The Guard Changed at Dawn
Chapter 8
Dean stepped out of the convenience store carrying two cups of coffee and an apple danish. It was just after midnight, and he was tired. After leaving the farm in late morning, he'd driven for several hours before JT had taken over. They'd stopped for dinner at eight, and then Dean took his place behind the wheel. Once the Impala was on the road again, JT had slumped in the passenger's seat and fallen asleep.
Out of all his kids, the Impala-affect, as Sam liked to call it, had been inherited by JT. JT loved driving the vintage car, and if he had his way, Dean would never get behind the wheel. When JT wasn't driving, he was usually relaxed and asleep, his head resting against the passenger's window.
Dean smiled and gently closed the driver's door. Gulping some coffee, he put the key in the ignition and started the engine.
"We should get a room," JT murmured.
Dean looked over. "Hey, thought you were asleep."
"I was." JT yawned and did a modified stretch. Leaning forward, he looked out the front window. "There are plenty of hotels around here."
"I was going to head on to Bobby's."
JT frowned and glanced down at his watch. "It's after midnight and we only have four more hours of drive time. We'd get there after four in the morning. Why don't we get a motel here, then head out at eight? We'll get there in time for lunch."
Sorrowfully, Dean looked out the passenger's side window. When he was younger, he and Sam would have driven all night, knowing that at whatever time they reached Bobby's, the older hunter would be awake and waiting for them. But those days were gone, and he felt the distinct stab of loss. If he got there at four in the morning now, Jackson, Steve and Mark would be asleep. Clearing his throat slightly, he muscled the pain aside and rallied. "Yeah, sounds good. I think there's a Motel 6 up ahead."
"How about that Holiday Inn Express and Suites," JT said with a smile. It was a usual back-and-forth between them when they were on a hunt. Dean usually chose the budget hotel without amenities, and JT countered with a higher end hotel with hot water and no bugs.
As his kids were growing up, Dean had occasionally regaled them with hilarious stories of all the different types of motels he and their Uncle Sam had stayed in during their lives. If Sam was over when the subject arose, he would chime in with visions of silver wall paper, carpets that were crunchy to walk on, or towels that stood on their own. Dean always gave expansive descriptions of the outlandish décor, sticky laminated tables and chairs, the questionable bedspreads and bathrooms. His accounts always had everyone in gales of laughter. During the first summer Ben was home from college, Dean had decided on a father and sons getaway to visit Bobby. Piling Ben, JT and James into the Impala, they'd hit the road. On their way, he decided it would be fun to take the kids to one of the motels he and Sam often stayed in on this highly traveled route between Bobby's and Pastor Jim's.
He thought it would be fun until they'd actually gotten to the motel.
Ben had taken one step inside, then walked back out, declaring he would sleep in the Impala. JT was a bit more stoic. He walked in, looked around, even sat gingerly on one of the beds. James demanded to be picked up in his father's arms and wouldn't let Dean set him down … anywhere. Yes, the motel and the rooms were more worn than when he and Sam had slept here more than twenty five years ago, but even in its present dilapidated condition, it was far from the worst place they'd ever laid their heads. In the end, Dean had checked out and taken his children to a nearby Motel 6.
That night had been a huge eye opener. Instead of sleeping, Dean sat at the small side table in the motel room drinking hot coffee, watching his beautiful children sleep in their clean motel beds; Ben buried under a mountain of covers in the bed by the door, JT and Jimmy curled around one another in the opposite bed, their breaths sweet on the air.
With new eyes he thought back over the places he and Sam had stayed growing up, places so dirty he and John would need to clean everything including wash the sheets before his dad deemed the beds safe enough to sleep in. He thought of the apartments that were falling down around their ears, places that would certainly have resulted in him and Sam being carted off by Child Protective Services if they'd known. He thought of that trailer in Arkansas, with the holes in the floor and walls, the one Caleb had rescued him and Sam from after Dean had been arrested. While not every apartment or motel John acquired for his family had been dilapidated by any means, there were enough hovels that Dean became accustomed to the shabbiness. When he was young, he'd made do with those horrible places because he didn't know much better and because he had no choice. But he had a choice with his children, his children had a choice, and he would never let them sleep in a place where bugs were considered the better choice of neighbors.
Thinking of all those past dives he and Sam had stayed in made him think of the men and women who still hunted full time. Though as Guardian, he urged hunters to have more in their lives that just hunting, he knew that several still hunted as a way of life. They lived as he'd grown up; credit card fraud, gambling to make ends meet, staying in abandoned houses or rundown apartments, seeking medical help from the corner drug store. He wanted more for those hard-working people.
