Strangers and Angels
Part 4
xxxx
At 2:15 a bustling woman named Marge arrived for the afternoon and evening shifts, and Jo chased Dean off.
She handed him his share of the breakfast and lunch time tips. "I've got to look at my books for paying you for the morning, but…"
"No payment." Dean stuffed the cash into his pocket, grabbing his coat. "I told you. Returning a favor."
"Dean. Waiting tables for 7 hours is way above and beyond anything…"
"I probably still owe you." He cut her off, shaking his head definitively as he pulled on his jacket. "If I hadn't had something to do, I'd've been so bored, I probably would've woken Sam up. It was worth it to let him sleep in." The smile he sent her was cautious, and she returned it.
"Well. Thanks, then."
He shrugged it off. "No problem."
By the time he made it back to the room, Dean was dragging. He'd forgotten how exhausting waiting tables was.
He unlocked the door and stepped into the room. Sam's bed was empty, and the shower was running in the bathroom. Without realizing he was doing it, Dean paused, listening, alert for something off. Sam sang and actually talked to himself in the shower sometimes. There it was – a snatch of a song, slightly off-key. Dean checked the clock. 2:45. If Sam was just up, he'd slept more than 14 hours.
Dean dropped onto his bed, toeing off his shoes before he put his feet on the bed, falling back onto the pillow. He closed his eyes, starting to drift, the sound of the water and Sam fading into the background.
When Dean had checked in earlier, Sam had still been out cold, sprawled across the bed on his back, snoring lightly. As a kid, Sam had always been a restless sleeper. He'd gotten dangerous as he'd grown, lanky arms and legs shooting out at odd times and angles whenever he changed positions.
He'd actually bloodied Dean's nose one night. They'd been on the road with their dad, sharing a double bed in a seedy motel as they waited for John to return from a hunt. Dean had woken with a yelp, but Sam hadn't even stirred until Dean began to pummel him, pushing his younger brother off the bed and onto the floor. When John had gotten back, Sam had been seething on his father's bed, while Dean nursed his throbbing nose on his own bed. John had ordered a roll away, and the boys hadn't shared a bed since.
Dean didn't know what things had been like in the years they'd been apart. But he did know that at least since they'd been traveling together, sharing space and lives, Sam was a different sleeper.
When he did sleep, he was motionless, arms folded protectively across his chest. What he was protecting himself from, Dean didn't know. The dreams? Jessica? Whatever demon had killed her and their mother? All Dean knew was that Sam, even in sleep, wasn't the boy he'd had grown up with.
Seeing Sam like this, arms and legs akimbo, covers tangled at his feet, had been an odd relief to Dean. He'd shaken his head as he'd closed the door behind him. Walking over to the bed, Dean had reached down and pulled on the sheets, gently unwinding them from around his brother's legs. Carefully, he'd straightened them out, pulling them up over Sam. The blankets and comforter had been kicked completely off the bed, and Dean had pulled them up as well, settling them over Sam's still form.
Dean had looked down at his brother's face, relaxed in sleep. Dean genuinely wasn't sure when Sam had last slept this long, and he'd wondered if a couple more nights in this place would help. Restless again, Sam had moved, brow wrinkling as he shifted, and Dean had hesitated. Uncertain, he'd reached out a hand, brushing back the unruly bangs and placing his palm on Sam's forehead.
"It's OK, buddy," he'd said softly. "Go back to sleep."
It had always worked when they were kids, calming Sam, reassuring him, though Dean hadn't been sure what affect he'd have on his brother now.
But Sam had stilled immediately, muttering something unintelligible before he'd turned over, pulling the covers with him, kicking out at the same time. Dean had smiled and headed back to work.
As he'd pulled the door shut behind him, Dean had considered their options. He'd like to stay for awhile—long enough for Sam to catch up, long enough to make sure he wasn't passed out because he'd worn himself down into sickness. The problem was that they didn't have the cash to stay. Dean was pretty confident they had enough for last night and tonight, but…. Any longer and they'd need to pull out one of the credit cards.
