Strangers and Angels
Part II
xxxx
Five minutes later, they stepped out of the mudroom into the kitchen.
Turning from the counter, Jo smiled at the boys, unsure. Sam wondered if they'd taken long enough that they'd made her nervous. While they'd been in the mud room, Jo had emptied the kitchen sink and started on the pile of dishes next to it.
"Everything alright?"
"Yes, ma'am," Sam answered for both of them.
"Well. Y'all sit."
Dean had shuffled after Sam toward the kitchen table. He slipped into a chair, pulling the quilt tighter around him. The look on his face spoke his discomfort loudly to his brother, and Sam reckoned that his brother felt vulnerable and off-kilter in his underwear and the brightly colored blanket. Sam wasn't completely unfamiliar with that feeling.
"I've got coffee on. If you're interested." She was drying off her hands. "I'm Josephine Crouch, by the way."
"Sam Winchester." He nodded his head to Dean, oddly silent beside him. "This is my brother, Dean."
"Nice to meet you both." She pulled two mugs out of a cabinet and set them on the table in front of them. She stacked a pile of book and papers and carried them over to the counter. "Y'all on your way somewhere?" She continued to move around the kitchen, washing dishes and straightening up.
"Nowhere in particular. Just on a road trip."
"That's nice." She was wiping down the counter with her back to them. "Your parents don't mind y'all out where they can't get a hold of you?"
"Well, our mom died when we were little, and with Dad…" Sam met Dean's eyes quickly. "You know. Cell phones."
Jo turned awkwardly. "I'm sorry," she said simply.
Sam smiled at her. "It's OK." Her mouth turned up slightly at the corners and she nodded, eyes somehow sad.
There was a loud thump overhead and Sam jumped. Muffled voices, another bump, and the sound of feet, running.
"Oh, for heaven's sakes," Jo muttered.
The kid they'd seen initially appeared suddenly from a door to the right. For the first time, Sam noticed the stairs that disappeared into a second story of the house. More clattering and another boy emerged.
Both stopped suddenly at the sight of the two bedraggled men sitting at their kitchen table. Sam couldn't help but wonder what was going on in their heads. Dean, hair standing up at all angles, and dried mud streaking his cheeks, made a pretty sketchy picture. And Sam was sure he didn't look much better.
"Where have you two been?" Jo asked it wonderingly. "You should have been working on that room 15 minutes ago."
"Michael was talking to Emily." The younger boy danced out of his brother's reach, as the older took a swing at him.
Jo's eyes narrowed.
"She wasn't over here, was she? Because Michael…" Sam could hear the exasperation in her voice.
"We were on the phone!" He glared at his brother, who grinned in response behind his aunt's back.
"You were supposed to be off the phone 30 minutes ago," she said sternly. "Where is it now?" Michael fished around in his pocket and produced a cell. Jo pointed to the charger on the counter. "Put it there. And you can mop up the entry way when you're done with number 11."
Michael shrugged good-naturedly as he plugged in his phone. "Sorry, Aunt Jo."
"Yeah. Well." She shook her head at him, reaching out to smooth his hair. "Go get that room cleaned up so these two guys can get some rest."
"You didn't wake up Tommy with all your banging around up there, did you?" But she was asking it to the door as it slammed behind the boys. She sighed.
"So." She went over to the coffee maker. "It shouldn't take them too long to get the room ready." Picking up the pot, she held it out invitingly. "Coffee? Or I've got hot chocolate."
"Hot chocolate!"
A small boy, about 8, slid into the kitchen on stockinged feet. None of them had heard his light tread coming down the stairs.
He stared at Sam and Dean in open fascination.
"Who are they?"
"Tommy." Jo said it as quellingly as she could as she walked toward him. "These are two new guests—Sam and Dean."
The boy leaned against his aunt as she put an arm around him.
"Hi."
"Hey."
