Author's Notes: Spoiler alert for My Heart Will Go On. I don't own the characters still.
Chapter Inspiration: Monster by Starset
Chapter 16
Dean came conscious slowly in his bed. Reaching out an arm, he felt for Hermione, but her side of the bed was empty, and cold. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked, her side of the bed was still made. As it always had been since… Rolling to his side, he missed seeing Bobby and Sam standing in the doorway, mouthing to each other, however, he could still feel their presence. He reached down to grab the bottle of whiskey that was sitting open on the floor. Dean lifted up his head long enough to down a swig before returning it, and him to their original positions.
"You two just going to stand there like the ugly girl at the prom, or are you going to leave me alone?" Dean venomously shot at his brother and father figure. "That so-called Eve, Mother of whatever, isn't going to gank herself."
"Dean, you haven't left that bed in days." Sam observed.
"I have too." Dean shot back.
"Getting up long enough to get another bottle of whiskey doesn't count, son." Bobby interjected.
"What are you? My dead wife?" Dean asked bitterly.
"Look Dean, it was tough for all of us, seeing Hermione go like that." Sam said softly.
Dean sat up quickly and glared at Sam and Bobby. "This isn't about Hermione!"
"Dean, she wasn't just one of your flings. She was your wife! Your pregnant wife, I might add." Sam reminded him gently.
"You know when I knew Hermione and the baby were done for? The day Hermione and I met, the day she got pregnant, and the day we married." Dean replied heatedly, placing the blame for Hermione's and his unborn daughter's deaths solely on him. "The only question: who was first, her or I. Now, do you want to stand there and therapize, or you want to get me some coffee? Make it Irish."
Dean laid back down on his bed as Sam and Bobby looked at each other. They'd seen Dean take a lot of personal hits and losses over the years, but none had incapacitated the hunter quite like this. Sam was lost as to how to handle his older brother. This was uncharted territory he was in. He and Bobby moved down the hall a little before Sam brought it up again in a whisper.
"What do you want to do? I mean, we can't just sit here and watch him destroy his liver."
"Well, we could try and get him out of the house. There's a job." Bobby commented.
"Really?" Sam asked. It was the first he'd heard of anything resembling a job. "What've you got?"
Bobby pulled a sheet of paper from the front pocket of his flannel. "Look: Chester, Pennsylvania, three people got kicked off in the last week. All freaky. The last guy got karate chopped by his garage door, and these are all blood relatives."
"So, what are you thinking? Family curse?" Sam speculated. Sam watched Dean head for the bathroom out of the corner of his eye. Maybe it wouldn't take much convincing to get Dean to go on this case.
"Could be." Bobby replied. "Hey grumpy!" He addressed the grumpy hunter trying to sneak his way into the bathroom.
"I don't want to do crap. Leave me alone. Just go take care of the job, both of you. You're driving me nuts." Dean grumbled, still making a beeline for the bathroom, albeit sluggishly.
"Dean!" Sam admonished.
"Now!" Dean insisted to a wide-eyed Bobby and Sam.
"You know you won't get any peace when she gets back, don't you?" Bobby warned.
"At least I'll have some peace before that happens." Dean quipped from behind the now closed bathroom door.
Sam rolled his eyes, and Bobby scratched the back of his neck. The job needed working, and Dean needed help getting back to being functional again. Deciding to leave it in more capable hands than theirs, the two functional hunters in the house headed off to pack. Once they were no longer hovering outside of the bathroom door, Dean snuck back into the bedroom, shutting the door, and retaking his spot in the double bed. He took two swigs off the whiskey bottle this time before pulling the covers over his head, and falling back to sleep.
While Dean was passed out once again, Bobby and Sam loaded up to get on the road. Their conversation turned to Dean once more.
"You know, maybe we should just wait until she gets back." Sam suggested. Bobby looked at him and cocked an eyebrow.
"Sam, she just called from the road, said she'd be here in two shakes. Do you really want to sit around and smell him stew in his own juices?" Bobby questioned.
"Yeah, yeah, point made." Sam agreed. With one last glance at the house, Bobby and Sam pulled out of the driveway.
