relax if this was going to work, he'd seen that when Sam had his vision Christmas day, and dealing with someone with issues wasn't going to help that.
xXx
They arrived at Missouri's late in the afternoon, and she welcomed them in with promises of coffee and cookies.
She seemed perfectly at ease, happy to see them again, and Dean was pleased. It made him feel a little better about her expert. If there was something about him that was going to be a problem, she would surely be a little more on edge, especially since she knew as well as they did that Sam was still struggling and how important it was for him to be able to relax if he was going to have a vision.
Dean and Sam settled on the couch in the living room while Mary and Missouri went into the kitchen. Dean could hear their muffled voices, and he thought that Mary's sounded a little strained. He wondered if she was questioning Missouri about who was coming.
Sam seemed anxious now. His knee was bobbing, and he kept wiping the palms of his hands on his pants. Dean bumped him with his shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile which Sam returned.
The voices in the kitchen stopped, and they came in a moments later with a tray of coffee in Missouri's hands and Mary with a plate of cookies.
They handed them around, and Mary sat on Sam's other side as Dean bit into a cookie. They were almost as good as Missouri's pies, and he moaned appreciatively.
"Damn, Missouri, these are good," he said. "What's in them?"
Missouri beamed at him as she sat down on her usual armchair. "I call them kitchen sink cookies. I put everything I can think of in them."
Mary took a bit of one and her eyes closed with an almost rapturous expression. "Ginger?" she asked,
"Just a little," Missouri said. "Have one Sam."
Sam took one and bit it before setting it down on his saucer and saying, "Will he be here soon?"
Missouri checked her watch. "Hopefully. He didn't give me a time. I told him you were on your way over, and he said he'd finish up and come. Clark is usually a little vague about things like this." Perhaps seeing Dean's concern, she went on. "He's deadly serious when it comes to his gift though. His way with things and people like this is just a quirk."
"Does he have a lot of quirks?" Mary asked.
Missouri nodded slowly. "More than most." She looked from Mary to Dean and then her eyes settled on Sam who was biting his lip. "I know you're all nervous, but this is the best chance we have of Sam developing what's there. I was lucky to be able to reach Clark so soon. He's quite transient. I had to call around his usual haunts to reach him. He got back to me faster than usual, though." She sipped her coffee as if to give herself a moment to think and then said, "It's not going to be easy for you, Sam, for any of you really, but if you can just try to be open to him, he will help you far more than I can."
"What exactly can he do?" Dean asked.
Missouri looked thoughtful. "I can't say everything, he can't read minds for instance, but he can do a lot more than me." She looked at Sam, her gaze focused until Sam raised his eyes to her. "He's telekinetic."
Dean's mouth dropped open. "And that's something Sam can do?"
Sam flinched and Dean felt immediately guilty for his reaction. It was a shock, though, to hear your brother might have the ability to move things with his mind.
"Maybe," Sam said. "Missouri thinks she can see it there."
Dean pasted on a smile and said, "That's great. It'll come in very handy. No more passing Bobby books. You can just magic them over to him."
Sam smiled slightly and nodded. "Yeah. I guess."
Dean didn't like that the lightness they'd had back home had been lost with their return to Lawrence, and he wished they could leave again, go back to where things were starting to feel right, but he also knew how important this was to Sam to master his abilities.
Sam began to drink his coffee quickly, even though it was still steaming and Dean knew it had to be burning him, and he took it as a sign that Sam wanted to have a little space.
Missouri looked up suddenly and said, "He's here."
A moment later there was a loud knock on the door and Missouri rushed to answer it. Dean heard her greeting and a rumble in response and then she led the most unlikely looking psychic into the room.
Dean had seen Pamela and Missouri before, and there was something about them that seemed to show they were different, even before you found out about their powers. This man looked like he'd taken a wrong turn on the way to a dive bar. He was in his forties, maybe fifties, wearing a ratty black AC/DC shirt under a leather jacket and dark jeans that were torn and patched and stained with what looked suspiciously like blood. He smelled of tobacco and stale alcohol, and he was in need of a shower and shave.
