Firefly – Chapter 11

Sam was dog-tired, down to his bones. The motel room door creaked open to reveal one of the more mismatched motel rooms he'd seen in a while. There were no less than five different pattern combinations between the musty carpet, the wild bedspread, and mildly tattered drapes. If he'd been able to hold his eyes open wider than slits, Sam was sure it would have made him dizzy.

His bag landed with a thud beside the bed and he flopped down and closed his eyes. He'd made it more than halfway to Austin before he'd started swerving off the Oklahoma asphalt. Nine hours with one stop was enough and Sam had turned into the first motel that looked grim enough to be in his price range.

Yanking the edge of the covers over his shoulder, Sam rolled over, attempting to slide into the ease of sleep. One corner of his mind was still occupied with thoughts of Emily and the look on her little face when their connection had set off some cosmic buzz in her hand. Another spot in his exhausted head was rolling over the bases he needed to cover in Austin and analyzing the odds against him finding the demon, exorcising her quickly, and allowing Dean and Emily to live happily ever after.

That wasn't going to happen. Not the quick exorcism and not the happily ever after. It never, ever happened that way. Maybe Dean could get the happily for some spans of time broken up by disasters but not the ever after. He deserved it. God, he deserved it. That little girl deserved it, too. A buzzing handhold, an evil smoking demon, or mismatched DNA shouldn't be allowed to get in the way of that ever after. One of them would, though. Sam knew that for a fact.

The pillow was flat and thin and he had to fold it in two to make it passable. This was definitely not Ellen's place. The Roadhouse bed was the best bed he'd had in about forever. Sam fumbled with his cell phone, trying to set his alarm. He'd have to get the rubber back on the road early to make Austin by noon. His eyes closed and it felt like grit under his lids. Slowly, Sam fell off into the blackness and the hard bed and flat pillow didn't matter anymore. Sleep was good and he'd missed her.

Something began to drag him back from his nice, comfortable rest. It pulled and yelled and Sam began to organize the sounds into "I'm Here for the Party."

Dean had screwed around with his ring tones again. That song was blasting out of his phone, worse than the version the bridesmaids from hell had abused him with. How could it be time to get up? He'd just fallen to sleep.

Eyes still shut, Sam groped for the alarm off button to make the sound go away but that girl's voice continued to relentlessly stab his eardrums.

"Would you please shut up?!" Sam moaned, opening one eye and bringing the noisemaker closer to his face and realizing it wasn't the alarm after all. Flipping open the phone, he said, "What, Dean?"

"Sorry to interrupt," Dean said. "You must have a girl in there. Oh wait, it's you. Never mind."

"Jerk."

"Where are you, Bitch?" Dean's voice was annoyingly awake and happy.

"In my bed. In Oklahoma." Sam swung his feet to the floor. After Gretchen Wilson's blasting alarm, he was far from relaxed anymore.

"Halfway and you have to sleep? Quitter."

"What's going on up there? Emily okay?"

"Yeah, she's good. It's all quiet, except for the bar," Dean answered. "Did you stop and replace the air filter?"

"Yes."

"Not a cheap one, the real deal?"

"Yes, I'm in a crap motel because I bought the right air filter, okay?" Sam said, annoyed that he was being quizzed.

"Touchy," Dean replied, pleasure evident in his tone. "Hang on a second, let me go in the other room." Dean's voice got a bit distant as he pulled the phone away from his mouth. "Emily. I'll be right back. Hit pause." Sam could hear Dean's boots stomping over the floor and a door open and shut. "We're watching a movie."

"You're not letting her watch 'Kill Bill' are you?" That movie had been Dean's last addition to his collection, though Sam couldn't fathom how Dean could sit through the casket scene or why he actually laughed every single time. It seemed to be some weird form of gallows humor for his brother.

"No, stupid. It's really not that bad. It's the one with the cartoon princess who falls in the sewer and comes out a real girl in New York. Got that TV doctor in it. McScreamy?"

