A/N: Running super late this morning! No time for real author's notes. Enjoy. Review. Not mine.
Tuesday's Child – Chapter Thirteen
"Things I Almost Remember"
Glancing up at the gracious white mansion in front of him, Sam felt that niggling sense of remembering ghost over him.
He wondered, when the case had first caught his eye, if the reason he had felt so strongly about checking it out was because he and Dean had worked this case in the other time line.
Breathing through his overwhelming sense of deja vu as he and Dean walked up the steps, he assumed they must have. Though he didn't have any specific memories of this case, per se, it felt familiar, and that usually meant Book had experienced some version of these events already.
"Book, you okay?" Dean said, pausing before ringing the door bell. His green eyes were locked onto Book's were the intensity of a laser, and Book couldn't help but shift under the weight of them.
"Yeah." Book shook his head, trying to dislodge the half-memories. If he'd had time to sit somewhere quiet and sift through them, focus on them slowly, he might be able to make them clearer, more specific. As it was, they were nothing but a dim jumble of sights and sounds and faces.
Gabe had warned Book long ago not to rely on his other life time's memories too much.
Not only was this lifetime different enough that things could have changed (thus making the prior time lines information not only incorrect, but dangerous) but Book could easily get hurt trying to remember a prior situation or decision, when he should be reacting in real time to his current one.
Furthermore, his other lifetimes memories were dim and distant for a reason. People weren't meant to go walking around with more than one lifetime in their heads. To many dueling memories could actually be dangerous for Book. Gabe had always preached that he needed to stay focused on the present.
"Just...deja vu, I guess." Book admitted with a sheepish smile, shoving his hands in his pockets.
"Oh. Huh. Guess that happens to you a lot, being psychic and all." Dean said, a thoughtful frown marring his brow as he studied Book. He'd kept Book in his line of sight since the docks, though Book wasn't sure if it was because he thought Book was going to run away...
Or because he was just...Dean.
Book chuckled. "Deja vu? All the time. I...get used to it."
Dean rang the bell. They had already decided on journalists as a cover story. Neither one of them had suits with them, and Sam lacked the identification necessary to pose as an officer of the law. A well coiffed older lady opened the door. She was dressed in black, with pearls at her throat and ears, and the way her gaze zeroed in on Book made him slightly...uncomfortable.
And damned if that didn't feel familiar too.
"Can I help you, gentlemen?" She asked, the question primarily aimed at Book.
"Uh, Hi. I'm Steve and this is..." Dean glanced up at Book, "Daniel, and we're with..."
"Are you working with Alex?" She interrupted, smiling flirtatiously up at Book.
"Uh..." Dean floundered in surprise for a moment, glancing towards Book for help.
Book felt the words flow from his lips as if he were reading a script. "Yes. Yes, we are. Alex had some research to do. We offered to talk to you, you know, a fresh pair of eyes and all..."
"Yes. Yes, of course. That would make sense. She's assured me that this will be closed by the end of the week." The woman said. "I'm Marcia. Sheila was my niece. The last of my family, now that my daughter's dead. Car wreck."
"So sorry to here that..." Dean said, glancing questioningly at Book as they followed Marcia into a large, open foyer.
Book could only shrug helplessly, not sure how to explain his 'hunch' to Dean. "Just go with it!" He mouthed, and thankfully Dean nodded after a moment.
"It was several years ago. Sheila was driving, poor thing. I don't think she ever forgave herself." Marcia said. "Now. I suppose you want to hear about the ship?"
"The ship?" Dean asked, glancing over at Book again.
"Yes. The ship. That's the priority." Book agreed.
"Yup. The ship." Dean echoed with a blinding smile at Marcia.
"Well, it's like I told Alex. Sheila mentioned it the morning before she died. She liked to jog at night, when it was cooler. She often jogged past the docks. She said she had stopped to get a drink of water, and she saw this ship, floating in the mist. An old-fashioned one, with sails. She said one moment it was there, the next, it was just...gone. Then, that evening, she's just...gone. The police are saying she drowned in the shower. On salt water, of all things. Now, how it something like that possible? It just has to be something out of the ordinary. I know Alex thinks it's a ghost ship, what do you think?" Marcia smiled brilliantly at Book.
Unnerved by her attention, this time it was Book who floundered, and Dean answered for them.
"There's really no way to be certain, yet. But it's definitely a possibility. I can see why Alex wanted us to talk to you." Dean said glibly.
Marcia took a step nearer to Book, who took a step back in response, eyes seeking out Dean's in mild panic.
"Alex has been such a comfort to me these past few days." Marcia again stepped closer, and once again, Book retreated. "But I'm starting to get worried. She's assured me that the case will be resolved by the end of the week. Will you be giving it your personal attention from here on out?" Marcia asked, reaching out as if she would touch Book's hand.