"May I please have some hot chocolate, Mom?" He turned his face up toward his aunt, while she stroked his hair. "Please." Sam couldn't help but admire the subtly-done wheedling, yet not whining, tone of his voice. He coupled it with a sweet smile, and Sam watched the woman crumble.
"Well, OK."
"Thank you, Aunt Jo! Thank you!" He threw his arms around his aunt.
"Yeah, yeah." She rolled her eyes at the over-enthusiasm and ruffled his hair. "Go sit down."
Tommy climbed up in a chair across from Dean.
"Howdja get all muddy?" He addressed the question to the man on the other side of the table from him.
Dean cleared his throat. "Our car got stuck in the mud."
"How'd it get stuck?" His eyes were all frank curiosity.
"I, uh, tried to stop too suddenly and swerved off the road."
"Were you going too fast?" The little body was moving in time with the leg Sam saw swinging under the table. He was watching Dean seriously.
Sam reached out and grabbed the empty mug in front of him, peering intently into it, trying desperately not to laugh.
"Um."
"Tommy. Sam and Dean are tired. The car got stuck, they got it out, they're staying with us tonight. That's all you need to know."
The boy nodded, reaching for the mug of hot chocolate he was handed. He took a tentative sip. He looked back up at Dean.
"How'd you get it out?"
Now, Sam did laugh out loud, and he caught the grin Dean sent his way in response.
Dean bent forward toward the boy and said confidentially, "Well, I'll tell you, Tommy. It's not a pretty story, but…"
Sam smiled in response to Jo's silent question about coffee, holding out his mug to get filled up. He nodded, too, as the pot hovered over Dean's cup, indicating that his brother would like some, as well. Wrapping both hands around his mug, Sam hunched over, huddling under the quilt.
The warmth finally started to settle into Sam's bones, and he eased back in his chair, listening to Dean tell the story of their misadventures. It was good to hear Dean in such casual conversation with the kid. Tommy was wide-eyed and giggling as Dean described their attempts to free the car from the mud. Sam noted that most of the pratfalls seemed to involve him.
"So, then, Sammy here…"
"It's Sam." No heat. "And why don't you explain how you got to be covered with mud?"
Dean opened his mouth to retort, but was interrupted by the sound of knocking and the door swinging open.
"Josie?" Sam would have expected the boys back, but the voice was deep and a man stepped into the mudroom, heading into the kitchen. He was wearing boots and the brown uniform that marked him as a sheriff.
"Hey, Luke." Jo cocked her head and caught the eye of the younger man who'd followed the sheriff into the room. "Matthew."
Both men took off their hats as they entered.
"Hi, Sheriff! Hey, Matty!"
"Tommy-boy," said the older man genially, even as his eyes moved assessingly over Dean and Sam.
Jo was pulling down more mugs from the cabinet. "Sam. Dean. This is Luke Sweed, our sheriff. And Matt Rodriguez, his deputy."
Sam stood and saw Dean do the same next to him. It wasn't easy but they both managed to keep hold of the quilts and shake hands.
"Luke, Sam and Dean are late registers. They had some trouble with the mud."
She set the mugs on the table as the two newcomers sat in the extra chairs around the table. She topped off Sam and Dean and filled the cups in front of the officers.
"Whatcha got there?" The deputy turned to Tommy, trying to peer into the boy's mug.
The sheriff turned his attention to the Winchesters.
"Where you boys headed?" It was asked conversationally, but the underlying tone made Sam tense up. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed that Dean had straightened slightly in his chair.
"They're on a road trip." Jo set a carton of cream on the table, and the sheriff reached for it, adding a dollop to his cup before he passed it to the deputy. "Nice to be young and free, don't you think?" She smiled at Sam before she leveled a look at the older man sitting at her table.
Now the sheriff shifted in his chair, a somewhat self-conscious grin coming and going quickly as he nodded.
"Yep. Must be nice."
The conversation switched to chitchat, Jo and Matt taking up the slack, catching up on the events of the day around town. Sam was thankful not to be included in the talk and, despite the coffee, felt the warmth and the hour starting to take their toll on him.
