His Secret
Okay, call me paranoid, over-prepared, OCD, whatever you'd like, but I still had to do one more errand on my way back from the strip mall. It was the only way I could make the return trip to pick up Sam without having a worried or guilty conscience, though if my worries were wrong I know I'll have a double-guilty conscience for the false signals my actions might send. But pulling back into the gas station, I stopped when I noticed a flare of colour. Dark grey, in the middle of a bright morning, whirling and spinning in tendrils like an octopus in a blender. I had seen a storm like this before, and thanks to that, I knew what it meant.
There was a demon around.
Stashing my stuff in the back seat of the Impala, I got out of the car and followed the trail of dark grey tendrils. On the edge of the front-side of the station, I spared a glimpse around and saw the back of Sam's jacket, and the front of someone else's. There was Sam, thereby the icebox with a bag in his hand.
But, standing across from him, was her. That beautiful girl from the dingy Astoria Hotel, the one we found with Sam almost four days ago now. Kathy? Kristy? Something with a K? I didn't like her. I didn't like how pretty she was. And even from the beginning, that aura around her has rubbed me the wrong way. But now? It may as well have been trying to tear my skin from my bones.
And now I knew why.
K-something was a demon. Sam had been sleeping with a devil. Oh by golly-If Dean ever found out, he would throw a fit. He'd be furious, not just with the demon, possibly for tricking Sam. But also at Sam himself, perhaps for not seeing her demon-ness all along. Even if he had, since they were still talking, Dean would probably be even angrier than before. From my terrible hiding spot around the corner, I listened instead of watched what they were saying to one another.
"So, is it true?"
"Is what true?"
"Did an angel rescue Dean?"
"You heard." Sam.
"Who hasn't?" K, sounding persistently annoyed.
"We're not one hundred percent, but I think so." Sam.
Someone comes out the door of the gas station, spooking me for a moment. But quickly, I recover my ears and continue to listen. There was a blurb of the conversation I didn't catch, but it results in Sam grabbing her arm. The demon's arm. Sam had said something to her, but I only manage to hear what she decides to reply.
"Sam, they're angels. I'm a demon. They're not gonna care if I'm helpful. They smite first, and then ask questions later." K told him, a little sharply.
"What do you know about them, Ruby?" Sam.
That name! That firkin name! Where have I heard that name?! How do I know that name?! Ruby-
"Not much. I've never met one, and I don't want to. All I know is that angels scare the Holy Hell out of me. Watch yourself, Sam."'
"I'm not scared of angels," Sam said sternly.
Effectively ending the conversation, K—Ruby—walks away. Finally leaving Sam alone.
Several thoughts all bombarded me at once. So Sam knows. Helpful how? Are angels dangerous to demons? Good Riddance. Are they hazardous to others too? I don't know. But he knows what she is. And she knows about Castiel. This situation was not good. …But how do I know her?
Picking up where I had left off, I jogged quickly back to the Impala and jumped into the shotgun seat, making sure to slam the door and catch Sam's attention. It does, and he comes around to find me there, waiting for him with a bag of my own. I was quiet for most of the ride back to Bobby's. But my thoughts seemed so loud I didn't even realize it until Sam said something to me.
"Bryn? Earth to Brianna—" the words broke through when a hand touched my arm. The touch was gentle, but still, I nearly jumped out of my skin.
"Wha-at? Err, sorry Sam, what were you saying?" I asked, shaking myself back into the present. He wasn't looking at the road at all. He was looking at me, brows slightly furrowed. But once he realized he had my attention, he removed his hand from me and returned it to the steering wheel to face forward.
"What's in the bag?" He asked, motioning to my paper bag in my lap without a glance.
Quickly blinking away my haze of busy thoughts, I make sure to smile and shrug. "Oh…just some things I thought we might need later on down the road. You know, being a girl and all." I said, throwing him a suggestive wink for good measure.
Sam's eyebrows rose with a furtive glance, catching the suggestiveness of my behaviour, but otherwise, he didn't comment. I let out a breath. Then I remember something he told me, months ago still, when he called to see about Dean.
"Heya Sam, how's it going?"
"Uh…good. Good. Great. Uhm…has Dean, checked in with you at all, recently?"
I rolled my lips together, knowing and hating how the truth was going to hurt him. "No, not yet. But he will Sam, don't give up just yet. You'll find a way to get him back." I told him. But for now, "You're not travelling alone, are you? I don't mean to pry or anything I just—I know how lonely that can be and I—"
"No. No, no, no, no, no. You're okay, Bryn. I'm not alone. I'm fine, alright? Me and an old friend of mine, Ruby, we're both looking for a way to bring Dean back, I promise. Now, he never really liked her much but, she's been a big help on the road. And you're right. I won't give up. Not 'till I get Dean back."
