Garth held up a hand, forestalling everyone talking at once. "Here's what we're gonna do. Gertie, I want you to see who is closest to Boulder and can help the Bradburys. Sam, send an alert to all hunters warning them that demons and angels are back in play. Cas, get in touch with Charlie, Jody, and Donna, and let 'em know what's happening and if they've got anything that might help, well, to get it over to the bunker ASAP."
Dean pulled his laptop from his bag and booted it up. "I'm going to send Sam a recording of an exorcism my dad made to send to all hunters. I've also got a clear picture of the anti-possession sigil everyone should have, and I recommend they get it tattooed somewhere on their body. And my dad's journal has instructions on how to draw a devil's trap and how to make devil's trap bullets. Every hunter should get this information and start learning how to make it."
He glanced over at Sam, who was looking rather surprised as once again Dean went into Hunter Mode. "What's your email, Sam?"
"Uh, howlermonkey " Sam said, looking over at his father with an arched eyebrow. Garth smiled and shrugged.
"Okay, sent," Dean said, as he stared at his laptop. "Might want to roust your local preacherman and get a few gallons of holy water. And if you've got any contacts in Jerusalem, have them express you some holy oil. Heard enough times from my dad that angels are dicks, there's no reason to think they won't cause problems too. Oh," he continued, holding up a finger , suddenly remembering something, "according to dad's inventory, we've got about a dozen angel blades in the bunker's armory."
Garth walked over to Castiel and spoke softly into his ear. Castiel nodded and disappeared into the bathroom. Garth looked at Dean, Ben, and Makoa. "Alright, boys," he said, "it's coming up to 3AM, and I have a feeling y'all have been up for about 20 hours, and a chunk of that time was drivin'. I want y'all to take some Tylenol and sack out for a couple hours upstairs. No arguing," Garth said forcefully, seeing Ben open his mouth. "None'a y'all will be any good unless you get some sleep. The bunker is a good three and a half hours away."
Castiel handed Ben, Makoa, and Dean small cups of water and shook 3 tablets into each of their hands. The three men obliged Garth by tossing the Tylenol into their mouths and knocking back the cup of water. Then they made their way to the stairs and shuffled up, Ben and Makoa dropping onto the nearest available beds, barely taking the time to kick off boots or shoes. Dean detoured to the bathroom to scrub the dried blood off his face and out of his hair as best he could. Ten minutes later he made his way to a bed for himself, noting Makoa and Ben were already asleep. Dean sat down on the bed, a bit more heavily than he'd anticipated, and when he leaned forward to pull his boots off, he swayed unsteadily. Garth and Castiel moved in, Castiel taking Dean's boots off for him, while Garth gently turned Dean and pushed him back onto the bed. Dean tried to resist and do it all himself, but everything felt like he was moving in slow motion.
"Wha'd you do?" he asked muzzily.
"Just something to help you sleep, son," Garth said softly.
Dean couldn't understand why he felt like he was swimming in jello and his mouth was full of cotton. His eyes widened slightly when realization dawned, but by then it was too late.
"You muh - mufu - s'bitch -" Dean tried to speak, but unconsciousness washed over him like a wave and carried him off.
"They are not going to be happy when they wake up, Pops," Castiel said.
Garth shrugged and headed for the stairs, Castiel following. "There was no way they were gonna sleep otherwise, Cas. They'll get a good 6 or so hours of sleep, and with any luck, they won't realize they were Roofied. We'll drive to the bunker in 4 hours, they'll take the Cessna when they wake up, and we should all get to Lebanon around the same time."
"Why don't we just pack 'em in the plane and Gertie'll fly 'em out?" Castiel said with a smile.
"Don't be an idjit," Garth scolded with a frown. Then his face relaxed, tilted to the side, and an eyebrow arched. "Actually, that might not be so bad -"
"Pops!" Castiel looked surprised and concerned at the apparent ruthlessness his father was exhibiting. Usually that was reserved for the quarterly pack Moots.
"Relax, son," Garth said, physically shaking himself out of the mental reverie. "That's a line I ain't willin' t'cross, and that would for SURE put us on their shit list. Besides, I don't relish having to lug Dean and Makoa to the air strip and then wrangle 'em into the Cessna. Add Ben here, I'm not sure there'd be enough room for a pilot."