But Dean wasn't willing to do that to Jo or the boys. He hunched his shoulders as the wind whipped past him. Plus, Luke would probably hunt their asses down and kill them.
Dean had sighed and glanced at the window of the room next to theirs. The curtains were drawn, but there was a slight gap between them, and what looked like a ladder poking through as it leaned against the window. Curious, Dean had tried to peer into the room, pressing his face against the glass and using his hand to block the glare. The gray light outside didn't do much to illuminate what was behind the drapes, but in the shadows he could make out paint cans and another ladder. He hadn't seen any furniture, and the walls had been bare. Dean had pulled back. Huh.
He'd checked out the next room as well. There had been a little bit more of a gap between the curtains and he'd been able to see fairly clearly that the room was in the process of being remodeled. But there'd been nobody working mid-day, and Dean had wondered what the deal was.
He'd still been mulling over the situation when he got to the kitchen. Sam, money, rest. How to take care of everything. He knew he was tired because he hadn't been able to put things together, and it had taken him a few minutes to realize that Jo was, in her way, trying to reassure him about Sam. He'd finally forced his mind back to the task at hand, asking about the rooms, wondering, deflecting. She'd let him, and he'd known it. And it had been almost comfortable.
xxxx
The snick of the door catching made Dean open his eyes. He was on his back, and the light in the room was dimmer than it had been last time he'd been aware of it. He rolled his head toward the noise.
"Mornin', glory," said Sam.
Dean made a sound deep in his throat and rolled over onto his belly, drawing his arms under his body up to his chest and rubbing his face into the pillow.
"Mmmph," he answered. Then he turned his eyes to Sam. "It isn't really morning, is it?" he asked groggily.
"Nah." Sam put a cup of coffee on the bedside table. "But you've been out a couple of hours."
Dean turned over onto his back again, stretching, before he sat up and reached for the coffee. He looked at the clock. 5:27.
"Where've you been?"
"Eating." Sam flopped down on his own bed. He took the lid off his coffee and blew on it. Dean could see the light brown liquid in Sam's cup, ripple under his brother's breath. Sam leaned back against the headboard. Dean pulled the lid off his own cup and took a tentative sip. Nice. He scooched up until he was leaning against the headboard like Sam. They sat for awhile in silence.
"Jo said you waited tables this morning."
"Yeah. Made some fair tips." He took a second to dig around in his pocket and produced the wad of cash. He tossed it on the table next to Sam. Sam looked at it casually.
"How're we doing cash-wise?"
"Not so good. Got enough for another night, I think."
Sam nodded, and Dean could see the skin around his brother's eyes tighten almost imperceptibly.
"Listen, I've been thinking…"
Sam turned his attention to his brother and raised an eyebrow.
Dean sat up and swung his legs off the bed, facing his brother.
"We might be able to help Jo out."
He nodded his head toward the diner. "There are a couple of rooms they're trying to remodel. Jo said she hasn't had the time to get them finished. I thought we could offer to work on them, maybe in exchange for room and board for a week or so."
Sam was quiet for a moment.
"You think she'd go for that?"
Dean shrugged. "I don't know." He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. He was going to have to figure out the best way to approach her about it. "She might."
"It won't give us any extra cash," Sam commented.
"We could switch off working in the diner until she gets a replacement for that Carol Anne girl, maybe. Tips aren't bad."
Sam thought about it. "Do you know anything about remodeling?"
"I've worked construction enough. I can do what needs to be done."
"I thought you didn't do honest jobs," Sam said slyly.
Dean grinned at Sam.
"I didn't say I didn't do them. I just said fun and easy was better than honest."
"Ah."
"What do you think?" Dean asked.
"I think…" Sam shrugged. "I think staying put for awhile would be … nice." The look Sam sent him told Dean that his brother's anxiety about him was still there, just under the surface.