It was a couple of hours after Bobby and Sam had left, when Dean woke up, head pounding. He groaned, rolling out of bed. Braving the cold floor, he padded down the hall, making a quick stop in the bathroom, before making his way to the kitchen. His whiskey bottle was empty, and he wanted a new one. Wandering over to a glass cupboard, he could see his prize. Before he could reach it though, the cold barrel of a gun was pressed sideways across his stomach.
"What the-?" Dean started before looking to see who was stopping him with a shotgun. His eyes met Ellen's.
"Tell me you haven't been drinking this whole time." She challenged with a maternal glare.
"You're worse than your husband and Sam." Dean complained, bringing his left hand up to stare dejectedly at the white gold band still resting on his ring finger. "I've been sleeping too."
"My God, I'm gone a week, and this place goes completely to hell. What is wrong with you Dean Winchester?" His mother figure asked.
"Get a pen, it's a long list." Dean quipped once she'd placed the shotgun down on a table nearby.
"You smell like a dumpster outside the Liquor Barn, you know that?" Ellen asked the elder Winchester.
"You don't exactly smell like a rose yourself." Dean shot back, coming to stand next to her.
"Yeah, I've been hunting with Jo. What's your excuse?" Ellen quipped.
"Well, if I need one, I've got a good one." Dean mumbled in reply.
"I know, and I'm so sorry. She was a great girl, and she meant a lot to me too." Ellen sympathized with the hurting man. She knew what it was like to lose a spouse to a monster. They allowed themselves a moment to commiserate together, before she shooed him off to take a shower while she cooked some food. Bobby was right, his peace was over.
Dean showered relatively quickly, stepped out and redressed in the same manner. He was coming out of the bathroom when he heard his cell ringing from the bedroom. Making his way to the bedside table, he saw that it was Sam calling.
"What's up?" Dean answered, taking the phone and making his way back downstairs.
"You're awake." Sam sounded surprised.
"Yeah. What do you want?" Dean asked.
"Ellen back?" Sam inquired, wanting to ask Ellen instead of Dean. It was his way of giving his brother some space and time to heal.
"Yeah, why?" Dean replied.
"Can you put her on?" Sam countered as if Dean should have known the answer to the question.
"Whatever." Dean sighed, carrying his cell to Ellen.
"What?" She asked, looking from the phone to Dean's face.
"Sam wants to talk to you." Dean said, his tone closed off.
She took the phone from Dean's outstretched arm and asked him to get something for her before greeting the younger Winchester. Dean's volume was turned up, so he could hear both sides of the conversation.
"So, found another piece of this shiny string." Sam informed her.
"Ah, I was afraid of that." Ellen replied, stirring something in a pot on the stove.
"Why? What's up?" Sam asked her.
"Well, these so called 'accidents', we're seeing them nationwide. About 75 so far. I've got Jo and her crew working on a cluster in California." Ellen responded, taking the beer Dean had been trying to sneak, away from him, much to his irritation.
"Blood relatives?" Sam asked, wondering if there were more similarities to all the accidents.
"Some yeah, and some, no. She's got about what you do, a pile of bodies, and a whole bunch of gold thread." Ellen replied honestly.
"So, what's it mean?" Sam wondered.
"I don't know." Ellen replied. She wished she did have something that could help. "I've got Dean working on it right now."
"You do?" Dean asked indignantly.
"Yes, now get!" Ellen said firmly.
"How's he doing by the way?" Sam was still concerned at Dean's state of being.
"Oh, don't worry. I'm kicking his ass back to health at least." Ellen assured Sam, eyeing Dean's posture as he wandered from the kitchen. He stopped and turned at her words.
"Who asked you to? To hell with you." Dean quipped, exiting the kitchen completely.
"I heard that." Sam commented.
"He'll be okay, eventually." Ellen assured Sam, gently.
Dean tuned out the rest of the conversation as he turned over what little he knew about the case. He knew he was deep in the hole if he didn't even care that he'd been put on research duty. Hell, he was considering just doing research from here on out. Either that, or he would be voluntarily sacrificing himself on a hunt just to be with his wife and daughter. The thought had him absently turning his wedding band around his finger again, like he had since the day she'd slid it on his finger. Shaking off the painful thoughts and memories vying for his attention, he walked into Bobby's study and began to bury himself in books.
