Dean's not sure how any luck happened out of the night of November second and he really did not want to be pushing it. Sticking around like this made him nervous. He didn't like it. But here they were, still in the area. Pushing that luck.
Brady—possessed by a demon—had booked it out of there. Whatever force that had been holding Dean or Mildred left with the demon. First in slow motion against the force and then sprinting, Mildred had torn out after the guy. Nothing on her. Just barreling out of there.
He was not sure if he was glad or upset by the fact she never caught up and lost the demon.
Dean was sure whatever demonic force thing used against them was long gone for Sam too, but the kid was absolutely frozen to the spot. Certain that they certainly could not be here when the nurses and doctors swarmed form the nurses' station down the length of hallway, Dean hurriedly picked up his gun and his duffle back of smuggled in items and ordered Sam to move.
Then, with some swear word voiced under his breath, Dean ran back over to the bed. Sam still frozen. And. And the crowbar. Swallowing, hard, Dean had grabbed a hold of the crowbar and tried not to wince at the wet noise as he removed it.
But they couldn't leave it. Not with all the blood and the fingerprints on it. They had to take it.
There was a struggle, and how the hell Dean had finally managed to get Sam to get out of there was a freaking mystery. Shock? But he'd gotten them yanked into the stairwell near the room before the stampeding of feet made it around the corner.
They'd been seen leaving before, but none of the nurses had been at the station when Dean and Sam came back. So, far as anyone knew, they were never in the room at the time of some person attacking and killing a patient. And—thank the demonic asshole—Mildred's facial injuries weren't exactly unnoticeable. Police were taking it as whoever attacked Sam's girlfriend, also attacked his sister in the room.
And made the questionable fire right before a little less placed onto any of them. Instead, placed it onto this mysterious guy. Mildred had left out any nice descriptor details when speaking to the authorities. That her vision was too darkened by lack of air to see him well at the time of the attack. True. That she only saw the back of him as she gave chase. Also true. Mildred had a thing about remaining as truthful as possible.
But it was probably for the best. Regular authorities wouldn't know what to do or how to handle a demonic possession. Hell. Dean scowled to himself. They barely knew either.
Mildred also may have had a tiny point to her not ratting Brady out. The guy didn't do it. She didn't want to ruin his life further than what the demon had already done, thinking they could exorcise the demon out.
Not that Dean cared. Much. When they found Brady, he was enacting at least a token of the promised violence rolling around in his head. The demon put his fucking hands and shoved his tongue down his sister's throat. First time Dean had ever seen his sister on giving or receiving end of a kiss—something he normally pushed for and wanted her to take part in—and it had gone like that. And Sam's girlfriend, Jessica, a girl Dean fairly quickly approved of and could see possibility of her becoming part of their family, was now dead. Dead due to that demonic fucker. Forcing Sam to thrust the crowbar down, hands covered in blood—Jessica's blood.
Yeah. A token of the violence being promised in Dean's head was far better than the sick fucker deserved. Far, far, far better.
"She was like a sister to me too." Dean's ears caught the soft response from Mildred.
Both his younger siblings were standing with Jessica's parents. Dean had been a bit surprised to find out Mildred had meet the Moores before today. But was not surprised they were on good terms. Both she and Sam were good at things like that. The sister remark certainly startled Dean though. Mildred was his and Sam's sister. It was weird to think of her being a sister to someone else.
Dean's brain took the moment to remind him of his thoughts of potential family with Jessica and so he shelved the thoughts aside.
He kept to off to the side of them, close enough to hear most of their conversation, but making sure he was to the side of all the dark dressed people milling about. Watching for any sign of Brady daring to show up.
Not that he thought it highly likely. The fucking demon had already gotten what it'd wanted. None of Sam's calls to Brady's workplace or their visits to the fancy office space or visits to the guy's place panned out to anything. Demon was long gone. With Brady stuck for the ride.
"Is she going to be okay? From how Jess speaks…spoke of her. They'd grown close and… Are you doing okay, Sam?"
Dean rested a hand on the flask of holy water under his jacket. Too little, too late. They'd brought in what they had to Jessica's hospital room after they'd been checked out themselves of injuries from the fire. His plan had been for him and Mildred to gather up anything else—like holy water—after Dean forced Sam to take a short break.