Ditto. "Yeah."
xxxx
They ate in the diner around 7. Marge had served them, teasing Sam—who she'd met that afternoon—and complimenting Dean on his work before she'd gotten there.
"First time in months I haven't had to refill every single salt shaker and wipe down every table again before I could put people at them."
Sam ordered a cheese burger and fries, while Dean opted for chicken fried steak and mashed potatoes. Sam quickly decided that Dean's cream gravy was better for his fries than ketchup and, when Jo and the boys came in, Dean and Sam were in the middle of a heated duel—Dean's fork doing a fair job of defending his plate against Sam's french fry attack.
"Come on, man," Sam protested, jerking his fry out of range of Dean's slashing fork. "I just want a dip."
"That's what you said the first five times, dude." He pointed his fork at Sam. "You're cut off."
Sam gave Dean a mock scowl, and chomped on his french fry. Dean bared his teeth at his brother in a grin of triumph.
"Hey, Sam!" Tommy slid into the booth next to Sam. "Can I have a fry?" He reached out to snag one as Sam sat back, laying his arm across the top of the bench seat.
"Hey, Tommy," Sam answered. "Try it with gravy," he offered pointing at Dean's plate.
"Cool!" Tommy sat up on his knees to reach across the table. Dean shook his head at Sam, and pushed the plate closer to the boy.
"Thanks!"
"Hey, Dean." Michael stood at the table.
"Mike." Dean looked over his shoulder and spotted Jo at the cash register. "I need to talk to your aunt," he said, moving to exit the booth.
"Keep an eye on my gravy, will you?" Sam had already snaked an arm out to grab the plate, but Michael moved it away deftly as he took Dean's place.
Dean leveled a look at Sam. "I'll be right back."
Sam nodded his understanding. He handed Tommy a fry and dropped an arm around the boy's shoulder. Dean saw the heads—Sam's dark, Tommy's fair—come together as they plotted against Michael.
Dean headed slowly across the room toward Jo. He'd grabbed their check, and he put it on the counter in front of Jo.
"How was everything?" she asked with a smile.
"Great," he said. He counted out the bills to pay the tab. "Do you need help tomorrow morning?"
"You going to be up?"
"Sam will be."
Jo laughed, and Dean snorted. "He had almost 15 hours last night. It's his turn."
"Well. If he's really up for it, that would be a huge help. Thank you."
"I've got another question for you. And I guess a proposition."
Jo looked up from putting the money in the cash register.
Dean cleared his throat.
"Sam and I… we're a little short … I mean," Dean hastened to reassure her. "We've got enough cash for last night and tonight. We're just…" He shifted his shoulders uncomfortably and cleared his throat again. "I was thinking about those two rooms you're remodeling. Maybe Sam and I could finish them out for you. Take morning shifts at the diner 'til you get a replacement for Carol Anne. For room and board. Maybe tips."
Jo was studying him seriously, and he could almost see the wheels turning in her head, calculating.
"We've both worked construction plenty of times. I know what I'm doing," he assured her steadily.
Jo just watched him, like she was trying to see into him, looking for something. Dean didn't know what that something was, and he could only return her gaze, hoping that she would trust them.
Suddenly, her eyes moved past him, and Dean turned his head to see what had distracted her. Of course it was Sam with Tommy and Michael. Sam was grinning, impish as he made quick, darting feints toward the plate that Michael had picked up and was struggling to keep out of Sam's long reach. Sam was egging Tommy on, too, Dean could see, and the youngest boy had ducked under the table and was about to upset both Michael and the plate of gravy.
"Sam!"
Dean spread his arms in a What the hell? gesture that Sam responded to instantly, reaching down and snagging Tommy, pulling the boy out from under the table and back onto the seat next to him. Michael's head swiveled toward the sound of Dean's voice.
"What?" Sam called, all innocence.
"Cut it out."
Sam made an offended face before taking advantage of Michael's distraction and dunking two french fries into the plate. He handed one to his co-conspirator, smirking across the room at his older brother.
"Brat," Dean muttered under his breath as he turned back to Jo.
