Chapter Seventeen: Fortunate Son
Several Months Later
Sam couldn't have been happier when his father told him he was going on a hunt with him.
Maybe he's finally forgiven me! Sam thought hopefully and almost bounded out to the Impala.
As John drove out to the forested area the Black Dog had been spotted in, Sam couldn't help the little smile that crossed his lips.
Now I'll be a real hunter! Sam stared out the window, eager to show his father what he could do.
The car lurched to a stop thirty-five minutes later and Sam stepped out, staring at the beginning of the trails the monster ran along, killing late-night joggers and teenaged lovers who thought they would be safe making-out in the bushes.
Sam turned to his father when John opened the Impala's trunk and took out a handgun loaded of silver bullets.
Slamming the trunk shut, John moved towards his son.
Sam frowned. He had no weapon to fight the monster.
"Dad? Don't I need a gun too?" Sam asked quietly.
"No," John stared down at his boy, who looked so small in his hand-me-down clothes and overly-long hair.
"Why not?" Sam cringed in case John decided to hit him.
"You're not going to be the hunter tonight," John said calmly, "You're going to be the hunted."
Sam's mouth dropped open in understanding- he was going to be bait to lure the Black Dog!
"N-no, please D-Dad," Sam begged, "I'm… I'm s-sorry."
Sam didn't even know what he was apologizing for- some imagined fault he'd done to his father- but John just lowered the gun at his son.
"You'd better run, Sam," John said emotionlessly.
"I- I can't!" Sam begged, feeling his eyes well up with terrified tears.
BANG!
Sam jumped, hands going to his ears as John fired the gun into the dirt at his son's feet.
"Run. Sam," John ordered, "Or I'll shoot you."
Choking back tears, Sam tore away from his father, sneakers slipping on the damp grass and the breath burning in his lungs.
W
Sam tried to keep to the paths but it was a moonless night and often lost track of the packed-earth trails to fly through the forest, branches slashing at his face and clothes.
Sam stumbled to a halt and leaned against a large tree. His breath coming in harsh gasps as his heart pounded fearfully in his chest. His hands gripped the tree's flaky bark as Sam tried to hold himself upright. He shivered. It was early spring but the air was still chilly and he wasn't wearing adequate clothing for the time of year.
Sam's heart leapt in his chest when he heard a terrible growl from behind him.
Peering around the tree, Sam saw the Black Dog. It was as tall as a Great Dane but looked like a wolf. Its jet black fur blended in perfectly with the night making it all but invisible but for the glow of its lemon yellow eyes and white, dagger-like teeth.
Sam pushed himself away from the tree, terrified.
He ran down a trail hearing the pounding of large paws behind him. Sam imagined he could feel the beast's rancid breath on his back as he crashed through the trees.
Suddenly Sam went flying as his ankle twisted on an exposed root and he landed painfully on his stomach, biting down on his tongue and drawing blood.
Scrambling on hands and knees, Sam knew that he would not last much longer against the monster.
"DAD!" Sam cried out in desperation and heard the crack of a gunshot.
Waiting for the Black Dog's claws to find purchase in his back, Sam trembled and held his breath but nothing happened.
A flashlight beam had Sam squinting up at John.
"It's dead," His father informed him. Sam held a hand out for help getting to his feet but his father turned away.
Grabbing onto a nearby sapling, Sam pulled himself onto his feet, hissing in pain as he put his weight down on his sprained ankle.
Looking behind him, Sam saw the massive shape of the Black Dog laying crumpled only a few feet away. Sam gulped at the thought of how close he'd been to getting killed.
SPN
At least now I've found a use for the boy, John thought as he opened the motel room door and stepped inside. He watched as his son limped in after him and sat down on his bed.
John watched as Sam carefully pulled his shoe off, whimpering, and gently touched his swollen ankle.
I'd be hunting that brute for hours by myself, John continued, but it came right for the boy. Saves me a lot of time wandering around looking for these bastards.
He grabbed a beer out of the fridge and paid no more heed to his son. John vaguely registered the sound of the bathroom door closing and the shower turning on but he was too immersed in his own thoughts to care.
If only every hunter had someone like my boy, it'd make our job a whole lot easier; John chuckled.
SPN
Dean was nervous. He couldn't help it. Final exams were coming up and that was the only thing on his mind.
For all of three seconds until Molly suggested they blow off some steam at the beach.
"C'mon Dean," She smiled, tugging on his wrist, "You look like you could use a break from all that studying."
Dean couldn't help but grin back. He loved the beach. He had never been to one until he'd arrived in California and then he'd wondered how he'd missed out on something as awesome as the Pacific all his life.
"Okay," Dean relented, "Only for a few hours though."
Dean wouldn't have minded if they were to stay at the beach the entire day.
Molly sighed and rolled her eyes comically, "Your textbooks will still be here when you get back, Point Dexter."
W
Once they arrived at the white sand beach, energized by the sun and sea, Dean completely forgot about studying. For the first time in Dean's life he actually had friends- people who wanted to be around him because of his personality and not because they had to- and he felt like he was on the inside for once, like he wasn't the outsider he'd felt he was all his life.
This, this was what Mary Winchester had wanted for her eldest son.
When Dean had first arrived at Stanford he had been slightly nervous, self-conscious; never having been far from his father and brother before…. That was until he met Molly.
