A/N: Next chapter. :( Doesn't everyone miss our boys? I've been basically praying that they sign Supernatural for another season. They just CANNOT leave it like that. Nope. It can't be done. I won't allow it. May 18, four days, and we will know. crossing fingers
So, read and review. You know what to do.
Warnings and Disclaimers: Same as always. Song is by Relient K
Chapter Seven: Which To Bury; Us Or The Hatchet
I tried to move you, but you just wouldn't budge
I tried to hold your hand but you'd rather hold your grudge
I think you know what I'm getting at
you said goodbye and I just don't want you regretting that
and wisdom always chooses
these black eyes and these bruises
over the heartache that they say
never completely goes away
what happened to us
I heard that it's me we should blame
what happened to us
why didn't you stop me from turning out this way
and know that I don't hate you
and know that I don't want to fight you
and know that I'll always love you
but right now I just don't...
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I rarely hug my boys.
I rarely ever kissed them goodnight when I turned off their lights—notice I didn't say when I tucked them in.
I didn't tell them I loved them when I dropped them off at school or left for a hunt.
But in my eyes lies all that is unspoken. All that is not shown… it lies deep in my soul. Clawing for freedom and never succeeding.
I love my boys. I love them more than the word can convey. Love. Four letters and yet so many emotions.
What is love?
Love; strong affection for another arising out of kinship or personal ties.
Personal ties?
Affection?
Obviously Webster didn't have two boys.
Love is what makes every moment so painful. Looking into my sons' eyes and seeing their love there… it hurts. I wonder if they see the depth in my eyes and hurt just the same?
I don't hug my boys.
I don't look back when I walk away.
I never respond to their tears.
I don't tell them I love them.
But if you look into my eyes…I love them more than words could ever express.
I didn't tell Sam I was proud when Stanford sent him that letter. I didn't ask him to stay. Why does my tongue betray my heart? Couldn't I have said, "Samuel, I am ordering you to stay!" He would have. He would have hated me, but he would have stayed. Even Sam, the rebellious one, does not—did not—ignore a direct order given at face value. Instead I told him if he left he'd better stay the hell gone.
Sammy didn't look back when he walked away.
Sammy didn't tell me he loved me.
He didn't respond to my unshed tears.
Sammy doesn't hug his father.
And then there is Dean; the perfect son in the Winchester sense. He would be a better hunter than me if not for those things he keeps around… his emotions. His emotions make him sloppy. He hesitates before a kill. That has gotten him hurt on more than one occasion. He needs to reflect after a kill… that has also gotten him hurt. He believes in good. He pretends he doesn't, but I know.
Dean is Mary's son. She believed in the good. Dean has Mary's good heart with my tough shell. It's not a good combination. It will get him killed.
Sam is my son.
I did not want to hunt.
I did not want this life.
I did not want this life for my boys.
But I had no choice.
Mary was taken from me.
I have to get revenge for that.
- - -
Dean got out of the car and hurried around to the back and got out the large vase of flowers slowly, careful not to hurt any of the roses.
Damn, Janie if you knew how expensive roses were…
He walked to the grave slowly and set the roses down, faking a back injury.
"Hey, Janie." He whispered and pushed his hands deep into his pockets. "It's been a few months… sorry I didn't come and visit more often… work is… well it's work." He laughed nervously.
She was dead and she still had the power to knot his stomach.
He looked absently at his ring and swallowed the lump in his throat. "Damn I miss you right now. It'd be great to have you around to talk to about all this… especially now…" He sighed. "I just… I want someone to tell me I made the right choice."
"You made the only choice." Not exactly what he wanted, but okay…
Dean felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He turned.
"Meg." He whispered and took a few steps away. She stared down at the grave.
"So, you're the girl who stole Dean Winchester's heart?" She smirked and knelt down, leaning close to the gravestone to whisper. "I hate to tell you this, but I think there is a line. You're probably… about number three or four." She read over the tombstone. "Jane… what a pretty name. Beloved sister, daughter and friend. Aw. How cute."
"You fell from a window…" Dean hissed, ignoring her taunts.
