Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Author's Note: I'm a bad, bad author...oh how you must hate me for such an utter lack of updates. But look! Here's one! And we're getting much deeper into the story now, almost to the point of action adventure and surprises that, well, you may not like. But I digress, on with the story!
"Well," he breathes out, brows raised high, "that was awkward."
Tessa charges for the door after her father, simple words tossed over her shoulder, "Shut up, Dean," before leaving the dark and musty house behind.
John turns when he sees her headed his way, throws up a hand to still her, curling all but one finger up so as to issue a harsh point. "Don't start."
"Don't start?" she asks incredulously.
"Tessa," he warns, index finger still pointed at her face.
"Don't start?" she repeats, swatting away his hand as she closes in, anger and pain burning beneath her eyes. "You can't say no," she says in a low whisper, just shy of a sob. "You can't say no to this."
He looks away, eyes straying to the sky above her head. "I can. I did."
"I need to know," she strains. "You said you knew that, understood that."
He shakes his head slowly. "It's too dangerous."
"Why?" she asks simply, causing him to look down, meet her eyes again. "How?" When he doesn't answer, only grunts in response and tries to turn away, she advances on him once more. "What do you know?" she spits, bitter accusation tainting her words. "Who is this guy? What do you know about him?"
"Enough," he answers steadily. "I know enough to know that you can't be getting involved with him, any of you."
"Why not?"
"Because he's dangerous, Tessa! Aren't you listening?!"
He turns his back on her, hopes she'll trust him enough to give it up and walk away. But of course she doesn't, wouldn't be his child if she did. "The last time you said something was too dangerous, you tried to handle it on your own."
He faces her, eyes stern and reproachful. "Not this time."
"The last time you said something was too dangerous, you were really just trying to cover up a mistake you made."
He leans in, levels his eyes with hers and says, deep and quiet, "You better think real hard about what you're saying right now, little girl." Because he'd be damned if he was gonna let her make him feel even more guilty for a burden he'd been breaking under for years. "Real hard." Because he'd be damned if he let himself tell her all he knew about Terrence Tavish when it would only serve to hurt her further.
She falters under her father's glare, doesn't say another word. Instead she turns and leaves, heads back to the house, leaving him yelling after her in misplaced fury.
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John was incensed, that much was clear. He fumed silently the entire time they discussed heading back to LA. He scoffed obnoxiously when, after several long and drawn out phone calls, Tessa informed them that she had a friend who could get them in to see Tavish. And he damn near boiled over, even his ears burning in a bright blush, as they drove all those miles back the way they came.
But there wasn't much he could do about it. He'd been out voted, Tessa saying she'd take care of this herself, by herself if necessary. Sam and Dean quickly hopping on board simply to watch her back. And as for Bobby and Tate, well they just seemed genuinely interested.
So John had no choice when it came to this endeavor, no choice but to keep his family safe, in as much as he could. The only choice he did have, only amount of control he seemed able to wield, was in assigning everyone to a vehicle. All the kids together, because it was just plain safer that way, to have all four in one spot. And because he had no desire to speak to any of those insolent little traitors. Truthfully, he didn't really want to talk to Bobby either, him being in the same boat as the kids, but there wasn't any room left in the Impala and it would just be pointless to have him drive himself.
Having the four young hunters in one car for the first time, well, ever really, was an awkward endeavor to say the least. Tate insisted on riding up front, claiming it came with the territory, being the oldest. Which left Sam, long legs and all, crammed into the back with Tessa.
And since Tess and Dean were still fighting, she insisted on being as far from him as possible, leaving Dean grimacing and swerving every time Sam tried to find a more comfortable position, knobby knees jamming him in the back.
"Ow! Damn it, Sam!" he swore again, finally fed up. "One more time, just one more time…"
"I'm sorry. I can't help it," he whines as he tries to straighten himself up in his seat. "There's no room."
"Really?" Tate inquires from the front as he folds his arms behind his head and reclines back. "Seems pretty roomy up here."
"Ass," Tessa calls out as she shoves him forward.
"Hey!"
"I can't get comfortable," Sam moans once more, trying to fold one leg up beneath him. It doesn't work and when he tries to get back into his previous position his leg flies forward, heavy boot colliding with the back of the seat, and in turn, Dean's kidney.