Dean intercepted smoothly, taking her hand and shaking it firmly. "Marcia, thank you for your time. We'll rendezvous will Alex, compare notes, and see what it's going to take." He reached out and shunted Book towards the door, effectively created a human barricade between the younger man and the woman.
Book went ahead of him all to willingly. "We're very sorry for your loss..." He called out over his shoulder.
"Yes." Dean agreed with a brittle smile that seemed to scream the words 'back off ', "We're very sorry. Come on Daniel..."
Book found himself back in the Impala in an almost unsettling amount of time.
"Whoa. She was all over you, man. Does that happen a lot?" Dean said, shaking his head in annoyance, though Book got the sense that it wasn't Book that Dean was annoyed with.
"I don't...think so." Book said after a moment.
Dean snorted in amusement. "You don't think so? I'm pretty sure that's something you would remember..."
"Yeah." Book agreed faintly. "You'd think."
"And who the hell is this Alex you were talking about? Do you know her?" Dean asked, searching Book's face.
"No. I mean, I don't think so. I just saw the opening and went with it, I guess." Book said. "Sorry. I didn't mean to hijack your interrogation."
"No real interrogation to be had. She told us everything outright. I was getting a little worried that she was going to try and crawl up in your lap, though." Dean said with a snigger.
"Uh...actually, me too." Book shook his shoulders physically, shaking off the feeling of Marcia's eyes on him.
"So, another, what psychic? Hunter? And a ghost ship." Dean said musingly.
"It's weird. I don't...sense any other psychics around..." Book said, frowning.
"Well, what's your range?" Dean asked, half joking, half curious.
Book shrugged. "I don't know. Pretty good, usually. Maybe I'm wrong. I just...usually feel them."
"Could be a fraud just trying to cozy up to the old lady." Dean suggested. "Talking about having the case resolved and all that."
Book grimaced. He was starting to have a sinking suspicion of just who Alex might be, but he decided to keep his mouth shut for know. There was no reason to think she was here, after all.
He turned his attention back to the issue of the ghost ship. "Dean, if you want to drop me off at the library, I'll start researching shipwrecks in this area. Dry-land drownings, too."
Dean arched a brow at him. "You ever research this kind of thing before?"
Book had to choke down desperate laughter. "Yeah. Yeah, once...or twice. But I'm pretty handy at research in general. I can find my way around a library."
"Well, I won't complain." Dean said. "I hate libraries. Give me a gun and a shovel any day. I'm going to, though. I'm not making you do it by yourself. Besides, the librarian might decide to take you home with her or something."
Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural
Dean watched Book with a kind of surprised bemusement. The kid hadn't been joking when he said he was good at research.
He wasn't just good.
He was freaking spectacular. He already isolated a pattern of dry land drownings occurring every thirty seven years, and now he was compiling stacks of research on the lore about shipwrecks and hauntings.
"Okay." Dean said, stretching the kinks out of his back. They'd been at this for several hours now, though Book gave no sign that it had occurred to him to take a break. "Maybe we should get some dinner, and then come back."
"Huh?" Book glanced up. "I'm okay. Go get some food if you're hungry. There's a ton of shipwrecks I still haven't got the details on."
"Dude, it's after five. You haven't eaten anything since we met up. How many shipwrecks can there be in this area, anyway?" Dean asked with a frown. The kid might have come up here on his own, but this was Dean's hunt. Book was helping him, and that made him Dean's responsibility.
"Ships with sails?" Book said, looking over at his list, "I'm up to about one hundred and fifty."
"Well...shit." Dean said with a sigh. Then he shook his head. "Nope. That just makes my point more valid. Come on, you can bring your research if it makes you happy, but you need to eat too. Don't want you getting all 'shaky psychic' on me."
"Shaky psychic?" Book asked, making what Dean could only describe as a 'bitch face'. "You do realize that someone of my size doesn't really qualify as fragile, right?"
"Blah, blah, blah. Food. Let's go." Dean said, physically pulling the kid's laptop away from him and shutting it gently.
Book sighed, but got up obediently. Dean lead the way out the door, but then stopped so suddenly in his tracks that Book actually stumbled into him.
"Dean, what is it? What's wrong?" Book asked in confusion.
Dean didn't answer, too busy looking frantically up and down the street. "The car." He whispered, feeling like he was going to have a panic attack right there in the middle of the street. "My CAR! IT'S GONE"
"Whoa, whoa. It's okay. It's cool. Maybe we turned into the wrong lot, or..." Book trailed off.
Dean was shaking his head in strong negation. "No. It was here. Right here. The car is gone, someone stole my car, we have to call THE COPS..."
"I wouldn't do that, if I were you. Not with that arsenal you no doubt carry in the trunk." The accented voice echoed in the still night air as the woman approached, heels clicking on the pavement.
"Who the Hell are you?" Dean growled at the same time that Book sighed heavily behind him.
"Bela." Book greeted the brunette resignedly.