"I can't promise to keep him completely under control, but when he's not acting like a 12-year-old, Sam's pretty reliable," he said.
Jo was amused when she met Dean's eyes, and he saw that the uncertainty was gone. She nodded, a decision made.
"I would love to take you up on your offer. Tips are yours no question, but I insist on paying you for any time you help out in the diner."
Dean nodded. "That would be great. Thanks."
Jo grinned, clearly thrilled. "So you can start tomorrow?"
Dean felt the relief surge through him, a load lifting off his shoulders. He felt almost giddy. Grinning back at her, he nodded. "Yeah."
xxxx
Sam had agreed to take the next morning's shift, setting the alarm clock for 5:30am.
"Reset it for 7:30, will you, Sammy?" Dean had mumbled when it went off originally. Sam had grunted an assent, and Dean had rolled over.
When the alarm went off again, Dean got out of bed, dressing in his oldest jeans and one of his most beat-up t-shirts. Throwing on his jacket, he made a dash through the cold wind to the diner. It had started to rain again, sleet mixed with it, and he slid the last couple of feet to the diner door. He caught himself before he fell, grabbing the handle of the door.
"Crap," he mumbled, looking around to see if anyone had witnessed his near-miss. He thought he'd escaped notice until he entered the diner to find Sam and Michael snickering at him.
"Shut up," he grumbled.
"You're not allowed to say 'shut up,'" Sam informed him.
Dean was about to flip him off when Jo walked in.
"Where is Jacob? Good morning, Dean."
There was a honk outside.
"Bus!" Tommy yelled, and there was a sudden clattering as the kids in the diner headed for the door.
Dean stepped aside to let the flood of children out.
"Michael."
Dean reached out and snagged the boy before he could escape. Michael shot Dean a dirty look as he was pulled out of the stream and propelled toward his aunt. Tommy ran past him out the door.
"Where's your brother? Did you wake him up before you came down?"
Michael's eyes went to the floor and he shifted from one foot to the other. Jo narrowed her eyes at him. "Michael." It was a threat.
"Well, he's so sure he can do everything on his own and doesn't want anyone telling him what to do!" The boy's voice was defiant, but Dean could hear the recognition that he may have pushed too far.
"You didn't make sure he was up?" She shook her head. "I'm going to have to leave work to take him to school because he's going to miss the bus." She was clearly more than a little put-out.
"I'm sorry, Mom," he mumbled. The look on the boy's face told Dean that what had probably seemed like the perfect payback for his little brother was not turning out the way Michael had planned. "I meant to go wake him up later, but I forgot. I just wanted…"
"Go catch the bus. We'll talk about this later."
"Yes, ma'am."
Michael sidled past Dean on the way out, eyes meeting Dean's briefly as he brushed by. He started to run when he was out the door.
"Do you, uh, want to talk about the rooms?" Dean offered.
"Sure. Grab some breakfast and let me go see what I can do about my slug-a-bed."
Luke was there again, watching from the diner counter. Dean grabbed the stool a couple of seats down from him. He nodded at the sheriff who acknowledged him with a slight smile.
"You want eggs and bacon? They've got grits." Sam put a mug of coffee down in front of his brother.
"Yeah. And hash browns." Sam nodded, sliding the order over to the cook. He headed back to the other tables.
"So, I hear you two are going to be around for a little while."
Dean tried to gauge Luke's tone of voice. It seemed neutral, but it was hard to be sure. He paused.
"Yeah."
Luke was watching him speculatively. "That'll be a help to Jo," he allowed.
Dean lifted a shoulder slightly. "It'll be a help to us, too."
Luke nodded his acceptance.
When Jo returned, she leaned against the other side of the counter between the two men. She looked at Luke. "Well, it's tears this morning," she said resignedly. Luke smiled at her.
"Sure it is. But you know that by the time he gets down here, it'll be rage."
She sighed. "Yep."