She cocked her head to the side and looked at him. "I know, that really hurt my feelings, Dean."
"Only your feelings?" Dean asked incredulously.
"I thought your brother and I were hitting it off quite nicely." She shrugged. "Not that it matters how he thinks of me, I shall have him anyway."
"You won't touch him."
"And who is going to stop me? You?" She laughed. "Oh Dean, you tragically overestimate yourself."
"I think you underestimate me." He hissed.
"Oh really?" She asked with a snicker. He nodded. "It's too bad you've got such personality flaws, we could have been close."
"Sorry, I don't like my girls that naughty."
"Oh, but Serena was that naughty." She reminded him. Dean clenched his fists.
"Don't talk about her…"
"Ooh, I hit a nerve." She said excitedly. "She's still alive, you know."
"I watched her die."
"Correction, you watched until you passed out and your Daddy just told you she died. But you know from experience that Daddy doesn't always tell the truth." She took a rose from the vase and plucked the petals, one by one, smiling at him.
"You're lying."
"Fine, maybe I am, but you're dying to know, aren't you?" He didn't answer and his silence was enough for her. "She's in Kansas now, Lawrence to be exact."
"What the hell is she doing there?" Dean snapped. Meg looked at him, and pressed her hand against her chest, laughing again.
"Oh, this is precious… you thought… oh my." She wiped away a pretend tear. "Oh Dean, she was working with us all along. She's one of us. She never loved you." She tossed the deflowered rose on the grave and winked at Dean. "Take care of yourself, Dean. We're going to need you."
He just stared at her.
"Sam's not going to come willingly, we need some leverage, you're it." She explained.
"Why the hell are you telling me this?"
"Because its fun to watch you squirm." She whispered, stepping closer, he held his ground so she took another step. She took steps until she was almost pressed up against him. "You won't know where and you won't know when, but we're coming for you." She grinned. "And I am going to have one hell of a time pushing your car off a cliff."
"I could kill you." Dean whispered, his hand going to his knife. She nodded.
"You could, but it wouldn't do any good. My essence will live on, I will still have your brother." She smiled. "Your Dad is with him, you know that?" She shuddered. "I can feel them… your brother has so much power, he has no idea. It's just bottled up, waiting to be unleashed."
"Then just go get him, stop playing with him."
"Do you think I'm stupid?"
"Do you really want me to answer that?" Dean asked with a grin. In one quick movement, or what seemed like one, Meg had his arm twisted painfully behind his back. With speed that no human should possess and speed that made Dean's head spin, she had him pined on the ground, a rock jamming painfully against his ribs.
"I'm very aware of the prophecy, Dean." She whispered. "Especially the part where he can beat us." Dean wiggled beneath her, trying to get free, but she twisted his arm harder and all movement ceased.
"Then you know that you can't kill me yet if you want to win."
"Who said anything about killing you?" She twisted a little farther and Dean groaned. "I just want to have a little fun." She gave another hard twist and dots danced in front of him when he heard the sickening crack. "One wrist… want to go for two?"
"I'm going to kill you."
"Dream on, baby." She whispered and then got up. Dean rolled over onto his back and rested his wrist on his chest, staring up at the sky. Meg stood next to him and placed her foot on top of his wrist, gently, he bit his lower lip and glared at her. "Forget about him, Dean. He's not going to die, but he won't be Sam anymore. At least not your Sam." Was that… sorrow in her voice? Regret? Pity? "Is all this really worth getting killed over."
"I won't let you have him. I'll kill us both before I let you have him."
"Then you'll die trying."
"Better than going out like a bitch." He snapped and she pushed her foot down harder.
"I'm trying to save your life…"
"Why?"
"Because you and your father are Sam's strongest ties to humanity… he's stronger with those ties. And since your father is just too much of a threat, you'll be the only one left. We need you to stay alive."
Dean laughed bitterly. "This is rich…" He groaned.
Another wave of hopelessness washed over him. How the hell were they going to get out of this one? Could he even consider this one? This was their goddamn life. Could they get out of their life and still live?