Despite what Sam said about Dean being vain, he wasn't a person that took more than necessary care with his appearance. With their jobs as PIs is was important for them to look professional, and so Dean kept himself cleanshaven and his hair trimmed when they were on that kind of job, but when they took a regular hunt, he let appearance slip and he relaxed his rules a little. This man looked like he'd never heard of rules. His long hair, longer than Sam's, needed shampooing, and the shadows under his eyes screamed sleepless nights.
Dean took it all in within the moment he came in and then he forced a smile of greeting, hoping to get them off on a good footing if this was the man he was going to be relying on to help his brother.
"Sam, Dean, Mary, this is Clark," Missouri introduced.
Clark fell into the second armchair and rested his ankle on his knee, looking perfectly relaxed. His eyes moved from Mary to Dean, sliding past Sam, and then settling on Sam with an intense look on his face. He whistled between his teeth. "Wow, Mosely, I see what you mean."
Sam shifted uncomfortably, and Mary squeezed his hand.
A small, amused smile flickered on Clark's lips, and then his eyes narrowed and he asked, "Mosely says it's just visions so far?"
Sam nodded.
"Because you've got some kind of grief blocking you," Clark went on.
"I guess," Sam said. "I don't really know what it is."
Dean glanced at Sam. He hadn't told them that. They knew he was blocked, but he hadn't said why. He wondered why he hadn't. Didn't he want them to know for some reason, or was it just an oversight?
"I do," Clark said smugly, turning to Missouri. "You were wrong. It's not grief."
"Then what is it?" Mary asked, her hand squeezing Sam's again. It looked like she was taking comfort, not offering it this time.
Clark frowned. "What it is doesn't matter to you."
Dean felt a surge of anger. This man was an asshole. He didn't know them, their bond, and he was talking to his mom like she was a nosy stranger. Sam was their family.
"Sam is my son!" Mary said harshly.
"I'm aware," he replied. "But that doesn't mean you have the rights to his whole story. When he gets there, it's down to Sam to tell you."
Dean waited for Sam to ask himself, to say they had no secrets, but he didn't speak up. Dean tried not to be annoyed, but it went against how they'd been raised to hide something like this. Sam would always have told them before.
Clark relaxed back in his seat and said, "And you've got something going on with a… demon?"
Mary shot Missouri a sharp look and Missouri shook her head slightly. "Don't fish, Clark."
Clark grinned. "Can't blame a guy for trying."
"I thought you couldn't read minds," Dean said.
"I can't. But I can read people. Missouri said you two were hunters and that something big was going down, and you two are screaming tension and fear—among other things. The biggest thing out there right now is a demon, and…" He nodded and Mary winced. "And you just told me what it is. I like demons," he said conversationally.
Sam's brows lowered over his eyes. "You like them?"
"I like hunting them," Clark clarified.
"You're a hunter?" Mary asked. "Why haven't we heard of you?"
Clark laughed. "Do you know every hunter in the country? Do you know many psychics, apart from Mosely here?" Without waiting for an answer, he went on, "I am not a hunter. You can keep your wendigos and werewolves; I've got no use for them. I just like demons. You don't know about me because there are hunters out there that aren't exactly openminded about psychics. They feel threated by us. Understandably. Someone like your boy could put them on their asses."
The air filled with tension. Dean fought the urge to check Sam's expression in case he saw it as a judgment. He was worried though. He'd never considered why people like Gordon didn't like psychics. He'd listened to the company lines about 'freaks' and them being 'unnatural'. He hadn't realized it could be because they were scared. It made sense though. Clark already screamed trouble, and that was before you included the fact he was telekinetic.
Clark continued as if unaware of the effect the words had on the room—an impossibility if he was as good at reading people as he said. "Sammy here would make a damn good hunter, and he'll make a damn big threat when he masters what's in there."