His father had used his military pay to invest in Tri Corp so that his sons would have a future, and his investment had paid off well. Dean had, in turn, made use of the Caleb's accountants to invest that money so that he had sizable sums to leave his children in addition to his two garages. Now he wanted to use some of that money to invest in the Brotherhood, so hunters wouldn't live in squalor or go without food or medical treatment.
Speaking with Caleb and Sam, he told them he wanted to set up a money market account for the Brotherhood. Interest generated from the account would be funneled into a corporate fund. Hunters who chose to hunt full time would be issued a Brotherhood corporate card, and the bills would be paid from that fund. John Winchester's legacy would be that hunters could have good food, safe lodgings, money for gas, car repairs, and medical supplies. These men and women who hunted full time were unsung heroes, protecting the population from the shadows, and they deserved the support of the Brotherhood. Caleb and Sam had loved the idea and wanted to help.
Together, the Triad took the idea to Alison Daughtery, an integral member of the Brotherhood and department head of the research team. Outlining the idea, they asked her to set up and monitor the account. Delighted, Alison decided the best way to proceed was to establish a new company and set up the money market account and corporate cards through that name. Thus, Supernatural Unlimited Research Group, an online research unit dedicated to sleuthing rumors and sightings of a supernatural nature, was born. According to Alison, SURG's website would feature articles on mythical monsters, abnormal creature and alien sightings as well as a bi-monthly newsletter on all things weird. The newest members of the Brotherhood research team would learn the business by monitoring and writing for the website under the supervision of Gabrielle Matthews, Ethan Matthews' daughter and twin sister of Gideon, the proposed Knight of the second Triad. Dean thought the idea was hysterical. Through the years, the site had amassed a large online following and was one of the top sites for supernatural creature enthusiasts on the Internet.
"Dad?"
Dean looked over and saw his son was waiting for his counter offer to the Holiday Express Inn and Suites. Smiling, he said, "Economy Inn?"
JT grinned "Best Western."
"Deluxe Inn," they said together.
Dean laughed. He drove up the street to the Deluxe Inn and they checked in.
Once in their room, Dean let JT shower first while he contacted Juliet. Though probably in bed, he knew she would be waiting for his call.
"Hey," Juliet said, and he could hear the sleep in her voice.
"Hey. We're at a hotel in Nebraska City. We should be at Bobby's by tomorrow noon. Is Mary there?" Dean asked.
"Yes, she arrived this evening. Apparently she's decided she's in like."
Dean huffed out a laugh.
"JT make you stop for the night?"
"He made a reasoned argument that arriving at four in the morning wasn't the best idea."
Juliet laughed. "We raised that boy right."
Dean smiled. "I'll let you go back to sleep. Love you."
"I love you too. See you soon."
Dean was smiling when JT came out of the bathroom.
"Mom?"
Dean nodded. Rising, he said, "You better have left me some hot water."
"Do I look like Jimmy?" JT replied.
Dean laughed and headed inside. After a hot shower and a quick brushing of his teeth, he was ready for a few hours in a comfortable bed. Quietly, he opened the bathroom door and stepped out into the bedroom. JT had left the lamp on the nightstand lit, and was already buried under his covers. Walking to his son's bed, he ran a hand lightly over JT's soft, dark blond head. JT shifted slightly, and Dean smiled. Moving across the room to the bed nearest the door, he climbed inside and relaxed under the covers. Closing his eyes, he listened to JT's steady breaths and was soon asleep.
Singer Salvage near Sioux Falls, SD
Dean pulled slowly into the driveway of Singer Salvage. Applying the brakes, he stopped and stared down the long drive to the house; Bobby's house. He hadn't been here in several years; not since Bobby had passed away at the ripe old age of eighty-two. A long life for anyone much less a hunter, but a long life Dean had cherished. Those days after Bobby died were some of the most difficult in Dean's life, and considering his life, that was saying something. They were as bad as losing his father and Pastor Jim despite the non-violent nature. Bobby had died of old age.
.
8 Years Ago…
Dean walked through Bobby's house after the funeral pyre. The send off had been attended by Brotherhood and non-Brotherhood hunters alike: Bobby was a legend and loved. In addition to the immediate family and the Triad, many Brotherhood researchers and members of the clean-up crews had come along with Silas Fox, Buzz Adams, the Matthews' families, Missouri and even Richard Harland, though he hadn't stayed long. Jody Mills was the only "ordinary" to attend the funeral. No longer the sheriff of Sioux Falls, she had helped Bobby from time to time, but had resisted hunting full time.
