Chapter 10

Dean sat in the passenger side of the Mercury Lincoln, his father at the wheel. They'd picked up the old car at the end of their latest job, his father paying cash for it at the next town over after they'd both fleeced the heck out of the locals at the pool hall. The body needed work, but the engine was sound, and the price had been right.

At the time, he'd wondered at the need for the extravagance, but the info hadn't been forthcoming and he knew better than to ask. Then less than a day ago, his Dad told him they were taking the car to California.

Ever since the scene at the Lucky Star, his father had appeared more in control, more like his old self. Dean made sure to dig up as many jobs as he could find, no matter how tenuous, just to keep his father busy and moving. Between the work and the news that Sammy was okay, he appeared to have leveled out – finally. Dean didn't plan to take his eyes off him though. Not yet.

His Dad was keeping tightlipped about what they were doing out here, but that didn't really surprise him. His father would let him know what this was about when he was ready. It had always made things easier, really. Not having to sweat the details or carry the burden of figuring out what to do. His only job was to follow orders, react when necessary, and kill the bad thing. It was the only way to go.

Dean glanced up at the signs on US 101 and his heart leapt to his throat. Palo Alto, 50 miles – Palo Alto – Sammy. He threw a look in his father's direction wondering if he'd seen it. What were the odds they'd get a job out this way of all places? The singular tightness around his chest he got when he thought about his brother came back full force.

"Dad, since we're out this way… Once we finish whatever we're here to do, do you think we could, maybe…" He glanced at his father as he spoke, to see what kind of effect the suggestion would have, but never finished it. His father was gripping the steering wheel in a white knuckled grip, his profile tense, and his eyes staring straight ahead. Dean wasn't quite sure what to make of it. It made him feel uneasy.

As each sign indicated they were getting closer to Palo Alto, the more palpable the tension became inside the car.

When the Lincoln transferred lanes to take the Palo Alto exit, the one with the words Stanford University emblazoned beneath it, Dean stared at his father in surprise. Was he doing it? Were they actually going to visit Sammy? A shot of happiness went through him, this being the first hint there might be a chance of getting the family back together since the mess started back in May.

His father would have to eat crow, there was no way around it – he'd been wrong and he knew it. But he could be extremely charming when he wanted. And if Sammy was half way receptive…

It would never be as it was before; Dean knew that. But there'd be no more skulking around. Sammy could visit during vacation, Dean would actually get to see his brother, bug the shit out of him, drag him out on the town, be together -- rather than have to subsist on a postcard or two for weeks at a time.

He leaned forward drinking in everything before him. This was where Sammy was, where he went to school, played, lived. Just knowing what the place looked like brought him closer to his brother -- as if they were sharing experiences. He wanted the Lincoln to move faster, to get him that much closer to Sammy now.

The first thing he noticed were the trees. Unlike most cities, Palo Alto had a lot of them, everywhere. Open spaces too, and parks, lots of parks. Downtown had a small town feel, the one story concrete buildings distinct and painted in a myriad of colors. Glimpses of the San Francisco Bay could be seen to the right.

El Camino Real brought them closer to the university. Stanford had its own stadium, an amphitheater, even a medical center. Many of the buildings possessed a Spanish flare. Dean's gaze leapt from person to person as the number of students walking back and forth to different destinations grew in leaps and bounds. Sammy was here. Somewhere in this mess, his brother was walking somewhere, learning something. And soon he'd get to see him again. Was he skinnier? Taller? Did he spend more time outside? Maybe have a nice tan? Had he cut his hair or did his bangs still fall all over his face as usual? His growing excitement was almost more than he could stand.

The Lincoln turned onto Palm then took Campus drive east, letting them get a look at The Oval, a huge open field of green leading toward the Quad, the heart of the school grounds. A couple of more turns brought them to a visitor's parking lot next to Memorial Hall, a large tan colored building with covered walkways. A large sign stated the visitors' center was located within. As they got out of the car, Dean spotted Hoover Tower, which with its distinctive reddish dome, seemed to stare down at them as if guarding the university.

Assuming what his father wanted, Dean turned on the charm at the visitor center, motivated like never before. A few flashed smiles and compliments later, and the helpful woman at the counter was looking up all the info on Sammy he might ever want to know. His Dad stayed by the door and let him work, his tense presence palpable even from across the room.

