Chapter Seventeen

Silent Tears and Bitter Fears

It was amazing what a difference a little distance could make. Four o'clock in the morning found Cal parked right on the Nevada state line, drinking a lukewarm coffee and munching on extra sweet day-old donuts filled with chocolate icing. The longer she sat there thinking about this so-called plan of Malcolm's the less she liked it. Dean was right, there were holes, too many of them. It wasn't so much the Winchester end of things. Sam and Dean were already in the clear. Malcolm had struck a deal with what was left of Cal's family to secure the pardon for them. Call it a 'two birds with one stone' type of situation. The paperwork had been signed and their freedom was a done deal. The only reason Malcolm had them heading up to Washington was to give Cal time to hold up her end of the deal he'd made. If she didn't walk into the family fold willingly, the pardon would be revoked and all bets were off. Dean would be in hotter water than ever and everyone she cared about would have great big targets on their backs.

"Why me?" She asked the darkness. Those donuts weren't so sweet anymore. Cal couldn't really taste them for the bile that burned at the back of her throat. Somewhere out there was a great uncle who wanted her to 'come home'. Her father had told her stories, not as a child but when she became a young woman, about growing up in the O'Sulivan family and what it used to mean. Living on a compound in the middle of the Canadian nowhere, being trained like warriors. All of it infinitely worse than the ridiculously high expectations she'd had for herself from a young age. Jacob O'Sulivan had been extra careful to raise his daughter right and he'd had good reason. There was no way he was going to let the family destroy his baby's innocence and break her spirit. They'd gone up there once, to the place where Jacob had grown up. What they had believed was the last of her grandfather's siblings had passed on, leaving them to be the last surviving O'Sulivans. Or so they'd thought. One insane "And now, here I'm going to just waltz right in to a messed up family reunion." She was going to just offer herself up to the mercy of their crazy. Yeah, great plan Malcolm. But what choice did she have?

The alternative didn't just involve a revoked pardon. Apparently her great uncle was connected, and well at that. The alternative was to be hunted down like animals and tortured to suit the old man's whims. "I can't believe I'm going to say this, but I think I miss the Earl." Somehow, the thought of an insane vampire bent on revenge seemed less overwhelming and hopeless than a great uncle who wanted to mold her into a machine; someone who lived only to hunt, taking pleasure in nothing else. Malcolm had been very specific about what the man would expect.

"He'll kill you if you don't do it, Cal." And the worst part was her great uncle wasn't doing it because he wanted her in the fold. What he really wanted were the journals her father had taken with him when they'd settled the family affairs all those years ago. Breaking her first was just insurance against possible trickery. "You could probably run and scatter the journals here and there along the way. You've got the skill to be able to stay off his radar, but he knows where your Dad's farm is. He knows about Fran, the kids, the Winchesters. You can keep yourself safe, but he won't hesitate to go after the people you love to get to you." And that's where he had her. This was the mess her father would expect her to clean up. This was why she was going along with the swiss cheese plan from hell. Why the hell couldn't the old guy just send someone up to steal the journals like a normal human being? Seemed like a far simpler, more effective plan to her. She'd have to ask him when they finally met.

She already missed Sam and Dean. At least they made sense. Sure Cal, you just keep telling yourself that's the only reason you wish you hadn't left them behind again. There were things she wished she'd said. Sam was always after her to leave a note. She could have scribbled it down, said the things she might not get the chance to say now. Well, there was one way she could get the message out. It wasn't ideal but Fran wouldn't ever forgive her if she didn't do it.

Dialing a familiar number by the harsh light of her cell phone screen she wiped at the tears on her cheeks with the back of her hand. The voice mail picked up immediately, just like she knew it would. The cell phone was never on at night, since she and the kids were always home. "Hey Fran, it's me. I'm sorry I couldn't say goodbye in person but I figured calling was better than nothing. We found Dean, but Sam probably told you that already. I want you to know that they're both okay. They're in the clear. As long as they keep their noses clean the feds won't come after them again." No harm in telling her that. It was cryptic enough that Sam and Dean wouldn't know what to make of it until she'd done what she needed to. By then it would be too late to come after her.

"I'm, uh, I'm gonna have to disappear for a while." She could only hope the hitch in her voice didn't give away that she was crying. The point of her call was to keep her friend from worrying, not to scare her. "I don't know when I'll be coming around again but it won't be for a while. Tell Maggie that I'm proud of her and to keep practicing what I taught her. Tell Jace not to put too much stock in the nonsense Dean's going to try to teach him about picking up girls." That one was a hiccup, not a sob. Really, it was.