"I…I'll be… No. Not at all, Mrs. Moore."
And they had practically tossed demon off the list. The omens Dad spotted spread out weren't a match, didn't line up. They should have been searching for demonic omens from where Brady's family lived from when he was on break. Four fucking years ago. All that time. Near and with Sam. Four fucking years.
"Well you always have our number. And your sister can call too. If it helps."
Then that vested interest in Mildred too?
"Thanks. I don't know if, well…"
Dean's hands fisted up at his sides.
While he knew it had to be asked, he was not looking forward to the conversation with his sister about what had happened before him and Sam came back into the room. If the demon had dropped any other tidbits. Business and wanting to go places and their mom being killed by something else—probably another demon. The apparent interest in his younger siblings. It felt as though it was adding up to something Dean did not like. First Mom, now this?
Coincidences couldn't be shoved to the side. Not now. Not after they'd thought otherwise to Dad's demon theory.
"That's understandable if you need time away."
What else were they to think? Mildred knew what she was talking about. She lived with Bobby. Visited the Roadhouse frequently. Made up a whole set of knowledge of anything and everything hunters had run into before. Hell, she was the one who'd remembered at least part of an exorcism, enough and well enough to affect the demon.
"Your interview was supposed to be today, wasn't it?"
Fucking damnit!
"Yeah."
Dean should know enough. Know enough to protect Mildred and Sam. He knew his weapons, what went for what. Best options. What was the main point to that weapon for that thing, so if he had to wing it, he could. He was no slack on knowledge. No Mildred. Or Sam if his kid brother deemed it worth his time. Seeing how right before college Sam evaded and avoided hunting life as much he could get away with. But Dean was no slack on anything hunting related. Fucking far from it.
He should have been able to do something.
"They'll understand. Might be hard coming back, but I'm sure they'll ease out any issues when you're ready to return. You're impressive. Jess… Jess always spoke with such enthusiasm about how you impressed your professors."
Anything!
Not be a fly on a dangling piece of sticky paper!
Dean really, really did not want to be at this cemetery. Watching all these people in pain, grieving. Glimpsing that on Sam and Mildred's faces. It hurt him to look too long at them. All these past several days. To see what his younger siblings were going through was excruciating. Because Dean should have—where the hell did Mildred go?
He moved, panic thrumming through his chest, stepping in right next to Sam.
"Where'd she go?" At Sam's uncomprehending blank look, Dean spelled it out. "Millie."
Blinking in surprise at the name Dean had used, it took Sam a moment to respond, brows furrowing in confusion. "She needed a moment. Red just went over that way. Dean. She's fine."
"I'll be the judge of that."
Cursing Sam for his stupidity, Dean hurried off in the direction Sam had pointed in. He swallowed his panic down. Or tried to. Slipping off? After days of not speaking much and being despondent? Jessica had died. Mildred was allowed. But hell if this did not feel like back when she was seventeen.
'You're the best brothers a girl could ask for.'
He'd responded with some puffed up response, which got Sam firing back, them arguing, not noticing when Mildred left the room. Dean had been so glad she'd been talking that day. That they'd been talking about something outside of schoolwork or hunting related topics.
'Yeah. You're the best big brother.'
Hitting those teenage years seemed to really take a number on her. Sam too. Sam got pushier on trying to be like his classmates, less about hunting, trying to get away from their kind of life. And Mildred had gotten quieter, more driven and focused, hard working with any work she set her mind to. Dean hadn't really thought anything of it. After all, he'd changed during his own teenage years.
'You're the best.'
Right before slipping off. Dean finally noticing she was gone. Went looking for where she disappeared off to that late at night. Sam harping along at his heels. And they'd found her alright.
That night remained one of the most terrifying moments in Dean's life.
Dean was damn sure Dad had no idea what the real story was behind Mildred's broken leg.
Bobby sure as hell knew though.
The man was a saint.
Hand going up onto the tree, Dean felt the panic in his chest dissolve at the sight of his sister sitting on the bench.
Here she was.
Dean stood at the tree, taking her in, and let his breathing ease.
