Yes, oddballs, my theological advisor is ba-a-ack! (And I'm think I'm driving her a little nuts with all the updates. So three cheers for charis-kalos!!)
Chapter 37 "Crap"
(Yeah, little late to be naming chapters. Eh – so you think I'm a little...odd??)
Ruby drove the piece-o'-crap car to that town where Singer lived. Her driver sat in the backseat. Once every twenty minutes or so he twitched, so she knew he was alive. Not that she really cared.
In town she left the car with its comatose occupant parked next to one of those places that served breakfast all day long. Ruby considered removing her spell, but he seemed so much better like this. She set out to Singer's place on foot.
Crap, crap, crap, crap. Crap! Dean slammed the fridge door a little too strongly and the door bounced back, threatening to bounce off its hinges. What the heck was going on now? The curse made him pause. Sheesh, even his thoughts went through a freaking profanity filter now?
He had no intention of telling any of them what he suspected, the real reason for Mike's back pain. It had to be connected with Mike trying to heal his back after that little fall. Stupid demons. Stupid archangels. Dean stood in the doorway from the kitchen to the den, unable to force himself to walk back through. He set the beer down on the counter, turned around, and headed outside. He needed a game plan before going back in there. Sam was going to be pissed if he had to admit it. Dean hated for Sam to be angry, really angry, with him. Annoyed, irritated, even frustrated, that was fine. Flat out mad? No. Dean snorted in the afternoon air. He couldn't even lie to himself anymore. This life just sucked out loud.
As he rounded the house, Dean noticed a sound. He froze, keen ears picking out the one noise that did not belong. A voice? He slipped up on it quietly, moving slowly so as not to make a sound. Apparently moving quietly did not count as lying.
"Come on, Dean. Where are you?" a light British accent asked. When Dean placed the voice, he realized that he used the wrong adjective. It should have been 'bitchish' not 'British.' Or 'Brititch'? Yeah, he'd have to remember to tell Sam that one. "Where did you and that lovely amulet go?"
His hand rose to grasp the amulet, one of the few actual gifts he had received. Ever. That frigging bitch. Anger roiled slowly in his stomach, spreading with heat through his muscles out to his skin.
"What the hell?" she whispered. "Where did everyone go?"
The words barely registered even though he felt pressure in his temples as he stepped around the corner. Bela knelt in the dirt just under the window, peering over the sill. He saw a thin black cord snaking from her ear to a round disk on the window. Not just peeping but listening in, too? And what was that little black box connected to the wire? Strong hands balled into fists.
She moved from her crouch, partially standing for a better look inside. "And that demon mutt. Did it leave too?"
"Shouldn't talk to yourself," Dean advised from the corner, unable to step closer without doing her serious bodily harm. "Or people will figure out just how crazy you are." He felt his anger radiating off of him, burning through Bobby's place.
She gasped, spinning around to face him. "Dean!" Bela recovered quickly, did her best to look indignant. "Well, I wouldn't have to stoop to such measures if you could just help a girl out."
Dean said nothing. He could hear falseness in her voice, but at the same time it didn't quite sound like a lie. A partial lie then, she needed to find him but not for his help, for his amulet. Dean Winchester, human lie detector. Sounded like a bad tv show. As he glared, imagining what he should do to her, a bright thread appeared out of his stomach.
"Not now," he grumbled, following the bright beam with his eyes. It took him to two boys playing in a park, only two miles from Bobby's. He scanned the park quickly, looking something that could be lethal. A halo of bright light formed around a thin tree branch. The boys challenged each other to climb that tree.
CRAP!
Not wasting another breath on Bela, SuperBitch, Dean raced around for the front of the house. As he closed in on the Impala, he noticed Sam sprinting from the front door. Sam slammed into the passenger seat at the same time that Dean started up his baby. Hillary barked furiously at the car, since all the doors were closed.
"Take care of Bela!" Dean shouted as he rammed the big car into drive. She took off like a perfectly tuned racecar, dust spouting from her rear wheels as they raced out of Bobby's.
"Bela?" Sam asked once they were on the road. "What about Bela?"