Dean almost skipped back outside, the anticipation giving him a buzz. "Got his address. His schedule too. We can plan when to surprise him! I can't wait to see the look on his face." He glanced back at his father and his steps faltered. The pleasure or at least relief he expected to see in his Dad's face wasn't there. If anything, his father had his game face on. But why?

"We have a reservation at a motel in town. We need to go check in. There're some preparations to make." His voice was flat.

"What are you talking about, Dad? We have Sammy's address. Let's just go park there and wait for him to show. The motel can wait. I want to see him!"

His father shook his head and plowed on past him. "That's not what we're here for."

"What? But, Dad!"

"Get in the car, Dean." His father's tone brooked no argument.

Dean felt all his previous excitement shrivel up and die. "Yes, sir." Head hanging down, he went around the car and got inside. He didn't look at his father as his mind raced to try to figure out what this was about. If they weren't here to see Sammy, to make things right, then just what in hell were they doing there?

His father did nothing to enlighten him. For the first time since Sam left, Dean felt furious disgust building inside him at their Dad. He kept his gaze locked out the window, and though he wasn't really aware of what flashed past, he just knew that if he looked at his father he wouldn't be able to keep quiet. That would only make his Dad even more tight lipped and put him in a bad mood to boot. Dean just needed to bid his time and he would be told what was going on. But for once, it was really hard to do.

The car slowed and Dean focused on his surroundings for the first time. The Lincoln was turning into the parking lot of a Super 8 Motel. A green awning covered the area over the office entrance and the solitary vending machine. The sand colored walls of the long connected buildings didn't look particularly inviting. His father was splurging though, the chain one leg up from their usual choices.

"Here."

Dean glanced over at his father as something poked him in the arm. It was a credit card.

"Book us a room. Two days should do. I'll wait for you here."

Dean took the card, not meeting his father's gaze. He held back a moment, waiting to see if his Dad would say more, but there was nothing. The fury rolling inside him grew a bit more. He closed the door with a little more force than necessary, hoping his father would take the hint.

Looked like the last name for the stay would be Jones. He supposed he could be Davey. Groovy. Ugh. The uniformed clerk inside the office wasn't bad looking, but he just couldn't work up the enthusiasm for more than just following the motions and getting them checked in.

His father was still in the parking lot, the Lincoln on idle. Tight lines showed near his eyes, his jaw taut. Whatever they were here for, it had him wound tight. Good. Let's see how he liked it.

Getting back in the car, Dean handed over the credit card and key, but said nothing. The Lincoln backed out of the spot by the office and drove deeper into the lot before slipping into the slot for room 33.

"Grab the bags." His father slid out of the car and closed the door without saying anything else.

Dean sighed, letting his feelings flow out as much as he could before he opened his own door and moved to do as ordered. Slinging two duffels over his shoulder and grabbing the case in the trunk, he walked through the open door into their room. Beige walls and deep green carpet greeted him, browns and reds glaring from the twin beds and several paintings on the walls. His father was over by the small round table with chairs in a corner, spreading out a map. Dean nudged the door closed with his foot and set his burdens down on the nearest bed. "Dad, why are we here?"

"The schedule and address." He held his hand out for them, totally ignoring his question. This was getting old. Nevertheless, Dean approached the table and gave him the requested items.

He looked down at the map and saw it was of the university and its surroundings. "What exactly is it that we're going to be doing?"

His father glanced up from the map, a touch of annoyance coloring his face. "We're going to make sure this place is safe for your brother. It'll be a long night, so I suggest you get some sleep while you can." That said, he shut him out, turning all of his attention back to the map and the pieces of paper Dean had given him.

Sighing again, Dean turned away to do as he'd been told.

It was only nine thirty, but most of the campus was already empty and quiet. Dean guessed all those frat parties in the movies must happen on the weekend, otherwise this place looked to be boring as hell. Too much studying corroded the brain, something he'd tried teaching his brother, but the latter never listened.

They'd hoofed it here from the motel, pedestrians less noticeable in the current environs than those driving.

Though he'd slept, when he awoke, Dean had found his father pretty much exactly as he'd left him, pouring over the blasted map as if trying to engrave it into his brain.