His sister wasn't facing him. She sat, back to where he stood, hunched with her arms on her knees. Half up hair waved down the back of her black jacket and dangled down, covering sight of her face from where Dean stood. He knew there was a deep red blouse underneath that jacket, the color picked in honor of what Jessica called her by, and Mildred had black slacks on for the occasion. Nothing too far out of the normal of what she wore. On the nicer side, but usual.
Mildred looked like Mildred. And she was here. Safe.
Sam looked like the real weirdo of not being himself wearing a damn suit and tie.
For a long time, he stood back under the trees, watching his sister sitting in the shade. Dean glanced back over his shoulder. Yeah. Sam was still standing with the Moores. Shot an odd look over at Dean, but whatever. Dean's eyes went back to see Mildred wrapping a hand around her right wrist. To her watch.
Well, Sam's Fossil that Bobby had bought him. A mall outing before Mildred and Sam turned sixteen, Bobby taking advantage of while they were at his place. The same trip Mildred had gotten her ears pierced with a pair of plain stud earrings. Sam had passed his watch on to Mildred before leaving for Stanford. Claimed it had started pinching his wrist. It'd become a thick sturdy thing Dean had seen Mildred often grasp a hold of the past few years. With the extra links removed, it fit her wrist neatly and Dean was willing to bet that with the links, it'd still fit Sam too.
It was strange. Seeing those odd little moments in Mildred. So often, Dean thought of her as the slightly better older half of Sam. Hard worker. Stubborn. At times, annoying. And then he caught her touching that watch or fingering the necklace he'd given her.
The way those objects were touchstones for her like Dean had in the amulet Sam had given him or the bracelet Mildred had made for him. Or Dad's old jacket. Mom's wedding band.
Which he'd later figured out Mildred had a hand in bringing that one about for him.
And lately, Dean growing to realize passing similarity in how she treasured snippets of time.
Snapping pictures, scrapbooking them along with things like ticket stubs and brochures. Scrawling beside the photos with simple facts. 'Dean 13, Sam 8, snowball fight of '92'. Sometimes adding on with more fun tidbits or stories of that. Journaling. Whatever seemed important or memorable, she would write it down somewhere to keep. Sometimes in notebooks or scraps of paper, but she had always determinedly hung onto them, as they went from place to place. Usually until she could stash and store them at Bobby's place, taking Bobby up on his offer of doing so.
Dean chose to believe that habit of hers likely steamed from Dad's own journal.
Still. There'd been a few times these past few years that he'd been suddenly struck by a spotted similarity between them. And tried not to think too hard about a certain bit Bobby had yelled at Dad.
Dean drew in a breath, finally stepping away from the tree and around the bench, staring down at Mildred. Her grip on over the black jacket where he knew her watch was, tightened. He frowned. That probably wasn't good for any of the burns left hidden under her sleeve.
His eyes roved over her visible hands, glad to see there was very little to be seen or left on the back of them. The palms were still a bit too pink from what he saw of them earlier today. If her arms were anything like Dean had seen of Sam's, there was likely little to be seen there too. The scratches on her face were gone, the cut on her lip only noticeable if one knew where to look and squinted real hard.
Good, Dean thought fiercely. He was grimly grateful to there being no lingering evidence of that demon on his sister or brother.
Well. He winced, amending in his head. Physically on them anyway.
"Hey, Red."
Mildred finally directed her attention up from the grass and dirt. Revealing her neck. Which, that burn and bruise had faded too, but her neck was still decidedly colored. Waning shades of yellow. But enough that Dean could still quite vividly see the shape of a hand.
His fists clenched at his sides.
"So," Dean began nonchalantly.
In an attempt to keep things lighthearted. Trying to draw Mildred out into speaking to him. Lighthearted. Jocular. Totally not avoiding, as he had for days, what they needed to talk about. Her alone time with the demon.
"Is there a reason you've decided not to wear your necklace? Didn't want to draw more focus there?"
Her hazel eyes flinched away. Left hand going tighter around her right wrist. Crap. What did he step into? Dean hunched his head down, stepping back into her line of sight, pleading with his eyes at her. Talk to me.