The road between them and the park was eaten up by the Impala. She growled with satisfaction when they roared into the park.
"Caught her sneaking around Bobby's," Dean said, jumping out of the car. The engine settled into a comfortable hum as he ran toward the trees.
"What was she doing?" Sam demanded, keeping perfect pace with him.
Dean eyed the trees, searching for the right one. Fortunately, a huge blinking neon sign appeared in the air pointing out the boys.
"Spying," Dean snapped as he stopped under the right tree. How was he supposed to save a stupid kid from falling out of a tree? "Sam, one of those kids is going to try to use that branch," he said, pointing it out. "It won't hold him. Any ideas?"
"Yeah," Sam said casually, moving closer. "Hey!" he shouted up at the boys, hands cupped around his mouth. "That branch is bad! Don't use it!" Sam waved at the branch Dean had pointed out.
Dean shot his brother a glare. "That's it? Don't use it?"
Sam shrugged back.
"Mister!" One of the boys shouted back. "What do we use? That's how we got up here!"
Sam walked around the tree. He pointed out another branch, not quite as convenient. "How's that one look to you, Dean?"
Dean eyed it, waiting for a stop sign to appear or more glowing light. Nada. He shrugged. "Dunno. Guess it's fine."
"Hey!" Sam shouted up. "Use this one! That other one is about to break."
The boys waved back that they heard. Dean watched nervously as they moved around the tree trunk to climb back down.
"Spying on us?" Sam asked, his attention on the boys too.
"Caught her looking right in that window by the couch," Dean admitted. "I don't know how long she was there, but I'm pretty sure she heard most of what we said."
Sam shook his head, still tracking the boys. "If one of them fell, would you be able to catch him?"
"You mean without breaking my back again?" Dean asked. "Beats me. Let's hope your branch holds."
Sam shot him a strange look before returning his attention to the two boys who appeared as sure in the tree as a couple of squirrels.
"She probably wouldn't understand any of it," Sam said as the boys passed the halfway mark to the ground.
"Hope not," Dean replied. He wouldn't be able to relax until those kids were standing on solid ground.
Sam cleared his throat and crossed his arms over his chest. "Uh, so... Is Hillary keeping her there for us?"
Dean shrugged. "I told her to, but I don't know if she caught the bitch." At that moment, his back felt it necessary to make its displeasure with life in general known. Again. Dean pressed one hand against the tree to steady himself. He tried to blank his face too, after all, he had plenty of practice.
He barely noticed when the boys reached the ground and raced off, already caught up in a new game.
"Dean?" Sam was in his face. He hated that. "Dean? I asked if it was all right to leave."
Dean nodded. He hoped he would be able to walk to the car. It was worse now than it had been earlier. Asking Sam to drive would probably tip his brother off, but he didn't think he would have much choice. When he pushed off the tree and took a step, pain flared in his back. This was the worst it had been in months, maybe since before he was released from the hospital. Crap! Dean's legs buckled and he fell to his knees, holding his arms out to keep him from face-planting into the grass.
"Dean!"
Double crap. "Just a minute," he managed to say through gritted teeth. Great, now he was going to have to own up. It wasn't like he could lie about it. Phantom pain the doctors called it. He'd like to show them exactly how 'phantom' it was. Dean forced himself to breathe through it. Soon he would be able to function again. It never lasted long enough for him to actually pass out. With the deep breathing, the pain lessened to close to normal. On a one to ten scale, it was back down to a four or five. He could still hunt as long as it was under a six and normal was about a three.
Sam stood right by him, one hand on his shoulder. Dean reached up with his right hand. Sam grasped him by the forearm, pulled him to stand. Pissy Sam-face greeted him. Well, so much for that euphoria lasting.
"What was that?" Sam demanded, his free hand motioning to the ground where Dean had been doing an impression of lame duck. Nah. Wounded Rottweiler? At least that sounded tough.
Dean shook his head. "Nothing," he replied. Technically it was true, it wasn't a real pain, just a phantom one. Okay, so on a one to ten scale it was about a twenty. So what? It still wasn't real.
"How the hell was that nothing?" Sam shouted.
