I was going to wait til Sunday to post so that I didn't reveal my lack of a social life on a Sat night, lol. But hey-who am I kidding? I'm a 46 year old empty-nester. Saturdays are not what they used to be, lol.
10
Dean was stunned into silence. His mouth went dry...as dry as cotton. It was only by sheer will that he kept from having to tear the door open to puke, but he managed to keep it together. When he found his voice again he asked, "Any chance you'll listen to my side of the story?"
"That would be helpful."
Dean leaned back in the seat heavily, forgetting the very insistent reasons that he shouldn't. He grimaced and changed position again. His face was taut and pale, he wiped at the sheen of sweat on his face.
McClary felt for him. "Take it easy, son. Just tell me your story."
Dean was beaten and tired. He didn't have the energy or faith to be persuasive now. He was sure that all was lost, and any explanation would be wasted effort. But the thought of life as a convict terrified him, and he was compelled to try anyway. "Sheriff...you already saw what we deal with, Sam and me. Well...we hunt out these things...things that regular people want to think are, as you put it...fairytales. I know you don't want to believe it, most people don't. But there's a whole other screwed up world out there—one filled with terrible things that want to harm the living, breathing population. My brother and I look for clues to these things, and when we find them, we try to fix them, so that people are safe. You probably want to have me committed now, but remember what you saw today, and how I knew it would happen, alright?"
McClary said nothing. But he nodded after a moment.
Dean pulled his wounded arm close. It was aching and starting to soak through, and he didn't need the distraction. He sighed and launched into his story. "Sam and me...we came across a thing in St. Louis. I don't even know if I should describe what it is right now—it's pretty surreal. But it was hurting people, that girl included. It takes forms...different people, maybe even animals. Anyway, we killed it. But it died while it was disguised as me. That's why they thought I was dead. They had a body there—every bit the exact copy of my features. But that's not my DNA linking it to the murder, it belongs to that thing. It died with a silver bullet to the heart, one that I put into it. You can check that." He sighed again and tried to suppress his grimace. "But here I am...and it kind of screws everything up. I only have one brother, he's younger and he's a good kid. I never had a twin or anything like that, that thing was not connected to us in any way other than we knew it was there and we were hunting it. And I'm officially screwed, because the body we left behind did what they always do with these creatures. It spontaneously combusted. It would have burnt to nothing but a pile of ash wherever they had it stored. We didn't stick around to see that but we know from experience that it always goes that way. I'd bet my car that if you checked into it, you'd find that in the file. And without those remains, I can't ever prove that I'm not involved in what happened out there, and Sam's implicated too. So now the Feds are after me, cops...hell, everybody. Christ, I know how this sounds. You think I'm a freaking nut-case, and I don't know if I have the right words to convince you I'm not. But sheriff, please remember...Sam and I warned you about Daniel William's spirit. Check with the coroner. Randy Jarvis died of unexplained heart failure, just like the others. Daniel Williams lived with a heart condition, and the beating he got from Jessup probably caused his heart to quit. And all the bodies will have the same marks. They'll only show up under UV, like baton bruises, but with no outward evidence. And you know now that those marks will be found for real on Daniel Williams body...and on me."
Sheriff McClary kept an unwavering gaze on Dean. He was, after all his experience, an excellent judge of character.
Dean pressed his hand over his eyes. He felt weak, and faint...it had been a really lousy day. He swallowed and continued. "Look...you want some character references? There are other cops that know about this shit. Call Deputy Hudak in Hibbing Minnesota, or Detective Diana Ballard in Baltimore. They know us...they know what we do. They'll have their own strange fairytales to tell you, if you can get them to. The world's not as clean and simple as we'd all like. Jesus, Sheriff, I don't know what else to tell you."