"Tell Sam…" and now the hesitation was because there was just so much to say. She settled for one word that would encompass it all. "Tell him thanks. That's it, just thanks. I'm pretty sure he'll understand." Deep breath, Cal, pull it together. You're almost done. "Tell Dean I'm sorry. He'll know what I mean too. And Fran? Take care of yourself, okay? I'll be in touch when I can." She'd never heard anything more depressing than the sound of her own tears in the silence after she hit the end button on her phone. Suck it up, girl, or you'll never get through this in one piece. Sometimes she really hated her inner badass. Especially when she was right

Falling back into old habits, she took a few moments to indulge and just feel the pain. Then she took the pain and turned it into anger. Shuttered up tight and seething at the mess her great uncle had made of her life she pulled her Mustang back onto the interstate. Next stop, the Nevada storage facility and Malcolm's mechanic. Step one on the long road ahead of her. One thing was for sure, Cal was going to make damned sure her family was going to be surprised at what they got when they finally met.


"She gone?" Dean wasn't even awake yet; slits for eyes as he rolled himself up to sitting on the edge of the bed. The answer was already clear, by the way the second bed had been made up. Her bag was gone, everything but the paperback which had been abandoned in that same spot next to Sam's laptop. "Yeah. Her car's not there. I don't think she's coming back." No kidding? Sherlock Holmes over there had thrown open the curtains and was looking out at the parking lot like he was waiting for a lost puppy to come home. "Well, it's not like we couldn't see it coming. Right?" No consolation there. Just because they knew she was going to leave didn't make it easier to accept once it was done.

"Hey, where's the truck?" The Snakeskin Cowboy was supposed to be taking the lead on this governor of Washington gig. It wasn't exactly a good sign that he'd go missing the same day Cal decided to go her own way. Did Malcolm go out for a coffee, some breakfast? Or did he leave with Cal? "It was gone when I opened the curtains. I thought he'd gone to get some breakfast or something." The brothers eyes met and in that moment the same thought occurred to them. He's going after her. Just a thought with no facts to back it up yet, but it was enough to spur them into action.

Sam ran for the door, toward Malcolm's room to search for signs that he was coming back or where they were going. He hadn't given them the address for the guy in Nevada, if he even existed. Dean jumped over the bed, still in his boxers and t-shirt, and had thrown open the door beating Sam to it. They were both ready race over and ram the damned door down to get some answers. Both certain they'd missed something important the day before, something they were pretty sure Cal had kept secret from them.

Someone had taped a thick manila envelope to the outside of their motel room door. Was it from Cal? Had Malcolm left it? "What is it?" Sam asked, because Dean had already ripped it off the door. "I don't know, Sam. What do I have x-ray vision here?" Patience was never his strong suit, especially when someone managed to con him. Testy wasn't the word anymore. Dean was downright angry. "I knew I was off my game, but I didn't think I was this far off." Why the hell hadn't he tried to stop her from leaving? Sam, who had lost all grip on his own patience, snatched the envelope from Dean's fingers and tore it open. Right at the top of the ream of papers was a sheet of motel stationary, a note scrawled across it in extremely formal penmanship. It could have been written with a quill and ink. Who knew? Maybe it had been.

Hi guys,

Sorry for the smoke and mirrors. It was the only way to stop you from following us. I can't tell you any more than that Caitlin's family is looking for her, they want something she has. Don't worry, there's a plan. I'll keep her safe. Please accept the contents of this envelope as a peace offering. Hopefully it will be enough to keep you from trying to kill me next time we sit across a bar from each other.

Malcolm

That was it. No details. No location. No contact information. No 'in case of emergency' plan B stuff. Nothing. "You're not going to believe this." Sam was skimming through the thick stack of paper in his hands, looking pretty shocked even for him. "Try me." Irritation had Dean snapping at his brother again. He couldn't help it if the damned woman wasn't here to take her share of it. "Okay, these first two? They're official pardons, signed by the Governor of Washington. If these are real then we're in the clear with the feds. The rest of it is a bunch of research on the Governor's home in Lacey, he even added in a few pages of handwritten notes with his best theories at the end." Sam was trying hard not to be excited by the pardons but it wasn't working. A smile had spread across his cheeks that could not be tamed. "Unbelievable!" This Malcolm guy had some nerve. Did he really think that a couple of pardons and a distraction were going to be enough to veer them off course? This whole thing just reeked of Cal getting in over her head, again.

A tiny yellow post-it note fell off the back of the paperwork Sam was still flipping through in the doorway and Dean picked it up. "Oh, great. Would you look at this?" He flipped the little yellow paper over so Sam could see it, then read it aloud for posterity. "p.s. those pardons are conditional. Mandy will revoke them if you don't take the job." Mandy, they assumed, was short for Amanda which just happened to be the name of the governor on their pardons.

