Family don't end in blood, but it sure as hell don't start there either. Family's got your back, even when it hurts.
You have always reminded me of both those boys; you'd give Dean one hell of a run for his money as far as stubborness goes. And on the other hand, ou're smart as a whip, like Sam. The only thing I ask you to promise me is that you won't do anything dumb.
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The door opened slowly, revealing an older woman, maybe in her mid to late sixties. "Can I help you?"
"I'm looking for Margie Frank." Riley spoke softly, Sam standing behind her.
"You found her."
"Your husband was Thomas Frank? The pastor of the brown church?"
"Yes."
"I'm Riley Ann Elkins." The door opened wide then, surprise on the gray haired woman's features. "This is my friend, Sam. We don't mean to bother-," Her apology was cut off.
"Come on in." The screen door was pushed open and she waved them inside. "I'll put on some coffee." Riley and Sam shared a nervous look before he followed her inside the home. They walked down a hallway that opened up into a modest eat in kitchen. "Sit. You two want your coffee Irish?" Sam's dimple deepened at Margie's question. "Honey, I may have been the pastor's wife, but ain't nobody perfect but Jesus." That made Riley smile finally.
"That'd be nice." Her voice was soft and Margie turned on her coffee pot and hurried out of the kitchen, leaving Sam and Riley at the table. Their eyes met and Riley shrugged. The older woman came back in a moment later with an old box in her arthritic hands.
"My husband had a box of things and he told me you may come someday." She set an old shoebox down before moving to pour two cups of coffee, adding some Irish cream to each. She carried theirs to the table and sat down next to Riley. Margie lifted the lid and shuffled through it. She eventually produced a letter, a baptismal certificate and a necklace. "You ever need anything, you call me. This should explain everything you need to know."
"This letter?"
"Yes."
"We need help..."
"This letter will explain everything."
"We're in big trouble." Riley's voice was shaking now and she set her mug down. Sam could see her hands shaking. Dean was falling further and further with the Mark and both she and Sam were feeling completely helpless. There was no apparent cure for the Mark and the boys insisted that they knew that for a fact, but wouldn't tell her how they knew.
Yes, they'd kept Riley in the dark about a lot of the goings on regarding some cure to remove it, but they had come to her for help with research and information regarding the Mark. She didn't like the one sided sharing of facts one bit, but she had no choice.
The lost expression she saw more often that not on the older hunter's face was killing her.
The expression on the older woman's face was one of sorrow and sympathy. Margie eyed her closely before speaking. "What your daddy arranged... you shouldn't ever need to worry about any kind of trouble."
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Sam drove back to the bunker while Riley stared at the letter in her lap. He kept glancing over at her and she sighed. "Sam?" She felt a little buzzed from the coffee, not ever one to drink.
"Yeah?"
"There's no cure, is there?" She spoke flatly.
His hesitation to answer spoke volumes. "It's been transferred, but can't removed forever. We were told by a very reliable source that it could be transferred to someone worthy, but Dean isn't going to lay that on someone else's soul." He didn't mention that that source was Death himself.
"How can it be transferred?"
He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, Dean's nervous habit. "I'm not telling you." His tone pissed her off and Riley clapped a hand on her thigh, frustrated.
"Fuck Sam." She got that angry feeling in her stomach again, irritated with the way Sam was dodging her. "How can it be transferred, but not removed?"
Another mile rolled under the impala's tires before he finally gave in and told her. "A spell."
"Witchcraft?"
"Yes."
She turned the letter over and sighed. "I have to share what's in here with Dean?"
"At least with me."
She opened the envelope and slid out a single paged letter and scanned to the bottom. "It's from my dad."
Riley Ann,
If you've made it back to Pastor Frank and were given this letter, then my world has undeniably collided with yours. I am so sorry for everything and the last thing I want you to be, is angry at Bobby. He didn't ever want to lie to you, but it was the only way to keep you and your mother safe from this.
Funny how stuff works out.
I racked my brain on how to keep my baby girl safe and I spoke with Pastor Frank on many occasions, starting back when your mom was pregnant with you. How on earth was I going to ensure your safety in some way? Pastor Frank pulled some strings and eventually found an answer to my ever looming worry.
When you got baptized, there was a special man in attendance in the pews that day...
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The brunette was shaking as she lay down in her bed that evening. She'd carefully hidden the letter from her father in her bunker bedroom. She hadn't gotten past the first few paragraphs before she was an emotional wreck and had to put it away in her purse. Luckily, Sam hadn't pressed her for information.
Yet.
She'd skipped dinner with Sam and Dean and taken her coffee mug to her bedroom down the hall from the main living area. After closing and locking the door securely behind her, Riley opened her nightstand drawer. She ate a granola bar that was stashed in her nightstand and sighed. Sam had promised her that they would find a cure for the mark.
But they hadn't yet.
