Disclaimer – Not my characters, I just use them improperly.
You like? You don't like? Review and tell me why! (Constructive criticism only please, if you don't like the subject, don't read the story.) This takes place after 'Further And Further Out', so you'll probably want to read that first :)
Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter :) I know this is a bit late and kind of brief, I got caught up with all the essay writing I've been putting off over Christmas… Hope you all had a good New Year's!
Chapter 4
Dean shared what little information he'd been able to gather on the mysterious redheaded woman over breakfast at the local diner.
The waitress, an older woman with greying hair tucked neatly into a bun, thought Sam was just adorable. There was only one other customer in the diner, and so she came over to check on them more than once, slipping Sam a free strawberry milkshake when her manager's back was turned. Sam seemed pretty fond of her after that, a big hopeful smile on his face whenever she walked past to pour the burly trucker sat by the window some more coffee.
"So, I'm pretty much stumped here. I mean, seriously, no one knows who she is or where she lives." Dean said, waving a forkful of pancakes in the air.
Jim took a sip of coffee. "Well, do you have any idea what kind of creature she might be?"
"I was thinkin' succubus, but bar work isn't really their usual modus operandi. Maybe some kind of trickster? She seems to be all about the mischief-making."
Jim frowned into his coffee mug. "Hmm maybe, but a trickster usually picks somewhere at random, makes its trouble and then moves on. If it's taken your dad then it probably has some kind of ulterior motive. And we can't forget what originally attracted John's attention; the unexplained crop failings."
Sam was blowing bubbles into his milkshake through the straw; Dean absently pulled his hand away from the glass, stroking it to settle him down. "A demon, maybe? Some kind of spirit tied to the land?"
The little bell above the door tinkled irritatingly, attracting Sam's attention in a snap. Dean glanced up, watching an old man wearing a checked flat cap hobbling in. He glanced over at his brother, still staring hard at the door. It was like taking care of a puppy sometimes; flash something shiny in his direction or throw a squeaky ball and he was caught up in it for hours. At least he'd forgotten the milkshake and straw.
Jim dropped his folk to his plate with a clatter, sitting back in the booth. "Well, we can't figure out what it is until we have more information. And since this woman's our only lead so far…"
Dean groaned and dropped his head to the table with a dull thud. "Great. Chasing redheads again. You'd think a hot girl in a town like this would stand out a little more."
Jim smiled, standing up with a groan as his spine popped. "Well, we don't have time to waste sitting here talking. I'll go and pay."
As soon as Jim walked up to the counter, the kind waitress appeared by their table again. "Oh, going so soon? Did you enjoy your meal?" The question was directed to both Winchester boys but her eyes were pinned on Sam, that isn't he cute expression that had haunted him since he was a boy. Dean sighed, resisting the urge to nudge his brother only because he knew Sam wouldn't get the joke.
The bell above the door tinkled again, sounding the trucker's exit. Dean glanced around the small diner, and seeing no one but the old man and Jim paying for their meal in sight, slipped out of his seat.
"Ma'am, I don't suppose you could watch my brother for me while I run to the men's room for a second?" If possible the waitress's smile glowed brighter.
"Oh, no problem, he's a real sweetie."
Dean smiled gratefully. "Okay Sammy, I'm just gonna be a second. Stay right here, you got me?"
Sam nodded, his eyes meeting Dean's briefly before skittering off to look around the diner.
Jim accepted his change with a smile for the harried-looking manager. She looked to be in the middle of an emotional crisis of some kind, her eyes haunted. Normally Jim would have politely inquired as to how she was feeling, offered to sit awhile and listen if she wanted to talk about it. But he had another job to do right now. Maybe once John was safe and the problem, whatever it was, was sorted, then he could come back and try to save the soul of the diner manager.
He turned around to a room empty of everyone except the bustling waitress, wiping down their table and collecting their dirty plates.
Frowning, he glanced out of the large windows, trying to get a good view of the Impala.
"If you're looking for your friends, I think they went to the men's room." The manager said behind him, her voice weary but kind.
Jim offered her a grateful smile. "Thanks. Can you tell them I'll wait outside if they ask?"
"Sure." She said, a faint smile pulling at the corner of her lips.
Jim stepped outside, hearing the bell ringing behind him. He took a deep breath, enjoying the brisk chill of the mountain air as it hit his lungs. Sometimes, he admitted quietly to himself, it was good to get away from the church.
Dean poked at his face, staring at his washed-out complexion in the mirror of the men's room. He was going to get wrinkles if he wasn't careful. All this worrying couldn't be good for him.
