Dean drove straight through the night and got into New York late the next day. Pulling off the road at a seedy motel outside the city limits, Dean allowed himself the luxury of six hours of sleep.
After waking, Dean sat on the edge of the lumpy bed, grimacing as he took another swig of the tar they were calling coffee at the gas station across the street. His stomach was twisting and he was actually sweating.
"Come on Winchester, get a grip. It's not like you haven't called him a couple thousand times before," Dean muttered to himself, working up his nerve. It was true but what Dean purposely didn't think about was that he hadn't tried to call Sam once since the day Sam had turned his back on him. Was in fact afraid to call Sam and confirm his worst fear – that his baby brother was gone forever.
Mustering his courage, Dean stabbed the number one on his phone and waited, eyes closed. The phone rang once, twice, three times before it was answered.
"Dean." It was Sam's voice but it was different somehow. Lower maybe or more knowing, more confident, older. Dean wasn't sure.
"Sam." Dean answered, trying to sound as calm as Sam had.
"I had hoped I might be hearing from you in the next couple of days . . ."
"Why's that?" Dean said, knowing the answer but curious about what Sam would say.
"Time to pay the piper is coming up." Sam stopped and waited for Dean to make the next move.
"Yeah, so listen. I thought that since I was heading downstairs later this week, maybe we could get together and have a couple of beers. You know, you could give me some tips, tell me where the good places are to eat, that kind of thing." Dean waited, hoping that he wouldn't have to beg Sam to see him. He didn't want to - it would break his heart all over again if he had to – but he would do it.
A month and a half ago Sam would have been upset by the gallows humor, have huffed and pouted and told Dean that it wasn't funny. But a lot of things had changed and Sam actually chuckled.
"Yeah sure. I'd like that."
Dean breathed a sigh of relief. "Where you want to meet?"
"Why don't you come here? It will be more comfortable . . .and private." Sam's voice had taken on a challenging tone, as if he didn't believe Dean would dare.
Taking a deep breath to calm the hope Dean felt welling inside of him, he answered, "Why not."
Jack had been staring at the symbol for twenty minutes. He knew he had seen it before but couldn't place it. Finally, he asked Bobby, "What is this?"
Bobby leaned over Jack's shoulder. "yeah, now that might work. It would at least prevent his soul heading to hell – wouldn't get him into heaven but maybe limbo is the best we can do for now. We can figure the rest out later. I wonder if Bela could find me one of those . . ."
Jack sighed with frustration, "If you tell me what it is I might be able to find you one."
Bobby's eyebrows rose in surprise at the statement. As far as he knew Kate McKenzie's family had no ties to hunters or the occult.
"It's a Celtic soul catcher. It was used to catch the soul of a dying person and keep them on this plane. It was mostly used by high priests, who were dying unexpectantly. Since most of the Druid secrets were passed down orally, it kept the spirit intacted long enough to pass the magick down to the designated replacement."
"Then what?"
"Well, then the soul is released and since the body is dead, the soul goes wherever a soul goes . . ."
Jack sat and stared into space for a minute, thinking. "Is it always in the form of a bowl, like this picture?"
"I've only ever seen it on a bowl, yeah. What are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking I need to borrow a car."
Bobby grimaced, "What for?"