Sam's eyes strayed to Dean, who was clearly fighting sleep. Ever since Nebraska, Sam had found himself almost obsessed with Dean's health. He watched him all the time, surreptitiously monitoring his breathing, constantly vigilant for signs of relapse. Sam knew in his head that Dean had been healed, that he was well; but the fear that had gripped his heart during those days of uncertainty and helplessness would not let go.
To Sam's eyes, Dean had never quite regained his color after his illness, and he'd been too quiet, almost pensive, rarely joking or smiling, business-like with everyone. It scared Sam.
He knew, though, that he was driving Dean crazy with his anxiety. Try as Sam might to keep his worry hidden, his brother knew him too well. Sam was trying to get himself under control, but there were times when the terror of losing Dean felt all-consuming. And that scared, Sam, too.
Vaguely Sam wondered how much of his reaction was simply due to his exhaustion—both physical and emotional. He hadn't been sleeping before Dean had been hurt. And, if anything, things had gotten worse since. Dreams of Jess on the ceiling had been supplanted by nightmares of Dean in agony or gone. And Sam alone, frozen.
A burst of laughter turned Sam's head toward the sheriff. Luke was looking down at his coffee and shaking his head. The man glanced up, eyes meeting Jo's over the head of her nephew.
"Matthew! Gracious—don't say that sort of thing in front Tommy."
The deputy ducked his head, dark hair glinting in the light of the fixture above the table. Sam thought maybe the man sitting across from him wasn't that much older than he was himself, and Sam couldn't help but smile when the sheriff reached over and cuffed Matt lightly on the side of the head. Matt grinned, and mumbled an apology, earning himself a pat on the shoulder from Jo and a refill on his coffee.
Sam watched them interact—Luke and Jo, Matt and Tommy, the four of them together. There was an easiness among these people that translated into a comfort, a warmth that Sam hadn't felt in a long time. And, in spite of himself, Sam could feel the urge to sink into it.
He turned to Dean, saw his brother's head start to bob. Knowing how much Dean would hate to fall asleep in a group of strangers, Sam stretched out a long leg and kicked his brother gently under the table. Dean came upright with a start, blinking dazedly around the room. Sam smiled reassuringly when Dean's gaze fell on him. Hey. Dean made a soft sound of acknowledgement and settling, scrubbed his hands over his face. Sam could feel the weariness that radiated off his brother. He could only hope that their room would be ready soon. Otherwise he might have to carry Dean.
The sheriff and deputy stayed just long enough to overlap the boys by a couple of minutes. Michael and Jacob made quite an entrance, dragging linens and sniping at each other as they came. There was laughter in the greetings, and the sound of chairs scraping back and mugs being rinsed out as Luke and Matt made their exit. Michael and Jacob wrestled laundry into the washing machine still arguing as they added soap and turned on the water.
"Dean. Sam. Nice to have met you." Luke gave Jo a significant look before he put his hat back on and headed out the door. "Drive safe." He looked over at Michael and Jacob. "You boys don't let your mama stay up too late."
"Thanks for the coffee, Jo." Matt picked up his hat. He pointed it at Tommy. "Later, tater."
"You're welcome, boys. See y'all later."
Jo raised her voice to be heard in the mudroom. "Is that room gonna stand inspection, young men?"
"Yes!" The two voices stopped their bickering long enough to respond in unison.
She made a doubtful face at Sam and Dean. But she smiled, too.
"OK." She picked up Sam and Dean's empty mugs, carrying them to the sink and addressed another question to her nephews. "Y'all want some hot chocolate?"
Jacob slouched into the kitchen, glaring over his shoulder at his brother. "Sure."
Sam heard the lid to the washing machine slam in the other room and the water start.
"Yes, please."
Michael joined them, dropping into a chair. He sent his own frown at his brother.
Jo put mugs in front of both of them.
"I'm going to go check on the room." She looked from one boy to the other. "Am I going to be pleased?"