She was a freshman too, moving into a floor below his in their co-ed residence. Curious, she had climbed the stairs, offering to help her new neighbours get unpacked and settled.
Molly had immediately been drawn to the young man whose only luggage was a worn, dark green duffle bag and had no parents in sight- unlike the other boys on his floor who seemed to have moved the entire contents of their bedrooms with them and were being embarrassed by clingy mothers and proud yet tearful fathers.
Leaning on the doorframe, Molly smiled as Dean stared at his room with its flattened brown carpet, low-lying bed, narrow window with a tiny balcony (standing room only) and faux pine desk and dresser.
Dean had sensed someone watching him and turned to see a tiny girl with dark red, wavy hair that ended at her shoulders, a freckle-covered nose and emerald green eyes.
"I'm Molly Llewellyn," the girl introduced herself.
"Dean Winchester," Dean smiled and shook Molly's hand.
Raising a fine, red eyebrow, Molly commented, "You pack light."
Dean chuckled and set his duffle down on his bed. He ran a hand through his hair and then his expression turned embarrassed.
"I pack lightly, too," Molly said softly, almost wistfully and sat down beside Dean, her small hand touching his wrist tentatively.
After that, well, it was history. Dean and Molly were almost inseparable. Molly was bubbly and not shy around anyone and pretty soon she had Dean out of his shy shell until he was just as confident and boisterous as she was.
W
"Why don't you talk about your family, Dean?" Molly asked. She was lying on a beach towel in a tiny black and white striped bikini. Turning her gaze to Dean, her brow furrowed as she waited for his answer.
Dean shrugged, "There's nothing much to tell you. I traveled around a lot with my father and younger brother but then decided to go to school."
"What does your father do for a living?" Molly asked, pushing her sunglasses up so she could see Dean better.
Dean hesitated for an instant, "He's a door-to-door salesman."
Molly smiled, "They don't really have salesmen like that anymore, do they?"
"Oh, yeah, my Dad even sells vacuum cleaners," Dean grinned back at the girl.
Molly squealed, realizing Dean was joking with her.
"No, really," Molly continued.
"He's just a handy-man, does odd jobs for people," Dean fibbed again, this time making it more believable.
"How old's your brother," Molly wanted to know.
"Thirteen," Dean squinted at the setting sun and wondered if they should be heading back.
"You miss them, don't you?" Molly said seriously now, "Did something happen? You never talk about them."
"No, well, Dad wasn't too happy that I was leaving," Dean stood up and grabbed his towel, shaking sand out of it.
"Okay but-" Molly started but Dean interrupted the girl before she could continue.
"I don't want to talk about my family right now, okay Moll?"
"Okay," She said quietly and gathered her belongings, waving to their friends who had vouched to stay at the beach a while longer.
W
Dean lay awake in bed. He couldn't sleep no matter how hard he tried.
Why did Moll have to bring up Dad and Sam?
Dean hadn't thought about his tiny family for months, telling himself that they had probably already forgotten him. Dean had told himself that they were better off without him.
Sam's gotta be an awesome hunter now. He and Dad are probably ganking monsters left, right and center.
Dean smiled as he envisioned his younger brother taking out ghosts and werewolves and ghouls like some eighth-grade Rambo.
He jumped when his cell phone went off.
Dean sighed and sat up, thinking that Molly was calling to apologize or talk or something.
Dean frowned when he opened his phone and saw his father's number on the screen.
Groaning, Dean prepared himself for whatever his Dad was going to say.
"D-Dean?" The voice was definitely not John Winchester's.
Dean's mouth fell open in shock, "Sammy?"
"Dean, pl-please come… please…. I'm…" Sam's voice was barely a whisper and Dean had to strain to hear him.
"Sam, what's wrong? Is Dad hurt? Are you okay? Was it a hunt?" Dean asked rapid-fire questions, fearing for both members of his small family.
"… I'm… in…. Del-" Sammy's voice was abruptly cut off and all Dean heard on the other end was dial tone.
"Sammy? Sammy!" Dean called into the receiver, knowing he'd get no answer.
Dean slammed his phone down on his dresser and stumbled around in the dark, grabbing his clothes and shoving them into his duffle bag. His brother and father were in trouble and he needed to find them and help them. Final exams no longer seemed important anymore.
Sam said he was in Del, Dean thought; where is Del?
As Dean ran down the hallway wearing his boots, a grey t-shirt and black sweat pants he stopped suddenly when he saw a map of the United States on one wall.
Del… could Sam have been trying to say Delaware?
Not wasting any more time, Dean rushed out of the residence and in the direction of the student parking lot, making a snap decision to jack a classmate's car, knowing it would be the fastest way to get to his father and brother.
Don't worry Sammy, I'm coming for ya. Hang in there Dad… I'm gonna fix this.
Author's Note:
1. Chapter title comes from a Creedence Clearwater Revival song of the same name.
2. Thanks to LeighAnnWallace, Jeanny, Samstruck, Souless666, pottyandweezlbe89, cold kagome, SPN Mum, L.A.H.H, sarah, and my mystery Guests for reviewing.
3. Thanks to everyone who alerted/favourited.
4. Reviews are awesome!
5. Dean to the rescue! Yeah!