Dean winced. Great, now he had a headache to go with the back pain. "Gonna mark this day on a calendar," he groused. "So I remember to stay in bed for it next year."
"Dean!" Sam gripped him by both arms, shook him a little. Then Dean felt it, all the worry and concern. It flowed out of Sam into him. Confused, he probed back a little, discovering that Sam was just as easy to read as he used to be. Then he was awash in a tide of guilt. Sam's guilt.
"Has it always been like that?" Sam whispered, eyes wide. Dean swallowed hard, shrugged. Sam's hands tightened around his biceps. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"It's not real, Sam," Dean said, trying to explain. "The doctors called it a phantom pain. Just random nerve pulses that happen. I swear, Sam, it doesn't happen that often. Just when I've really overdone it."
Sam's eyes narrowed on him now. "You mean, like jumping into a river to save a kid from drowning?"
Dean sighed. "Yeah, I guess."
"It hit you earlier, when it hit Mike, didn't it?" Sam asked in a softer voice. "That's what happened to Mike, right?"
Dean shrugged again. "Maybe. I'm not sure. What I don't get is why he was the only one who felt it. I figured none of them would, since it isn't really real."
"We'll figure it out," Sam promised. His brother let go of his arms, but wound an arm over his shoulders to guide them both back. Dean wanted to pull away from this girly moment, but he could feel that Sam was holding back resentment at him for holding back, along with guilt over not noticing, and worry for Dean in general. He supposed he could allow some chick-flick to make his little brother feel better.
Bela ran to her new rental with that huge mutt on her heels. Again. She might have to start carrying raw meat. The way that big, good looking guy with the black hair fell on the ground was strange, but Bela was not one to pass up an opportunity, especially one that meant escape.
She almost caught the dog in her car door. Too bad she missed. Bela revved the motor, and took off at her best speed. Now that she was relatively safe, maybe she could figure this thing out. There was Dean, Sam and Bobby, those players she knew well enough. The two new players were her concern at the moment: Mike and Ralph. Ralph seemed pretty unstable, and entirely too close to Mike. Perhaps they were another set of brothers. Oh, that was exactly what she needed: more brothers. Obviously they were hunters, otherwise they would not be in the company of both Singer and the Winchesters.
What was all that healing business about? Were the Winchesters passing themselves off as healers now? That did not seem in character. There was something else, something that she was missing. Bela fingered the small recorder attached to her listening device. At least she didn't have to depend just on her memory, thanks to Daddy. He never trusted memory, it missed out on too many opportunities. A good tape recorder was worth its weight in gold, he always said. Well, hers didn't use those old fashioned tapes, but it worked well enough.
Bela arrived at her hotel and needed to switch rental cars yet again. That phone call made, she plopped down on her bed to replay the conversation at Singer's.
"Take back the pain. Duh, dude!"
"Dean! Dean!"
Sounds of the mutt from hell barking. Bela jumped ahead, knowing it would be several more minutes to get through the supposed healing part.
"Easy, Ralph. He didn't mean anything by it."
There it was. Bela backtracked quickly. She wanted to hear the first part of that. Why was it so difficult to get exactly to the point you wanted?
Ah! Here it was! Bobby Singer.
"Well, you got to admit, even for angels this is weird."
Silence.
"Easy, Ralph. He didn't mean anything by it."
Silence.
"I think she's standing guard. Dean?"
Bela stopped the recording to run it back again. After listening to that section several times, a deep suspicion grew in her mind. Men who just appeared. Voices that couldn't be recorded. Bobby Singer, of all people, referring to angels. A big, good looking man named Mike. Assuming Mike was Michael, as in The Michael, what did that make Ralph? Probably one of those parking-space angels, or an angel-in-training.
She had some serious calls to make. What was the going rate for an actual angel? And how much for an archangel? This could be her retirement score. Oh, she did love those Winchester boys.
Raphael sat on the end of the sofa, one hand buried in Michael's hair. The archangel had tried to heal Michael several times, unsuccessfully. It seemed only Dean could take on this pain, which worried Bobby more than a little.
"What could do this?" Raphael demanded, panic once again in his voice. "And why Michael?"