His Dad called for takeout and after a silent and tense dinner they sat around cleaning weapons and checking inventory until he finally said it was time to go.

Dean possessed no more idea now than before on what exactly they were off to do, his father's uptight posture and closed face brooking no questions. But at least they were doing something. If he'd had to spend another hour in the room with the gloom oozing from the man, he would have drowned in it.

His father would occasionally check the map, but looked to be moving mostly from memory. Dean carried the duffel his father had prepared and followed silently. The two-story building was close to the Quad. His father took out a rather fancy EMF reader and swept it around the periphery of the building. The monitor remained silent.

Going around one more time, he then swept in behind the bushes in the back corner.

"Dad, what are you doing?"

"Hand me one of the bundles in the duffel."

Curious, Dean opened the bag and pulled out a small cloth sack. Turning it in his hand, he noticed it was embroidered. The stitching was of the All Seeing Eye, something used for protection. He handed the sack over. "What's in those?"

"Salt, red pepper, onions, vinegar, sulphur, Angelica root, and Bluestone." He scrunched down and buried the sack.

"That's all for protection and to keep evil things out, right?" Bluestone was toxic and not to be handled lightly. Dean glanced inside the duffel. It was filled with sacks just like the one he handed over. When the heck had his father put all this together? Hell, how long had he known he would be coming out here?

"Correct. Now take a couple of those and place them in the front corners. I'll get the other one."

Dean put the duffel down and fished out a couple of the sacks for himself. He wasn't sure how to feel right now. That his father was going to this much trouble to make sure Sammy was safe was heart wrenching, but also disturbing. Just how much supernatural trouble did he think his brother would run into here? Was it just paranoia or was there something his father wasn't telling him?

They took care of three other buildings then were cutting across a small park by one of the libraries when Dean saw him. He came to a dead stop, recognizing the familiar lanky shape despite the distance and shadows between them.

"Oh my god. It's Sammy!" Dean took a step in that direction, thinking of nothing but rushing up to his brother and giving him a backbreaking hug, when his arm was grabbed roughly from behind. He whipped his head around to glance behind him. "Dad?"

His father was staring past him, toward his younger son, the grip tightening on Dean's arm until the latter grimaced in pain. "Dad?"

Getting no response, Dean turned again to face toward his brother. Sammy had stopped and was slowly turning in a circle to look around him. Dean was yanked to the side, making him drop the duffel, his back pushed hard against the trunk of a tree, out of sight. His father's sweating hand went over Dean's mouth even as he pressed his body up against him, pining Dean there. His Dad leaned out just enough to be able to see past the tree.

Dean tried moving his head but the pressure from his father's clamped hand kept him still. He was exerting so much force, the bark was trying to embed itself into the back of Dean's skull.

The minutes ticked by and his father didn't release him, didn't move. It was like being held back by solid rock. Perspiration trickled down the back of Dean's neck though the evening was cool. Why had his father stopped him from going to Sammy? Why the hell had he reacted like this? What it the world did he think Dean was going to do? What was he afraid of? Because of that last thing he was pretty sure. The smell of it mingled with the smell of sap and green from the tree.

All at once, the pressure came off his face and body. Unprepared, Dean toppled forward. His face ached, and he wouldn't be surprised if it turned up with bruises in the morning.

His father spared him a quick glance then moved to retrieve the duffel bag and started off on his way again. It was like a cold slap in the face.

"Dad! What the hell was that about? I don't understand what we're doing!"

His father turned around and stared at him. "Sam may have deserted us, but he's still my son. I must make sure he's safe." His eyes reflected the glow of the moon above, making him look somehow inhuman.

Dean shook his head, the image making him uneasy. "And that's great, Dad, but why can't we see him? Talk to him? Let him know we're here?"

"He deserted the family, Dean." His tone left no doubt he thought the answer only too obvious and needed no explanation. "He turned his back on your mother, on us. On the things that need to get done."

Dean fought to keep silent, doubting his father would like what he might say otherwise. Yes, Sammy had left, but his father had also helped drive him to it. They were both at fault but he was the one caught in the middle. And it hurt.

"Come on, we've more buildings to do before we're through." His father turned away and walked off into the night.