AN: So…enough of you mentioned liking the flashbacks and Ben doesn't really get all that much actual screen time and I love flashbacks a little too much. So…more flashbacks. (I'm not sorry.) This one's back to Sam's POV because I've been switching back and forth. I learned that from Lena!
Leann: Aw, thank you! Yes, Dean needs them. I'm actually not sure how much Cas will be in this story – he'll make an appearance but I haven't decided how much. I'm glad you're reading.
Shazza: When I was growing up, those big old boats were everywhere…but I grew up in Michigan, only a few hours away from Motor City, USA. Everyone had those big American cars or trucks. I actually owned a '79 Impala as my first car, but it was a piece of junk and not nearly as cool looking as the '67. Anyway, I always love reading your comments and what strikes your fancy. Thanks!
Blondie: I'm really nervous about how the first interaction between Dean and Lisa came out and can't wait to hear what you think. I enjoy writing the flashbacks, so it gives me warm fuzzies when you say you like reading them. And I've always believed the connection between the brothers is the heart of the whole show!
Lena: Quick note on the other story (since it's a one-shot so I can't respond there) I just figured Sam had his GPS enabled on his phone. *shrugs* LOL I joked that my 16 year old was going to get an Impala, and she would have been thrilled, but not so much. Instead, she just wears a charm necklace that has Baby and her license plate on it. The Star Wars reference wasn't just for you, but I knew you'd like it. You know it's not a Woomie story until I drop a couple "nerdy" references, a couple quotes, and at least two flashbacks! Hehe Thanks as always for how specific you are, and how very, very nice and supportive!
The sheriff turned out to be a shortish man with very little hair on top of his head but a rather impressive white mustache. His face was on its way to becoming jowly, but his body was still fit. Dean was silent as Sam introduced them and massaged the man's ego. Sam tried to focus on his task and bury his worry for his brother. He didn't know how he'd expected Dean to act, but this unnatural stillness wasn't it.
Shaking that aside to do the job, Sam worked the sheriff until he was convinced that they were sincere in their motives. In the end, he essentially gave them carte blanche to talk to witnesses and view the scene. They didn't have any suspects yet, but he gave Sam a copy of everything they did have.
All too soon, the brothers were heading for the Braeden house. "You ready for this?" Sam asked Dean quietly.
"No."
The quiet admission hurt, but Sam was still glad for it. A Dean in denial was a Dean less in control of himself. Sam nodded, a silent I know you're not. I'm here.
They didn't say another word, and Sam found himself remembering Ben when they'd first met him. Just eight years old, he'd been the calmest of all the kids they'd rescued, helping the other kids and getting out last.
"Nice job in there, keeping the others calm," Dean was saying to Ben. Ben just shrugged. "I mean it. Not many people can keep their cool under pressure like that." He'd squeezed the boy's shoulder and Sam remembered just how much that shoulder squeeze could mean. Sam had gotten one after his first kill, when he couldn't decide whether to be proud or sick. And at Jess' funeral. And a million other times when he needed it most. He watched Ben relax a little under the hand and smiled a little at his brother's perception, knowing just what was needed.
Sam struggled to stand without being able to use either hand, as two little girls had latched onto his neck like he was a life preserver. Dean and Ben turned in unison, catching the motion. They took one look at Sam and his clingy burdens and laughed.
They looked so alike.
If Crowley were telling the truth, Dean might be Ben's actual father. Maybe it didn't matter. Dean had taken on the mantle for a year, living with and loving the boy. Sperm donor or not, for that time period, he was Ben's dad.
They were pulling up in front of Lisa's house now, and Sam ordered his thoughts. If Dean needed him to lead, he would. If Dean needed him to shut up and just be there he would. If Dean needed him to wax the car, he'd do that. "I'll let the PD know who we are," Sam offered, indicating the unmarked car with cops watching the place. "And I'd like to talk to the neighbor on that side. It's Rika." Rika was a hunter who'd been forced to retire when she'd lost a leg to the hunt. In exchange for Sam using his computer skills to fix up her credit report, she'd been happy to move to Battle Creek and keep half an eye on the Braedens.
"Just make nice with the po-po and come in," directed Dean, surprising Sam a little. Or maybe not. It couldn't be easy to face Lisa. "We can catch up with Rika after."
Sam hurried across the street to flash his badge to the men who were watching the house, gratified to find out that the sheriff had let them know he and Dean would be coming. He made it to the porch just as Lisa opened the front door, which must have been hastily installed, since it didn't match the rest of the house. The smell of sulfur still pervaded the entryway.
