Hi. I just wanted to include a quick disclaimer as I don't have one on this fic yet. I still don't own the Winchesters, the Impala or anything related to the Supernatural show. Also, I'm not getting paid to write fanfiction. This is all just for fun :) The characters not related to the show are mine and not currently for sharing outside of reading these fics. lol
I'd like to add a quick apology. These two new chapters were posted at two a.m. my time and went up unproofread. There was some out of place text in ch. 2 and some typos in ch. 3. What I could find at a glance has been fixed. If you see anything else please let me know and I'll correct it. Thanks and enjoy the read.
Chapter Two
"What the hell is taking so long? I mean seriously! I get told to be here for eleven in the morning to pick Sam up and now you're not ready to discharge him yet?"
"I'm sorry ma'am, but there's nothing I can do."
Ha! Ma'am she calls me. I'll tell her exactly what I think of that! Wait, did the kid just sneer at me? Whatever. She's like twelve –and yes as a matter of fact I am definitely exaggerating- and working at a penitentiary. I'll just chalk it up to a tough exterior for protection purposes…for now.
"Okay, can I at least visit with Dean for a few minutes while I'm waiting then? Honestly, it's the least you could do considering the way you people are making me wait around like this." It's like the seventh time I've asked that particular question since arriving and the kid looks annoyed with me for it. What? It's really hard to stand here and try to be reasonable with these folks when he and Sam are just out of reach down the hall sitting in some grungy jail cell. I'm not exactly known for my patience here, now am I?
"Visiting hours don't start until after lunch miss O'Sulivan. I've explained this to you already. If you want to see Mr. Winchester you'll have to wait 'till then just like everyone else."
Oh, she's sneering at me all right and all I want to do is slap that self-righteous, condescending little attitude right off her face.
"Listen Barbie doll, I don't think I like your tone." It's the closest thing to a warning I can manage right now. My way of telling her she's trying my last nerve, the only thing that's holding me back from resorting to violence. If we were in a bar right now, instead of a penitentiary, this would be the start of an awesome brawl. The blonde, Barbie of a debutante wannabe doesn't seem to care though so I'm thinking it might not be such a bad idea to flash a little of that silver blade hiding down the inside of my boot.
Then again, maybe not so much seeing as there are at least a dozen cops, and that's just here in this room. I want to see Dean for myself to make sure they haven't roughed him up anymore than that butt to the back of his head, but I don't want to be looking at him from across the cell.
There are a number of different ways today can go. First being that I just sit my derriere down on a bench and patiently wait for these bozos to pull their heads out of their asses long enough to release Sam. That one's the safer one to go with, but definitely not my favorite. Seeing as I'm not a 'play-it-safe' kinda girl we'll just veto that option right now before we go any further with this.
Then there are several different scenarios involving my sneaking into the holding area to get a few minutes alone with Dean. He'd be happy to see me I think, but he'd also be mad as hell that I snuck in. That protective streak of his has been rearing its annoying little head ever since that whole business with Fran disappearing, my wings growing in and the fight with the yellow eyed demon started. I'd probably get tossed in a cell for mischief or something for doing it anyway so that's a vetoed idea too.
My favorite plan, and the one I'm getting closer to executing with every new dirty look Barbie sends my way, is the jail break plan I cooked up last night. All I'd need is a couple of minutes with one of the male guards. I'd try pulling that flirty, cleavage-flashing trick of mine first and if that didn't work I could always knock the guy out and take his keys that way. Another minute or two to find Dean, just long enough to let him out and head back out to the car. His baby's sitting out in the parking lot waiting for him right now. Her engine's been running rough since the day before yesterday and if I didn't know any better I'd say the car was pining for him.
"Hey sweetheart, you wanna maybe pick up the phone and call back to whoever and find out how much longer they're planning on making me wait out here?"
Barbie's little eye roll just sealed her fate. She better pray I never see her on the street somewhere…or down a dark alley for that matter.
Lucky thing the door behind her chose that exact moment to open and six foot-forever of Sam came through it.
"Sam!" And yes, that was definitely relief in my voice. At least now I know for sure that one of the Winchester boys is safe and in one piece. The added bonus is that this one is on the right side of thick metal bars.
"Hey Cal. They're all done with me, can we go?"
Except now I'm not so sure I want to go yet. Visiting hours start in ten minutes and I'd really like to set eyes on Dean before leaving. Would be nice to get a crack in about how I'm not the only one whose head isn't as hard as everyone thought it was, if only to see that crooked grin of his make an appearance.
"I was thinking of staying a few more minutes for visiting hours to start."
