Firefly – Chapter 16
By: Suz Mc
Dean had set his own limit for the night. He'd netted five bills from his work for the evening and, in his generosity, hadn't taken it all from one guy but had split it between two poor slobs. They were both in the corner, drinking up the twenty they had left between them, too drunk to figure out what the hell had happened.
It was hard to concentrate, but narrowing his focus to the balls on the table had given Dean a break from the different problems he was juggling in his head. Emily. Fatherhood. Sam in Austin. Calley. Demons. Wanting to murder that bitch in Texas. Not a great deal of room for much else in his head and sleep wasn't anywhere on that list. Propping himself up on a barstool, Dean counted his take then crammed it into his pocket.
Patting the bar, he said, "Jake, how 'bout a shot?"
Silent Jake pulled the bottle he'd been pouring for Dean all night out from under the counter and filled a glass. He left it in front of Dean with no expression or sound and went back to filling a couple beer glasses.
"Having a good night, thanks for asking," Dean said in a good natured jab at Jake's non-existent chatter.
"Glad to hear it," came a smooth voice to his left. A leggy brunette had eased up beside him and was smiling in a warm and friendly way as she settled herself on a neighboring stool.
"Well, hello to you," Dean said, downing his drink and feeling his mood lift. She was hot and he was in a good mood and that generally made a good night even better. "I'm Dean and you need a drink." Dean waved at Jake and he obliged quickly.
"I'm Jeanie and I'd love a drink as long as I can sit here by a guy with such a lucky streak going," she said, running a nail around the edge of the shot glass Jake popped up onto the counter beside her.
They sat there for a few minutes, each trying to out-flirt each other at the bar. The space between them was getting smaller and smaller and Jeanie had crossed the first personal space barrier. Resting on hand on Dean's shoulder, she leaned in and whispered, "Why don't we grab a beer for the road and go for a little drive?" She leaned in with her lips touching his ear and it went straight to his happy place, just like he liked it. "I know a place with stars and a blanket. Wanna see?"
He wanted to grab his keys and her and ride off to see that blanket she was ready to show off. "Let's go" was on its way out of his mouth while her hand was squeezing the inside of his thigh.
But reality bulked up in between his brain and his boner. Dean took a deep breath and put a couple of inches between her lips and his face. Jeanie must have felt the temperature drop because she turned her own motor down a notch or two and leaned back.
"Uh, Jeanie, I'd really, really, oh you don't know how really, like to go with you but," he hesitated just a second to imagine what he was about to be missing, "I've got someone waiting for me and I have to say no."
Jeanie gave a huge sigh and finished off her shot. "Wow," she said. "I don't get turned down often."
Reflexively, he leaned back closer before he caught himself. "And this is probably the first time I've ever done the turning down. Ever. Really. You are amazingly hot and I am so completely sorry. You have no idea how much," Dean said, forcing himself to pull back again.
"I'm amazed. An honorable guy in a bar," Jeanie picked up her purse, getting ready to leave. "She must be pretty special."
"She is," Dean said. An involuntary smile came over his face thinking about Emily and he added, "She's four years old and waiting upstairs for me to tuck her in. Hope you understand."
The disappointed look on Jeanie's face immediately changed to a soft, compassionate one. "Oh, you're a dad? That is so sweet that you'd rather be with your little girl than get laid! Aw, I just love that."
"Really? You're not mad?"
"No! I think dads are eight kinds of sexy. Very, very hot."
"Really?"
"Really."
This was puzzling and Dean shook his head trying to figure it out. "Uh, thanks," he said, sliding off the barstool still trying to wrap his brain around why his hot factor was increased by being a father. "Maybe if the timing works out we could—" He stopped himself. "Never mind."
"Oh, I completely understand, Daddy," Jeanie whispered as he passed by. "But if your schedule frees up, call me." She shoved a piece of paper with her number on it into his pocket, digging her hand in a little farther than necessary. "You're at the top of my DILF list, Dean. See you 'round."
