Saturday Night
Anna watched the steam rise in the glow of candlelight, letting the heat of the bathwater release the tension from her body. The day had been rough on everyone. Anna had been amazed at the way Dean had changed and not changed. He wouldn't have remembered her if not for the factory, that much had been clear. But she had not really expected any different. Men like John and Dean never really remembered the average girl, only the stunning beauties. Smiling, Anna adjusted her position to sit up, breathing deeply the scent of clean water.
Chicago had been a nightmare, and the emotional rollercoaster upon her return had rubbed her nerves raw. In Chicago she had been forced to squat alongside the homeless and in crack houses to find Jillian, the spirit of a young girl who had taken to poltergeist activity to revenge herself on pimps and Johns. Releasing the poor spirit had been the easy part. Dodging the men in the slums had been a different issue entirely. Anna still had bruises on her upper arms and probably her back from fending them off. Still, she had walked away from each encounter; the men had limped.
Dean and Sam were another matter. Dinner had been fun, the men entertaining. She had not been quite up to the challenge of entertaining, but they made it so easy to laugh and smile that Anna had been grateful for their company. Food always tastes better when the heart is light. After dinner, though, the serious discussion had begun. Sam and Dean had so many questions and Anna so few answers.
"So," Dean began without so much as a segue. "How did you know we were looking for our father?"
Anna dropped the plate in her hand which shattered and sent ceramic and pasta scattering. She had been loading the dishwasher with Sam but she immediately bent down with a rag to scoop up the pieces. She swallowed and took a deep breath, replying without ever looking up.
"I've heard the messages you left your father."
Dean and Sam looked at each other, but Sam looked confused.
"We haven't left any messages," He said, leaning back against the counter to stay out of Anna's way.
"Not you, Sam," she softly returned.
Sam turned to his brother, surprised. "You left Dad messages?"
Dean rubbed his hand across his jaw and sighed. Standing he walked over and lowered the trashcan to Anna.
"You listened to my messages?"
She looked up into his eyes and her heart spun at the pain she saw. She had realized early on that he would feel violated that she had heard what John had probably never listened to- words that had not been meant for her ears. She dropped the rag full of shards and food into the trash and sat back on her feet, dirty rag and hands resting on her knees.
"I listened for the messages that people left. Many people contact your father with questions or needing help, but only the desperate ones call you. I handle all the rest." Sam joined Anna and his brother on the floor, and even Dean sat, pushing the trashcan away. "I heard your messages, but I had no way to contact your father, to make him listen. I don't think he actually has a phone with him."
"How did he call you then?" Sam broke in. Anna shrugged.
"He probably used the phone here at the house. He's had a key since I can remember."
"When did we meet before?" Dean apparently had no concept of easing into questions. Anna smiled and crossed her legs, getting more comfortable.
"About eight years ago. You were about sixteen, I think, and helping your dad out on a hunt. My dad met up with you both down in the park to take care of some sort of wood haunting." Anna bit her lip, trying to remember the exact circumstances. Dean smiled to himself and nodded.
"I remember that. Some homeless guy nearly knocked me cold. A kid came running up and scared him off with a gun."
"It wasn't a homeless guy," Anna broke in. "You, my friend, managed to get attacked by whatever it was our dads were hunting." She turned to Sam. "I showed up with a book for my dad, and I stumble across him laying flat on his back with a gash across his chest. This huge… thing is standing over him, ready to strike again. So, I grabbed his gun," Anna indicated Dean who cleared his throat and looked down at Sam's laugh. "I shot the thing a few times, and it ran off away from us."
"Yeah," Dean joined in. "Then she stayed with me, talking and trying to keep me from bleeding to death. I remember you now. You were tiny."
"And you were goofy looking."
Sam laughed along with Anna at Dean. He remembered his brother coming home from that trip. Dean had been very weak and covered in bandages.