After the funeral, several hunters lingered at the house, sitting in Bobby's front room, spilling onto the front porch telling tales of the legendary hunter, drinking beer and reminiscing. Dean felt too raw to join in. Moving away from the group, he'd wandered through Bobby's house, touching a baseball cap here or there, looking especially at the pictures in Bobby's library. There were several of him and Sam mounted on the walls and littering the jumbled desk. Numerous photos featured Caleb, and a few showcased the current Triad, both before and after they had stepped into their positions. Tucked into the corner of one of Bobby's cluttered bookshelves were a few older photos, one of which had captured Pastor Jim, John, Dean and Sam. Dean thought he looked around twelve years old. Frowning, he studied the photo, and suddenly smiled. Sam was sitting on a beat up old bike, an expression of mingled impatience and exhilaration plastered across his face. Dean was holding the front handlebars and Pastor Jim steadied the rear while John worked a manual pump to fill a flat back tire. Dean chuckled softly. He could almost hear the eight year old Sammy saying, Come on! Come on!, like the universe needed him to be pedaling as badly as he did.
Shaking his head slightly, he checked out more pictures of Jim, John and Mac sitting around Pastor Jim's table, or clustered in the barn or Bobby's garage. There were more photos featuring mixed groupings of their entire extended family.
"He loved those pictures."
Dean turned to see Jody standing in the doorway, leaning against the doorjam.
The former Sioux Falls sheriff pushed off the wall and came in, her eyes on the photos. "He loved those ones of you and Sam best."
Dean nodded, though Jody wasn't looking in his direction. "We loved him; we loved being here."
Jody's eyes went from the photos of Sam and Dean, which were center featured in Bobby's bookcase, to several more current snapshots of Winchester and Sawyer children. "He loved this new generation too, though I think he had a special place in his heart for JT." Jody smiled. "He looks so much like you." Glancing at Dean, she smirked slightly. "You were always his favorite."
Dean huffed out a soft laugh.
They were silent for a couple of minutes before Jody said, "You should take them."
Turning, Dean frowned. "Take them? They belong here."
"They belong with family." Moving away from the photos, Jody dropped into the well-worn chair at Bobby's desk. Studying Dean for a moment, she asked, "What are you going to do with the place? I know he left the house and the Salvage yard to you."
Pulling himself away from the pictures and the memories, Dean sat in the chair across from Bobby's desk, one he'd used countless times in the past. "I think I'd like to turn the house and the yard over to the Brotherhood."
Jody frowned for a moment. "Explain."
Dean smiled at the order. "Over the last ten, twelve years since Bobby stopped hunting in the field and could focus on his business, he really made a success of the salvage yard. Plus, he has more books of the supernatural and hunter lore than anywhere else, including the Brotherhood libraries." Running a thumb across his lips, he continued, "Hunters get injured, some have nowhere to go when they're unable to physically hunt anymore. They could come here, work in the salvage yard, do research for those in the field, answer the phones and backup other hunters in need, both union and non-union; build a life. Bobby always helped whoever needed it, regardless of whether they were in the Brotherhood or not. I'd like to continue that tradition."
Jody grinned. "I'm glad you said that. I'd like to help get this home in shape for hunters to come, whether they stay on permanently or only a few days for research. I could make sure the money made by the yard was used for hunters and upkeep on Bobby's and Rufus Turner's old hunting cabins, so they can still be used by hunters whenever they need a place to crash."
Dean shook his head with another grin. "Been thinking about this a lot, have you?"
"Yes." Jody looked around the room. "Bobby loved hunting, loved helping hunters, and he loved you boys. His home and business should help support hunters and stand as a legacy to his life."
.
Now...
Dean stared at the house, which looked to be in better condition than in those years when he and Sam had stopped here so often. Seemed as though Jackson Cull had done a hell-of-a job over the last several years.
Jackson had been a great hunter up until a black dog clawed his left side and leg, severing several tendons and doing major damage to his body. Though doctors had done a miraculous job in repairing that damage, Jackson's left leg had never been the same. He had retired from hunting. His recovery and physical therapy were ongoing at the time Bobby passed away. Dean had approached him with the offer of running Bobby's business for a small stipend and a pension plan. Jackson would live at the house, help with the yard, research, man the phones, and generally take over for Bobby. Jackson was happy to accept a position that would allow him to contribute to the hunting world. He had refused the stipend for now in lieu of the Brotherhood helping with his medical and physical therapy expenses. He'd also asked if his former hunting partner, who had been injured six years prior, could help out. Steve Walker had a head for numbers and would be an asset in keeping the books organized for the business. Dean agreed and between Jackson, Steve and Jody, Singer Salvage had been helping hunters for the last eight years.