Dean was really starting to act different lately and it was painfully obvious that he was feeling to affects of the mark. Any feelings she may have had for the oldest brother were quickly becoming replaced with feelings of fear and distrust. He was angry, unpredictable.
Dark.
Sam noticed the change in his brother as well; he knew Riley was... afraid of Dean. There was a different air about him lately. He swore up and down he would keep her safe as they'd neared the bunker after their little road trip, when she'd told him her plans to leave the bunker for good.
"I can't stay and see him like this, Sam." She'd sobbed quietly. "This is breaking my heart. I can't see all the good inside of your brother be stolen from him. He never deserved this."
Riley tried to control her breathing as she heard Dean's heavy bootfalls in the tiled hallway a few hours later, well after midnight.
He paced nightly and she closed her eyes when she heard him pause outside her bedroom. To her shock and horror, the doorknob jingled slightly, Dean testing the lock. "Ry?" His voice had softened and her tense shoulders relaxed slightly, although her heart rate sped up.
This was her Dean, the man she'd harbored feelings for... for months now. He would never hurt her... right?
"Yes?" Her voice was soft when she answered.
"You locked your door?" He almost sounded hurt and she climbed out of her full sized bed hesitantly. Dean stepped back when he heard the heavy lock being undone. The door opened slowly to reveal Riley in a gray cotton nightie. Her arms were crossed over her chest shyly.
"Are you... okay?" Riley eyed him closely, ignoring his question and Dean studied her features, looking for signs of regret. "Dean?"
"I couldn't sleep." He sounded distraught, his green eyes rimmed with red, revealing his exhaustion. "Why did you lock your door?" She was holding on to the door, only open about a foot. Dean ran a nervous hand through his hair.
He saw her wince at his repeated question.
Dean's green eyes focused on hers when her door opened all the way and he felt Riley's arms come around his neck in a warm hug. He hugged her back tightly, his heart pounding in his chest. "What can I do?" She whispered, her breath tickling his neck.
"Can I just... lay in here with you for a little while?" His quiet question surpised her; he wasn't the type of man to cuddle. She pulled back at bit to look at him in the face, her hand coming up to cup his stubbled cheek. Dean's eyes shone with unshed tears and Riley nodded slightly. The brunette let Dean go and stepped back to allow him entry into her bedroom.
"Yeah," Her voice was soft, understanding. Dean felt strange in her bedroom; he'd never been inside of her room after she'd moved in. Riley watched him look around her room. It was plain, like his and a few trinkets were on her dresser and a few pairs of jeans hung on the rack in the corner next to some tops. Her lamp was on the lowest setting and she had a candle burning.
Riley watched as Dean unbuttoned his jeans and slipped off his flannel shirt before tossing the long sleeved garment on the chair on the corner next to the clothing rack. He lay down on her bed, his left hand behind his head, his right one on his stomach. Brielle closed the door most of the way before climbing in next to him, settling on her side.
"I'm scared, Ry." His whispered confession made her breath catch in her chest. "I can feel myself... changing. I feel like... you're scared of me too."
"Dean," Riley's heart broke for him. "I know you wouldn't hurt me." He felt her fingers intertwine with his calloused ones over his sternum after her emotional confession. His green eyes focused on her candle, still flickering on her dresser.
They were quiet for a few minutes until Dean spoke. "I know you want to leave the bunker. For good." He felt her body tense before she exhaled slowly. Damn Sam for running his mouth. "Why would you want to leave?"
Riley shifted so she was laying on her back next to him, looking away from his emerald eyes, letting go of his hand. "Because seeing you... like this..." Her voice broke and her hazel eyes spilled over. "It's killing me." Dean was shocked at her confession. "I'm so sorry, Dean."
Riley was trying her damnedest to hold her emotions in check as she wiped her eyes. She felt Dean shift to lay on his left side next to her before he brushed her hair back from her face tenderly. "I hate this..." His voice dropped. "I hate that this damn mark is making you scared of me... of what I'm capable of..." She shook her head slightly, her bottom lip trembling. "I am so sorry." Her hazel eyes fluttered closed when Dean's lips brushed her temple. "I'll go... I shouldn't be in here with you... " He trailed off and he rolled back over to get up off her bed.
Her hand shot out, clutching his tshirt sleeve. "Dean, it's okay. Please... stay. I trust you." He canted his head slightly, studying her.
"Are you sure?"
"Maybe you'll get some sleep." He considered that. Riley shifted again, her back to him and reached out for a tissue on the nightstand to blow her nose and wipe her eyes. Dean's heavy arm came around her torso and she felt him relax against her. She tossed the tissue in the trash can and reached down for the sheet and comforter to pull over them.
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Hello lovelies!
Thank you to each of you who has reviewed, sent me PMs and added me on their alerts recently. Means so much that you're enjoying Riley's story. Let me know what you thought of this chapter. Have a wonderful day!
CitrineMama