A/N: Hello everyone, I'm so sorry about the delays. Things have been insane and they are not slowing down, and I should have worked on this way sooner. I am going to do my best in the next couple of weeks to put a large dent in this story. I'm putting most of my other works on hold and I will be focussing my attention on working on this. Sorry again for the delay.
Chapter 3: Hit The Road John
"Sam, wake up!" Dean demanded as he burst into Sam's room and woke his brother from a dead sleep.
"The Hell, Dean?" Sam grumbled as wakefulness took a minute to set in.
"We're leaving. Wheels up in ten!" Dean stated impatiently and left the room as abruptly as he'd entered it.
"Whoa, wait, I thought you said I get a night; one good solid eight hour of sleep before you drag me back out on the road. I'm not ready to go in ten minutes," Sam protested as he followed his brother into the overflowing bunker. "And I won't be ready in ten minutes!"
"I need to get outta here Sammy," Dean stated as he stopped in his tracks and backed up as people stopped to stare at him. "What the hell are you all doing awake, it's the middle of the night?" He practically cursed in his shocked and shaken state.
"We're on a rotation," one man answered.
"Dean, they have work to do!" Sam carried on. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
"I'm leaving in ten minutes, with or without you," Dean responded, turning his anger and anxiety on his brother. "Hold down the fort!" He ordered as the refugees from the other world look at Sam for clarification and direction.
"We've caught a case and we're hitting the road. You know what to do and how to reach me," Sam said as he followed his fleeing brother as, once again, Dean turned tail and ran. "Dean, stop!" He called after him.
"No, get ready, we're leaving," Dean said and slammed his door in Sam's face.
As he was ordered, Sam fell into the passenger side of the Impala twenty minutes after Dean's departure time. Dean was ready to go, his legs bounced nervously in his impatience as he sat in the silent car and waited. The moment Sam was next to him, he snapped out of his trance like state and the engine of the car roared to life.
Sam settled in for the drive knowing where they were going but not what the rush was.
The case in question popped up on their radar early the previous day and an antsy Dean jumped at it like it was a prize he'd won and no one else would take away from him. Mary was still off in Donna's cabin with Bobby, doing things he didn't want to imagine and he was trapped with a small army of people working to squash the supernatural out of this world. They were like something between the Men of Letters and a Hunter Commune, and Dean hated it. He wasn't completely against the idea, he just didn't like that they were stealing his jobs, living in his house, and filling Sam's head with way too much leadership and authority. In short, it was too many people all of the time, and yeah, he was a little jealous.
The case itself looked like a milk run, something to send the new trainees to, but Dean wanted it and wanted to be away. Unlike Sam, he was never really on board with giving up the hunters life for anything ever, and if all manner of the supernatural were eradicated, well, that would be bad for business. So Dean jumped at the milk runs and the vamp nests, and dragged Sam out of the bunker for sketchy motels and the open road.
A ghost in a christmas village, in a part of Minnesota that would bring the brothers near enough to Sioux Falls that if they wanted to see Jody and the girls, or Mary and Bobby, or even Donna, for Christmas they could make a surprise visit and drop in. It was also way up north were things would get chilly and crips, and feel more like Christmases that they remembered. On top of the convenience of their travel, two people were dead. The Christmas village was desperately trying to get to the bottom of thing for their busiest season, and mostly Dean wanted Sam to himself. He wanted a family Christmas with his brother because that was how their Christmases were spent for most of their lives.
Selfishly, that was his idea, and Dean had big plans for a quiet Christmas, until Chuck showed up and turn life on its head; again. Now he was on the run, and if he had to keep on running he'd damn well do it!
"So are you going to tell me what the rush is, or am I just here because you're having some kind of existential crisis?" Sam asked when at last Dean merged onto the deserted highway and headed north, grounding his teeth and sighing without realizing he was doing it as Sam watched him before speaking.
"I've got to work," Dean said gruffly. "And the drive is long enough. You go back to sleep, get your solid eight hours and I'll be fine."
"Like that's going to happen now. Was it a nightmare? Was it Michael? Are you remembering more of what happened? What kicked you in the ass to get you out of the bunker in such a panic?" Sam asked, calling Dean on his lies.
"I'm not in a panic!" Dean protested.
"Fine, put you into a heightened stated of paranoia and agitation?" Sam asked again, this time emphasizing his words so that Dean felt the sting of it.
"It was Chuck and I'm not paranoid," Dean said. "Agitated, I'll give you agitated."
"Chuck?" Sam asked in confusion. "What do you mean it was Chuck?"
"He woke me up to show me Christmas Eve 1978; Dickens style," Dean confessed.
"I hate Dickens," Sam grumbled. "He's an ass."
"Right?!" Dean cried to emphasis his displeasure.
"So we're running away so that he doesn't turn you into Ebenezer Scrooge?" Sam asked to gain further clarification.
"It might be too late for that but I don't need him lurking around the bunker, or having those people questioning me and my reactions to God just showing up to create his own christmas cards. I just want some peace and quiet, so we're driving and we're going to hunt," Dean answered.
"Those people are doing everything they can to fit in," Sam stated defensively. "And working their butts off to boot. You have to stop being so hard on them."
"Great, wonderful, when do we kick them out and take back our bunker?" Dean asked.
"The bunker was meant for an army of people fighting the supernatural, they belong there as much as we do," Sam protested. "And technically, we stole the bunker."
"It was gifted to us by our legacy grandfather!" Dean countered with his own argument. "And it was meant as a quiet library and place to study all that which man does not comprehend."
"Now you want to tow that company line?" Sam asked with a laugh.
"No, I'm making a point! Too many people in the bunker. It's not a secret anymore," Dean complained. "It's bad enough that the Men of Letter showed up and made a mess of the place, now we have a bunch of strangers training to take out jobs."
"So now that we are acting like the Men of Letters, you have a problem with us bringing in and training hunters to carry on?" Sam asked.
"We're hunters, not Men of Letter, those guys are dicks, and that's not the issue. My big problem is why did Chuck show me that Christmas Eve in 1978 when it's fricken Tuesday December 18th 2018?" Dean asked with frustration and emphasis for his displeasure.
"Did you ask him that?" Sam asked calmly.
"Not exactly," Dean grumbled but was truthful.
"What did you see?" Sam carried on in his line of questioning as he rolled his eyes at his brother but decided it would be better to try and help.
"Mom pregnant, as big as a house, and Dad happy, and Michael and Azazel meeting on the street in front of our house in Laurence," Dean answered.
"That's it?"
"Yeah, I demanded to be returned after the meeting," Dean explained.
"Did he want to show you more?" Same asked.
"Not the point Sammy! Azazel and Michael met on our street on Christmas Eve 1978. They were there because of me!"
"Well we knew that this was planned, and mom was just about ready to pop," Sam said. "But why does it matter now?"
"Ask Chuck," Dean grumbled as headlight appeared on the deserted highway, coming toward him.
"Don't you think you should have done that?" Sam asked as the car drew nearer and the headlights brighter and blinding.
"That car is coming right at us!" Dean stated and swerved onto the shoulder to avoid the head on collision. Dust flew into the air, the Impala fishtailed, and the brothers braced themselves for impact.
The car, exactly like the Impala, disappeared into thin air as it passed them so close that it should have hit, and then the darkness returned to the deserted stretch of highway.
"Did you see that?" Sam asked in shock. "It was Dad!"