Sam doesn't look like he hates the idea actually, and I'm thinking a few minutes out here with Sam is a whole lot easier a wait than the last hour's been; or I do until the Barbie behind the desk opens her pink little lips again.
"I'm really sorry, Caitlin is it? Inmates are only allowed visits from family members during their first week of incarceration. Something about an adjustment period."
Now, why the hell couldn't she have mentioned that earlier? Like maybe one of the six or seven times I asked to see him before Sam came out? The girl is somethin' else alright. Something I'd like to instill the fear of God into, maybe teach her the meaning of common courtesy and respect.
Sam's psychic thing must've been in full swing because one look at my face sent his eyebrows shooting up his forehead and his gaze dropping to my boots as if he wanted to make sure the knives I always keep there hadn't come out to play. Alright, so maybe I was just being really obvious. What can I say? The chic was really pissing me off.
"Let's just go Cal." Sam's voice is the only thing keeping my temper in check. Poor guy looks exhausted. Completely wrecked and obviously worried out of his mind if the kicked puppy look was any indication. Lucky for Barbie over there taking care of Sam is way higher on my list of priorities than kicking her scrawny behind.
"Fine." There'd be plenty of time to put the kid in her place later. Who am I to pass up a few extra days to plot?
Homecoming was like a well choreographed scene in some cheesy romantic movie. Sam stopped just inside the kitchen when Fran turned from the sink full of dishes she'd been washing. Time froze when their eyes met and felt as if it would never start again, until a heartbeat later it did in a giant whoosh like a rush of air.
They met halfway right smack in the middle of the room, Sam's arms coming around Fran's waist and lifting her a good six inches off the ground. The look on his face said it all. He was just happy to be home and able to hold her close.
Jason rolled his eyes at the scene, too much mushy stuff for his taste. Maggie sighed happily at how romantic it all was and Cal let out a long whistle when they finally kissed. The man might've only been gone a day and a half but it was obvious he'd been missed.
As joyful an occasion Sam's homecoming was there was still a shadow hovering over them all and it had several names. An invisible cloud that touched everything they said or did. Unseen and yet felt so very clearly. It made itself known in all the subtle little changes that everyone noticed and no one talked about.
It was Loneliness, when Cal chose to sleep on the couch instead of in her empty room, half filled with Dean's things. It was Guilt when Sam couldn't sit for more than a minute or two before pulling out a legal reference book or opening his laptop to search for a way to end his brother's incarceration. Fran puttered constantly, doing her best to make everyone as comfortable as possible and keeping everything as neat and organized as she could. That one was Worry.
Maggie and Jason tore through the house and around the property as if they were on fire, their sudden surge of energy like a subconscious effort to compensate for the missing Winchester. That was Fear. Dean was a driving force in their family, it just took him being gone for everyone to realize it.
Dad's dead… Dad's dead…two words that haven't stopped echoing trough me, and it's been weeks already. Sammy's finally found a little bit of normal again and now he might end up loosing it because of this crap. Cal…I don't even want to get into the whole Cal situation. Not even sitting here alone in this little cell with myself. How the hell did everything get so screwed up so fast?
At least Fran and the kids are safe. Sam moved them into the farmhouse with Cal, something about there being safety in numbers. He was right too, they'll be safer that way so at least there's that. Maggie and Jace won't be alone. That kid might only be seventeen but she can hold her own with the best of 'em. I made sure of it myself. She's got Casey on her side too. If all else fails that fae-creature-thing won't let anything hurt her or her brother.
And that brings me right back to dad. Memories I wish I didn't have. Things I wish I could forget ever happened. Dad's dead! The words just keep echoing right through me. Follow me everywhere.
Words shouting out at me from the CCR and the Neil Young that's blasting from the radio the guards are listening to down the hall. Hell, Sam's face alone is so much like Dad's it hurts just to look at him sometimes. He's been here twice already since they let him out. It's always the same: he sits across the table and eyes me with that worried, kicked puppy face of his. Looking me over every few minutes as if he's afraid I'm gonna have some sort of breakdown kinda moment right in front of his eyes.
Yeah, okay so maybe that's an option. Not like I'm about to give into the impulse though. I've got to protect Sam, don't I? Protect Sam, stop the demon, save the world from what's coming. That's my job, Dad's legacy sitting like the weight of the world on my shoulders; and just like that the dream takes over again. The one I haven't told anyone about yet. The one that's been haunting me every night since we went up against the demon, like Dad's trying to reach out to me from whatever it is that comes after death. That damned dream, playing like a movie in my head. A frigging psychological thriller with the worst kind of ending.
Dad's voice, thread thin and breaking as he speaks to me:
"We're the only ones who can end this Dean. Your brother, he's the key."