"I really, really, hate your voice." She muttered. "Now listen, and listen good or I'll break your other wrist." She knelt down, grabbing a handful of his hair and giving him the choice of a bald spot or sitting up.
He wasn't sure how girls took bald spots, so he sat up.
"You're going to go to Lawrence and meet up with Serena. She's going to get you a room and the two of you are going to catch up…"
"Be your freaking hamster? I'll die first."
"That can be easily arranged, sweetheart." She snapped. "I'm offering you a safe life, nothing will touch you…" She smiled. "Except maybe Serena, but you're all ready familiar with her touch. I'm pretty sure you enjoyed it last time, unless you can fake those." She said slyly.
"I swear to God…" She laughed at that.
"Compared to my father, God is a paraplegic five year old." She explained. "Now, be a good boy and go to Lawrence and I'll let you say goodbye to Sam before he crosses to the dark side." She laughed at her own joke and Dean rolled his eyes.
Could she be anymore pathetic?
She pulled him to his feet and directed him in the direction of his car. He turned to her and held out his wrist lamely.
"I can't drive with a broken wrist." He muttered, smiling. Thank god for injuries. She groaned with annoyance and grabbed his wrist, receiving a whimper from the oldest son of John Winchester.
"You baby." She whispered and in the weirdest feeling Dean had felt yet, his bone reformed and his wrist was as good as new. "You can drive now." She threw his wrist down. "And don't think that you'll be alone." She tapped her head. "Rowan isn't the only one who can read your mind."
- - -
She stood outside the window, pulling her jacket tighter around her. He was inside. She could feel him.
She wondered if he could feel her.
Well, if he could, then he'd be prepared.
It's always more fun when they fight back, she thought.
She walked to the door, never pausing to knock.
His home is my home.
- - -
Sam stared at his father. The last time he'd seen him, they'd all be very bloody and beaten. Now they were both healthy and their emotions were high.
Sam was scared and worried for Dean.
John was excited knowing their fight was coming to a quick conclusion.
"Dad…" Sam whispered, disbelieving. He took a step toward his father and grabbed a handful of the shoulder of his father's jacket. "You're… you're here." John smiled and nodded.
"Yeah, Sammy. I'm here." He whispered back. Sam swallowed and looked down at his father's boots. Gees, he needed new ones. Father's Day, Sam decided, he'd get his father new boots…if they were both still alive by then.
"Dad… Dean… uh, he's gone." Sam mumbled and looked at his father, expecting fear, expecting worry, expecting rage. What he saw was knowing, knowing expectation. John had known Dean was going to leave.
John nodded, "I know he's gone, Sam. It was the only way…"
"Stop saying that!" Sam yelled, stepping away from his father. "All of you! There is always another way!" John grabbed his son's arms, holding him tightly.
"Listen to me, Samuel." He demanded.
Samuel. His father only called him that when he needed him to be a man.
Sam had never heard his brother breathing so hard. Struggling so hard to breathe, to live. And his father wasn't doing much better, but at least he was conscious.
"Sam, go get some towels and the first-aid kit." John ordered. Sam didn't move. "Go Sam, now!" Sam scurried to the bathroom.
John piled another pillow beneath Dean's head, trying to ease the pressure on his collapsed lung. God, they needed to go to a hospital, but John wasn't sure Dean would survive the drive. The roads were dirt, bumpy, and it was icy out. He got out his cell phone and dialed quickly.
"Caleb." John gasped into the phone. "Fine, but Dean isn't. Yeah, the cabin. Hurry." A disgraced doctor, but Caleb was the best medic they knew and he'd saved them on more than one occasion… like twenty maybe?
"Here, Dad." Sam whispered, throwing the towel and the kit on the bed. John nodded approvingly.
"Sam, I need you to do something." John whispered. Sam nodded and John swallowed.
"I need you to get that out of your brother's stomach." John whispered. "My grip isn't strong enough with all the blood I've lost…"
"Can't we leave it in until Caleb gets here?" Sam pleaded. John shook his head.
"It's poisoning him. Samuel, you need to do this. He's going to die."