Bobby chewed his lower lip as he paced the floor. "This whole thing with Dean started when the kid refused to back down to Michael, right?" He didn't wait for a response from the angel, voicing his thoughts as they popped into his head. "Then Dean started taking on some of Michael's characteristics, his abilities, the rules he has to live by. What if Michael is taking on some of Dean's characteristics?" Bobby froze in his pacing to lock eyes with Raphael. "Like his back pain?"
"That might explain why only Dean can heal it," Raphael said slowly. "But I can't even find it. In our community, when something attacks one of us, we all feel it. It allows us to all respond to a threat together." His eyes never left Michael's face. "Perhaps... Perhaps Michael and Dean have bonded, like Sam and the dog."
"Sam and the dog?" Bobby asked, eyeing Hillary critically. "I kind of thought she was Dean's dog now."
Raphael looked up to offer Bobby a thin grin. "Oh, she definitely is that. But she has bonded with Sam. Don't you see the way she looks at me?" He motioned to the dog.
Hillary sat between Bobby and the archangels. When Raphael made a move in his direction, she growled.
"Sam doesn't trust me," Raphael explained. "But what I don't understand is how they bonded. Sam shouldn't be able to do that, and I don't mean because of the demon infection. No human can bond that thoroughly with an animal."
"Dean did it," Bobby said, the words flowing before he had a chance to think them through. "I remember he told Sam to take Hillary for a walk and she'd love him forever."
Raphael ran his hand through Michael's hair as he pondered. Bobby doubted Raphael would understand how odd that looked to him. "He couldn't have done it on purpose. It was probably instinct. Interesting that he would want the dog to bond with Sam and not himself."
Bobby shook his head at Raphael. "Actually, that sounds exactly like something Dean would do." With a sigh, he plopped down in his well worn and comfortable easy chair. "Dean thinks of Sam first. Always has." He took off his hat to scratch an itch. "Honestly, I don't know anymore if it's because that's the way he was raised, or if it's just Dean's nature." Bobby secured the hat back on his head, watching Raphael soothingly stroke Michael's hair. "Not that it really matters."
Raphael shrugged, staring at the far wall. "Maybe. Maybe not. Dean could be the reason Sam didn't fall to the infection like the others, the reason Sam chose our side. I know Michael was interested in Dean for years before meeting Sam, maybe that's why. I always assumed it was because of Dean's reputation and the way John talks about him."
Michael groaned and shifted on the couch. A look of relief passed over Raphael's face. "Michael? Are you with us?"
Michael groaned again. Glowing blue eyes blinked up. "Ralph? Why is your hand on my head?"
Raphael frowned, drawing his hand back slowly. "Singer's right. You must be taking on some of Dean's characteristics."
"What?" Michael tried to push himself up to a sit. Raphael had to help him. "What the heck are you talking about?"
"Well, that. For one thing," Raphael said as he sat next to Michael on the couch. "You don't speak that way. For another, you just called me Ralph. You have used Rafe on occasion, but never Ralph."
Michael stretched in a way that reminded Bobby of Dean. "That's ridiculous, Raphael. You're imagining things." He stopped stretching to turn and glare at his friend. "That still doesn't explain your hand on my head."
Raphael glared back, his eyes a soft golden brown glow. Bobby suddenly felt very vulnerable and exposed. Dean and Sam ought to be back by now, right?
"You were in pain," Raphael stated and Bobby swore he could hear thunder in the distance. "I was trying to help." Another roll of thunder. Bobby glanced out the window at the clear sky.
Michael glanced away. "Oh," was his soft reply.
Bobby let out the breath he had been holding. It looked like his house would survive the day after all.
"I'm, uh, gonna go check out front for the boys." He made a show of checking his watch. "They've been gone for almost an hour. It didn't take this long to save that drowning boy."
Bobby raced out of his own damn house. It was a good thing he liked Dean so damn much, or he'd kill the kid for getting into this kind of trouble in the first place. He discovered that right about now he was actually missing John Winchester, pain in the ass that he was. Bobby stared down the road, hoping to hear the sounds of a big block Chevy engine.