Like the idiot I am I figure as long as we're all together we can beat the damned thing.
"Okay Dad, okay. We can do this. You and me, between the two of us we can save Sam, kill the demon, save the world."
He tries to tell me, tries to make me see the obvious.
"Son…look at me. No way I'm gonna make it through the night. This hole burnt into my chest, the broken ribs. Dean, I can barely move. Hell, it's a miracle I'm not dead yet, and this fight's not over…"
I can't believe he's just giving up like that. Won't let him do it. The blind faith I have in him unshakeable as usual. No damned demon is gonna get the best of my dad: the great John Winchester.
"Don't, okay? Just…don't. Don't talk like that Dad. We're gonna end this, I'm gonna end this and we'll get you to a hospital. Get you patched up good as new."
But he knows. I don't know how but he knows. The dying always know when their time has come. That's something I've learned from personal experience, right?
"Dean, you've got to promise me. Promise me that if it comes down to it you'll leave me and get the girls and your brother out of this."
I promise just to make him stop talking like that. I humor him believing that it just won't ever come down to that. I mean, come on! One demon, six seasoned hunters, three of 'em Winchesters…
Even with most of us injured; even with Dad in the shape he's in, the odds are against the demon.
Things get ugly real fast right about then, and even though I do exactly what I said I would and end it myself it's still too little, too late.
Now Dad's dead and it's my fault because no matter how hard I tried I couldn't save him.
It doesn't matter that the conversation never happened anywhere other than in my own head. In the end it's all the same. Dad's dead.
As if that's not bad enough now the Feds are out for blood. Specifically mine. Well okay, so maybe they've got reason to be. Credit card fraud is kind of a little illegal. That's why I promised Sam I'd stop all that stuff awhile back. Do the feds care that I gave that up over a year ago? Hell no! Of course it doesn't matter to them, all that matters is that I did it in the first place right?
There's that business from a while back in St-Louis working against me too. Freaking shape shifter borrows my face just long enough for everyone to think I'm some sort of psycho serial killer. As weird as it was to pump a couple rounds of silver bullets into myself, I'm glad I wasted the damned thing. Leaves me in a bit of a tough spot now though. How am I supposed to show them it wasn't me if there's no body to prove it? Seriously, I never thought I'd see a downside to 'salt and burn'.
Now I'm sitting here in this godforsaken cell, where I'm completely useless to everyone; including myself. I've had a lot of time to think about things here too, and you know what? All this peace and quiet isn't such a great thing after all. I mean, who needs perspective anyway? Oh yeah, all this time to think really gives a guy the chance to see things a little clearer. The conclusion I've come to? Clarity sucks.
See, the way I figure it's pretty simple. The reason I'm here –no, not here in jail. 'Here' as in still alive- is first and foremost to protect people from the evil supernatural stuff that I hunt. Sam being my main priority, Cal coming close second because god knows somebody's got to save the woman from her accident-prone, stubborn self. Fran, Jace and Maggie rounding off the top five because if they're not safe and happy then Sam's a wreck and when he's like that he gets really hard on himself. Protecting that guy from the forces of evil is easy compared to protecting him from himself.
Unfortunately, protecting these people isn't as simple as it sounds and it generally makes my other job a lot harder than it already is. Hunting isn't exactly your garden variety 'nine-to-five' cushy kind of job with company picnics and health benefits. It's a whole lot harder when one wrong move could sentence the most important people in your life to death.
I can't keep Sam safe from in here, can't save the world like dad made me promise to from a five by five cell. Can't keep Cal from doing something stupid from in here or even make sure that those two kids are keeping their noses clean. As much as I wish I could just give up and accept being here; pass the torch on to somebody else and give up the hunting, the quest for demonic destruction...
Fact of the matter is I can't.
I can't just escape from this place and go home either, at least not for longer than to pack up and hit the road again. It just wouldn't be safe. Sam and Cal would be put under a magnifying glass, would end up suspected of aiding and abetting my escape. Jason and Maggie would get put back into foster care if that happened and I'll have managed to wreck what little good this family has finally managed to find.
God, I just can't do it. I can't just sit here and do nothing. I can't leave Sam and his family alone and vulnerable like that. I'm letting Dad down. Only one way to go: I've got to end this myself. I've gotta hit the road and hunt down that demon so I can kill it. It's the only way to keep them all safe. The only way to be sure they all make it out of this alive.
Oh yeah, a thought worth fantasizing about: just me, the Impala and the road. As cocky as I can be I'll be the first to admit I'm no hero, but I am a damned good hunter and there is nothing I won't do to keep my family safe. Even if that means laying my sorry behind on the line and giving my life up to get it done.
Thank you for taking the time to read this. Please review.