"I remember you got very sick," she said quietly. "Dad and John took off for parts unknown to find this thing, and left me alone to care for you for about a week. I was so scared, I had no idea what to do. You had a fever that wouldn't break, and I read through about six medical journals trying to figure out how best to help you."
"well," Dean smiled. "You did something right, 'cause I made it home alive."
"Yeah, home alive," Sam broke in. "Home where I stayed with you for two weeks because Dad took off again and there was no one else to keep you down until you'd healed."
Dean smirked and looked over to Anna. "Can you believe this guy? Anyone else would be talking about how cool it was to miss two weeks of school."
Anna smiled at the brothers, and felt the familiar pang of loneliness. She had no siblings nearby, and now no father. Dean saw melancholy in her eyes, and moved ahead with his questions to distract her.
"In the email, you mentioned work of your own in addition to helping our dad. What do you do?"
Anna blinked and focused her eyes on Dean, then Sam.
"The MacKeary's have a tradition as chroniclers. We gather the information collected by hunters and catalogue it for future use. I have recently become immersed in an inventory of our warehouse here in Texas."
"You have a warehouse of information?" Sam asked.
"Yes and no," Anna replied. "The original journals are carefully stored after the information has been transferred to the database, but we also store artifacts and various mementos. Unfortunately, since my mother died, the warehouse here in Texas has been filled, but very little has been appropriately catalogued."
"So," Dean cut in. "You're kind of like a librarian of the supernatural?"
Anna looked to the ceiling, rolling the phrase around in her head. "I suppose so, though I do go on my share of hunts."
"Alone?" Dean leaned forward, and Sam watched the exchange.
Anna lifted her chin and raised an eyebrow. Standing, she stepped over the brothers and returned the trashcan to its home before turning to the sink to rinse out the rag.
"Annie." Dean said her name so softly that Sam could barely hear, but Anna stiffened and turned to face Dean, jaw clenched.
"I'm not a kid, Dean. I can cross the street alone, you know, and go to the mall all by myself."
"You can't hunt alone," Dean returned. Anna's eyes narrowed in anger and her she inhaled, mouth opened to speak, but she stopped. Apparently changing her mind about what she had been about to say, Anna instead leaned back against the counter and exhaled, defeated.
"You're right. That's what I wanted to talk to you both about. You two are looking for John, and I would very much like to know what the hell happened to my father." Raising her eyes from the floor, Anna's gaze locked onto Dean. "I suggest that we team up and keep looking together." Anna looked from one brother to the other, waiting for one of them to argue.
"Fine," Sam finally said. "Sounds like a plan."
Dean nodded his agreement and Anna gave a blank stare as her brain wrapped itself around their acceptance.
"Good then," she said quickly. "I'll check a few of my contacts and we can figure out our next move from there." Anna headed toward the door.
"One thing, though," Dean stopped her. Anna turned back and raised her brows in curiosity. "No caves."
Anna and Sam both looked at Dean as though he had just broken into Farsi. Anna grunted a "Huh?"
"You don't go into caves. Ever. That's the rule, take it or leave it."
Anna breathed deep, and exhaled slowly. A look of pure confusion knotted her brow, but she nodded her consent.
"Done, then," Dean exclaimed.
The conversation had ended there, and Sam had offered to enlist Dean's help to finish cleaning the kitchen. Anna had accepted the offer and gone upstairs to take a bath and let her thoughts clear. The muscles under her eye had twitched repeatedly as her thoughts had spun out of control. Now, as she rolled her shoulders back, Anna leaned back again in the tub and kicked her feet up on the edge of the tub, breathing deeply and releasing her inner tumult with a long sigh. Her eye had stilled and the heat from the water warmed her, calming her and allowing the music of Anoushka to fill her mind.
On the back porch, Dean and Sam sat on a swing and watched fireflies dancing in the small garden. Each man nursed his own beer, and allowed his thoughts to run.
"Dean."
"Yes?"
"What's going on?" Sam and Dean simultaneously turned their heads to face each other.
"What do you mean?" Dean looked away.
