Disclaimer: I don't own anything, least of all The WB's Supernatural.
Author's Note: I know it's been a while since I updated, sorry about that. Hope you're all still reading. Anywho, I think the next chapter is going to be the last. I still haven't decided if it will be a happy ending or not, we shall see. But I am working on it now, so hopefully it will be up soon. Until then, please give me some feedback, this is your last chance to tell me what you might like to see happen, and close to your last chance to tell me how much you either love or despise the story too.
"So what is this thing again?" Dean asks from the backseat of the Impala. He shifts around uncomfortably, displaying his disdain at being relegated to the back of his own car, and playfully tosses the ceremonial dagger from hand to hand.
"Stop it," she says, reaching back and trying to pry the knife from his grip.
"It was just a question," he counters with a laugh as he moves to avoid her, holds the blade just far enough away that she can't quite reach. Tessa leans further over the seat, the belt awkwardly keeping her hips in place as she again lunges at her brother. And he again averts her.
"Give it to me!"
He carefully moves the dagger underneath him, hiding it by sitting atop, and throws his hands into the air. "I don't have it," he says with a sly wink. She lets out an agitated growl and lunges at him once more, this time grabbing a handful of his hair. "Ow!" he screams as he flails and tugs at her hand trying to get away. He grabs her wrist and twists, moving her entire arm in a painfully awkward manner and she releases her hold. Once he loosens his grip though, her hand shoots back towards him and she pinches a chunk of skin where his shoulder meets his neck. He feels the nerve burn and hum and before he can even scream about how painful it is, his leg flies up, his foot connecting hard with the backside of the driver's seat.
"Damn it!" John screams while trying to keep from swerving into oncoming traffic. "What the hell is wrong with you two!"
"He started it!" she whines as her father grabs her by the shoulder, spinning her back into the front seat. She reclaims her position and looks at Dean in the rearview mirror, watches him sorrowfully rub his shoulder and mumbles under her breath, "Jerk."
"Knock it off," John spits sharply.
"I didn't do anything," Dean protests. "I just wanted to know what it was."
"I told you," she says angrily, turning around to face him once again. "And it's not something you should be playing with. You have any idea how much that is worth?"
"No," he says plainly.
"Only about five million dollars, give or take a few."
His eyes shoot wide open. "What! Are you kidding me!"
"Tessa where did you get it?" John asks, suddenly much more interested in the knife.
"I know people." Both men look at her incredulously. "What? I do."
Dean removes the knife from its hiding place and begins to run his fingers across its blade delicately. "Five million," he says to himself.
"Don't get too excited, I have to give it back. I wasn't even supposed to take it at all, but we might need it."
"Five million," he says again, this time a little louder.
"We're not selling it or anything. I have to give it back," she says again before turning to her father. "Dad," she whines, "tell him."
"Dean, give your sister back her ceremonial dagger."
"Why? You don't trust me?"
"No," the two in front chime in unison. Dean scoffs but ultimately leans over the seat and hands Tessa the knife. All is quiet for a moment as the three settle back in. But only for a moment.
"So where's he taking Sam anyway?" Dean asks. After leaving the library just over an hour ago Ben took Sam somewhere to get something and talk about some stuff, but that was all that was said on the subject. He assumed that they probably where going to spend time bonding over their weirdo psychic gifts, but he wanted to know for sure. Besides, there was something about this Ben guy that he didn't trust.
"There's something else we need and they're going to get it," she says as she begins to fiddle with the radio dial. John slaps her hand away, all the reminder she needs. The driver always gets to pick the music.
"What do we need?"
"Something."
"What kind of something?"
"An important something."
"How important?"
"Very."
"Very, very important?"
"Integral."
"Where is it?"
"Somewhere."
"Somewhere close?"
"Not too far."
"But not too close either?"
"Close enough."
"Why'd he have to take Sam?"
"Because."
"Because why?"
"Just because."
"Just because why?"
"Damn it, Dean! Tessa!" They both turn to their father and watch as his face changes from a normal tone to the angry red they grew up trying – and often failing – to avoid. "Knock it off!"