"I miss Grandpa."
Dean started, having temporarily forgotten JT was sitting beside him in the car. "Yeah," he whispered.
Slowly he put the Impala into gear and they drove up the long driveway. As Dean was getting out of the car, Jody opened the front door and stepped out onto the porch. Dressed casually in jeans, a blue tee-shirt and boots, Jody didn't look as though she'd aged a day. Though completely gray, her hair was still in the same short cut as the last time he'd seen her, her smile just as bright.
"Been awhile since I seen you in these parts," Jody said cheekily.
Dean smiled. "You call; I come."
Jody snorted and walked down the steps. Pulling Dean into a hug, she whispered softly, "It's so good to see you."
Dean swallowed the lump that had appeared in his throat. "Back at 'cha."
JT was staring at the house in silence.
Jody went over and gave the young man a welcoming hug. "It looks a little different, but it's still Bobby's house."
Nodding, JT ran a quick hand over his eyes and went to retrieve his and his father's duffels from the trunk.
"Hey! Welcome back!"
Dean, JT and Jody looked to the garage and saw Steve Walker wave, one hand struggling to balance a large box against his hip.
Dean smiled and raised his hand as JT jogged across the yard, obviously intent on helping with the other man's burden.
Turning toward the house, Dean climbed the front stops and stood on the tidy and spacious front porch. Jumping lightly, he observed, "It isn't crooked anymore."
"Mark has been very handy in fixing the uneven porch, repairing the window sills and overall maintenance on this old house."
"He doing well?" Dean asked. Mark Wright had started hunting in his early twenties after his best friend had been killed by a ghoul. When he was only thirty-one he'd saved a family from a rawhead but suffered a claw to his shoulder blade that had caused severe damage to his back, shoulder and arm. It was an unfortunate circumstance. The father of the family had freaked and fought Mark to get away instead of letting the young hunter do his job. In trying to get the man to safety and away from the rawhead, Mark had gotten clawed. But he'd still managed to kill the rawhead and save not only the man, but his wife and three children as well. It was a tragedy, not only for one so young, but for someone who was very gifted in fighting the supernatural. Mark had been devastated by the situation. It was only through Jody's care and the support of Jackson and Steve that he had gotten through the trauma and was on the mend.
"He is," Jody confirmed, leaning back against the front door. "Aside from his much needed jack-of-all-trade skills, he's been helping with the research, and has started two courses; one online designed to teach hunters about how to interpret signs to help identify the creature, and another here in the yard teaching combat skills to younger hunters. We've gotten the word out and hunters have been lining up to take his defense course. He's even looking into developing new defense techniques that may allow hunters with certain physical limitations to hunt again. You might see Mark back out in the field again someday."
Dean smiled. "Great, I'm glad."
"You did good sending him here." Pushing away from the door, Jody took Dean's arm and tugged him into the house, knowing that he was stalling.
Reluctantly, Dean allowed Jody to pull him inside.
The front hall looked much as it had when he and Sam spent so much time here. The coat rack still stood in the corner just inside the door, several of Bobby's baseball caps hanging on the upper hooks joined by an old, dusty cowboy hat Dean knew belonged to Jackson. Below the hats Jody's coat hung next to a couple others.
When he turned to the right, Dean's eyes widened. Instead of the desks sitting in the middle of the living room with numerous books stacked everywhere and a side bed placed beneath the front window, a large comfy couch sat where the bed had been. Several oversized chairs were littered about the room, two flanking the fireplace. The doorway on the left side of the fireplace, which had previously been blocked by a bookcase, stood open. Slowly Dean walked over and peered inside. The walls of the small six-by-eight room were lined with shelves, all neatly stacked with books. There were three narrow, bar-height tables situated near the shelves, two piled with books waiting to be shelved.
"This room was stacked with boxes and boxes of books. A few were badly damaged by mildew and rot, but we saved the majority." Jody stepped inside, giving the room an appraising look. "Steve built the bookcases and we began to organize Bobby's collection. It's even more extensive than I thought. This room houses Bobby's collection on animal, animal hybrid, and spirit animal creatures. We added the bar-height tables so hunters could rest several books on the tables and take a few notes while they searched for what they needed."
Jody led the way back out, and they turned right into Bobby's old library. Dean was shocked again at the transformation. The two desks from the living room had joined Bobby's library desk. An additional desk had been added, and the four sat in a somewhat loose square in the center of the room, away from walls that were completely lined with bookshelves.