Sheriff McClary was deeply troubled. He could see Dean was at the end of his rope now. He'd been through hell, and it was partly the sheriff's fault. The whole Daniel Williams' spirit thing...well it just defied logic. But after what he'd witnessed, and what he'd heard, he was inclined at the moment to accept this nonsense as fact…regardless of the insanity of it all. There was no natural explanation for it.
"Dean...hell, I don't know what to say to you. This day has been a strange eye-opener...and I don't know that I want to have my eyes opened. Frankly, I like my simple, normal world... But back to the here and now; I need to keep this case as clean as possible. I can't involve you as a witness in court, because all this weird horseshit will come out and I'll be branded a lunatic along with you, and we may end up getting Jessup freed. I just can't have that. I put that bastard in the position to abuse, and I have to make it right." He sighed with a weary shake of his head.
Dean stopped breathing, feeling as if his very life was at stake now, and he was utterly powerless.
Sheriff McClary continued. "So...as I see it, you need to get out of here...clear out, you and your brother. I've heard you, and your stories, your experiences. I don't know what to make of it all, Dean. But I know what I saw. And I can't deal with that just now, understand…?"
Dean stared at him. He was too shocked to speak.
The sheriff continued. "This is so contrary to everything I've been trained to do. You and your brother are in the system. Hell, I'd be a hero just by delivering you to the damned feds. But on the other hand...I've heard your side, and I need to keep this case straight and uncomplicated. So that's what I'm saying...I need you to just disappear for me right now. You can't be a witness, despite the truth of the matter, because you'll just screw it all up with your supernatural crap."
Dean blinked in disbelief. "You...you want us to just...go?"
"Yeah. I think it's best for all of us."
Dean was reeling. It was a shock to be identified, and yet another to realize that despite this, he and Sam would remain free. He closed his eyes for a moment, fighting the dizziness that swept over him, but to no avail. He broke out in a cold sweat as the car interior began to spin. He fumbled blindly for the door handle in a panic, mumbled an embarrassed apology and leaned out over the gravel, retching.
Sheriff McClary exited his side, came around and helped Dean back up when it was over. "Easy, son. I'm trying to get rid of you here, not kill you!"
Dean reached under the seat and found a half empty bottle of tepid water, rinsing and swallowing a little. "Sorry.." he apologized ruefully again. "Hard day.."
McClary motioned to the paramedic as Dean rested his head on the steering wheel, willing the nausea away. He saw the lawman gesture to them and he balked.
"No, I'll be fine in a minute…I don't need—"
"You're far from fine at this moment, son. Christ...your little 'nick' there is soaking through your bandage already. I can't let you drive like this. I'm sending you to hospital. You can get checked out properly this time. Don't panic...I'm not gonna change my mind and haul you in."
Dean stared for a moment, then nodded in defeat. "But I've gotta get my car back—"
"I'll drive it to the hospital." McClary stroked the sleek hood appreciatively. "I wouldn't mind seeing what this old girl can do."
Despite how lousy he felt, Dean couldn't help but snort a laugh at that. Anyone who could appreciate the nuances of a classic like the Impala had to be ok. "Give her a good run, Sheriff. Open her right up. She never gets the chance...there's always some freaking cop around the corner…"
The sheriff patted Dean's shoulder and took his keys as he was led to the waiting ambulance.
The attendant smiled in triumph. Dean growled at him. "You put that freaking siren on and I'll kick your ass!"
In the hospital, a reluctant Dean was poked and prodded, stitched and medicated. They gave him a bed at the Sheriff's insistence and he fell into an exhausted sleep the minute the drugs they'd administered found their mark. His last waking thought was a moment of panic that once again he hadn't called Maggie as promised.
Sheriff McClary visited Sam. After giving the younger Winchester a synopsis of the past few hours, he went on to explain the subject he'd discussed with Dean.
Sam reiterated their strange tale to the letter, adding details that further cemented the sheriff's confidence. McClary felt he had a pretty clear picture of these two. He had to file away the supernatural information for the time being. He wasn't rejecting it, but he needed to ignore it until he was ready to think about it all. He told Sam to check on his brother as he left.
