A/N: Hello again! Thank you everyone who followed, you're amazing. By the way, John was born in 1954, which means he was 29 when Mary died, therefore he is thirty at this point in the fic. Because of this, I am picturing Matt (Young John), not JDM, so, do as you like with that information. pianobookworm18: You're welcome! I'm glad you're enjoying it. Thank you very much for the scene, it has been placed in the timeline, and I will be sure to include it. I will try to update often. Thanks for reviewing!
I do not own Supernatural or its characters
Chapter 6
While Dean taught his brother the secrets of locomotion, in Racheville, Bobby and John were spending the day at the library. John had taken the microfiche viewer, while Bobby looked through the periodicals. Every so often, they would each mark down a name on a piece of paper. Bobby sighed, "How far back are you so far?"
John didn't look up, "About a hundred years."
Any bodies?"
"Fair number."
"Okay. Well, I think I'm done. Let's go."
He started toward the door, "We can review this back at the motel tonight. For now, we have other stuff to do."
John looked confused, "Other stuff like what?"
"Well you can't honestly be expecting to play fed in that get-up, are you?"
"Play fed? Wait, we're not going to-"
"Yep. 'Fraid so."
"But... ID! And I'm pretty sure they check this stuff, we're going to get caught!"
Bobby turned to him, "The only way we're gonna get caught is if you keep yelling. Don't worry about ID, either. I know a guy. Picked one up from him before the hunt. Now did you pack a monkey-suit, or do I have to buy you one?" He walked off, ignoring John's sputtered protests.
It was weird, seeing Bobby with his hair slicked back and wearing a suit, and John didn't hesitate to tell him so, "You look ridiculous."
"Hey, at least I don't look like I belong in a damn Macy's window."
"That isn't even a good insult."
Bobby shrugged, "Long as the male-model mannequin can work. You coming?"
They drove the Impala to the home of the family and stared at the suburban house. John couldn't help but think how bizarre it all was, the house looked so... normal.
Bobby nudged his arm, and John looked over at the other hunter. Bobby held up a card, "Here. Now don't go messing this up, I had to pay a damned sight for this and I ain't buying you another." John laughed and took it, then the blood drained from his face, "FBI. Really Bobby?"
The man shrugged, "Kinda standard in this line of work."
"Still, that's pretty illegal."
"Get used to it, it doesn't get any better. Ready?" John nodded, then they got out of the car and walked to the house. Bobby knocked on the door, "Let me do the talking. Stand there, keep your trap shut." The door opened, revealing a downcast young woman in jeans and a sweater. They held up their badges. Bobby spoke, "Agents Wallace and Green. I'm Wallace, he's Green." John glared at him as he continued, "We would just like to ask you a few questions about the deaths your family has experienced in the last few years." She sagged against the doorframe, a sad smile coming to her lips, "Finally. We thought no one cared. The police ruled them out as accidental, but I knew it couldn't be that, and no one would listen- and here I am making you stand out on the porch while I talk. Come in, please." They walked past her, and she escorted them into the living room. They sat down.
John sat forward and pulled out a notepad, "So, Mrs. Hart, that is the name, isn't it?" Now it was Bobby's turn to glare at his partner. John ignored him, "The people who were killed, your husband was one of them, wasn't he?"
She nodded, "Yes. Car crash. Police said he saw a deer and swerved."
"And the other two victims? Your daughter and sister?"
"They said my sister was drunk. Drunk! She never touched alcohol in her life. Not even on her twenty-first birthday. Never a drop. It's simply impossible. And Alice was 'tired'. Her car went off the road and flipped three times into a ditch. Does that sound like 'tired' to you?"
John shook his head uncomfortably, "No, no it doesn't. That's why we're here, to find out what's happening, and stop it."
"Thank you. I just don't understand why this is happening to my family."
"Yes."
Bobby interrupted him, "Ma'am, is there anyone that you know of that might have a grudge against you?"
"What? No!"
"Anyone at all? Anyone... dead?"