"McDreamy."

"It is so gay that you know that."

"You're watching princess movies and I'M gay?"

"Shut up. What's friggin' wrong with princesses?"

Sam laughed out loud. "Not a thing, dude. You'd make a great one, since you're so short and dainty."

"Suck it," Dean snapped back at him. He hated that short business and it made Sam grin from ear to ear knowing how it got under his skin. Dean might be older but Sam would always be taller.

The sound of Dean stomping down the stairs pounded through the phone. "What's your plan for tomorrow?" Dean asked. Sam knew it was killing him to turn over the reins and have his only input be a voice over the phone or words on the computer screen.

"Fire Department first. Thought I'd look up the guy who pulled Emily through the window."

"Thank him for me," Dean said with the sound of a beer opening in his hand."

"Yeah, I will. Then I'm going to the crime scene then to track down Lindsey."

"Got the address?"

"No, I thought I'd just stick a pin in the map and hope it was her house."

"Do you have to be such a smartass, Smartass?"

"Don't have to be, just want to be."

"Okay, I can see you're a cranky baby so I'm going back to the movie," Dean said. After a beat, he added, "Be careful."

"Aw, and I was planning on not being careful," Sam answered, kicking his shoes off and laying back on the bed. "Fun crusher."

"I'm serious. Be careful and check in. I still don't like you being on your own when we don't exactly know who or what we're dealing with. You should have taken Bobby with you."

"Don't worry, I'll be careful, Dude. I'll call in the morning." Sam was about to flip the phone shut, when he added, "Hope you both get some sleep tonight."

"Thanks, me, too," Dean said, his voice sounding a bit more hopeful that it could happen. "Better get back to the princesses."

Sam snapped the phone closed and tossed it on the nightstand. Sleep came quickly and buried his worry for a few hours.

***

"Okay, Cutie Pie, press play and let's see who shows up at the party," Dean called out, walking back into Emily's room.

Emily was passed out, flat on her back with a bowl of popcorn rising up and down on her tummy in rhythm with her breathing. Popcorn puffs were scattered around the bed and the remote was clutched in her hand. The credits were running on the movie, implying that patience wasn't a four-year-old virtue.

"If anyone had any doubt, kid, this would clear it right up," Dean whispered to himself, laughing. It took a few minutes of stealthy housekeeping to pick up the litter mixed in with the covers and move the bowl off of Emily's belly.

He intended to tuck her in, turn out the lights, and ease out of the room. After watching her for just a few minutes, he should be able to tell if she was sleeping soundly. When she was deep in sleep, Emily threw herself across the bed, arms and legs everywhere, freely sprawling out without fear. When she drew her body into a tight knot, you could almost feel the dream scratching around in her head, sending her little body into defense mode as she tried to fight back against the nightmare.

Right now, Emily was stretched across the bed, comfortable and free. Dean reached over, flipped off the light, and Emily remained perfectly still. Dean lingered at the door to watch for just a few seconds to be sure.

"What the hell. Just one more night," he said to himself, walking back to the bed. Gently, he slid the remote out of her hand and sank onto the bed beside her. Kicking off his boots, Dean noticed the credits still running. He thought for a second or two, and then reset the DVD to the point where he'd left the room.

The movie picked up right where he'd left off and he kept the sound down low. Dean felt something under his hand and grabbed a piece of popcorn he'd missed, popping it into his mouth. Emily twisted over on her side, wiggling her back into a comfortable spot beside him. Slowly, he closed his arm around her, holding her closer.

Ellen had given him a long speech this afternoon about how he wasn't doing Emily any favors by continuing to sleep beside her every night. She'd said making things normal was the way to go and Emily needed to learn normal again. She had a point, but Dean decided the search for normal was different when you were a four-year-old with chunks burned out of your arm and no way to call for help at night because the daylights had been scared out of her.

Last night, he'd left her alone in her dreams and she'd come looking for him when the dreams tore her peace into shreds. Why should she have to be alone? Ellen didn't know everything. There would be plenty of time, once she was better and stronger, to get used to the night by herself.

