Chapter 10
May 23, 1985
Sarah and John had agreed to meet at 2 p.m., but by 1:30, she was at Greenwell Park, sitting on the hood of her car. She had Mr. Bun Bun on the seat next to her; maybe someday she'd admit that he'd been on her bed for the better part of the last year. She had missed her nephews with an ache that was often paralyzing.
John, Marine that he was, crossed toward her at 1:57. He was pushing a stroller and Dean was walking next to him. Sarah waved; John raised an arm in acknowledgement and Sarah swallowed the nerves that rose in her chest.
What if they don't remember me? she thought in a sudden panic, but then Dean pulled away from his father and bolted for her. She knelt and opened her arms.
"Auntie! Auntie!" Dean barreled into her, fifty pounds of solid little boy. She rocked back and held on tightly. He wiggled away, his little hand patting her cheek. "Are you cryin'?"
"It's okay," Sarah choked out. "I'm just so happy to see you."
Dean grinned at her, showing off his missing tooth. John had caught up by then, and Dean deftly unbuckled Sam from the stroller. "Sammy, look, it's Auntie!" He helped his little brother out and pointed at Sarah. "See? Look who's here!"
Sarah held up a hand. Sam looked at Dean, and when Dean nodded, gave Sarah a shy high-five. Sarah poked a finger at his belly and Sam giggled, then hid his face against Dean. "You're so big," Sarah said in wonder. "You're both so big!"
"We're growin' boys, right Daddy?" Dean said.
"That's right, kiddo," John answered.
Sarah straightened up, ready to berate her brother-in-law as soon as the boys were out of earshot. But John looked haunted – tired, pale, and gaunt. He'd lost weight. He said quietly, "Hey, Sarah," and she stepped forward and hugged him tightly.
"Where the hell have you been?" she mumbled into his chest, and John stunned her by answering, "Looking for the thing that killed my wife."
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Sarah played with the boys for more than an hour. They took pictures, played with the cars Dean had brought, and pushed Sam on the baby swing. She let them chase her and catch her, relishing in their pure laughter. Finally, Sarah and John settled them under a shady tree, with snacks and juice.
"Sam needs a nap," Dean announced, and Sarah watched in amazement as he settled the toddler next to him.
The adults sat on top of a picnic table, within sight but out of earshot, and John told Sarah where he'd been for the last year. He'd been to a psychic, Missouri Mosely, who had told him that Mary was murdered by a yellow-eyed demon, who wanted something with one of the boys. She told him that demons were the least of the supernatural creatures – there were vampires, werewolves, shape-shifters – all manner of evil things that were roaming the earth and preying on humans. John and the boys had traveled much of the country, studying lore and legends.
"I thought I was humoring Mary, but she was right about that yellow-eyed son of a bitch," John said. "I've been doing research, figuring out how to kill it. And I'll kill any other evil thing I run across, too."
Sarah was speechless.
"A lot of what I did for your sister was spot-on," John went on. "Salt, iron, herbs – those things can protect us against the supernatural. You should salt your windowsills, Sarah. Wear a silver necklace. All those things will help keep you safe." He pulled a leather-bound book out of his pocket. "I'm making notes. The boys and I are going to hunt this thing down."
The boys and I. Sarah found her voice. "John. Do you hear yourself? They're children. Sam's still a baby."
"Not now. But soon. They'll be trained. Dean can already run an 8-minute mile. We'll be ready."
"You're their father, not their drill instructor," Sarah said quietly. "Think about this."
John fixed her with a spiteful stare. "I have been thinking of nothing else for the past year."
"They need stability." Sarah avoided John's glare. She had never, in the decade she had known him, seen that look before. "Who's watching them when you're researching?"
John pointed at the boys. "You see how he takes care of his brother?" There was no mistaking the pride in his voice.
"He's six years old!" Sarah cried in alarm. "You are not telling me you leave them alone!" When John didn't respond, she hissed, "Holy Christ, John. Is Dean even in school?"
"Don't you tell me how to raise my boys, Sarah," John said, a dangerous tone creeping into his voice. "Don't you dare do that."
"So you're going to keep traveling around, hunting monsters? Can you hear how crazy that sounds?"
"I know how Mary died. I know what I saw. I'm not crazy." John looked at his sons. Sam was asleep, his head in Dean's lap. Dean was rolling a Matchbox gently over Sam's back. "I'm going to keep them safe."