"Atta boy!" I smile. "Braveheart, Sam Winchester. 'Till next time, yea? I'll see you soon. And you'll see Dean again, I know it."
"Yea, thanks, Bryn. I'll see you soon."
"Count on it, cowboy." I hung up the phone.
Oh, God. He had already told me about Ruby before, but I never met her, I didn't know what she looked like. But I've known of her existence this whole time. I knew they were working together, supposedly to try and bring Dean back. They probably have been doing more than that, too. Now I remember-
Immediately, Dean's shoulders tense, his feet squaring themselves—poised to intimidate—with the words: "That's not what I'm asking. How do you know my name?"
"Sam, he told me what happened," I told him because it should have been obvious. "He was driving, four months ago. He pulled over about a mile from my store. When I found him, you had just died."
"Where is he now?"
"I don't know," I replied. "Last time I talked to Sam, he was still looking for a way to bring you back. But I honestly had no idea he and—"
"He and who, he and Bobby?"
"Bobby?" I asked. "Like…Bobby Bobby? Bobby Singer?"
"Well, how many other Bobby's do you know?!"
He never let me finish, tore me right off the track. The end of that sentence. The entire time, I was about to say, Ruby. I knew who she was all this time, and I never told him. I knew she existed, Sam told me. But if he knew that I knew of her and that Dean knew her, why pretend? That night at the Astoria Hotel, that was Ruby the entire time, that whole thing about 'Kristy.' or 'Kathy' or whatever was a complete farce. He played both me and Dean. Maybe even Bobby. –But why? That was Ruby, I know that now. But if they all knew her-why didn't anybody else but Sam recognize her?
Well-Ruby's a demon, she could probably pick vessels nearly the same way that Castiel can. However, she wants. And seeing as Ruby is not a hunter but a demon, no wonder she and Dean don't get along. Like cats and dogs. –Then again, why would Sam ever get along with a demon anyway? He knows exactly who and what she is, and yet she's still breathing and walking using someone else's lungs and legs. She probably wouldn't even be recognizable once Dean caught wind of her and whatever scheme she realizes for herself in canoodling with Sam-among other, sick and disturbing things. I knew I was right to dislike her.
When Sam and I pull back up to the house, Bobby steps of from the porch and knocks on the window saying; "Keep the car running."
Sam does, but I get out of the car to get my stuff, setting my paper bag behind the passenger seat, and bringing the cardboard box into the house. But on my way up the stairs, I run into Dean.
"What's going on, Dean? Where are we heading?" I ask, trying not to let everything I learned about Ruby spill out of my mouth all at once. Now is not the time, nor the place, I know.
"Bobby has a friend, Olivia Lowry. She lives about a state away from here. Says he's been trying to reach her for the past three days on this angel thing. It's not like any hunter to ignore that many calls from anyone unless she's giving Bobby the cold shoulder." Dean said in his typical red voice. "We're heading out to check on her."
Olivia Lowry…oh my god, I remember her— "Okay. I'll meet you guys out by the car. I just got to put my stuff away." I nod.
"See you there." Dean nodded back.
I dash up to my old bedroom, stowing my box into the farthest corner of the closet by the bed. What could have happened to Olivia? She and Bobby have been friends for years, she stayed beside him through everything, when even I could not. I should tell him. Tearing through the string and tape on the box, I grab and put on a quick change of clothes; a grey, open shouldered T-shirt, pale wash boot cut jeans, white trainers and a burgundy hooded track-jacket with white stripes on the sleeves and down the zipper. I really should tell him. But I can't, not yet. I need to get going.
As fast as I can, I race down the stairs and out the door to the Impala. Naturally, Dean has taken his proper place as the driver of the collector's clunker car, and he doesn't have a clue. He doesn't know my secrets, and he doesn't know Sam's. The younger Winchester has taken my old place in shotgun (as I figured he would), keeping secrets more dangerous than my own and yet refusing to tell. Which leaves Bobby with his private van, and me in the backseat of the Impala. The moment I load up, I see Dean snatch the food bag out of Sam's lap. He's quiet for a moment.
"Dude?" Dean.
"Yeah?" Sam.
"Where's the pie?"
I can't even bother to help it. I laugh. Both boys jump and look back at me, as if I had just appeared from thin air and by surprise. I look at them and smile. "Don't worry Dean," I told him, my voice light and bright gold as I reach down for the paper bag I brought. Cleaning out the irrelevant things, I dropped it in his lap. "I gotcha covered."