Sam didn't even remember what they'd fought or how injured he and John had been. He just remembered that John had called upon him to be a man that day, the first time of many.
And he remembered that at the age of ten he'd been forced to cause his brother terrible pain in order to save him.
(Kinda like Dean's doing to you now, right Sammy?)
"Dean is safe! And as much as I hate it, I have to go into hiding." He looked at Eve and she nodded knowingly. "You're going to have to be on your own, kid."
"Oh, but he'll have me."
"Meg." John said without turning around.
"Oh, you know me?" She asked happily. John turned slowly and nodded.
"You almost killed my sons; I make it my business to know their enemies." He explained. He turned to her, a gun pointed straight at her chest. She took a step back, her face contorting in surprise. But, she recovered quickly, and smiled.
"Oh Johnny, you have to know better than that." She shook her head disappointedly.
"Oh, I do." He flashed the pentagram on the side of the gun and her eye's widened. "That's right." He smiled. "This is the colt." He aimed and cocked the gun.
"John! You'll kill the girl." Eve cried.
"It's the only way." John reasoned.
"That's someone's child! John you can't be serious!"
"I guarantee that I'm doing her a favor." He aimed directly at her heart, no messing this up. There were three bullets in this gun, one for this, one for the demon and one for emergencies.
"Dad…" Sam's head was spinning. What the hell was going on?
Meg seemed to sense the danger that she was in, because she took a step back.
"I know where Dean is going." She whispered, looking directly at Sam.
Like a little boy promised candy, Sam's face lit up. John half expected something along the lines of, "Can I get it, Daddy? Please? Can I get it? Huh? Huh?" Only the "it" was Dean and the candy dealer was a demon in an innocent's girl's broken body.
"Where?" Sam hissed.
"Don't talk to her Sam, she's just trying to save her own skin." John explained, his teeth bared in anger.
"He's with Serena." Meg explained, purposely ignoring Daddy Winchester. However, both of them seemed a little shaken by that statement.
"She's dead." Sam whispered, all his voice box would muster. Meg smiled evilly and looked at John, holding his hateful gaze.
"That's what Daddy told him, but Serena is still very much alive." She shrugged. "Well, at least the demon inside her is."
"So why have I been dreaming of her?" Sam asked.
"Sam! Stop talking to her! She's just trying to bait you into…"
"Dad! Shut up! She knows where Dean is!"
John looked at his son and that's when Meg struck.
She dove at John, eyes on the colt.
"John!" Eve cried, and John pulled the trigger.
The gunshot echoed through the house, scurrying into the farthest corners of the house and ricocheting back again.
Meg staggered back, hands over the hole in her stomach. She lifted her head, tears in her eyes and blood pouring from her lips.
"You have no idea what you've just done." She made a gargling noise and fell to her knees. "You just ruined his only chance for salvation! They'll be no mercy for your boys now!" She gasped and fell forward, struggling for a few moments longer.
Then all movement ceased.
"Damn it!" John cursed and turned to Sam, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pushing him against the wall. "I told you to shut the hell up! Now you've just messed everything up!"
Sam held his father's gaze, his face blank of any emotions. "She knew where Dean was…"
"And you can't know!" John yelled, slamming Sam into the wall again. Everything was falling apart. He was going to lose both his boys if they messed up again. "You two have to journey alone! Don't you get it Sam? You'll focus on him, and you'll die. He'll be a selfless bastard and get himself killed for you! I won't let that happen, damn it. I'm trying to save both of you the only way I know how…"
And then it happened.
John Winchester crumbled.
His breath made a hitching noise and he let his head fall forward onto Sam's chest, his hands slowly falling from his son's shirt. "You've got to understand, Sammy... they're not gunna give me or your brother a second's thought. We're nothing to them, nothing but a meaningless tie to good for you, they'll want us gone." He sighed. "That's why, after tonight, we can't see each other again until this is over." John took a deep breath and composed himself. "You're going to have to be strong, Sammy."
"Dad… I can't do this on my own." I don't want to.
"You're going to have to." I don't want you to, either.
"What if I can't?" What if I'm not strong enough?