"Don't call me Sammy," Sam said, his jaw clenching.
"Sorry, Sammy. I'll try to remember that in future. I'm guessing the aversion to the name is something to do with your grief."
"No," Sam said, chancing a glance at Dean.
Clark followed his eyes and snorted. "No, I see it now. It's not about the loss. It's a big brother name, right?"
Dean gritted his teeth. He was angry that this asshole was behaving like this, acting like he was so superior, and talking about Sam as a threat. He had no idea what he was talking about. Sam was the least threating person out there. He was the exact opposite of Dean and the threat he posed to monsters. Sam had never fit as a hunter. He was different.
Clark looked at Dean and a small smile curled his lips. "It's okay, Dean, I don't like you either. We'll both find a way to rub along. I am going to be sticking around for a while, aren't I? Sammy needs me."
Dean stared down at his fisted hands and drew a deep breath. No one else spoke.
Clark shrugged when the silence became too long and cracked his knuckles. "I think we're done then. Sammy, I'll see you in room forty-two of the Days Inn tomorrow. Come at ten and knock loud. I'm a deep sleeper." He sneered at Dean. "Come alone."
"Why can't we be there?" Dean asked, wrongfooted by the revelation that he wasn't going to be there as a barrier between this aggravating man and his brother.
"Because you're not conducive to a learning atmosphere," Clark said. "And because I don't like you. Besides, I think you have other things to be doing." He stared at Mary, keeping his eyes on her until she looked at him. "Things to think about right, Mary?" When Mary frowned, he laughed harshly and went on. "That's a nice muddy pink you've got going on. Immaturity, is it?"
Mary's eyes widened slightly, but when she spoke her tone was cool. "Yes."
Clark laughed again and got to his feet. "Right. I'm done. I'll see you tomorrow, Sammy. Don't worry about bringing an apple for teacher. You can bring me a fifth of Jack instead."
Sam nodded stiffly, and Missouri stood and herded Clark to the door. Dean thought it was only the fact he wanted to leave that stopped him bucking and sitting down again just to annoy her.
When the door had closed behind him, she came back into the room and sighed heavily. "I'm sorry about that. He's not usually so bad. He was just playing to his audience." She looked pointedly at Dean. "He'll be better behaved tomorrow."
"He's definitely different," Sam said quietly.
Missouri sat down and smoothed the folds on her skirt. "He's difficult, but he really is the best. He's who you need, Sam. Just concentrate on what he's teaching you and let the rest wash over you. If he gets a reaction, he'll be worse. That's what he likes. Today was his idea of a good time."
"He's an asshole," Dean growled, and Mary said his name softly as a warning. Realizing that he wasn't alone with his family, that he was speaking to Missouri, Dean apologized and said, "And there's no one better that can help? No one without a bad attitude?"
Missouri smiled slightly. "Sorry, no. You shouldn't have to see him much in future. It's Sam he's going to be spending time with."
"Which makes me feel so much better," Dean muttered.
"It's fine," Sam said, nudging Dean with his elbow and smiling. "I can deal with a bad attitude. I grew up with you."
Pleased with the instance of humor, though he suspected it wasn't entirely genuine, Dean said, "I'm awesome and you know it."
Sam rolled his eyes. "Sure you are." His tone became more serious as he addressed Missouri. "Do you trust him?"
"Yes," Missouri said seriously. "He's going to help you."
Sam shrugged. "That's good enough for me."
Mary smiled and patted his hand. "It's good enough for us all."
Dean nodded and smiled, but it felt like a rictus. He didn't trust Clark, and he worried he was going to take advantage of his time with Sam to mess with him, but Missouri said he was the best, and he wanted Sam trained in this powers thing. He would have to trust Sam to take care of himself.
That much he could do.
So… What did you think of Clark? I had a very clear character outline for him and it was going great until he started talking back and changing everything I'd planned. I think you'll be surprised by him in coming chapters.
Until next time…
Clowns or Midgets xxx