"I've sent Claire and Kaia to Boulder," Gertie reported, once Garth and Castiel joined her and Sam. "They already have the anti-possession tattoo, plus Claire has some experience dealing with angels and demons. I also called Donna and Jody, and they'll meet us at the bunker."
"Sounds good," Garth said, and then turned to Sam. "And what about your to-do list?"
"Texts have gone out, and I sent the various files Dean sent me to the rest of the hunters. I also got in touch with Rabbi Goldstein in Israel, and requested the Judah Initiative send us holy oil. I also told him why," Sam explained.
Garth nodded and started shutting lights. "Alright, everyone to bed. We have a big day tomo - later, and a long drive. See y'all in 4 hours."
"Night, Pops," the three Fitzgerald children said in unison, heading into their respective bedrooms in the main house. Garth locked the doors, shut the lights, and joined his wife in their bed.
"Dean?" a feminine voice spoke softly near Dean's head. "Time to wake up, hon, breakfast is almost ready, and I'm sure y'all want to shower."
"Mom?" Dean asked in confusion, rolling over and coming out of a deep sleep. He scrubbed his face with his hands and cracked open an eye, sitting up suddenly and coming as fully awake as he could \before caffeination. "Sorry, Mrs. Fitzgerald!"
"Call me Bess, Dean," she said with a smile. "I've left you, Ben, and Makoa fresh towels, and we rustled up changes of clothes for y'all. Showers are off the bathroom and they're stocked with soap and shampoo, and breakfast'll be ready up in the main house in 20."
Dean heard a shower turn on, noticing Ben and Makoa were gone, their cots unmade. "Thank you, misses - Bess. We'll be over in a few."
Bess patted Dean on the shoulder and headed back to the house. Dean grabbed the towel and shuffled towards the bathroom and showers, working his neck to clear the kinks. He touched the bump on his head, grateful it didn't hurt, stepped into an empty shower stall, stripped, and kicked his clothes just outside the curtain. Needles of hot water under high pressure hit his skin and he groaned in pleasure. He heard a chuckle over the noise of the shower, and he reached for the small bottle of shampoo.
"I take it we all slept like the dead," Dean called out over the sound of running water, as he scrubbed his scalp. "I have a feeling it was more than a couple hours."
"It was six," Ben said, not sounding happy at all. He held his towel around his waist as he headed back to the bunk room. "I don't understand how I managed to sleep six fucking hours, knowing my mom is missing, and the best I can hope for is she's been kidnapped by some fucking demons."
Dean stood under the streaming water, and rinsed the shampoo from his hair. He made a cursory pass over his body with the small bar of soap before rinsing once again. He shut the water, toweled off, wrapped the towel around his waist and headed back to the bunk room. Makoa was pulling his boots on, t-shirt straining across his shoulders and around his biceps. Ben was muttering under his breath as he buttoned the waistband of the fresh jeans and reached for his own t-shirt. Dean pulled on the clothing laid out on his cot, happy that the jeans were boot-cut, and the t-shirt was a bit baggy. He stomped into his boots, vigorously scrubbed his scalp and hair with the towel before finger-combing the curling long hair off his face, and headed downstairs. He packed away his laptop, and the three men headed up to the main house.
Makoa knocked on the back door, opened it, and stepped into the fragrant kitchen. "Morning, Mrs. F," he said to Bess, moving to take a seat at the kitchen table. Ben and Dean came in, Ben gave a rather sullen "good morning" to their hostess, and Dean went straight to the coffee pot. "Good morning Bess. We really appreciate the change of clothes. I have to admit, we weren't expecting to be gone this long, otherwise we would have been better prepared."
He poured three mugs of coffee, setting one in front of Ben and the other in front of Makoa before retrieving his own coffee and finding a seat. Bess came over and set a plate of bacon and a plate of scrambled eggs on the table. "Dig in, boys. Y'all are gonna have a long day or six ahead of you."
Dean snagged a couple slices of bacon from the plate before passing it to Ben. "Are the others going to be joining us?"
"So here's the plan," Bess said, sitting at the table with her own mug of coffee. "Garth, Gertie, and Castiel are on their way to the bunker. Y'all are going to fly to Lebanon and meet up with them at the local airfield. Sam'll stay here and man the computers and phones. And here's your flight plan," she said, starting to push some papers towards Dean, but stopped. "First, y'all need to finish breakfast. Then Sam'll drive y'all to the airstrip."
