Saturday Evening
Dean and Sam looked up the lawn to admire the beauty of the house. It was one of those old homes with large windows and porches everywhere. An old-fashioned driveway led through the first level of the home to a courtyard in back. The house was nestled into a neighborhood of large homes, but hidden away in the heart of the city, right off I10, surrounded by graffittied buildings and flanked by a drainage ditch. The house was obviously cared for, and the lawn was neat, but not manicured. The house had the feeling of a home, which appealed to Sam. The boys exited the car and entered the fenced yard along the sidewalk that led to the front porch. As they climbed the porch steps, the sound of the Animals relating their tale of woe in New Orleans blasted from an open window. Dean and Sam exchanged a look, amused.
"Hey Dean," Sam reached out to stop his brother from ringing the bell. "That letter said he hoped to become reacquainted with us. Have we been here before?"
Dean racked his brain, but had no memory of ever meeting this guy. Shaking his head, he replied, "I don't think so. Dad and I came down here a couple times when I first started helping out, but I don't remember ever coming here." Sam frowned at this and nodded for Dean to ring the bell.
The music lowered and nothing happened for a moment, so Dean rang again. A call to wait came through the door, and the men both stepped back. A bolt turned, and the door swung open to reveal a young woman. Dean stared with disbelief at the girl from the factory. She had her long dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, and wide sapphire eyes that shone with the smile that spread across her face.
The girl from my dream.
Sam looked at his brother and smiled, before saying hello and reaching his hand out to shake hands.
"Hi, we're the Winchesters."
Looking from one brother to the other, she addressed herself to the tallest. "Yes," she laughed. "Hello Sam."
"Yeah," Sam returned, confused. "Is Mr. MacKeary here?"
The girl frowned in confusion. "Mr. MacKeary? No." She looked back and forth between the two men, giving Dean a double take as he continued to stare at her, unable to pull himself together until Sam elbowed him.
"Yeah," he jumped in. "We got a letter from him asking us to come."
The young woman's eyes opened wide as comprehension dawned.
"No, Mr. Winchester. Mr. MacKeary is dead." The brothers looked at each other. "I sent you the email." Sam and Dean looked at her, curious. "I am A.F. MacKeary."
"You're A.F.?" Dean asked. The girl nodded. "You know that sounds like a guy?"
She laughed and stepped back to open the doorway to them.
"Would you have come if I had signed the letter 'Anna?' Won't you both come in?"
The men entered the house and found themselves in a foyer, facing a large staircase. Looking around, both Dean and Sam got the feeling they were dealing with old money.
"Anna, huh?" Sam smiled as he turned to face their hostess.
"Yeah. My Dad used to call me by my middle name, Florence. I hated that." She smiled and led the men through a formal sitting parlor and dining room into the kitchen. Tiffany lamps and gold-rimmed china were passed on the way. Dean looked around him admiring the decor, sticking his hands in his pockets to keep from knocking anything over.
"Why'd he call you that?"
"Because I was named for my mother. She died when I was born."
"Sorry to hear that," Sam said gently.
"So was I," Anna replied.
Once in the kitchen, Dean felt more comfortable, faced now with an old wooden table and chairs and the feel of an old-world kitchen. He accepted the proffered beer with a smile and smiled at his brother's polite refusal. Anna opened a soda for herself and led the brothers to the table.
Taking a seat she reached down to the chair beside her, bringing up two packages. Handing one to each brother, Anna leaned back in her chair and took a sip of her soda. Dean and Sam looked from the packages in their hands to Anna, unsure of what to do.
"I fixed up two of the bedrooms for you upstairs. The two doors on the left on the second floor. I figured you'd want some time and privacy to look through whatever that is. When you're ready, supper and I will be down here, waiting."
Dean stared at the package that bore his father's handwriting. Sam looked up across the table to Anna, as though she held the answers to all his questions. She smiled sympathetically, understanding how hard this whole situation must be for the brothers.
"He gave these to you?" Dean's eyes bored through her, jealous that she had seen the man who apparently didn't want to see his own sons.
"No," Anna replied. Dean and Sam both started in surprise.
"But I thought-"
"Nope," She interrupted, leaning back in her chair kicking her feet up on the chair next to her. "In my letter I only said he had left packages, and that his plan was to be here until Friday. I never said he gave them to me personally." Dean leaned back now, frustrated. He narrowed his eyes at the small woman, waiting for an explanation. Anna sighed and dropped her feet to the floor, leaning forward onto the table to explain. "He called me-"
"You spoke to him?" Sam asked eagerly. Anna sighed again and shook her head.
"Again, no. I was in Chicago taking care of one of the 'non-emergencies.' A few nights ago my phone rang with a message from your father on my voicemail. How he managed to leave it without the phone ringing, I don't know. But it was his voice."
"Like the answering service," Sam addressed Dean, who only nodded, waiting for Anna to continue.