"It's gone," she responded flatly. Her jaw clenched, jutting out, obviously upset. Dean stared. Gone? Had it been left in the burned remains? "Brady took it."
His body snapped backwards and Dean goggled down at the top of her head. Unbelieving. "What? It's iron. Why the hell would a demon take something that injures them?"
Mildred's head turned to the side. Voice lowering. "He didn't seem to be bothered by pain. Not…that way."
Dean froze, blood leaving his face. "Fuck," he breathed out.
Well. This was something that had happened in the time he and Sam were gone. Dean really tried to shove any other snapshots going around in his head at Mildred's words. But the words rolled around in his head. Not bothered by pain in that way. Not bothered by pain in that way. Not bothered by pain in that way.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!
His hands shook, voice gravely rough. "I'll get it back from the asshole. Promise."
Mildred's head remained where it was, eyes elsewhere off to the side, despondent and unresponsive.
"Red," he growled out demandingly. "What—"
"Nothing," she snipped his question off. "A little handsy, shoving his face on mine, but nothing horrible. Just… Proving he could do whatever he wanted."
"Well."
Dean licked his lips and forced a grin. He didn't want to know more about that subject. Or he'd probably lose his ever loving shit. More. Again. Whatever. Besides. Mildred needed out of too much negative going around in her own head. She was in no state to think of it. He was. More…outside of being affected by Jessica's death.
"You proved him wrong. Defeated the force. I saw the state of his mouth and throat. Aaah. You shoved your necklace there, didn't you? And the crowbar on his head, not to mention the exorc—"
"Stop. Just. Stop, Dean."
Mildred's face turned back to him, a tear rolling down to a quivering jaw, on the verge of breaking down.
He stopped. Frozen. Speechless at the sight. Internally freaking out with a wide eyed panic.
"Jess is still dead," she croaked out.
"Not for lack of trying."
Dean's voice was fierce. Shoving out past his momentary lapse. The intensity on his face unwavering.
"And don't you forget it, Red. I know this sucks. It sucks. Staying positive is going to be hard. But we're still here. We can still do something about it. And believe me, we are. Because you and Sam? Pair of stubborn asses. This is not it. Freaking far from it. You made fun of me catching your optimism the other day? Well, suck it. Because you're stuck with it."
Slowly, Mildred's shoulders slumped and her hold on her wrist loosened. "You suck."
"I know, right?"
He smirked. Then grimaced. Because he knew it was long past time to ask.
"Uh, so, I don't mean to flip around to negative right after that, but we've got to figure this out to be able to do something about it. When…when Sam and I weren't there… What happened? Did Brady, this demon, say anything? Any clue?"
Mildred rubbed at her wrist, gaze drifting away. Not distant, but in thought. Dean twisted the ring on his finger. Waiting. Tapping down on speaking in the uncomfortable silence.
"Salt works," she said at last. "Not sure of the effect if a demon touches it, but it works. Mentioned he needed to get creative. I don't know about the apartment, but. Jess had let him in during his visit while we were gone. He had a handhold fan for the hospital."
Dean nodded sharply. "Good to know. Iron and salt. Yet to try out this holy water, but I'll assume from name alone, that'll be a winner. What else?"
Rubbing the heel of her palm across her wet cheek, Mildred rubbed at her pinched up face.
"He mentioned a yellow eyes. Yellow eyes has his eyes on Sam. Seemed as though that was why he has been Brady all this time." She licked at her lips, pausing a brief moment before finishing. "But said he personally had eyes on me."
Dean drew in a breath, eyebrows going up. "That doesn't sound creepy. Yellow eyes?"
"Black or red," Mildred intoned knowingly. "Those are the color of eyes to demons hunters know about. Red usually for crossroad demons that've been summoned. So. Kind of adds to the idea of some sort of hierarchy. And in him saying he planned on going places, I'm worried that might mean yellow eyes is another demon. One higher up."
"Oh that's just peachy."
"I thought, wondered, if this yellow eyes was the one behind Mom."
Shifting on his feet, Dean quickly glanced away from the hazel eyes peering up at him. "Yeah. I wondered too," he rasped out. Loudly cleared his throat. "Eyes on Sam? On you?"