Sam was awash with relief. They'd dodged a huge bullet. He didn't know how much McClary believed them, but thankfully he felt comfortable enough about them to let them go. He was so satisfied that the bastard Jessup was trapped and in custody. He wished he'd been present when Dean had decked him. But he worried about his brother, as he always did. He knew that if the sheriff hadn't insisted on sending him, Dean wouldn't have gotten the wound checked...he would have insisted that Sam stitch it later. Sam knew the cumulative effect of the last several days were harder on him than he would ever admit to.
When he saw him sleeping so peacefully in the crisp white cleanliness of the hospital bed, he felt better about it all. He sat, watching him for a little while. It occurred to him yet again that they couldn't keep this up forever. His reverie was interrupted by the quiet arrival of Maggie Williams. She was wearing her worry on her face, and her heart on her sleeve. She'd seen the parade of squad cars and ambulances along the main drag as she sat on her porch. She couldn't stand the wait any longer, and decided it was a good bet to follow them to the hospital.
"Hi, Sam…" she said tentatively.
He smiled and returned the greeting.
"Dean was going to call me, when it was over. I can see why he didn't… Is he...is he ok?" She looked over the bandaged arm, and the ever darkening bruises visible as her companion sprawled on his stomach on the bed.
"Just some stitches. Jessup winged him with a desperate shot. The sheriff made him come in and get looked at. They gave him painkillers, they'll keep him overnight and let us both go in the morning." He looked at sleeping beauty for a moment, smiling. "Good thing...he was pretty wiped out."
Maggie watched him too. "Well...good. I mean...aw shit!" She couldn't help it, she started to cry. It had been a very trying day. Sam put a comforting arm over her shoulders and assured her it was going to be ok. When she had regained her composure he told her gently that her brother's killer was at last in custody, and that after the necessary autopsy she would now have the opportunity to honour and bury Danny properly. She had mixed feelings about it. The last defiant shred of hope that he was still alive was quashed, but at least she had the opportunity for closure now. "Sam…did Daniel.. did he appear?"
He gazed at her in his characteristically earnest way. "He did, Maggie. Jessup was the only one there who saw him clearly. Danny stopped that bastard's heart, long enough to save Dean from being killed. The Sheriff managed to revive him, and now he'll have to face the consequences of everything he's done. Maggie, I know this is all a horrible nightmare, but your brother saved Dean's life."
Maggie absorbed that in silence. "Sam…do you think he's at peace now? I mean, his killer is caught, those others will be punished… He got justice, after all. Will he...I don't know...move on?"
Sam was glad to relieve Dean of the burden of this tricky discussion. "Maggie…I think he's on his way to being content now, but we need to do something more to ensure that. …Do you trust me?"
She was a little startled by the question. "Trust you? I...well, I trust Dean, and he thinks the world of you, Sam. So yes…"
"Good. Because this part of it is a little...unusual." Sam knew he had to tread carefully. There was a lot of emotion involved, this wasn't your average salt & burn where there were no relatives watching the process. "Maggie...with Daniel's funeral, what are you planning, burial or cremation?"
"Well I...I hadn't really thought about it. Cremation, I guess. Yeah...he would have probably thought that was less creepy." The tears threatened again, but she blinked them away.
"Good choice. I'm sure he would have agreed. Maggie...please bear with me, this is gonna sound insane. You see...there is a way to release a tortured spirit, to return them to the path they're supposed to follow. Danny, he's got his justice...but spirits are confused beings because they're caught in a place that they aren't supposed to be. They often can't let go of the emotional need for vengeance, even after they have dealt with the original wrong. We need to ensure that he moves on and no one else is in danger. The method is very basic. The remains need to be burned, which you've already chosen, and it has to happen in the presence of salt. Just ordinary salt...a basic chemical that's part of life. There has to be salt poured onto his remains, and those remains must be burned. I can't tell you the why of it, only that we have to do it for Daniel's sake, and for the safety of others. But he will rest then, I promise you."
