Chapter Five: Answers of a Sort
Sam's Journal
Dean flatly refused to go back to Hollis Hall, so it fell to me to give Chris the good news. He wasn't any more likeable on the second visit that following morning.
By the time I finished reassuring that unpleasant young man and returned to the motel Dean had everything packed and was waiting with a fresh set of coordinates.
We never really talked about it back then, but it was uncanny how Dad always seemed to know when we were free to start the next job. It became apparent later on that he wasn't personally watching us, but the mystery of how he knew when to contact us was just one of the many mysteries that was our father.
I was still anxious to get back to Reverend La Grange in Nebraska but, with our recent argument still ringing in my ears, I didn't voice any complaint. Instead I climbed into the car and we were on our way to Oklahoma to deal with a poltergeist.
There were more coordinates when that job was done, and we paid visits to Ohio, Minnesota and Texas before we finally found time to go back to Nebraska. No serious injuries resulted, but even with just minor cuts and scrapes it was easy to see that Dean's 'gift' wasn't going away. If anything, his healing ability seemed to be accelerating. It was as if the power was synching with his body, eliminating injuries almost as quickly as they occurred. At least in my presence, Dean was excited by this. At the time, part of me wondered if it was an act but, knowing Dean, he was undoubtedly thrilled by the extra edge that would allow him to better protect his little brother. He wasn't interested at all in looking for answers; hindsight tells me it was probably fear that we wouldn't like the truth if we found it. I didn't recognize that fear, and I pushed for answers, needing some kind of explanation for myself. It was my determination – overpowering Dean's reluctance – that finally brought us back.
None of the others who had been healed were displaying any of Dean's symptoms, and we even visited David Wright, the other near-victim of the reaper. It wasn't until we went to see Reverend La Grange that we found any semblance of answers.
Nebraska
Sam was surprised, as they pulled into the muddy driveway, to see that Reverend La Grange's tent was still in place and the tire tracks around it appeared to be fresh. He wasn't sure what he'd expected, but it certainly wasn't that the Reverend would be continuing his ministry. He glanced over at Dean, but his brother's expression was unreadable as he maneuvered the car into a space near the house.
Dean turned off the car, but made no move to get out. "I don't know why we're here," he said after a few seconds, staring straight ahead.
Sam let his hand drop from the door handle, turning to face his brother. He sighed, "Dean, we talked about this. We need answers. We need to know what happened to you."
"Whatever it is you're looking for, I don't see why you think we'll find it here. We already know La Grange was a fraud."
"You know he's the best shot we have left," Sam argued. "Unless we miraculously hear from Joshua. But after this long, I think we've got to give up on him." Sam had to admit he was puzzled when their father's friend hadn't responded to his message. He had followed up after a few weeks, but still without results. He wondered if something had happened to the man, but part of him believed that their father had something to do with it. He shook his head, marveling at his own paranoia. Meeting Dean's eyes, he found his brother looking at him quizzically. There was a vulnerable uncertainty on his brother's face that made Sam freeze in surprise.
Reacting to Sam's expression, Dean closed himself off. It was as if someone had thrown a switch. "If we're gonna do this, let's get it over with," he sighed, climbing out of the car.
Sam followed his brother up to the front door and, as Dean hesitated, leaned around him to press the bell.
After a few moments, the door was answered by a friendly woman in her forties. "Can I help you?"
Sam glanced again at his brother before stepping forward. "We'd like to speak with Reverend La Grange," he requested.
"I'm sorry," she said with genuine regret. "He's not seeing visitors today. If you'd like to attend the service on Sunday he usually speaks with people afterward." She started to close the door but hesitated as Sam spoke again.
"Miss, if you could just tell him we're here. He healed my brother, Dean, a few months ago. We're just passing through, and Dean would really like to see him – to say thank you again," Sam told her, trying to make it clear that they weren't soliciting anything. "I'd like to thank him too."
The woman's eyes were sympathetic. "Wait right here. I'll go ask the Reverend." She shut the door, leaving them on the porch.
"What the hell was that?" Dean hissed. "Could you be any more of a girl?"
Sam smirked at his brother. "Actually, I'm pretty sure you were the girl in that story."
"Whatever." Dean shook his head in disgust. "I'll say thanks, but no hugging or touchy-feely crap."
"Hey, I had to make it clear that we weren't looking for another miracle, or she would've kicked us off the porch." Sam glared at his brother until he heard the door opening, then he spun around, plastering a hopeful smile on his face.
Unlatching the screen door, she pushed it toward them. "He'll see you."
Following her through the house with Dean at his heels, Sam noticed that it seemed much brighter and cleaner. This woman was obviously a better housekeeper than Sue Ann. He smirked. There was apparently more free time for dusting and vacuuming when you weren't trying to control the forces of darkness.
"Reverend Roy is in the sitting room." She stopped at the door and motioned them into the room. "Make yourselves comfortable. I'll be back shortly with some refreshments."