Her eyes dropped back down, a shoulder shrugging halfheartedly up.
"And likely behind Mom." Dean jammed his fingers into his short hair, head hurting. "I don't like the sound of that. It's a lot of coincidences adding up to a terrible picture. Multiple demons. Focused on us, our family. What the hell?"
Tentatively, Mildred spoke up again. "I, um. Bobby hasn't noticed anything. Amped up on any protections at his place."
"You…you think Bobby has something to worry about?" Dean's green eyes stared wide, meeting her hazel ones. This demon had gone after Jessica because of Sam. Could there be one going after Bobby too?
Mildred slowly shook her head in the negative.
"The stress seemed to be on normal. Or, not normal. The whole thing with the fire was like with Mom. A death by unnatural fire. Which got Dad involved in hunting, obsessed with trying to find what killed her. Revenge. I think…I think what the demons wanted, what they want, is us involved in hunting. Which seems…odd to say the least."
Dean snorted. "Do they want to die?"
"I—"
Mildred cut herself off harshly, grip tightening on her wrist again. Frowning at her, a little alarm rang up inside of Dean.
"Hey. What is it?"
Her head shook, loose wavy strands falling in front of her face, hazel eyes fixated on her hands.
"Red."
"I don't like this," Mildred blurted out. "Not knowing. Something bigger than us. Manipulating us. Wanting something from us that we don't even know what it is. I just… I don't like this, Dean."
Understanding clearly, the tension in Dean's shoulders loosened. "Yeah. I hear you, Red. But hey," he chimed brightly. "Bobby's got all his books and your set to refer to at his place. And he's a paranoid bastard. I think those demons got something to be worried about."
The hint of a real smile showed on his sister's face at that.
Score.
Proud at his accomplishment, Dean stepped over and bumped his hip up against her side. "Hey. Budge up."
Mildred shifted and Dean slid onto the bench beside her, wrapping a long arm around her, tugging her gently into his side. Breathing in deep, he stared out across the cemetery with her. Faintly, Dean could hear the murmurings of the few people left from Jessica's funeral. But in front of them was quiet. Older graves slowly becoming part of nature with patches of moss and color. There was a calm pond and a few animals scurrying about. No odd activity to any paranormal creatures. The scene gave a sense of peace.
Perhaps he'd been around graveyards too much to find peace here.
Hearing a rustling, Dean glanced back, finding Sam hovering at the same tree he's stood beside earlier. His kid brother's eyes stayed worriedly on the arm giving a side hug. Dean gave Sam a minuscule shake of his head. The worry disappeared into a days old familiarity of pained and lost. And a disconcerting familiarity of underlining anger. Desperate determination and ardent vengeance. A lump formed in Dean's throat at the sight. Sam resembled Dad.
Dean turned his head back, squeezing his arm draped across the back of Mildred's shoulders.
"We'll get the black eyed bastard. The yellow eyed one too. And show them they never should have messed with us Winchesters. Especially when red has a high winning average. And Red can't fail with both brothers by her side."
That was definitely a smile there.
Dean rested his head against hers.
"Hey. Red?"
"Yeah, Dean?"
"I'm the best, right?"
Mildred definitely smiled at that and moved her hand off her wrist, patting Dean's knee reassuringly.
"Yeah. You're the best."
A very distinctive, and annoyed, loud snort sounded from behind them.
"Yeah. Best braggart maybe."
Dean grinned broadly. There was Sam. And he felt Mildred's slight huff of amusement through his hold.
They'd be okay. His younger siblings would get through this. Dean could feel it in his bones. And he would make sure of it.
They would be just fine.
Thank you!
For all who've clicked and viewed and read this thing.
Like I said, I freaking powered through all of this. Figured I might as well put it up. Proof to myself of doing it or something. But here it all is. The entire thing I powered through in writing. Just kept writing. Did I know what I'm doing? Does it work as a story? Written well? No idea. But yet, here it is.
And crazily enough to me, with clicks and views for all the chapters. For something that was mostly put up as me saying 'hey, I wrote a thing' and proving to pretty much only myself that I did it. I didn't expect much, so I'm glad for any of you who read through this. Thanks.