"In the library we took everything out and polished and waxed the floor then brought in more bookshelves. Even seven foot tall shelves weren't enough to house all Bobby's books, so Steve built cubby shelves above each book shelf. The main shelves deal with all manner of weird, and the cubby's above house the ancient language texts grouped by geographical region. And you know Bobby had a crap ton of those." Jody chuckled softly. "We arranged Bobby's desks in the middle of the room so that hunters could work and there's still room to walk around all the desks and get to the shelves without disturbing anyone. As you can see, two desks have laptops while the others just plenty of space to work." She pointed to a square, narrow bookshelf in the far corner. "There we keep pencils, pens, stacks of writing tablets as well as maps, computer ink and paper. We've even got a printer that will print large size maps." Pulling him further inside the room and turning him around, Dean saw that both walls just inside the arched doorway sported large corkboards. "So hunters can hang up their work. Others can use the mobile chalk boards."
Along the wall left wall beside the corkboard, there was a small, narrow desk in front of a wall lined with seven phones. Jody stepped over. "This is the hotline station." Above several phones were labels that said FBI, CIA, HLS, local LEO. "We take turns manning the station. These three phones," she pointed to the phones without labels, "are for hunters calling in for help, advice, and information. The other phones are for when someone calls for identity verification. We have almost everyone's aliases on the computer," she touched a small laptop, "so can look up who the law is asking about, what hunt they're on, and confirm their identity." She pointed to a switch on the side wall. "When the men go to bed, this switch is flipped and calls are transferred to the smaller hotline station upstairs."
Nodding toward the library closet, Jody led Dean over. The door had been removed, and it looked bigger than he remembered.
"We doubled the size of this closet by knocking out the closet in the adjacent bedroom. Now there's an old restored armoire in there for hanging clothes, thanks to Jackson. In this space are all the volumes on demon and angel lore." The room was about five feet deep and six feet long. After letting Dean have a good look inside, Jody tugged him clear of the doorway. Leaning over, she tilted a book on the shelf to the right of the closet and a door slid shut. When it had closed, it looked exactly like every other wall in the library. "The most sensitive books are in this closet room. It's protected against demons and angels by spells, sigils, traps and salt lining the roof, floor and door. Nothing inhuman is getting in here."
Dean was practically speechless. It was perfect. As he surveyed the library, he suddenly frowned. "Is this room bigger?"
Jody smiled. "Yes. We knocked out the kitchen pantry and enlarged this room. Pantries were mainly used to house canned goods, and ain't no one canning around here. There's plenty of cupboard space in the kitchen, so we sacrificed the pantry to give hunters the place to work." Frowning at Dean's silence, she said, "I hope we didn't take too much for granted here."
Dean looked around quickly and Jody saw his eyes were moist. "No, no." Dean cleared his throat. "This is fantastic. Bobby would be so pleased and proud."
"Dad, this is fantastic!"
JT walked into the library, his eyes darting in every direction. Jody laughed at his unconscious echoing of Dean's words.
"Grandpa would be absolutely over the moon by all this."
"He would, wouldn't he?" Dean said, moving over to one of the desks and looking at the work splayed out on the surface.
"Robert Cummings is working on a hunt in Nevada," Jody said. "Something about teens going missing. He thought it was a haunting or a poltergeist, but things aren't tracking. He got here yesterday. Did some work last night, and is now crashed upstairs."
"Winchester!"
Dean turned as Jackson Cull limped into the room, his hand out. The man's dark brown head was covered in dust, but his blue eyes were twinkling. Dean grinned and shook Jackson's hand.
"It's good to see you," Jackson said, turning to shake JT's hand. "How do you like the way the house has shaped up?"
"It's amazing, man," Dean said, his eyes roving over the library again before taking in Jackson's dusty appearance. "Looks like you've been getting into some trouble."
Jackson laughed and brushed at his head, sending motes of dust into the air.
"Jackson," Jody admonished.
Rolling his eyes, Jackson said, "Steve and I are finally tackling the back room on the first floor."
"He had a huge box of weapons he was taking to the garage for refurnishing," JT said.
"That room was so stacked with boxes I'm sure Bobby willfully forgot the room existed, and I don't blame him," Jackson chuckled fondly. "So far we've been able to dig out the box of weapons, seven boxes of books, two boxes of what looks like silver, a molded bag of rock salt, and one box that sounded like something was livin' in it."
At Jody's squeak, he quickly added, "That box is now outside and several yards away from the house."
Dean shot Jody an amused look as JT asked, "Where's Mark?"
"Went into town for supplies. With everyone coming in, we thought we'd better stock up."
"We're preparing for a lot of hungry mouths," Jodi said with a laugh.
