Chapter 32

Liberty

Somehow, I ended up with my jeans unbuttoned and my sweatshirt off, strewn down to the floor of my car. Sawyer and I were wrapped around each other, breathing heavily and we were both a little sweaty. I pulled away suddenly as I heard my sister in my head.

We've gotta work on building some walls between our minds, Glory whispered, trying her hardest to avoid what was happening between me and Sawyer.

I opened my eyes wide and sat away from the boy in my car, suddenly hyper-aware that I was on my way to diving into some pretty irresponsible behavior. Sawyer's gray eyes opened as well, narrowed slightly at the sudden break in contact.

"You okay?" he asked quietly, seeing the look on my face.

Nodding slowly, I took a deep breath, calming myself down. "Yeah, yeah," I muttered. "I'm fine, just…we're moving kind of fast."

Sawyer grinned lazily. "I think we're just finally catching up," he answered, using his fingertips to brush a strand of my hair behind my ear. "It's the first time we've been able to be really alone."

I nodded again, aware that I was in a skimpy tank top. "Yeah, I know," I agreed, pulling my sweatshirt back over my head. "But let's just take a minute."

Sitting up, Sawyer smiled gently. "I'll wait as long as you want me to," he answered, following my lead and putting his shirt back on. I couldn't help the grin that tugged at the corner of my lips, seeing his toned stomach for a moment more before his black shirt covered him up. "I'm just glad we're finally on the same page."

Finally getting my breathing under control, I smiled. "Me too," I whispered. I turned to sit correctly in the driver's seat and took a deep breath. "You up for a drive?"

"Absolutely."

…

Liberty

The long gravel driveway had grass shoots coming up between the rocks and the once-white fence posts were peeling and tilted after years of neglect, but the house still stood proudly in the open field that once was ours. It was more damaged than I remembered, with the chimney in a pile of bricks on the side of the house and a gaping hole in the roof where the kitchen should be, but it was still the last place I was home.

I could feel Sawyer's eyes on me, but I didn't have the ability to meet his gaze. I stared forward sadly, watching crows take flight angrily as I idled up to the wrap around porch. I turned off the engine and sighed, holding the keys in my hand and staring up at the stained glass in the tiny round window where the attic had been.

"This was our home," I whispered, tilting my head. Sudden tears sprang to my eyes and I held my head back, willing them back into my tear ducts.

Sawyer turned back to the house and took a slow breath. "It's beautiful," he answered, turning to stare out the passenger window. "Absolutely perfect."

I nodded. It had been. "It was the last time I felt really happy," I murmured. "Mom was always here, and Daddy had the shop…my brother and sisters all went to school. We had family dinners with my aunt and uncle and cousins almost every night." I shook my head, finally caving to wipe the tear from my cheek. "We may not have ever really been normal, but we had each other." I turned finally to Sawyer and sighed, "And this was home."

"We lived in a trailer outside of Tulsa," Sawyer answered. "I can't imagine living in a place as nice as this. Everywhere we ever lived had wheels under it."

"Mom and Dad had the same problem when they were your age," I chuckled. "They were full-time hunters. Daddy and Uncle Sammy never even had a permanent address."

"Did your mom?"

I shrugged with one shoulder, "Not until they were a bit older. Around fifteen or so, I think. The details are fuzzy."

Sawyer glanced back at the house, watching the crows circle over the back field. "They?"

"Auntie Luck and her." Sawyer paused, still watching the birds, so I continued. "I want to fix it up."

Turning and lifting his eyebrows, Sawyer stared at me, "The house?" he asked.

Pivoting in the seat, I reached for the door handle and stood, heading towards my old house. I took a deep breath, knowing that my emotions were right there on the surface, but I held it together now that I had a focus. "Yeah," I answered finally, heading for the steps of the porch. "The only thing I won't be able to do on my own is the roof and the chimney. We could clear out the debris, find some paint, and fix the hardwood floors…" I turned back to Sawyer. "It could be done, and we could have a home again."

Sawyer was still staring at the house, watching me carefully. "And you want to, what," he narrowed his eyes. "Come back here? Live here again?"

"That's the idea."

Sawyer joined me on the porch as I reached for the front door, attempting to turn the knob. It was locked, but I managed to get a duplicate key off Daddy's keyring years ago. I don't even know if he noticed it was gone. I pushed the house key into the deadbolt carefully and held my breath, preparing myself for the worst.

The door was coated in a thick layer of dust and cobwebs, not having been open for a very long time. It was almost as if people knew it had been the famous Winchesters' and had given it a wide berth. No squatters had been here and the property around it remained relatively the same, save for the obvious nature creeping its way back into the fields. The door creaked slightly as it swung open, revealing my living room, looking the same as I remembered. There were footsteps in the dust as if someone had been here recently, but upon closer inspection, there was a second layer of grime, layering back over the footprint. It was probably a few years old.

I narrowed my eyes and tilted my head, thinking out loud, "But why would they have locked the door behind them?"

Sawyer looked up, following my gaze. "The footsteps?"

I nodded, walking carefully over to them and measuring my booted foot against the imprint in the dust. "I'm pretty sure it's Dad's boot tread," I muttered, staring at it carefully. "It's a similar size and they're the right distance apart." I turned in a circle, staring at the details of the room, wondering what Dad could have come back for. "Why would he come without telling us?"

Shrugging, Sawyer came over to me and took my hand. "I dunno," he muttered, shaking his head. "But your dad's scary as shit. He can do whatever he wants."

I pursed my lips, lifting my eyebrows slightly. "Yeah," I sighed. "He's not scary to me." I squeezed Sawyer's hand, but tiptoed my way through the living room and into the mudroom, following the dusty footprints. "They lead back here." I knelt when I reached the washing machine, seeing Daddy's footprints take the same route as me. "What did he come to do a load of laundry?" I chuckled at my own joke and inspected the hardwood floor, seeing a tiny gap in two of the planks. "There's a split here," I muttered, reaching for my pocket knife. "The board comes up."

Joining me in the laundry room, Sawyer watched carefully as I pulled the loose floorboard up, revealing something long and skinny, wrapped in fabric. I glanced up at the boy next to me and wondered momentarily how angry Daddy would be if he knew Sawyer was here, witnessing something he had gone to extremes to hide from the rest of us. I took a deep breath and threw caution to the wind. I pulled the object from the floor and sat on my haunches as I unwrapped the mystery item.

"It's a sword," I breathed, feeling my eyes got wide. Realization hit me like a ton of bricks. "Oh my god, it's the Michael Sword."

"The what?"

I was already rewrapping the giant, oversized weapon, and stuffing it back into the open floorboard. "No," I shook my head. "No, you don't know about it. There's nothing here to find. We stick with the original plan and start cleaning today and act like we didn't know it was here."

"What's the Michael Sword, Lib?" Sawyer pressed. "What's the big secret?"

"My dad…he's," I licked my lips and shook my head slowly. "He's Michael's Vessel, the same way my uncle is Lucifer's."