"I fail to see why that would be important. And I can't think of anyone anyway." John couldn't help noticing the guilty look on her face, or the way her eyes were shifting. She stood up, "Anyway, I'm going out so... Maybe I'll see you gentlemen another time?" They shook her hand and said their goodbyes.
They left the house and walked back to the Impala. John spoke, "Green? Really?"
"I could go with 'Dumbass' if you'd prefer." John smiled as they climbed back into the car, "Nice, Bobby. Really mature."
Bobby continued, "You see the way she looked after that one question? She's definitely hiding something."
John started the car, "We knew that already. After all, her husband, her sister, her daughter? This thing is obviously revolving around her."
Bobby glared at him, "I thought I told you to keep your damn mouth shut."
"Hey. I handled it, didn't I?"
"You could have screwed up the whole frigging hunt!"
"But I didn't."
Dean once more stared at the fridge. The ham was all that was left to eat, but he would have to slice it up, and he remembered his mother warning him to stay away from sharp objects, especially knives. Still, he was really hungry, and if he was careful it shouldn't go badly.
He scooted a chair over to the counter and grabbed the ham out of the fridge, then climbed up to put it on the counter. Then he moved the chair to get a knife. He hesitated, his mother's worried voice in his head, and scanned the selection, before taking out a fairly small knife he hoped wouldn't be too dangerous. He heard a worried cry from the floor, and looked down to see Sam staring at him with a concerned expression. He smiled reassuringly, "It's okay, Sammy. I won't fall." He jumped down from the chair and moved it back to its previous position to finish obtaining his lunch.
A few minutes later he sat at the table, enjoying his first meal since the night before. He felt something grab his leg, and looked down to see his brother, his arms wrapped around the limb in a tight hug, and looking extremely relieved, "See Sammy, I said I'd be okay." Sam stared up at him, focusing. His mouth opened and a small noise came out, "D-"
Dean watched him, "What is it, Buddy?"
"D-"
"Okay, whatever. Have it your own way." He looked down to realize the portion of meat he had cut himself was gone. He wanted more, but he didn't know when the adults would be back, therefore the remainder had to be rationed. So, a distraction. That was what he needed.
His face lit up as he thought of something, and he jumped up from the chair, "Come on Sammy, catch me if you can!"
He laughed as Sam tried to crawl after him and ended up flat on his face. His brother didn't cry though, as Dean had expected, merely picked himself up again and continued on with a determined expression. He cheered at Sam's progress, and let him catch his ankle, "Wow! You're fast!" Then he laughed again, "But not fast enouph!"
The angel in the corner watched the proceedings confusedly. What was humorous about the situation? Finally he gave up. He would never understand humans.
He became aware of one of his siblings positioned near him.
"Hello, Uriel."
"Castiel."
They watched the boys for a while. Uriel spoke, "I do not understand what you see in these mud-monkeys. Look at them. Rolling around on the floor like animals. Disgusting hybrids."
"You should not talk about them like that. Our Father considers them His greatest masterpiece."
"Oh I know. But really, an ape with a soul stuffed inside? And such a soul. Humans are worse than demons." Castiel considered arguing, but such a move was fruitless with Uriel. He decided on a different tack, "What are you doing here, Uriel? This is not your task."
"I thought I would keep you company. Watching these beasts, it must grow tiresome for you." He didn't quite understand why Uriel seemed to consider him his friend. They were stationed in the same foxhole, under the same commander, and had consequently grown close. He even, at times, enjoyed the angel's company, when he wasn't expressing his nearly blasphemous opinions about humans. However, Castiel had never encouraged the connection. In fact he frequently wished Uriel would simply leave him alone, now being one of those times. He was mildly relieved, therefore, when Uriel announced, "Well, I'm afraid I have to go now. I was only dropping by briefly on my way to my next assignment. They are sending me with a message to the cupids."
"My condolences." Uriel laughed, "Your condolences! Indeed. But perhaps I can escape with minimal contact. I will see you later."
Castiel found himself rather pleased when he felt himself alone once more, and returned his attention to the oblivious vessels. He had to admit, he was rather fond of the small creatures. It saddened him that Uriel couldn't see their potential for goodness.