Sarah pressed her fingers to her temples and struggled to keep from shouting. "Listen. John. If you want them to be safe, leave them with me."
John shot to his feet. "I'm not letting you take my children from me."
"That's not what I said," Sarah assured him. "I'm asking you to let me help. Let me take care of them for now. They'll be in the house where their mother grew up. They can have some normalcy. And when you get this out of your system, come home for them."
"Out of my system," John echoed. "Jesus." He shook his head. "What an idiot I am. I really thought you'd understand."
"Do you think Mary would have wanted this?" Sarah asked seriously, and John turned on her.
"Don't you talk about Mary," he snapped. "What Mary would want is to be here. You have no idea what she'd want."
"Bullshit," Sarah snapped back. "She was my sister long before she was your wife. She's rolling over in her grave right now."
John turned his back. "Boys!" he called. "Time to go!"
"Yes, sir!" Dean called back.
"Please don't do this," Sarah pleaded. "It's not safe for them. Shit, it's probably not safe for you. Come stay with me. We'll figure it out."
"There is nothing to figure out," John said, the cold tone back in his voice. "I'm their father."
"If I tried to get guardianship and told CPS this craziness, you know I'd win," Sarah blurted out. "Please. Don't make me do that."
John's fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. Dean came up beside him, his sleepy brother in tow. He looked from his father to his aunt, and said hesitantly, "Daddy?"
John laid a hand on Dean's shoulder and turned. He stared Sarah down and said, his voice hard and final, "Say goodbye to Auntie, boys."
Present Day
"And that was it," Sarah finished. "I never spoke to your dad again. If I had handled it better, maybe he would have left you guys here. Maybe things could have been different – for all of us."
Dean leaned forward, his head in his hands. "I'm trying to remember this," he said, his voice rough. "I don't, though, not really. I kind of remember playing in the sandbox. And you crying."
"I yelled at your father all the way back to your car," Sarah said. "Oh, my God, I caused such a scene. If the park hadn't been mostly empty, I'm sure someone would have called the cops. And then when I finally got back into my car, that stupid bunny was staring at me. It took me an hour to calm down enough to drive home."
She wiped at her eyes. "I get it now, especially knowing that all those crazy things he told me were the truth. He had lost of the love of his life, and I was threatening to take his children away. But in my defense – I was so young, you guys. I had just turned 23 and my whole family was gone. I was devastated and terrified."
Sam cleared his throat. "Did you ever call child protective services?" he asked.
Sarah shook her head. "No. I did call the police, though. They laughed at me, of course, because John had taken his own children and moved away. He didn't owe me anything, and he hadn't done anything wrong. He was your father – you were his responsibility, and it was his choice."
"You looked for us, though," Dean said, remembering the conversation at Bobby's. "How did you find Ellen Harvelle?"
"I went to see Missouri Mosely, that psychic," Sarah explained. "I was pissed off – I thought she'd taken advantage of a grieving widower."
Dean couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, I bet that went over well."
"That woman is a force," Sarah said. "In the beginning, I didn't think she was for real. She was like the physical version of your father's postcards – every time I saw her, she assured me you boys were all right. It was comforting to hear – and she knew things she couldn't have, so I came to believe in her. I went back several times, and she finally pointed me toward the Roadhouse.
"I haunted poor Ellen," Sarah continued. "I badgered her. I begged her. I tried to butter her up with flowers, and she told me if I could grow certain herbs and plants, she could find a market for them. Every time we spoke, I asked her to have John call me. In the beginning, I wanted to talk him into letting me see you boys. As time went on, though, I just wanted to ask his forgiveness. It was a shitty thing I did."
"Understandable, though," Sam allowed.
"I think so. But shitty just the same." She leaned back in her chair and raked a hand through her hair. "I had hoped when you guys turned 18 you'd track me down. It didn't occur to me until months after Sam would have been old enough that you probably didn't know about me at all. I'd been erased from your lives."
"Maybe he was trying to protect you," Dean said quietly. "Maybe he figured if he stayed away, the bad stuff wouldn't touch you."
"Maybe. Or maybe he was just a spiteful ass," Sarah said, but there was no malice in her voice. "I'll never know. It'll always been one of my greatest regrets."