"Don't even ask that question." Because damn it Sam, I don't know. I just know you're my son, and this is your destiny. And I have faith in you beyond all question. "You'll do it. And you'll have Eve and Missouri on your side… that's a lot of power behind you, kid."
"What if I fail, Dad? What if they…"
John grabbed his shoulder. "Then we'll go down together, fighting, as a family." And John pulled him into a strong hug.
I don't hug my boys…
Unless I know the end is coming.
- - -
Dean grumbled inaudibly over the television. He'd tried several times to take wrong turns, each time earning himself a painful shock through his nervous system.
He was going to kill that bitch.
Currently, he was strapped to the bed. Yes, strapped. Serena was in the kitchen, cooking God knows what.
She was just as beautiful as he remembered her. Short and thin, delicately so, with all the curves a woman was born to have. Her skin was milky white, and he just wanted to touch it. Her hair was pale blonde, paler than he remembered, like an angel's. Her cheeks were still pink, her lips were still red and her eyes were still that haunting blue he remembered so clearly.
"Chicken or beef flavor?" She called from the kitchen/dinning room/bedroom section of the hotel room.
"What ever masks the arsenic best." Dean grumbled back. Serena smiled gently at him.
"Dean, you're so silly." She cooed and grabbed a chicken flavor. Dean smirked.
Bitch doesn't know me as well as she thinks she does. And he took a weird comfort in that.
She poured the noodles into a bowl and walked over to him, sitting next to him. He turned his head away and she frowned.
"Dean, please. Don't be like this."
"You're not even human." Dean spat. "I… you…" He turned his head away and swallowed his words. Serena twisted the fork in the bowl and brought a forkful of steaming noodles towards his mouth, her hand held underneath it to avoid dropping any broth on his shirt.
"Eat." She ordered, her angelic voice lacking an authoritative bite. Dean looked at the noodles and shook his head. "I don't want to have to force you."
And he knew she could.
"You're going to have to, bitch." Dean spoke coldly. She sighed and set the fork back in the bowl. She leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on his forehead, he almost gasped at how cold her lips were.
She put the bowl on the bedside table and placed her hand on his chest. "Please, I don't want to have to do this. It hurts me to hurt you."
"Didn't stop you last time."
"I was doing my job."
"And I'm doing mine."
A shiver ran through her body and she closed her eyes for a minute, breathing heavily. Dean almost spoke to her, but she looked down at him again and her eyes were black as midnight.
Her hand flew out with blink-and-you'll-miss-it speed. Her grip was strong, painfully so. She forced his mouth open, leaving bruises in the wake of her fingertips and forced the fork into his mouth, scratching the roof of his mouth and barely giving him enough time to chew and swallow before she shoveled another mouthful inside, nearly spearing his lips.
After two bites, the hands fell away.
"Are you going to cooperate now?" Two voices came from her lips. The angelic one that used to send his heart aflutter, yes, Dean Winchester's heart can flutter too. And the other was something dark and evil.
He nodded and swallowed the force-fed food.
"Good." It was simply Serena now. "Why can't you always be this easy going?" She asked. "I remember you used to fight me about…"
"Don't you dare." Dean hissed. "You aren't even a person… don't act like there was something…" Dean ordered. "I'll cooperate, just don't talk to me."
"Oh, but Dean, I really did love you." She whispered. "You see, my sister, she was promised your brother, and I… well I was promised you."
"I'm not something you can own." God, did he really just say that? Dean looked over at the rope holding his wrists. Was it long enough to hang himself with?
She ran her hands over his face, lovingly. "I'm so sorry I hurt you, Dean." She whispered.
Yeah, a wheelchair for almost a month.
"I'm sorry I broke you."
Two legs, a pelvis, four ribs… I've still got the scars from where they had to insert metal into my legs to reconstruct the bones.
"Your heart…" She whispered, her hands stilling over his chest.
"Yeah, I had a heart attack, what of it?" Don't say it, don't say it…
"I'm sorry I broke your heart, Dean." She whispered, tears coming to her eyes. "I never wanted to… but he…"
"Your father." The demon that killed my mother, Jessica, taking Sammy from me. Destroying everything I care about.