"You know her?" Dean said, turning to look at Book. The kid looked unhappy, to say the least. He was facing the woman, eyes tracking her the way a store employee would watch a shoplifter.
"I know her." He admitted her reluctantly. "Her name's Bela Talbot, and she's trouble."
"Book." She chided. "You always say the sweetest things. How's Anna?"
"She might have mentioned hitting you with her car if she ever saw you again." Book offered. "Wait a minute. You're Alex, aren't you. You're conning that poor old woman, aren't you!"
Book turned to Dean. "She's a con artist, and a thief. She specializes in...unusual things."
"Charming." Dean muttered, looking at the woman with mild disgust.
She was pretty, beautiful, really, but Dean had little respect for those who preyed on others for a living. Sure, he and John used card scams when they had too, but hunting wasn't really a paying job.
"Pleasure to meet you. Now, I'm sorry, if I heard right, you appear to have misplaced your vehicle. There was a car here, a black Impala..."
Only Book's restraining hand on his shoulder kept Dean from throttling the woman right in front of the library.
"Dean!" Book said urgently.
"Where's my car!" Dean growled, hand on his gun.
"Relax, gorgeous. I just wanted a chance to chat. Your stopping by Marcia's earlier has gotten her all worked up. She no longer wants to work with me. She wants to work with my partner. She was rather specific. She mentioned the 'tall one'. I assume that would be you, Book." Bela said.
"Car, Book. Make her give me back my car..." Dean warned lowly.
"Honestly. It's just a car." Bela waved negligently toward an ally running beside the library. "I just moved it so I could have a moment of your time. It's perfectly safe and sound."
"Can I shoot her?" Dean only half-whispered to Book.
"Not in public." Book replied, only half-seriously. "Bela. What are you doing here, really?"
"Always the dull boy, aren't you, Book? With your libraries and your research. Tell me, where are you squatting right now? Abandoned factory? Haunted house? Or are you playing student this week?" He voice was derisive, and Dean didn't miss how tense the younger man was around her.
"Shut up, already, and answer his damn question." Dean growled, not caring for how she spoke to the younger man.
She arched a brow. "Do you want me to shut up? Or answer your question? You're rather protective, aren't you? Dean, right? Dean Winchester?"
"What. Do. You. Want." Book ground out, startling Dean with the intensity of his voice. He looked over at the kid.
Book was pale, and his brow was furrowed as is he was in some pain.
"You know what, lady? Screw you and your games. We're out of here." Dean said, grabbing Book by the shoulder.
"Look." Bela said, teasing voice gone now, all business. "Just stay out of my way."
"Why the hell should we do anything for you?" Dean asked with a sneer, as he toyed with the idea of shooting her just for the hell of it. She'd messed with his car, and now she was upsetting his psychic.
"Because I'll make your life wretchedly uncomfortable until you do." She replied archly.
"I'll remember that, sweetheart." Dean said with narrowed eyes. "Come on, Book. Let's grab some grub."
Dean pushed Book ahead of him protectively, glaring over his shoulder at the woman still standing on the sidewalk.
Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural
Dean eased up the window of the darkened apartment. He paused, listening for any sounds or signs of movement.
When nothing reached his ears but silence, he slip in. He didn't bother with a flashlight, relying on the bright autumn moonlight to light his way.
He glanced at the photos of the smiling couple on the wall.
The attack came suddenly, when he was in the kitchen. A flurry of kicks and blows, too fast for speech, too fast for thought.
No time for anything but instinct, and Dean felt a smile break across his face.
He had missed this.
"Whoa, Easy there, tiger."
"Dean?"
The other man's face is nothing but a blur, a dark shape lost among the other shadows, but Dean knows him none the less.
Knows the cadence of his voice, the way he shapes his words.
When he moves suddenly, reversing their positions, Dean is both surprised and proud.
The lights flicker on, there is a girl, confused and a little frightened, standing in the doorway.
She calls out to the other man, and he goes to comfort her. Dean feels the loss of his presence keenly, as he faces the two of them, now watching him warily from across the room. Before, the darkness obscured the other man's face, but now, it is just the opposite. The lights are too bright, like looking into the sun, and Dean cannot see their features.
But it doesn't matter. He knows this person, trusts him.
He has sought out his brother, because no one else can help him now.
"Dad's on a hunting trip, and he hasn't been home in a few days..."
Dean sat straight up in bed, heart pounding. He was covered in sweat, the sheets tangled about his legs, the pillows knocked to the ground.
"What the hell was that?" He whispered to the empty room.
He looked around, breathing deeply to try and calm himself. A glance at the clock told him it was a little after three. He and Book had gotten rooms just a few hours before.
He closed his eyes, trying to wade through the sleep drenched confusion in his mind.
What the hell kinda dream was that?
Already, it was starting to fade, nothing left but bits and pieces, voices.
He'd been looking for someone. Two someones, but one of them, he had found.
Dean flopped back on the mattress, wiping a hand across his face.