The three shoveled eggs and bacon into their mouths and swilled coffee as fast as the hot beverage allowed. Ten minutes later they carried their plates and mugs to the sink, and Bess was hollering for Sam.
"Thank you for the hospitality, Bess," Dean said, shouldering his bag. Ben and Makoa conveyed their own thanks, and followed Sam and Dean into the living room.
"You boys be safe," Bess called after them as they headed out the front door.
The four men got into a dusty pickup truck and drove for 10 minutes to a hangar and a dirt airstrip. They made their way to the far side of the hangar, where a 4-seater Cessna Skyhawk sat at the end of the landing field. Ben stopped, took a step back and shook his head.
"No," Ben said, refusing to move. Makoa nearly walked into him. "I can't - hard "no" for me. Actually a hard "fuck no" with safe word for me."
"What's wrong, Ben?" Makoa asked. Dean and Sam turned to watch.
"I can't fly," Ben said, beginning to hyperventilate. "I can't get into that plane -"
"We've been talking about flying for the past 30 minutes," Dean said impatiently. "What did you think we were going to fly in?"
"I don't know," Ben yelled, pointing a shaking finger at the Cessna. "But I sure as hell wasn't thinking it would be a ride-on mower with fucking wings!"
"Ben, it's fine," Dean replied in a calmer, more neutral voice. "I've flown planes like this for years, and -"
"You don't think I want to?" Ben interrupted. "I know it'll make searching for my mom faster, but I. Can't. The only way I'd get on a plane like that is if I were unconscious."
Makoa took a step closer to Ben, right hand balling into a fist. Dean grabbed the hunter's arm.
"No need for that, Makoa," Dean said. "Look, let's do this - Makoa and I will fly to Lebanon, and you go back to the barn with Sam. Help him man the phones and the computers."
Sam nodded, and Makoa fished his keys out of his pocket, tossing them to Ben. "If you feel like driving to the bunker instead, take my truck."
Ben caught the keys and said a quiet thank you. Dean circled the plane and ran a systems check before giving Makoa the go ahead to climb in. Fifteen minutes later, they were in the air and heading towards Lebanon, Kansas.
"So what do you want to do?" Sam asked Ben as they headed back to the truck. "With Gertie and Cas out with my dad, I could use your help in the barn. I know how much you're itching to find your mom."
Ben felt at a loss. This whole experience was foreign to him. Until now, he'd led a mundane life and had mundane hobbies. He'd never shot a gun, he'd never taken martial arts classes, he wasn't a freaking pilot. But he could operate a computer and could make phone calls. He nodded to Sam. "I'll help you."
Then Sam drove towards the barn, bumping over the dirt road.
The small plane landed with a small hop on the asphalt runway. Dean taxied the plane off the runway and he and Makoa climbed out. Garth, Gertie, and Cas were leaning against their SUV and watched as the two newcomers approached.
"Sam called," Garth said once Dean and Makoa arrived at the vehicle. "Ben's gonna stay and help him run things."
Dean nodded, and everyone got into the SUV. Gertie drove for 20 minutes, using the onboard navigation app to get them to the bunker. They bumped along a road that dead-ended at a concrete and brick building with a doorway blocking what looked like an underground tunnel. There was another SUV parked, and two older women got out. Dean and the rest got out of their SUV, and Garth walked over and gave the two women hugs.
"Good t'see ya, ladies," Garth said. "You know my kids, the really large fella is Makoa, hunter out of Casper, Wyoming by way of Hawai'i, and the slightly less large guy standing next t'him is Dean Winchester. Not sure when y'all saw each other last."
The silver-haired woman smiled sadly, walked over to Dean, and pulled him in for a hug. "It's been a minute," she said. He enveloped her in his arms and returned the sad smile. "Good to see you Jody," and peering over her, he smiled at the other woman. "You too, Donna."
The two stepped out of the hug, and Garth handed Dean a small metal box with a large star-like sigil in the center and small eyes etched into it. Dean flipped back the top, turned one of the wider sides, and slid up yet another piece of metal. An iron key with the same star sigil was nestled inside. He flipped it out of the box, looked at the others, and walked down the outer stairs to the door.