Sam loosed a small sigh and turned his body to face Dean. Dean glanced at his brother, but quickly focused his attention on the sky. Above them, the faint sounds of Indian music floated through the air, mixing with the scent of roses and honeysuckle vines.
"You know, Dean, we haven't really been doing too well with finding Dad. Maybe she can help us."
Dean rolled his eyes and took a drink.
"There is one thing I want to know," Sam continued. "Why do you want to take her along, when you've always done everything in your power to keep people at arm's length?"
"I don't keep people at arm's length," Dean responded, defensively. Hearing Sam repeat his father was like salt in an open wound. "You're here with me."
"Come on, man," Sam replied, annoyed. "You know what I'm talking about."
Dean sighed, wrapped both hands around the bottle and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
"She knows Dad. She knows this life. Annie has a better grasp of what's going on than either of us. Maybe her dad told her more than Dad has told us."
Sam threw his head back and stretched out his neck. "You're full of it."
Dean chuckled and swallowed another swig of beer.
"Maybe," he replied. "But I'll bet you twenty bucks she knows more than she's letting on." They sat quietly for a few minutes before Dean spoke up. "I wonder just how her mother died."
Sam turned a sharp look on Dean. "Why?"
Dean shrugged. "Morbid curiosity."
"She burned to death."
Sam and Dean looked up as Anna came out on the porch. Her hair was wet and hung in long coils down her shoulders over the towel wrapped around her neck. She was wearing a hoodie and men's boxers, rubbing her hair dry with the towel in one hand, a Shiner held in the other. Sam was reminded of Jessica, and Dean thought he'd never seen any girl look so cute. Embarrassed by the thought, he looked away and took another swallow of his beer.
"Excuse me?" Sam was sure he hadn't heard Anna correctly. She pulled the towel from her neck and hung it on the porch railing, plopping down with a leg pulled up under her into a large, wide rocking chair.
"I said she burned to death. Our old house in the country caught fire when I was only a couple weeks old."
"You don't sound too upset about it," Dean said, his voice deep.
"I've tried to be," Anna replied. "She was my mother, and she died in a horrible way. But I can't. I didn't know her. Dad being gone hurts like…" she shook her head and Sam smiled to her. "I know I missed out, having no mom. But I can't grieve the way I probably should."
"I know what you mean," Sam said. Anna smiled, and Dean leaned back on the swing, stretching his legs out before him. He drank deeply, keeping his eyes determinedly on the yard.
"I believe you do, both of you."
"Speak for yourselves," Dean bit out. "Tell us what happened."
Anna looked at Sam who shrugged an apology. With a sad smile, she set her beer on the railing beside her and crossed her legs beneath her.
"I'm afraid I can't." Anna raised hand to halt Dean speaking. "That's part of why I've been cataloging the warehouse. I wanted to find the family journals – my father's, my uncle's, anyone's. Anything that could tell me what happened. All I know is that my dad had to pull me out of there in a hurry. He never talked about it with me, and the family won't talk either. Now they're all either back on the Continent or dead, and nobody's talking."
"When was this?" Dean killed off his drink as Anna replied.
"Nineteen-eighty. The second of November." Dean and Sam exchanged a look, and Anna frowned. "What? What did I say?"
"This is freaky, man," Dean muttered to Sam.
"I know," he replied. Sam looked over at Anna who was on the edge of her seat, leaning toward them.
"What is it?"
"That just sounds eerily familiar," Sam started. He took a breath to speak again, but was unsure what exactly to say.
"Well, John told me how your mother died. Is that what you mean?"
Dean stood quickly and walked back into the house. Sam and Anna sat silently, staring at the door. A second later, the sound of a door slamming somewhere in the house reached them on the porch. Anna looked over to Sam with a hurt look.
"Did I say something wrong?" she asked. Sam just shook his head and looked back toward the door.
"I don't know."
Anna watched Sam, reading confusion in his expression.
"Want another drink?"