"Exactly," she agreed. "He said he was spending a few days here, and that he was leaving on Friday. That was on Wednesday. I emailed you both right away." Anna smiled, and looked over at Sam. "It took me nearly three hours to find your address."
Sam looked down at his package. "Nobody has actually seen him in over eight months."
Anna's smile fell away and she looked down at the can in her hand. "Your father disappeared the same time mine died." Looking up she met the eyes of one brother, then the next. "The only difference is yours keeps calling. Mine just came home in a box. Frankly," her voice became tight with anger and emotion. "We're all getting screwed. Whatever the two of them were up to, it blew up in their faces. Now the three of us are running around like fools trying to fix something we know nothing about." Anna stood and crossed the kitchen. Sam watched her progress across the room, and Dean simply stared out the window where she had been sitting, watching the wind in the trees. Anna stared out the window over the sink as she began to speak again.
"Go rest up. I have an offer for the two of you when you come back down."
Dean turned around, watching her back. Suddenly, he stood and strode out of the room. Sam followed, glancing at Anna as he crossed the kitchen. She made no movement, and he left to follow Dean up the staircase to the bedrooms.
At the top of the stairs, Dean opened the first bedroom door. A navy blue room, masculine yet soft, greeted the brothers. Exchanging a look and a smile with Sam, Dean stepped back to let his younger brother enter. They both walked toward the open door that revealed a bathroom. An old fashioned tub with claw feet and a decadent shower head high enough to accommodate even Sam's height greeted them. Elegant shades of cream and dark blues gave the bathroom an open feel, giving the illusion of space.
The next bedroom had slate walls and blood red accents. The room was obviously a man's room. Dean walked over to the bed and looked at the lone photo on the end table. Anna and a taller man, about her own age, smiled and hugged each other in graduation robes. Dean raised an eyebrow and set the photo back on the nightstand. Sitting down on the bed, Dean held up the package, examining his father's scrawl. This was the closest he had been to his father in almost a year. Jaw clenched, Dena took a deep breath and opened the package. Sam sat in an armchair near the door and opened his own package. Each package contained a small leather journal, a ring and a letter.
Sam flipped through the blank journal and set it aside. The thick band, solid silver, was etched with a deep design. The markings looked like runic writing, but Sam was never any good at reading runes.
"Dean." Sam walked over to his brother. "Is yours like this?"
Dean took his brother's ring and held the two side by side. Sam's had what looked like Norse ruins, but Dean's had strange lines drawn through another line that encircled the band. He shrugged, gave back his brother's ring, and looked at his own for another minute. Sam, in the meantime, returned to his chair and opened the letter from his father. Unfolding the paper, Sam nearly swore, shaking his head at how short the letter actually was.
Sam,
I know you and I never managed to say what we really wanted to say. I'm writing now, and I still can't make the words say all that I want.
The runes on your ring are a prayer for your protection. It says "An t-anam-s' air do laimh," which means "Be this soul on Thine arm." This is a gift from an old friend, Geoffrey MacKeary. It will protect you.
You are my son. You follow your own path, and you never gave up your own dreams to follow mine. Stay strong.
Dad
Sam frowned, a range of emotions rushing through him. He was angry that his father couldn't just say what he wanted to hear, but Sam also understood the problem. He had never been able to communicate with his dad. They neither of them knew how to talk to the other. The band said more to Sam than eighteen years had ever managed. A simple prayer for protection and guidance was all.
Dean, on the other side of the room, was looking at his letter – a considerably longer letter – and turning the ring slowly between his fingers like a worry stone. His jaw clenched and unclenched as he read.
Dean,
You're probably really angry. I don't blame you. There are no words to express how much I regret leaving you in the dark like this, and you can believe me, Missouri is not happy with me about leaving you both behind. I'm sorry to say there's no end in sight at the moment. This is something I have to do. I can only hope that you and Sam continue in your efforts together, being the men (and the brothers) I know you both to be.
Leaving you behind was a hard thing to do, and I am sorry that I have no way to make you understand. That can't be helped. I have lost Geoff, one of my oldest friends. I couldn't have borne to lose you as well. This is the only way I can keep you safe.
I don't want you to live your life as you have seen me live it Dean. You've seen me alone, spurning friendships or having only occasional friends – and those I only spoke to on rare occasions. Even Geoff I kept at arm's length out of fear. I raised you as best I could, but there are some areas I have failed you. Don't fear love. Don't fear family. There will never be anything greater or more important in your life than your family. Whether it's those people related by blood, or those you choose to keep with you.
Sam ignored a lot of what I tried to teach you both, and somehow he learned the one thing I never passed on – the ability to love. I want that for you, Dean. I don't want you to turn away from your heart because I never pushed you to allow yourself to care.