Sam looks back at me, eyebrows raised. I bite my lip, smile and wink at him as Dean opens the bag. The moment he sees what's in it, his face lights up. "Bingo!" He grins, pulling out the plastic-wrapped lemon pie.
Sam's eyebrows shoot even higher at the sight of the pie, then turns to look at me, his expression speaking loud and clear. 'That's what you meant the whole time?'
"Hey, where the hell did you get this?" Dean asked, tearing off the saran wrap like an eight-year-old with his first Christmas present.
"My there was a bakery next to one of the clothing outlets in town. I told him it was my cousin's birthday and he gave me the pie half-price." I say.
"Sweet!" Dean cheered.
I smiled. "Ready to head out then?" I ask.
Dean openly dips his finger in the pie and slurps it without shame, as if he hasn't eaten sugar in years.
"Yep!" He cheers, smacking his lips. "Absolutely!"
As a reward for remembering the pie, Dean arms me with a Gerber Mark II when we arrive. He had offered me a BC 41, but I saw it as a coward's way out. A knife is enough for me. I don't need the brass to throw a tough-as-leather punch anyway.
Pulling up to Olivia Lowry's apartment, Bobby, is the first one through the door. All the boys are armed with shotguns, making me the caboose with a knife. The front door was hidden from the living room by a half wall, creating a corner of the living room, in which a box TV nestled. But across the room, at the threshold of the bedroom, was a shattered white salt line. One step closer to that line. That is where I see it.
Olivia. Olivia Lowry—lying dead on the floor, ribs tore open like a busted birdcage. Admittedly, one that had been broken open by a stick of dynamite. My gasp catches the attention of the other boys. My running to kneel beside Olivia draws the three of them passed the salt line and into the room.
Bobby left the room as soon as he came. And I understood why.
"Bobby?" Dean inquired, his voice a little yellow with concern.
"He needs a moment," I said, half listening.
No pulse in her wrist, of course. All her blood is on the floor, pooling red between the floorboards, soaking my jeans. At that moment I saw her neck. . Purple and Grey. She was suffocated. More than suffocated.
Echoes of last night's dream rang in my ears and rushed through my body, replacing any and all lingering thoughts of demons. A hand at my neck, clutching it tight. A fist ramming through my chest, tearing my heart away from me. My own terrified and pain-wracked screams as I died. But it wasn't me. My hand on my own pulse, my breath caught in my throat. I was alive. I hadn't died. Olivia had died. She died as I dreamed-I witnessed Olivia's murder.
"Salt line." Sam.
"Olivia was rocking the EMF reader."…Dean
"They were spirits." I murmured, still reeling in horror over my dreams, over Olivia's death.
"Yeah—on steroids. I never seen a ghost do this to a person."
Right on cue, everyone looks over to witness Bobby's return, phone in his hand. "Everything okay, Uncle?" I asked.
"I called some hunters nearby—"
"Great!"
"Yeah, we can use their help." Dean agreed.
"Except they ain't answering their phones either," Bobby added.
"Something's up, huh?" Sam asked.
"You think?" Bobby asked, sharp orange and red with anger and sarcasm.
With that, he walks out. Dean, Sam and I all share concerned looks, but nothing more. I'm the only one who goes after him. "Bobby!" I call after him, jogging to catch up.
The elder hunter stops, turns and looks at me. "What do you want?" He growls, with a less than kindly orange.
"I want to know if you're okay," I told him, putting a hand on his arm as soon as I reached him.
Bobby scoffed. "Yea, I'm fine. What else is new?"
"Uncle…"
He looked at me. "Don't give me that 'Uncle' crap. I'm fine. Stop nagging me." He tried to walk away.
"Uncle, stop." My grip tightened on his arm, keeping my voice purple but firm.
Bobby looked back at me. "What now?" He said, always with orange irritation.
"Don't talk to me like that," I tell him firmly. "I am not someone that you can shrug off or push away. Whether you believe it or not, you are family to me, Bobby, and I wanna help you, so I'm not leaving your side until you tell me what's wrong."
Bobby nailed me with a look, his tight jaw refusing to talk.
I let out a breath. "Uncle, I remember Olivia. She saved my life, and yours, too, probably. I'm sorry this all happened to her…no one deserves a death like that. But you're not the only one who's hurting. You don't have to be alone in this."
He didn't answer. Didn't even bother to nod.
Another breath. "You want to go and check on those other hunters?"
He nodded.
"Alright. I'm coming with you then." This time, we both loaded up into Bobby's van, then took off down the road. As we drove, I found myself crossing fingers on both my hands, hoping desperately that no one else had died as cruelly and aggressively as Olivia. Well…except maybe Ruby.