Maggie was struck by an intense mix of emotion. She felt disgust over the process, denial that Danny could ever be a danger, and she felt a crippling sadness that her gentle little brother was never again coming home. But she also felt hope...hope that Dan would finally rest in peace after his violent exit from this world. She didn't want to know why this had to be done to his body. But the salt...well, it was a small detail to be added to an accepted burial process that she had already chosen. And yes, she trusted these brothers. She vowed to see that it was done.
Sam hugged her again. And once more she gave in to her tears.
"You're a good sister, Maggie.."
Knowing Dean would be safely in a narcotic slumber for hours, Sam returned to his own bed.
Dean awoke. He had no idea what time it was. The waning light outside told him it was closer to night than evening. Some one had removed his watch. He was, for the first time in days, feeling refreshed and a little more rested. For a moment he didn't remember why he was in this bed, but it quickly came to him. Jessop. Maggie. Daniel. And the sheriff… It was important to get out of this place soon. He was filled with remembered dread that they had been identified and they needed to find the safety of anonymity again. He sat up slowly and carefully, hating the feeling that he moved and felt like some arthritic old fart. He needed to talk to Sam.
He found his clothes, and was struggling into his jeans when Maggie came in. She tsked in mock annoyance. "What do you think you're doing? Get back in that bed!"
He grinned at her. Funny ideas again. "What do you have in mind?"
She rolled her eyes. "Get real. I'm way too much woman for you in your state." She helped him dress after he promised to get back onto the bed. She pulled up a chair, and the mood sobered. "Sam told me what happened."
"Ah…" He reached out and stroked her hair. "How are you doing?"
"Lousy. But I'll get better. The sheriff took my statement. I...I had to identify Daniel. Just by his clothes, and his wallet and things...they didn't show me anything else." She put her head down on his lap and sighed.
"Lay here beside me. I can't hug you from there."
She did. He enfolded her. She was cried out, but the support was wonderful. Just what she needed.
He breathed in the scent of her hair. It was getting damn hard to keep his mind on track. But serious issues had to be dealt with. "Maggie, there's something I need to talk to you about. Daniel's spirit..."
"I know. Sam explained what you have to do. I was going to choose cremation anyway. Dean…will you help me? This is hard enough as it is without the whole salt thing. I'm afraid they'll think I'm nuts at the funeral home and just give me lip service. But you could make sure. I need to do what I can, so I know that he finds his peace. "
He hugged her tight. "I'll be here, Maggie. We'll make sure."
She sighed, and nodded.
After a little while, she extricated herself from his arms and sat beside him. "When will they release you?"
"In the morning. Sam too. We can go out and get this organized then. And I need someone to drive that rental shitbox back before they freak out. Don't want to get Bill in trouble with his buddy." He knew he needed to bring up the subject of leaving. He really didn't want to. She was a great girl...he could see it being something really good if only he could stay long enough. But he never fooled himself in that regard. He and Sam faced a dangerous and uncertain future, one where travel had to play a major role. They couldn't complicate things with such entanglements, it wasn't fair or safe to do so. Which really sucked sometimes. For a moment he wondered if that would ever change. "Maggie, once Daniel is... well, when it's all done, me and Sam...we have to.."
"I know, Dean." She sighed. She valued her independence and freedom above all else, but she might have made an exception in this case, if the planets had lined up properly. But they hadn't, and he was going to leave. Well...she was damn well gonna make the most out of the next few days. "I should go. Ivan will be climbing the walls by now. Call me as soon as you're out of here. We'll pick up your stuff from Casa Cockroach and you two can stay at my place until you have to go."
"I will...and thanks. And Maggie…sorry about Danny."
She stood in the doorway. She almost made it. "Damn." she swore softly. She was wrong. She wasn't cried out after all.