While Dean was researching, and being mothered by Ellen, Bobby and Sam were holed up in a motel room researching some information Ellen had nabbed for Jo's job. The only connection to the victims, was a boat that had made a trip through the north Atlantic Ocean. There seemed to be nothing notable about the Titanic, outside of the fact that it had almost hit an iceberg. A fact Sam relayed to Bobby.
"Almost hit an iceberg?" Bobby asked.
"Looks like the first mate spotted it just in time." Sam commented, reading the words in the article.
"Good for him. There anything else?" Bobby asked, looking back to the papers he had spread out in front of him.
"Wait a second." Sam said suspiciously.
"What?" Bobby asked, looking back at Sam. This could not mean anything good.
"Uh, this first mate? Mr. I. P. Freely." Sam informed Bobby.
"Well that's not suspicious. You find a picture of old Freely?" Bobby inquired, moving so he could see the computer screen from over Sam's shoulder.
Sam scrolled down the web article until he reached a picture of Titanic's crew. Sitting in a chair in the front row, was a very familiar face. "You've got to be kidding me." Sam commented, understanding dawning on him.
"What?" Bobby asked, confused.
Sam clicked to enlarge the picture. "Balthazar."
"Who?" Bobby asked.
"Angel buddy of Cas's. He's rather shifty if you ask me." Sam commented sitting back in his chair.
"We got to summon him, find out why." Bobby commented.
Sam agreed, and they got to work. When they finally worked the spell, the angel appeared in the room with them.
"What ever can I do for you?" The angel asked sarcastically.
"We need to talk." Bobby said.
"You seem upset, Singer." Balthazar replied.
"The hell with the boat?" Questioned Bobby.
"What boat?" Balthazar countered.
"The Titanic." Sam reminded the angel forcefully.
"Oh, yeah, the Titanic. Yes, well, it was meant to sink, and I saved it." Balthazar informed them of the obvious.
"What?" Sam questioned.
"Well, it was meant to bash into this iceberg thing, and plunge into the briny deep with all this hoopla, and I saved it." Balthazar replied. "Anything else I can answer for you?"
"Why?" Sam asked.
"Why what?" Balthazar countered again.
"Why did you unsink the ship?" Bobby clarified.
"Oh, because I hated the movie." The angel complained.
"What movie?" Bobby asked, confused.
"Exactly!" Balthazar laughed it off.
"Wait, so you saved a cruise liner, because..." Sam's sentence trailed off, and the shifty angel cut right in to finish the thought.
"Because that God-awful Celine Dion song made me want to smite myself."
"Who's Celine Dion?" Sam asked.
"Oh, she's some destitute lounge singer somewhere in Quebec, and let's keep it that way, please." Balthazar replied.
"I thought you couldn't change history." Sam challenged.
"Haven't you noticed? There's no more rules guys." Balthazar replied calmly.
Sam scoffed while Bobby processed the weight of that statement. "Wow, the nerve on you. So, you what? Unsunk a giant boat?"
"Oh come on, I saved people. I thought you loved that kind of thing?" Balthazar defended.
"Yeah, but now those people, and their kids, and their kid's kids. They must have interacted with so many other people, changed so much crap. You've totally 'butterfly effected' history.
Bobby looked at Sam questioningly. "It's a movie with Ashton Kutcher." Sam explained as an aside.
"Ah yes, unfortunately there is still an Ashton Kutcher, and you still averted the apocalypse, and there are still archangels. It's just the small details that are different. Like, Dean doesn't drive an Impala." At Sam's and Bobby's confused looks, Balthazar went on. "Yes, yes, what's an Impala? Trust me, it's not important. And of course, Ellen and Jo are alive, and Dean did get married to Hermione. Unfortunate hers and the baby's deaths."
"Ellen and Jo, what?" Bobby questioned, a sick feeling gripping his stomach.
"Yes, they're supposed to be dead. You see, I save a boat, one thing leads to another, which leads to another thousand things, and yadda, yadda, yadda. To cut a long story short, they don't die in a massive explosion. Anyway, let's agree, I did a good thing." Balthazar monologued to a horrified Bobby and Sam. In short, what the angel was saying was that because of one little event, Dean's wife and child died, but Bobby's wife and her adult daughter got to live. What a catch-22, and how ever were they going to get out of this one?