"Son of a," he cries out, earning a snigger from Tess and a tug on the wheel from Tate as he lets go, swerving across lanes of traffic. "That's it!" He turns around, foot still on the gas, Tate leaning further over and clutching the steering wheel, struggling to keep the car on the road.
"Dean!" Tessa exclaims as he reaches back and smacks Sam, who tries desperately to avoid his brother's blows, despite being barely able to even move.
"Uh, Dean," ekes out from up front, Tate's voice hardly discernable from outside the melee.
A tangle of arms and legs is all that can be seen in the rearview, random snippets of phrases – I swear to God. Not the hair! I told you. Son. Of. A. Bitch! – all that can be heard.
"Dean," he tries again, hoping to get his attention, but at the same time entirely amused at the current situation. "Okay then," he says to himself, scooting as far into the driver's seat as he can. Dean feels him move and unconsciously takes the hint, wiggling out of his way so he can take over the driving completely.
It's not until he actually leaps over the seat, really only following his arm, which Sam had twisted up into an awkward hold, that the yelling, name calling, slapping, punching, twisting, kicking sibling free for all stops. Because as soon as he's pulled into the back, flopping heavily onto the seat, he feels his knee connect with his sister's side. And they all hear her scream out in pain.
"Jesus, Tessa," he says, twisting himself around to see her, throwing an elbow into Sam as he does so. "See what you made me do," he spits at his brother.
"You okay?" Sam asks, red and battered face peeking out from beneath Dean's arm.
She doesn't speak, can't speak, and only sits with mouth agape and all color drained from her face.
"Pull over," Dean commands. "Pull over!"
And as soon as the car comes to rest at the side of the road, despite having little to no air left in her lungs, and a white hot pain still searing at her side, Tessa throws open the door and leans out, vomiting into the dirt. No one says a word, the silence a stark rebuffing of their childish antics from moments before.
Dean rubs soft circles between her shoulder blades as she gets some wind back, starts to breathe again. But before he's able to gauge if she's at all better, before he gets the chance to ask her once more if she's okay, Tessa climbs out of the car and hops into the front seat. With still shaking hands, she buckles herself in and looks to Tate, unspoken command in her eyes. Drive.
He peels out before Dean can even pull his door shut, coy smile prickling the edges of his mouth, a satisfied smirk that matches the one on the girl to his right.
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As for the elder two hunters, things were going a bit more civilly. Granted neither one spoke for nearly two hours, but that silence was a civil and respectful one.
"You know you're gonna have to tell me sometime," Bobby finally says, an exasperated huff to his voice.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Bullshit."
"Bobby," he sighs.
"John." He waits for a response but gets none, John never so much as taking his eyes from the road. "Look, I know you're into the whole cowboy thing. You do what you gotta do and you do it alone. I get that, don't exactly respect it, but I get it. Only thing is, John, this ain't about you, and like it or not, you're not the only one in it up to his eyeballs here."
"They don't need to know, not everything."
"Your daughter's fiancé is dead. He tried to kill her, and your son, and I got a feeling it was for a pretty wild reason."
"You could say that."
"Well, damn it, John, if you know something…hell we're all involved now, me and my boy too."
He sighs heavily and glances at Bobby, eyes laden with fatigue and grief. When he speaks he sounds almost as defeated as he looks, and Bobby can't help but be taken aback by that, seldom seeing his friend be anything less than solid. "Tavish isn't just an expert. He's not just some guy who wanted to learn all he could about Demons and Watchers. He is one."
Bobby squints in confusion. "Is one what?"
"He's a Watcher, Grigori. And if he's doing what I think he is, if he so much as spoke with Ben, then he's breaking a pretty sacred oath."
"What kind of oath?"
John shifts in his seat, a clear sign that he doesn't want to go on. But he does so none the less. "Neutrality, for lack of a better term. The Grigori are supposed to keep an eye on things here on earth, watch over humanity. But they're not supposed to get involved. Last time that happened…well, it resulted in a fair amount of death and pillaging."
"At the hands of the Nephilim," Bobby says simply. "I know the legends, John. But it's biblical lore, not…reality."
"No, Bobby," he says, heavy solemn tone to his voice. "It's real. Grigori and all the other Fallen ones are real. Tavish is real. And the war he plans to let loose on this earth, is real."
I really am gonna try to update more frequently, honestly. Maybe some more feedback and encouragement would help though...HINT, HINT, HINT.