Lisa looked wrecked. Her eyes were red and her hair was pulled into a loose ponytail with pieces falling out. Her t-shirt was rumpled, her feet were bare, and she didn't seem to have gotten any more sleep than Dean did.
"Thank you for coming," she said, and her voice was low, broken, like she'd been crying. She stepped aside, but Dean didn't move to go in. Sam finally nudged him, making him jump before he walked in. They sat in a cozy living room, Lisa and Dean perching awkwardly on the edges of their chairs and not looking at each other.
"We're here to do anything you need, Lisa," said Sam gently when nobody else spoke. "Is there anything you can tell us about what happened yesterday beyond what you told me on the phone?"
Lisa looked at Sam and he noticed a few gray hairs at her temples. "Um. Well, the door wasn't just broken. It was smashed. The police said whoever did it must have used a sledge hammer or something. Or they were really, really strong." She looked down. "The police put something on my phone so they can hear if anyone calls for a ra-ransom. But nothing so far." She dragged her eyes up to Dean, and they were so full of hope that Sam caught his breath. "Do you know who has him? Or what?"
"We think so," ground out Dean, and Sam nearly winced at the sound of his voice. If you could remove someone's voice, drag it over glass, then put it back in, that's what it would sound like. Dean cleared his throat. "We'll get him back, Lisa."
She blinked rapidly. "I know you will."
Sam found himself impressed with Lisa's composure. He drew her attention. "Lisa, it looks like your door was replaced. I'm going to put some symbols on it, okay? And I'm going to check the others. You should stay inside, or make sure you have Rika or one of us with you if you go out to be safe." He waited to get up until she nodded. While he was working with his sharpie, he could hear Dean clearing his throat.
"Lisa, I never thought what I did would follow me. I hoped…well, I am so sorry. I shouldn't have come – "
"No!" Lisa's voice was stronger than it had been so far. "Don't apologize for being part of our family. Don't you ever do that." A pause. "That's not what you need to apologize for. I understand what you did, I think. I know why. And I forgive you. But I still think you were wrong."
"I can't." Dean's voice was so raw that Sam almost messed up the sigil he was drawing. "I can't apologize for trying to protect you. It's not safe to be around me, and what I feel for you and Ben isn't as important as keeping you safe."
Unseen by Lisa or Dean, Sam squeezed his eyes shut. Dean would always put the safety of those he loved far above his own feelings, his own safety, his own life. And he'd think he was being perfectly reasonable doing it. He'd always blame himself for anything that happened to his family, whether or not he could have prevented it. If Sam decided to play in traffic and got run over by a Mack truck, Dean would consider himself at fault for not knowing ahead of time what Sam was going to do. Sam surreptitiously ran a hand over his face. Dean loved so hard, but he'd never learned to love himself.
"I'm not going to argue with you," Lisa was saying. "Just…find him, okay?"
Sam pulled back the rug to check the devil's trap on the floor by the front door. It was unbroken, which meant even if a demon had broken down the door, it hadn't been the one to grab Ben. Sam went to the back door to check those wards too, then the ones in the rest of the house. When he came back, Dean was giving a cursory look through the main floor, and Sam would have bet good money that neither he nor Lisa had said a word while Sam had been upstairs.
"Can we get anything for you? Groceries or anything?" Sam wanted to know before they left. Lisa just shook her head. "Alright. I know you have my number. Call if you need anything or anything changes. And we'll call you when we learn something."
To his surprise, Lisa pulled him into a hug. She'd hugged him after his last visit years ago, and he'd realized belatedly that she thought he was dying. Well, he had been dying from the Trials, but that was old news now. But he'd never expected affection from her, not after she'd seen him soulless and he'd essentially taken Dean away from her. "I'm glad you're okay, Sam," she said so softly he barely heard her. He was suddenly swamped by sadness for her and Dean, and Ben too. They were all good people. They deserved to be together, and the world or fate or whatever simply hadn't allowed it.
"Thank you," he responded, keeping a hand on her elbow for a minute. Then he did what he never did. Promises were Dean's thing, not Sam's. "We will bring him back to you," he vowed.
Lisa nodded again, her eyes filling with tears. She pulled away, looked at Dean, and drew a big, stuttered breath. Then she was hugging him a little desperately, and he put a hand to the back of her head in comfort, whispering words of hope and consolation.
Sam slipped away to check in with Rika. He forced himself to unclench his teeth as he gave himself the same promise he'd given to Lisa. Lisa won't lose Ben. Not on my watch.
While Sam was talking with Rika, Crowley called. "I'm at this pathetic excuse for a fleabag motel, but I can't convince the cockroaches occupying your room to let me in. Get back here. I have news."