"Don't go to any trouble on our account," Sam began, but she waved him off and headed back down the hall.
Sam turned back to the room, startled as Dean brushed past him and stepped inside. His brother was moving tentatively, as if part of him was drawn to the reverend while another part wanted nothing more than to run from the house and the answers that he might not want to hear. He froze in his tracks when the reverend spoke.
"Dean," he said, smiling in their direction. "I'd hoped to meet you again. Come in and sit down, boys."
"You remember me?" Dean blurted, following Sam to a comfortable, overstuffed sofa.
"Of course. I told you – you were special."
Dean glanced at Sam, looking away quickly.
Sam glared at his brother, addressing his question to the reverend. "Special how?"
Roy turned his attention to the couch, eyes unreadable behind dark sunglasses. "It's like I told your brother, young man. God guided me to him; let me see into his heart. I could tell that he had an important job to do for the Lord." The reverend paused as his housekeeper delivered a tray of iced tea and cookies, placing a glass in his hand. "Thanks, Peggy." Taking a sip, he continued, "Your brother stood out, he has the brightest soul I've ever seen. Dean, I would have picked you even if you hadn't spoken out."
Dean picked up a glass of tea but didn't drink, turning it around in his hands, staring at it. He muttered something that Sam couldn't quite hear, and the reverend laughed.
"It doesn't matter what you believe, son. You are God's soldier, whether you acknowledge it or not." Roy settled back in his chair.
Dean pressed his lips together, shaking his head in denial.
Was there anything else unusual about Dean's healing?" Sam asked.
Roy nodded. "As a matter of fact, there was," he began. "Son, would you mind passing me one of Peggy's cookies?"
Sam bit back his impatience and placed a cookie in the reverend's extended hand, trying not to sigh as the man took a large bite, chewing slowly.
He finally continued, "I told Sue Ann afterward that Dean was different. I always experienced the healing process as removing illness from the person. In Dean's case it was more of a two-way street. I could feel something; I channeled something from God that went in as the illness came out." He shook his head, and Sam saw sorrow creep across his face. "Sue Ann told me it was my imagination, but I know what I felt."
Sam spoke softly. "We were sorry to hear about your wife."
Roy shook his head regretfully. "It was my fault," he told them. "God is testing my faith. He saw my sinful pride and stripped me of everything – my wife and my ability."
Sam didn't know how to respond, but was saved from answering when the reverend spoke again.
"I'm glad you came," he told them with a smile. "It reminds me of the power of faith."
Dean had been so quiet that it startled Sam when he spoke up. "Thanks for your time, Reverend. We really should be getting back on the road." He stood abruptly, and Sam and the reverend followed.
"Thank you for coming," Roy told them, extending a hand in their direction. Sam shook it and stepped back. The hand moved slightly, in Dean's direction. Sam watched his brother hesitate – almost imperceptibly – before accepting the handshake, as if afraid of the brief contact. Without another word he released the reverend's hand and hurried out of the room.
Sam paused at the door. "Thank you again. Dean's…well, he's all I've got right now, and if you hadn't picked him…" he trailed off.
"God picked him," the reverend told him. "Goodbye, Sam."
With the reverend's words echoing in his ears, Sam let himself out onto the porch and almost ran into his brother. Dean had stopped at the top of the steps to stare out across the yard. Sam reached out to him, placing a hand on his shoulder, surprised when Dean didn't shake him off.
"You okay?" he asked, tightening his grip.
Now Dean pulled away, as if just noticing his presence. "Yeah, fine, Sammy," he said, moving down the steps toward the Impala. "You happy with your answers?"
Sam stared at his brother's retreating back for a minute before hurrying to catch up. "They're your answers too," he insisted. "And why didn't you tell me what the reverend said before?"
Dean opened the driver's side door before looking up, glaring across the car at Sam. "Because it's crap! I don't believe any of it, and even if it was true it doesn't answer anything. I still don't know why me or for how long. All we got here was a line of bullshit!" Shaking his head in disgust, he lowered himself into the car and slammed the door.
Sam had involuntarily stepped back, away from the raw emotion in his brother's eyes and voice. He had to force himself forward to climb into the car. "At least we have something to go on," he said tentatively, trying not to flinch under Dean's intense stare. "I mean, it seems like whatever happened to you, it came through the reverend. God or no God," he hastily added as Dean started to protest.
With a short shake of his head, Dean reached down and started the car. "So, are we done here?" he asked, and Sam could see him forcing the tension out of his shoulders. Sam relaxed; Dean didn't hang on to negative emotions if he could help it.
"Yeah," he answered. "Let's go." He settled back in his seat, mind racing with the information that had been provided. Dean might not want to consider the possibilities, might not see himself as worthy of the role in which he had been cast, but Sam didn't share his cynicism. He was prepared to accept his brother as a hero, a warrior, with a special gift. It didn't matter that the situation remained open-ended. And, it caused him to look at his own circumstances – his visions – in a different light.
TBC