Another brief silence rolls in over the car. Brief.
"I don't like him," Dean utters only seemingly to himself.
"Who?" John asks hesitantly.
"That guy, Ben. I don't like him."
"Oh my God," Tessa tosses out with an are-you-kidding-me laugh. "You don't even know him."
"Yeah, well…"
"Yeah, well, what?"
"Yeah, well, I don't think I like the influence he's had on you."
"What?" she asks incredulously. "What!"
"You meet this guy and all of a sudden you're getting into fights with demons – "
"All of a sudden?"
" – and running off, not returning phone calls, leaving weird ass messages and stealing,"
"Stealing?"
"Well, you didn't pay for that nice shiny five million dollar dagger, did you?"
"You're unbelievable."
"I'm just saying."
"You're not saying anything, Dean."
"I don't like him, and I don't trust him."
"Well, I do," she says, defiantly crossing her arms over her chest.
"Yeah, I'll bet you do," he says with a little more than a hint of innuendo. Tessa tenses and turns, scowling at her brother.
"Enough!" John yells. "I've had enough! No more talking. I want nothing but silence from both of you for the remainder of the trip. Is that clear?" When neither responds he asks again. "Is that clear?"
"I thought you wanted silence," Tessa snarks. He shoots her a disapproving look and both she and Dean issue out a "yes sir," before falling into the uncomfortable quiet yet again.
When they finally do reach the cemetery the sun is almost completely absent from the sky, leaving only a twinge of color resting on the horizon. They walk the quarter mile to the designated meeting spot in utter silence just as John had requested, making it even easier for them to make out the familiar laughing voices of the two men waiting for them. "What took you guys so long?" Sam asks as he sees his family approach. When his eyes land on his father though, his smile disappears. John is still scowling and it barely takes Sam a beat to put two and two together. Any time they'd been on an important job, any time there was a lot of tension in the air, his family always fell into the same dysfunctional pattern. The kids, being restless and agitated, would pick fights with each other. Dad, also being restless and agitated, would lose his temper with them. And in the end everyone would be hurt, angry, and disappointed.
He smiles to himself and shakes his head, internally breathing a sigh of relief that he had been spared the hour-long journey with his crazy family. "Well, anyway," he says, a lilt to his voice, "we're all set up here."
The spot chosen was deep within the graveyard, just next to a giant mausoleum, that of the Fischer Family who had tended the cemetery for the last hundred and fifty years or so. Only a few headstones pocked the grassy area surrounding the dark stone building, and about a third of a mile down the cement pathway a small forest loomed. Tessa and Ben had decided on this spot because it was where the first residents had been laid to rest. That and because it was fairly open, yet still had enough cover from the mausoleum, as well as the few large trees, so that if anyone should happen upon them, they could easily hide.
To one side of the mausoleum Sam and Ben had already set up a pentagram and a protective circle, which Ben was sitting in the middle of, an old tattered book laying open in his lap. "What's he doing?" Dean asks, pointing to Ben.
"Getting ready," Sam answers as he leans down and picks up what looks to be an ancient clay pot. He hands it to Tessa and smiles at her. "So at some point you are going to tell me who you know that can find you this stuff, right?"
She takes the pot and looks it over, talking as she does so. "Sammy, a lady never kisses and tells."
"I heard that," Ben says, his body still bent over the book. Dean rolls his eyes and groans.
"So what exactly is it anyway?" Sam asks of the artifact.
John reaches over and gently lifts it from her hands, turns it over in his. "It's an incantation bowl," he says, his face splitting into a smile. "Where did you get this?"
"One of Caleb's friends worked on a dig a couple of years back and found it. It was sold into a private collection, don't know whose, and Caleb worked some kind of deal for it."
"Remind me to thank him."
"Thank him? Dad, as it is you owe him your first five grandchildren and about 11,877 favors." John laughs as Tessa takes the jar and sets it down next to Ben inside the circle. She whispers something to him and he nods solemnly. "Okay," she says, popping out of the salt circle. "We're ready."