The sound of a truck rumbled through the room, and JT smiled. He'd met Mark a couple years before and the two had hit it off. They'd been in contact via email, cell and text ever since. Mark had even gone on a couple salt and burns with JT and Max. "Sounds like Mark is back. I'll help him unload the car," he said, and he headed out through the library. A moment later they heard the front door slam.
"Some things never change," Jody said, with a rueful shake of her head.
Jackson laughed. "Boys will be boys."
"Even if they are twenty-six," Dean griped.
"Like you don't still slam doors," Jody teased. "Come on; let's get you something to eat."
After a terrific lunch with Jody, Jackson, Steve and Mark giving Dean and JT updates on how the Salvage Yard was doing, the newcomers joined the others in grilling Robert about his hunt in Nevada. Later, Jody and Dean did the dishes while JT and Mark went out onto the front porch to catch up. Jackson and Steve had gone back to clearing out the back room, and Robert was working on his hunt in the library.
As they worked in silence, Jody handed Dean another plate to dry. "I miss him," she said suddenly. "All the time. I expect to turn around and hear him say, Jody? Why the hell are you doin' my dishes?"
Dean chuckled softly. "I know." He stacked a few plates up in the cupboard before saying, "I'm sorry I haven't been around the last few years. I kind of just dumped the revamping of this place and getting everything ready for hunters onto you. But being here…."
"Just stop," Jody interrupted. "You have nothing to apologize for. You knew him since you were a child. He was a second father to you and Sam, especially after your daddy passed. I understand exactly how difficult it is for you to be here."
Dean swallowed hard. "It's even harder than I thought. I'm really glad for all the changes you've made. It makes things easier…"
"And harder," Jody finished. "I know. When we first cleaned the living room and moved the desks into the library, I sat right down on the floor and balled my eyes out. Just wasn't Bobby's place without those damned desks littering the front room."
Dean chuckled.
"But I know Bobby would be proud of his legacy, proud that hunters come here to learn and rest, just as you boys did for so many years."
Dean smirked at Jody calling them boys when she wasn't all that much older than he was.
"Anyway," she said, letting the dirty water out of the sink, "I'm heading into town. I haven't been Sheriff for more than ten years, but our local elementary school still asks me to come in and talk safety. When are the others due?"
"Caleb said there was a delay flying out of West Virginia. But their flight should have taken off," he glanced at his watch, "an hour or so ago. They should be here around five."
"I'll be back by then. Thought we'd have burgers tonight."
Dean smiled. "Sounds good. "
Jody removed her coat from the rack and shrugged into it, saying, "I called because I've got something to show you."
"You have time to show it to me now?" Dean asked.
Jody shook her head. "It's kept for this long; it'll keep a little longer."
After he waved Jody off, Dean wandered through the library and the living room. Smiling, he dropped onto the sofa, remembering his and Sam's wrestling bout for the remote control in this very spot. Rising, he walked to the front door and listened to Mark and JT talking for a moment, then bit the bullet and headed upstairs. When he reached the first door on the left, he stood outside for several minutes before he took a deep breath and opened the door.
Since they were boys, Bobby had labeled this room as theirs. Even after Dean had settled at the farm, even after Juliet and the boys, this was still his and Sam's room. Walking inside, he looked around. Nothing had changed in the years since he'd been here last. The freshly washed bedspreads were still the same, the dresser stationed opposite the beds still held photos of him, Sam, Bobby and John in their younger days, a few newer ones with Sam, Dean and Caleb. There were even a few prints showcasing Dean and Bobby or John working under the hoods of various cars. Beside them stood a stack of old paperbacks Dean had left at one time or another. Atop the nightstand between the beds was the same old baseball lamp Bobby had been tickled to find at some neighborhood garage sale.
On the narrow bookshelf crammed beneath the window was an old shotgun of Dean's, one he'd left behind when the barrel had become too scarred for accuracy in aim. Sam's first laptop was there, along with some of Sam's college textbooks, left behind in the wake of their father's death. There were other items Bobby had saved through the years, all there in their room, and Dean felt the tears fill his eyes. Dropping onto his bed, he swiped at his face. Right now, the person he most wanted to see was Sam. Yes, everyone would be here soon, but Sam was the one he needed. Sam who had been with him nearly every time he'd come to Bobby's, Sam who'd wrestled him for the television remote, Sam who'd sat alongside him in Bobby's library researching hundreds of hunts, Sam who'd joined him at Bobby's kitchen table for countless meals and slices of pie. Sammy, who'd been here with him since they were children. Sam.