"Yes," Michael answered. Then under his breath, "No thanks to Jakey."
"It's Jacob. And you're a jackass."
"You're the jackass. Jake." Michael spat it. "You're absolutely useless, you know that?" He turned to his aunt. "He won't do anything unless…"
"You're not supposed to say 'jackass,'" Tommy interjected.
"Shut up!" Both of the older boys snarled it at their brother.
At this point, Sam was finding the top of the kitchen table particularly interesting as Dean turned his fascinated attention to the refrigerator. Awkward.
"Stop." Josephine sighed and rubbed her eyes, exasperated by the argument. "I'm too tired for this. Finish your drinks and then go to bed." She paused and turned to her oldest. "After you mop up the entry way."
Michael started to groan, but stifled it on a look from his aunt.
"Yes, ma'am."
"You're not supposed to say 'shut up,' either," muttered Tommy as Jo left the room. Michael and Jacob just glared.
Silence descended. The younger boys slurped their chocolate while the older ones exchanged glances, just wanting bed.
"Miss Maddie says Luke's sweet on Aunt Jo."
If Sam had been drinking anything he would've spit it across the table. Tommy said it causally. Just putting it out there.
Michael and Jacob were unperturbed.
"No duh, moron," said Jacob, rolling his eyes.
Dean looked consideringly at the older boys, curious.
"So you guys had already figured that out?"
Michael shrugged. "The old ladies talk, you know?" He picked up his empty mug and took it over to the sink, rinsing it out and putting it in the dishwasher. "We hear things." He grabbed a mop and headed toward the front of the house. "See y'all later."
Jacob finished his own drink and, snatching Tommy's cup, took the mugs to the counter, thunking them down.
"Come on, munchkin, let's go." He tipped his younger brother out of his chair. "See y'all tomorrow."
Tommy waved sleepily as he trailed after Jake. "Night."
xxxx
When Jo returned, she led Sam and Dean to a nice looking room just a couple of doors down from the diner.
"I hope you'll be comfortable for the night," she said. "There should be soap and shampoo in the bathroom."
"Thanks." Sam watched Dean shuffle into the room, headed toward a shower.
"Good night." Jo closed the door behind her.
The water turned on in the bathroom, and Sam said loudly, "I'll go get our stuff."
The galoshes that Jo had handed him in the house were a tight fit, and he contemplated putting on some clothes. But he was tired and already cold from the walk to the room. It was late enough that he thought no one would probably see him make a dash to the car, wrapped only in a quilt. What the hell.
The rain had ended while they were in the house, but the wind was icy as Sam ran for it. Negotiating getting into the car with the quilt and the wind had proved more awkward than Sam had anticipated, and he wasn't sure that he hadn't flashed anyone who might have been looking out the window at the time.
Pulling the car around, Sam grabbed bags and headed to the room. When he entered, the shower was still running. Sam dug through Dean's duffle, finally finding clean clothes for his brother to sleep in. Rapping softly on the door to the bathroom, Sam stuck his head in.
"Here." He tossed the stack of clothes onto the closed toilet lid.
"Thanks."
Ten minutes later, Dean was out and Sam went in. By the time he got himself clean, Sam had used the last of the hot water. He'd actually been impressed that the water had stayed hot as long as it had considering how filthy they both were. Sam dried himself off and got dressed, brushing his teeth by rote, the rhythmic motion almost lulling him to sleep.
When he went back into the bedroom, Dean was hidden under a mound of covers, and the bedside lamp was the only light when Sam turned off the one in the bathroom. He stumbled to his bed, and crawled under the blankets. It was almost too much effort, but Sam reached out an arm, fumbling under the shade until he found the knob. He turned it, and the room fell into darkness.
""Night, Sammy." More asleep than awake, Dean sounded achingly young, his voice smooth and somehow open in the vulnerable place between waking and sleeping.
Sam burrowed deeper into the clean sheets, the sound of his brother's voice settling him.
"Night."