The evil queen suddenly made an appearance at the ball. "Duh," Dean muttered sarcastically to himself. "That was unexpected." It wasn't nearly as fun watching this movie alone. Emily had obviously seen this one before and would lean closer to the TV during the musical numbers, chin balanced on her hands, glued to the screen. Her head would bounce and a couple of times he thought he saw her silently mouthing the words to the songs.

Somehow, without Emily added to the audience, "Enchanted" rapidly lost its appeal and Dean felt his eyelids begin to get heavier and heavier. Even with all the uncertainty, with Sam down in Texas demon hunting alone, with the fear Dean had for Emily's safety that had him spreading salt and keeping a gun at his back, he still felt an odd contentment laying here in this bed keeping watch over her.

It was like all those nights in crap motels looking after Sammy when he was little. It didn't matter that Dean was just as scared as his little brother. He'd kick Fear's ass and man up so Sammy wouldn't be scared, too, and could sleep. That Sammy that had grown up into this Sam who was letting him be free to enjoy this. And damn, he was grateful.

Why shouldn't they have this, he and Emily? Why should he have to worry about every freaking civilian who stumbled over a monster and not have this feeling? Sleep was blanketing over him and the soothing hum of Emily's breathing hummed up through his hand where it wrapped around her body. She was important and what they had right here was important. Just as important as clueless strangers.

Dad's face floated around in the dream that had taken Dean away from consciousness. John Winchester said, "Because we know it's there, we have no choice but to save those people." He said it like it was carved in a stone tablet. The first of the Ten Commandments according to JW, right above, "My way or the highway," and "Because I said so."

"You're wrong, Dad," Dean whispered to the talking head in his mind. "Your kid comes first. That's the top priority. The Ten Commandments according to DW. Get used to it."

"I'm not in love with your tone, Boy," came the deep, gravelly response.

"Yeah, I bet, but too bad. I'm going to fix this for her. I'm going to do this right."

John's mouth tipped up from a frown into a smile, then said, "Yeah, you try that and see how it goes. You should be down there with your brother, hunting. This is in your blood."

"So is she, now get out of my head and let me sleep, Dad." Dean turned away into the darkness, away from John Winchester's know it all face.

Dean was in nothingness for what seemed like days, sleeping like he hadn't in months. It went on and on and it was soft and good and he felt light, like he was floating. The non-dream part of his mind kept reminding him that it was only temporary and something was going on beside him.

A tightness began to creep up against his skin. It was under his hand. Fear felt like that and he fought his way back up through the dark.

Emily was twisted into that familiar terrified ball beside him. Her breath wasn't moving in that gentle popcorn-bouncing rhythm from earlier in the night. It pounded out of her in heavy pants, like someone sprinting away from a monster.

She was.

Dean rolled carefully to his side and pulled himself completely awake. With her right hand, Emily clawed at the bandage on her left, desperately trying to push away the invisible burning hand torturing her once again. Sweat and tears ran down her face and Dean reached over to grab her hand to keep Emily from hurting herself. He could feel her entire body burning with the heat of raw fear.

"It's okay, Sweetie. I'm here," he whispered, keeping her tiny hand away from the bandage and stroking her hair with the other. "It's a dream. Nobody's going to hurt you anymore. Daddy's right here."

Her eyes were clamped shut and her face was a twisted knot of agony as Emily replayed the inferno of the apartment fire over and over. That kind of fear was primal and vicious and showed no mercy. Lightly, he stroked his fingers over her wrinkled forehead, trying to chase away the dream.

Eventually, as he held her close, the dream faded and Emily relaxed back into sleep without waking, taking up her pleasant sleep where she'd left it when the nightmare grabbed her. Not waking up in a panic attack was progress, just a bit, but progress nonetheless.

"Ellen doesn't know everything," Dean thought to himself, making himself comfortable with Emily's head in the crook of his arm.

TBC