Giving his head a shake to chase away his sadness, he snatched up a book from the nightstand. There was a bookmark stuck in the middle. Curious, he opened the paperback to the marked spot and started to read. Nothing seemed very familiar, and he figured he'd probably left this book here years ago. Lying back, he started to read, wondering what he'd missed.
Late afternoon sun was streaming through the window when Dean woke. Frowning, he looked around. Bobby's; he was in his room at Bobby's. Turning on a stretch, he peered at the old clock on the nightstand and grimaced. It was just after six. He'd been asleep for over three hours. Bobby would have chewed his ass off for sleeping the day away. With a groan, he fumbled his paperback onto the nightstand and pushed himself up.
"You gonna lay around all day?" asked a familiar voice.
Dean whipped around to see Sam smirking at him from the doorway. A huge grin spread across his face. "When did you get here?"
"About an hour ago." Sam smiled as he walked in and dropped onto his bed. "Caleb practically bullied the FAA into allotting us the first departure time when the airport reopened. Yeager was shut down for an Air Force One flyover."
Dean goggled. "Air Force One? Did you get to see the President?"
Dean sounded so much like James that Sam grinned. "The President was on a plane, not on foot."
"Oh, right."
"Anyway, Caleb spoke with the head of Traffic Control and insisted there was an emergency. He got us cleared to be the first plane off the runway when the president's flight had gone overhead. It's amazing how the Ames name can get a jet cleared for takeoff in record time." His eyes roamed around the room and his mood sorrowed. "It's just like we left it."
Dean's gaze swept the room again before he changed the subject. "How do you like downstairs?"
"Excellent," Sam said while observing Dean shrewdly. He knew his brother's tender heart. While Bobby's death had hit them all hard, no one had been hit harder than Dean. "I didn't have any idea Bobby had so many books hidden away. Jody said there are quite a few duplicates. As they sort through the boxes she's compiling a list. She'll get with Carolyn, see if the Brotherhood libraries need the volumes. Whatever they don't use we'll make available so hunters that are interested can build up their own collections."
"Bobby'd like that."
Sam nodded, his attention still on the room. "I know it's not practical," he said softly, "but I love that Bobby kept our room together all those years, even when I was living in New York and going to college, even after we settled in Louisville. This was home base for so long, especially after I started hunting again, after Jessica." Breaking off, he looked at his old Stanford texts books still piled on the bookshelf where he'd left them. "You know, it was so hard for me to leave those here. But somehow, knowing I could visit them any time I wanted helped with the loss, you know?"
"Yeah," Dean nodded, eyeing the books. On numerous visits to Bobby's he'd seen Sam pouring over those books. That had dwindled as time had gone by.
"Bobby kept them right where I put them." Sam's eyes roved the room again. Eventually, he smiled. "Whenever we came, he would always be waiting for us, even if it was three in the morning."
"I know," Dean smiled.
"No matter what time we drove up, he would open the door. All that light from the house spilling out onto the porch, welcoming us." Sam's eyes filled. "He would say something like, What are ya'll doing out here? Come on in!"
"And we'd just got there!" Dean exclaimed with a laugh.
"I know," Sam chuckled. "And the meals we had at his table, him putting burgers or pasta or lasagna on our plates, telling us to eat up." Sighing, he said, "I still miss him. I miss that Mary didn't get to know him as well as we did."
"I miss that for Ben, JT and James too."
Sam nodded. "Sometimes I wish we could have had just one more year with him, just two. Then I realize it would never have been enough. Not for any of them." Not Pastor Jim, not Mac, and not dad, was left unspoken.
Dean felt his throat close up with emotions. Pushing himself off the bed, he stretched with a groan.
Sam smiled at Dean's typical method of diverting his emotions. He went with it, though, and asked, "How much sleep did you get?"
Dean shrugged as he headed for their small, attached bathroom. "Couple hours. Hope I sleep tonight."
Sam heard the shower and called out, "I'm headed back downstairs. We'll have dinner once you come down."
Dinner was a festive affair. Jody, Jackson and Steve grilled thick, juicy hamburgers while Mark and JT made French fries in the fryer. Though they'd burned the first batch or two, in the end they got the hang of it and a platter on the table now held large stacks of hot, golden potatoes.
Stories were flying around the table like fireflies in the night air, with everyone discussing the new improvements to the house, the Salvage yard, and sharing humorous stories about Bobby.
"Remember when Bobby found Caleb's jeep?" Dean asked, laughing. "Sam was so disgusted with the present, he told Caleb it was all broken."
"I was four," Sam defended amidst the laughter. "What did I know about fixing up rusted out junk heaps and turning them into cars?"