You and I have lived our lives as fighters, warriors, and you are one of the best men I know. There is a phrase from the Norse warrior's creed that says "Love and care for your family always, and have the fierceness of a wolf in their protection." You are the wolf, Dean. No one has ever so aptly met this description. Your ring has been engraved with Ogham ruins that say "As I hold my honor by fang and claw." This is your truth, Dean. Like it or not, you have always been willing to die for those you take into your heart. Let more than just Sam and me in.
Geoff was good enough to have an old ring from his family's collection engraved with this phrase for me some time ago. I give it to you now, after trying to find the right moment to say all this to you for nearly four years now.
Anna is Geoff's daughter. I don't think you remember Geoff, but you did meet him, and his daughter Anna, when you were a teenager. She saved your life, and you can trust her now. The MacKeary's are the best resource for information on the occult and the supernatural. She will be invaluable to you.
I hope you stay safe, and I hope my gift can help you. Let Anna into your heart. She has no family left, and she needs a purpose. She hunts alone, but you have Sam. Protect her as I couldn't protect her father, Dean. Don't let her hunt alone anymore.
I hate forcing you to be strong for everyone. I hope I will be through with this and with you again soon. When the time is right, you will find me.
Dad
Dean dropped the hand holding the letter, brought the ring up to eye level. Staring at the strange writing across the surface of the band, Dean lifted his chin and took a deep breath, willing his thoughts to collect.
Downstairs, in the kitchen, Anna had a simple dinner cooking on the stove and a glass of Pinot Grigio growing warm in her hand. She sat at the table and stared unseeing out the window across the yard, her feet propped up the chair next to her. She absently sipped her wine and was distracted by the glint of light off the small gauntlet on her right wrist. Her father had given it to her for her sixteenth birthday, and she was rarely without it. Immersed in their warrior history, despite his own librarian inclinations, Geoffrey MacKeary had inscribed the inside of the gauntlet with a warrior's saying, 'Se' misneach arm fir misniu'il.' Setting her wine down, Anna shook her head as she traced one finger along the intricate knot work and shield pattern.
"A brave man's weapon is his heart."
"Personally, I prefer a big gun."
Anna started and spun around, nearly falling out of her chair. Dean smiled an apology and she laughed nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
"What's that?" Dean pointed at her gauntlet.
Setting her wine down, Anna pulled her sleeve back down over the bracelet. "Some girls get a car when they turn sixteen. I get protective gear. Tradition, apparently." She nodded at Dean's hand. "He gave them to you, then?"
Dean nodded and crossed the floor to steal a swig of Anna's wine, grimacing at the taste. She laughed and went to the fridge to get him a beer.
"Thanks," he said after washing the taste away with Shiner. "I never was one for wine."
Anna smiled shyly and went to stir the spaghetti sauce on the stove.
"Where's Sam?"
"Washing the road off. I went first."
"I figured you would both need some time." Anna glanced back and shot Dean a smile. He noticed, not for the first time, that she had a strong but feminine profile. He was reminded of a Greek statue- one of those dancing maidens.
"So," Dean sat at the table, addressing her back as she seasoned the sauce. "Can that thing stop bullets?"
Anna laughed. "I'm a librarian, not Wonder Woman."
"So, more Batman then," he replied.
"Batman?" Anna turned to face Dean, and tilted her head, smiling. " Nah. I'm more the Lex Luthor type."
"Bald turns you on?" Dean smiled and took a pull on the beer.
"Not really. I like the complex masculine type." Anna turned, still smiling, to the stove, taking the sauce off the fire. "You know, the lone wolf." Dean froze at her words as Anna took the boiling pasta to drain the water at the sink. Steam rose around her, and Dean got another good view of her profile as the setting sun played around her in the steam and off her hair. He suddenly understood some of what his father had been trying to tell him. Anna shot him a grin as she stepped away from the sink, and Dean nearly dropped his beer.
"Smells good."
Dean and Anna both turned to greet Sam. She continued to prepare the dinner and invited Sam to help himself to a beer. Grabbing a Shiner Sam joined Dean at the table. Taking a swig he noticed Dean trying very hard to look normal.
Sam whispered, "You okay, Dean?" His brother nodded and turned to face him.
"Dad told me to look after her. She hunts alone. What do you think we should do about her?"
Sam peered at his brother suspiciously. He had no clue what Dean was talking about. It sounded as though he wanted to take Anna with them. Sam was fairly certain that unless their dad had ordred something like that, Dean would never agree to take her along. Not unless something else was going on. He chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment, thinking, as he watched Dean watching Anna.
"You want to take her with us?" Sam ventured, gauging Dean's reaction.
"That what I-"
"Dinner's ready," Anna called out. "You can hold off talking about me until after we eat." She smiled broadly and set a large platter down on the table. Sam and Dean shot each other a look. "The hushed tones."
The brothers laughed and rose to help her finish setting the table. In a matter of minutes, they all three sat down to the first home-cooked meal any of them had really had in nearly a year.