"You understand, don't you?" She asked, near hysteria. "You know what it's like to follow your father's ridiculous vendettas." She shook her head. "I don't care about Sam, I don't care about destiny… none of it matters to me. I just want you."
"Sorry, I don't think your father would approve of me as his son-in-law." Dean whispered and winced when the ropes suddenly bit into his skin.
"I could protect you from him." She whispered. "I could shield you… hide you away."
"And my brother and father?"
"Only you." She whispered sadly.
"Sam dreamed about you…" Dean whispered suddenly. "You were with Rowan… you let Rowan kill me."
"I'd never." She promised. "Dean, I love you."
"But you did. How do I know you're not trying to trick me?"
"You don't. But Dean I…" She gasped suddenly. "No…" She whispered and crawled off the bed, running over to the counter.
She came back with a knife and an ancient bowl. Dean grimaced. Just the tools gave him the heeby-jeebies.
"Sorry, I have to make a call." She whispered and pressed the blade against the exposed white skin of his inner arm. Blood bubbled out and she pressed against the wound, allowing the crimson to flow into the bowl.
Just enough. Then she ran her hand over the cut and it vanished. Dean watched in horrified fascination as she began to call upon her father, stirring the blood with her finger tip.
"Father, I felt…" She shook her head. "No, it can't be. She's too smart for that." She listened. "He has it? The colt? What are we going to do, father?" She listened to her instructions, nodding. "But… isn't there another way? Do we have to hurt him?" And deep in his stomach, Dean knew they were talking about him. "Of course Father, yes. Yes. Yes. I will." She pulled her hand back and looked sadly at her betrothed.
"I'm sorry Dean. It's time." She whispered.
- - -
"You have the holy water?"
"Yes."
"Salt?"
"Of course."
"The colt?"
"Yes, Dad." Sam said exasperatedly. John nodded and clasped Sam's shoulders, examining him with teary eyes.
"My baby boy…" John whispered in disbelief. "You know, Mary always said you'd be the genius." He laughed. "You'd have the brains and Dean would have the beauty. She'd always pictured you on the cover of Time and him on the cover of GQ."
"Too bad for Dean I got both, huh?" Sam asked, surprised to find tears in his eyes as well. John laughed heartily and gave his son's shoulders a squeeze.
"You got my rugged handsomeness, Dean got his mother's beauty." John explained. "Although those puppy-dog eyes of yours are utterly your own." He laughed. "And neither Mary or I lay any claim to those freakishly long eyelashes your brother has."
And suddenly they both ached for Dean to tell them to shut up and stop being so jealous.
"We're going to save him." Sam assured his father, and assured himself. John nodded.
"I know." He smiled and brushed Sam's hair away from his face. "Since you're going to save the world and all, do you think you could get a haircut?"
"Now that's asking just too much."
"Oh my gosh, just tell each other you love each other, hug and then leave. I'm pregnant and this tearful goodbye stuff is killing me." Eve whispered as she walked out with a sack of food, tears rolling down her cheeks.
"You really shouldn't have." Sam whispered, taking the food from her. She shrugged.
"It's just me and Angie until Josh comes home, it's the least I could do." She explained. Sam peeked precariously inside.
"No. You really shouldn't have." He whispered as he feigned disgusted. She hit his arm, and then threw her arms around him, he barely had time to move the bag before she crushed it between them.
"Be careful." She whispered. "Come home to me, with Dean. And when you do, this had better all be over. I've known about it for two weeks now and I haven't stopped worrying. It's not healthy. No pressure or anything, but my and my baby's lives depend on it." He smiled sarcastically and kissed her cheek, but she slid her lips to his lips and gave him a soft and sweet kiss, a possible goodbye kiss.
He pulled away in surprise, but she smiled and he touched his lips.
"Okay lover boy." John teased. He pushed Sam towards his truck, since Dean had, of course, taken the Impala. "Get going." Sam looked at his father.
"Take care of yourself, Dad."
"You too, kiddo."
And then they hugged again.
And Sam was off.
- - -