"Hey!" Caleb countered. "That was an amazing jeep."
"Your dad called it a death trap," Sam shot back.
Caleb felt a sharp pain near his heart at the mention of his father. Mac had been gone for a few years now, and he missed him every, single day. Several years ago he'd moved from New York to Louisville to be near his Triad. After Mac's death, being around family had helped fill the void in his heart, though little could assuage the darkened connection in his head that had been uniquely Mac. He lived with that silence daily.
Sam grimaced slightly and gave the older man a sorrowful look.
Caleb smiled and nodded. They were all experiencing the sorrow of sitting around this table without those they loved. But being together helped; laughter with good friends helped.
Jody gave Caleb a quick pat on the arm as she rose and asked, "Anyone want pie?"
A general chorus of yeses sounded, and everyone clamored to their feet and started clearing the table, taking off the plates of fries, buns, hamburger patties and condiments. Ten minutes later several dessert plates were on the table, loaded with apple pie and vanilla ice cream.
Once pie had been consumed, Caleb said he needed some exercise after a long day in airports and on planes. He headed outside into the salvage yard followed by Max. JT and James started helping out with the dishes, but soon abandoned the chore for checking out their room upstairs.
Jackson Cull and Steve Walker said they had customers coming for parts the next day, and needed to pull and package the inventory. So they headed out to Bobby's garage. Dean was very tempted to follow, but hated to leave Jody to the dishes alone, especially since Sam and Robert Cummings had spent the last half of dinner and the entire dessert course talking about his hunt. They, along with Mark, were in the library.
"Looks like it's you and me," Dean said.
"I know that look," Jody said with a smile. "Go on, head out to the garage with Jackson and Steven. I'll take care of these," she waved a hand at the stacks of plates.
Dean shook his head. "There'll be time tomorrow." Moving to the sink, he started wiping leftover food from plates.
"I'll be right back," Jody said.
"Ah, come on," Dean cried. "You leaving me to do this alone?"
Jody let out an amused laugh. "No, just got to fetch something from my car," and she disappeared through the doorway.
Dean snorted softly. "Yeah, likely story. Try to be a hero and you're left with the dishes."
Pulling open Bobby's dishwasher, Dean peered inside. He couldn't remember Bobby ever using the dishwasher and he wondered if it worked. It sure beat washing all the dishes by hand. A laugh from behind him had him turning to see Mark in the doorway.
"Yes, it works," Mark said with a smile.
"You sure? Don't think Bobby ever used it."
"It was the first thing I fixed when I got here." Mark grabbed a couple of mugs from the cabinet and poured some coffee. "You think I wanted to get stuck with dish duty every night?"
"Good man," Dean declared as he started to load the machine.
"Need some help?" Mark asked, though he already had one foot in the hall.
"Nope, go on. Get your geek on."
Mark grinned and left Dean to his solitary task.
Dean had almost finished loading the dishwasher when Jody returned with a large stack of papers and folders. Looking up, he quipped, "Yeah, coming right back. Like I haven't heard that one before."
Jody grinned. "Hey, I learned dodge-the-dishes duty from the best."
"Bobby," they said together.
Dean laughed softly, though sorrow wove a dark ribbon through the sound.
Jody merely smiled and set the stack on the table. Together they finished loading the washer and put away the remaining food.
Jody poured them both a cup of coffee and set up the coffeemaker to brew a fresh pot. Joining Dean at the table, she fiddled with her cup for a moment or two before saying, "After Bobby died… Well, you know. Jackson and Steve came and we started working on making this house a place hunters could come to work, research, get some rest, recuperate, whatever was needed. We cleaned rooms, worked on emptying boxes and organizing the books. Worked for weeks and months on getting this place ready for hunters. But one room I would never touch, wouldn't let anyone touch for a long time, was Bobby's."
Dean lifted his mug and took a quick gulp of coffee. He wouldn't have wanted to clean out Bobby's room at all.
"In the years since his death, more and more hunters were showing up or requesting time here at the house for research or rest, so a couple years ago we finally cleaned Bobby's room. Jackson and Steve packed up his clothes, we cleared the dresser and nightstands. I put all the folders in a box and took them home to sort through." She shrugged slightly. "Since they were in his room, I didn't know whether they were sensitive or private."
"Makes sense."
"I intended to go through them slowly, but we were so busy here at the house, I actually forgot. I'd set them in a corner of my spare bedroom and didn't remember them until a couple months ago. I pulled out the box and started sorting through the files. That's when I found this," she indicated the stack. "It's a hunt, for missing children going back more than thirty years."