She said to Dean, "Jacob was such a quiet little boy, but he hit 14 and suddenly it's all sullenness and anger. I never know, moment to moment, whether he's going to burst into tears or fly into a rage."
Dean snorted. "Sam was the same way. He was always this easy-going, good-natured little kid. And then suddenly he's all attitude and pissiness. He and my dad went at it all the time until Sam left home." He looked up at Jo, abruptly aware of the implication of what he'd said. "Not that Jacob'll leave home." He tried to backtrack. "My dad. He's as stubborn as they come, and Sam was exactly the same way. They…" he stopped talking.
He was saved from further awkwardness by Jacob, who stormed into the diner. He slung a backpack under the counter and climbed onto the barstool between Luke and Dean. Which Dean found interesting. The boy frowned at the menu that his aunt handed him.
"I don't have time to eat," he complained, shooting a glance first at Luke and then at Dean. "I'm going to be late and I have a quiz…" His voice was aggrieved and starting to get louder.
"Jacob, you have plenty of time. School doesn't start for more than 30 minutes. You can have cereal or something quick."
"It's too cold for cereal."
"Well, eggs then. Scrambled is quick."
"I don't want eggs."
Oh. My. God.
"Jake." Luke's voice was gentle, but the underlying edge was clear.
"Eggs, I guess," he muttered.
Jo went back into the kitchen.
"I hope he gets grounded for a month," Jacob said darkly, looking for sympathy from one of the men sitting next to him.
Both Dean and Luke made non-committal noises.
"He's going to be so mad if he can't go out with Emily," he gloated.
Luke raised an eyebrow at Dean over the boy's head.
"You're a vengeful little guy," Dean commented.
"Do you know what he did?" he demanded. "He deliberately didn't…"
"Jacob." Jo was back. "We don't need to get into that right now."
"Is he getting grounded?"
"That's not any of your business. I'll deal with the consequences for him."
Jacob scowled at her.
Now, his aunt pointed a finger at him. "I mean it, Jake. If I get called to school today because of a fight between you and your brother, I will reinstitute trips to the woodshed for you. Do you understand me?"
The boy's face was still mutinous, but he was also obviously reconsidering his plan of action for the day.
"Jacob? Are we clear?"
"Yeah," he muttered.
His aunt raised an eyebrow, and Luke said softly, "Excuse me?"
Jacob sent Luke a sulky look. "Yes, ma'am."
"Why don't I take Jake to school when he's finished?" Luke offered.
"Thank you," said Jo said shortly before she walked off.
Dean saw Jacob's shoulders hunch at this development and looked over at Luke who was watching the boy next to him consideringly. Sam joined them briefly, setting plates down in front of both Dean and Jacob. He raised an eyebrow at Dean, a somewhat rueful smile on his face.
Jacob devoured his eggs with a ferociousness and intensity that mirrored his mood. When he was done, he slid off the stool, grabbing his backpack, silently waiting for his ride.
Luke finished his coffee and left money for the tab on the counter.
He nodded at Dean. "Good luck today."
"Thanks."
Dean watched over his shoulder as Jacob trailed behind Luke until they reached the exit. Luke paused for a moment, swinging the door open with one hand, as Jacob caught up and preceded him out. The door closed behind them, and Luke reached out a hand, resting it on Jacob's shoulder, pulling the boy close briefly. Head down, Jacob turned slightly toward the sheriff, and Dean realized that he must have said something because Luke suddenly laughed, and shoved him slightly, hand moving up to ruffle the kid's hair. Jacob jerked his head away, but Dean caught sight of a smile on his face before the two separated, Jake opening the passenger door to the sheriff's truck, while Luke walked around the hood.
"Luke can always settle Jake down." Dean swiveled back around to Jo who was standing behind the counter watching the same scene Dean was.
She shook her head.
"Let me know when you're ready, and I'll tell you what I was thinking in terms of the rooms."
Dean mopped up the last of his eggs with his toast and shoved the overlarge bite into his mouth.
"I'm ready."
xxxx