"Quit your bitching and just tell me," Sam ordered. Sue him. He had no patience when a kid was missing.
Crowley sighed so hard the line crackled. "Fine, Samantha. Don't pop anything. I know where Praedo is, or at least where he was. Apparently, he used a human accomplice to grab the boy, guessing that there might be some of those pesky devil's traps you like so much." Sam tapped his foot in impatience but didn't say anything, knowing it would only give Crowley an opening to go off on a tangent.
"Apparently, the naughty little demon promised this human that he'd get him out of his deal if he helped. Then rudely slit his throat when the deed was done. Yet another reason that Praedo is a daemonium non grata. One cannot simply break deals willy-nilly. There must be order in Hell! In any case, said human ended up in Hell and promptly spilled his guts. And then he talked." Crowley chuckled at his own cleverness. "He told his assigned torturer his little sob story, and word came back to me, since it's known that I'm seeking out Praedo."
Sam rolled his eyes. Crowley sure loved the sound of his own voice. "And he is -- ?"
"I can be of assistance," Crowley wheedled instead of answering. "It would make a statement for me to move the simpering eel to the area of Hell for those who have earned my eternal displeasure."
Simpering eel? For shit's sake. "That's not up to me," Sam spoke flatly. "Text me the address and I'll call you back after I talk to Dean."
"You should really talk to your doctor about increasing your medication, Moose," responded Crowley, sounding extremely put out.
Sam just hung up. He walked to where Dean waited beside the Impala. Despite his preoccupation, Sam's eyes still snagged on the imperfections and injuries that marred the car's normally flawless lines. Just one more area of Dean's life that had taken a hit lately. Then his eyes caught the damp spot on Dean's shirt from Lisa's tears. Dammit.
"Crowley's sending me an address," he reported, watching Dean visibly transform from fed to hunter. "He wants to help. He wants the demon for eternal torture."
"He can meet us there, but he's not going in without me. And I get first crack at Pringle the demon douche."
Sam didn't bother to correct him, instead giving Dean directions and calling Crowley with a quick update. "You want me to let Lisa know we have a lead?" he asked, anticipating the answer.
"No. We'll call her when Ben's safe."
Sam nodded, pulling off his jacket. He was more than ready to kill some demons. And for Dean to lose that expression where his eyes pinched on the edges and his jaw jutted just a little bit forward. It was a face of pain and self-loathing and fear. It might not be clear to most people, but to Sam it was like a neon sign screaming my brother's hurting. Dean should never have to look like that.
Sam glanced back at the house as they pulled away and was transported back in time, when he stood outside a different Braeden house. He'd stood under a streetlight that blinked and went out above him. (The first few weeks he'd been topside, he'd had the affect on a lot of electronics, something he had a lot of theories about.)
Through the window, a Norman Rockwell-worthy family dinner was under way. Dean stuck a spoon and his nose, making Ben laugh and Lisa roll her eyes. Ben tried to get his own spoon to stick to his nose, dropping it onto his plate, splattering food up so high some of it stuck to his chin. In response, Dean sent Lisa an exaggerated apologetic look and Lisa to pointedly poured herself more wine. Dean grabbed a napkin, but instead of just wiping Ben's chin, covered his whole face with it, rubbing enthusiastically enough to ruffle Ben's hair.
Sam remembered that goofy face-cleaning technique. He'd hated getting his face wiped, so Dean made it fun.
Looked like Dean was getting a second chance to showcase his dad skills.
Even soulless, Sam recognized that Dean was happy, and wondered if it would be worth disturbing him. He was drawn to Dean, but not strongly so. Maybe he should leave Dean to his Cosby Show life. There were some people trailing Sam; it might be interesting to confront them and see what they wanted. Without another thought and certainly no regret, Sam turned away from the scene, where Ben was trying to get Dean into a headlock and Dean was pretending not to notice.
Only now, with the benefit of hindsight – and a soul – did Sam wonder what he might have seen had he looked closer. In spite of the idyllic setting, would he have seen those same nearly invisible signs of pain on Dean's face? The thought was humbling.
Love was all well and good, but it was time to focus on rescue and revenge.
Sam pulled out the demon killing knife that they had put to such good use over the years and set it on the seat between them. Sure, the angel blade Dean was carrying would do the same damage to a demon, but there was something satisfying and right about using the knife specifically designed to kill the black hearts. Dean gave a grimly satisfied nod. Damn straight. With one hand, he drew and handed over the angel blade and replaced it with the demon killing knife. His expression told Sam he'd done the right thing.
Time to kill some demons.