There was no longer any doubt. "He set us up." Malcolm had made a deal, alright. One that meant getting Cal on her own and keeping them the hell away from her. "So we can't follow them." Not without snubbing their noses at a couple of honest to God 'get out of jail free' cards. Sam felt ill. Dean couldn't contain what he was feeling. Maybe it was anger toward himself for making such a complete mess of himself over the past year, and the last couple of days. Maybe it was worry, because something just didn't feel right about the way things were going down.

Whatever it was, it swelled inside of him and pushed at the insides of his skull; made his heart feel like it was going to explode. Perception became skewed, the floor was moving in such a disturbing way beneath his feet that he reached out and laid hands on the chair closest to where he'd been standing. Instead of steadying himself with it, though, he just let the emotion take over. Not that he'd had much choice. It pretty much had a mind of its own already. With an animalistic roar the chair went up over his head and then flew across the room to become nothing more than bits and pieces on the floor. "Dean!" Sam was yelling his name but the release felt so good he wasn't going to stop for anything even if he could.

The gaudy lamp, relic from the sixties, went next. It shattered on impact, sharp shards of ugly green ceramic imbedding themselves into the discolored wallpaper above the beds. Then he lost track of what he was laying his hands on. All he could do was grab, throw and wait for the satisfying sound of crashing that came with the impact. The world around him was a blur. There was no room, no Sam, no Malcolm or Cal, only whatever he could touch and that blinding emotion. He didn't spare a thought when flipping over the table, but did crouch down long enough to pick up what fell from it. Somewhere in the depths of his mind where thought was somehow still processing he'd expected to pick up Sam's laptop. What he had in his hands was much smaller and much lighter. It threw him off enough to slow him down and make him look at whatever it was. That's when everything just stopped.

Gripped tightly within his hands was a paperback. On the cover was a kilted highland warrior whose buttonless shirt flapped open in the wind to show his massively muscled chest. At his feet knelt a pretty girl in a dress that was all but falling off, long brown curls covering whatever indecent bits that might have otherwise been exposed. Trashy romance novels were not Sam's style. Dean had picked up the book Cal had left behind and if the cover was any indication… well he just wasn't going there, was he? Dean felt as if someone had just dumped a bucket of cold water over him.

"You done?" Sam's gruff question came from somewhere in the vicinity of the doorframe. "Uh, yeah." His throat felt raw, his voice was hoarse but he wasn't sure if he'd been yelling. "You gonna be okay?" And though he couldn't blame his brother for needing to know, Dean wasn't all that sure he had the answer Sam needed to hear. "I, uh, yeah." So he put on that face, the one he'd always used when he was breaking inside and needed to hide it from the world. It wouldn't fool Sam but if he wore it long enough maybe Dean could fool himself into making it true.

Bowing his head so that Sam couldn't read his face, suddenly all he could see was that nearly shirtless highland warrior on the book cover. All he could see was the guy with the cowboy hat who had surprised him in his motel room. One second the book was in his hands, the next it was following the same path that first chair had. Breathing heavily he turned to Sam, who was staring at him wide-eyed, and nodded. "I'm okay." He had to be okay. There was a job in Washington to get on top of so they could get to the real business at hand: finding Cal. Given their history it was a pretty safe bet she'd need their help to stay alive through whatever the hell it was she'd got herself into this time.

Sam just sighed and shook his head. "Sure you are." Then nodded toward the untouched bathroom. "You take it first, I'll start cleaning up." Dean said nothing and it was probably safer that way. He was raw, the hold on his temper still pretty threadbare. The book was laying upside down and mangled next to his bag when he went to grab a change of clothes. In one swift move he tossed it into the garbage bin in the bathroom before getting cleaned up. A half hour later, dressed and ready to go, he looked down at it again. Without thinking, he picked it up and slid it down into the bottom of his bag. No I'm not keeping it to give back to She-Ra. There were good chances they'd have to salt and burn something up in Washington. He could burn it then. Probably. Maybe.

"I did what I could, but you did a hell of a job." The room had seen better days. Nothing could be done for the lamp but at least the bits had been picked out of the wall, the bulk of it in the dented trash can. The broken chairs were gone. He really had done one hell of a job. Suddenly embarrassed he cleared his throat and picked up his bag. "I'll go settle up. You want some coffee?" Sam didn't know what to make of him. This past year had been a long one and there had been a lot of changes on both sides of the Winchester coin. There was enough doubt that Sam wasn't ready to let Dean out of his sight. "Yeah. Wait for me though. I won't be more than five minutes. Meet you out at the car?"

Dean scowled, unhappy that his brother still felt he needed a chaperone. It didn't take a genius to figure out that there was a good reason for it, though, so he said nothing. He just left the room with an impatient huff.

They didn't have any time to dawdle. There was that Governor to make happy and then they had a girl to find. Freaking Cal. She'd been all insulted when he'd done what he'd felt was best to protect her and now here she was doing the same damned thing. With any luck they'd both come out of this having learned a little something. Probably. Maybe.