He rinsed his hands, taking his time lathering up the liquid soap and feeling it squelch in his palms. Sam could quite happily spend days playing with soap, Dean had discovered. Once he'd sat on the toilet seat for an hour, watching with a smile on his face as Sam blew giant wobbly bubbles between his fingers. In those quiet moments he never felt sad that Sam's mind wasn't what it was.
Pausing briefly once more to examine his teeth for coffee stains in the mirror, he stepped into the main diner. And saw no Jim, and no Sam.
Before he could panic, the woman behind the counter called across to him. "Hey. Your friend said to let you know he stepped outside."
Letting out a long relieved breath, Dean chuckled softly to himself as he made his way through the maze of tables and chairs. Saluting the woman with one hand, he backed out of the door, almost walking into Jim.
"Hey. We ready to go?"
Jim turned with a quick grin that faded as he looked behind Dean. "Where's Sam?"
A cold hand clutched at Dean's heart, sending it thudding into his stomach. "He's with you? Isn't he?" He tried to see past Jim, as if Sam was crouched behind him.
"The woman at the counter said you went to the bathroom." Jim said, tension creeping into his face.
"Yeah, I did. I left Sam in the booth chatting to the waitress."
They stared at each other for a moment, frozen numb. Then as one they spun toward the diner door.
"Uh, excuse me!" Dean practically yelled as he burst through the door. Both the waitress and her manager glanced up in surprise. Dean saw the waitress, strode toward her and seized her by the arms. "Where did my brother go? I thought I asked you to watch him!"
She looked up at him with wide eyes. "W-what?"
"My brother, lady, where did he go!" Jim caught up with him before he could start to shake her, breaking them apart with an arm between them.
"Dean, calm down a second, will you?"
"I-I don't know anything about your brother. He-he wasn't here when I came to clear the table." The waitress stuttered, her face pale and scared. "I'm sorry, I really didn't see."
"I asked you to watch him while I went to the men's room!" Dean struggled against Jim's arms. "You said you'd watch him, now where the fuck did he go!"
The manager came to stand in front of the now-cowering waitress, a frightened but firm expression on her face. "I'm sorry, but we really didn't see what happened to your brother. Did you not take him to the bathroom with you?"
"If I did, do you think I'd be asking where he is?"
"Dean, this isn't helping." Jim said, turning to grasp firmly at his arms. "Now Sam can't have gotten far…"
"He hasn't just wandered off somewhere Jim, he's been taken!" Dean yelled, his head pounding with blood. His vision was blurry and his body felt like it was about to shake itself to bits. "He wouldn't go outside by himself, he knows not to!"
The manager coughed. "Uh, I'm sorry, but I didn't hear the bell go to say the door had been opened. If your brother left the diner, he didn't get out that way."
Dean opened his mouth to scream, to yell some more. But nothing would come out. It seemed like all the air had been sucked from the atmosphere around him, and he could see his hands start to tremble where they clawed into Jim's jacket. He looked around frantically, desperately, hoping to God Sam would jump out from under the table with a big grin, tell him they were playing hide-and-go-seek and ask why Dean wasn't looking for him.
His knees started to buckle under him, gravity tugging him down. Jim only just caught his weight.
"Dean, we'll find him, we'll find them both, don't worry, we won't give up…" Jim's voice, usually so calming and authoritative, seemed to echo off the walls of the empty diner. His dad gone, and now he'd lost Sam. He'd lost his family. Dean wanted to laugh at that; it seemed so childish and unreal, like a scared kid wandering off in a grocery store.
He'd lost them both. And he had no idea how to get them back again.
Dean did something he'd vowed at four years old never to do in public ever again. He started to cry.
Sam trailed after the old man curiously, barely bothering to admire his surroundings. Sam wasn't too sure what this not-person was exactly, but the strangeness that emanated from him had Sam intrigued.
Sam had seen through the illusion of the waitress instantly. Even if he hadn't been able to see the real waitress frozen in place behind the counter like time had stopped for her, he would have been able to tell. Just like he'd felt the gentle urging sent in Dean's direction; men's room, go to the men's room, stay a while, it's all okay. Jim hadn't noticed Sam standing, walking to the old man as he'd called Sam over without words. Hadn't noticed the ring of the bell as the man had held the door open for Sam, ushering him out with a gallant sweep of his arm.
And now Sam felt their worry coursing through the chill air like flames and electricity. But the old man needed his help and Sam had given his word without a second thought.
They wandered seemingly without direction through the town centre. People stepped out of their way without glancing up at them, as if they didn't even know they were there except on some subconscious level.
Where are we going?
Don't ask, young one. You will see.
Sam accepted the old man's answer without question.
Snow began to fall around them, blanketing the world in softness and fuzzy white. Sam paused for a second, reached out a hand to catch it before it touched the ground. The old man turned around and watched him with a half-smile on his weather-worn face before beckoning him onward.