Dean watched her walk toward the door then started laughing when he finally translated what she'd said.
"DILF," he muttered, heading upstairs. "That's so great. I'm a dad and I'm still hotter than Sam. Perfect." He pulled out his phone to send a text to his brother.
"DILF?" Sam read the text then started laughing. "What a moron."
Sam tossed the phone onto the seat beside him and took another look toward Lindsey Deaton's house. She was still there, but the shades were drawn tight and he could only see a hint of light glowing through them.
There was little chance Sam would be getting into that house alone tonight but he wasn't about to take the chance of missing an opportunity by going back to his motel on the highway. With much aggravation, Sam shoved the seat back as far as it would go and tried to make himself comfortable. The only way to have room for his laptop was to twist around sideways and lean against the door. "Note to self, never borrow Ellen's car," he muttered, firing up his wireless connection.
Stakeouts always gave him lots of thinking time and he'd hit on a bang up idea of how to track down information on the 2002 explosion. He'd waded through Landon Rail's financials earlier and found the payola disguised as contributions he'd used to make the news and investigations go away. Cops and fire departments might be persuaded to dump photos but insurance companies were a different story. It only took about forty-five minutes to hit pay dirt.
Sam hated having these discussions with Dean over the phone but he didn't have much choice. The lights going off in Lindsey's living room caught his attention and Sam kissed good-bye any chance of getting out of this car before morning as he dialed Dean's cell.
"What?"
"Hey, DILF."
"I'm your brother. That's disgusting," Dean answered, his voice wavering like he was half asleep.
"Wait till you see what I found. Can you get downstairs to Ellen's computer?"
"Just tell me," came the slightly more coherent response. In the space of a few seconds, Dean changed his mind. "Wait a minute. I'm heading that way."
"Okay, I'll send it and it'll be there waiting for you," Sam said, tapping away on the keys.
"Where are you?"
"In front of Lindsey's house waiting for her to leave in the morning."
"I don't know what that bitch did to Emily but the mention of her name sent that little girl into a panic. Make her tell you what she did."
Sam fell silent for a moment, his own anger building. Lindsey didn't have the appearance of someone who would hurt a child, but brutality often came in pretty packages. He shook it off and got the photo on his screen so he could look and talk at the same time.
The wreckage of a suburban basement displayed in black and white, showing only half of the room. Broken beams and chunks of sheetrock were strewn everywhere. Soot and streaks of powder were smeared over almost every surface but there didn't seem to be any charred debris like you would expect from a gas explosion and fire.
Five minutes later, Dean was back on the line. "Okay, I'm here and it's downloading. It's here. Damn, where did you find this?"
"Insurance file," Sam answered. "Take a close look at the lower right corner. See it?"
Sam scanned the image, and then decided to enlarge it so it was easier to see, giving Dean a chance to digest what he was seeing. A small section of concrete was visible beneath a busted piece of ductwork. An intricate symbol had been painted on the floor. It was similar to the protective mark Calley had been using but different. More angular and more aggressive. Beside it was one clean spot, an untouched rectangle not covered in soot.
"What the hell is that symbol?" Dean said, obviously analyzing the photo's every detail.
"Spell work, maybe?"
" Looks like your theory about the explosion could be right on the money. Bet that's sulfur residue mixed in with the soot and that blank spot looks like a book could have been laying there open." Dean's voice was somber, even a bit disappointed.
"Seems Landon Rail made a huge contribution to the fire department auxiliary the next week, as well as the police department's aid fund. The family who owned the house got a new one and college for their two surviving kids. Maybe he didn't want what the girls were doing getting out?" Sam was piecing together the puzzle and equally unhappy about what he'd found. "Follow the money, Dean."
"Not good PR to have your ward involved in business like that, is it?"
"Probably not. So he cleaned up the mess and when Calley got out of the hospital, he shipped her off to the nuns."
"So," Dean said, sounding wearier than before, "we're thinking they had the book and it's gone by the time of this photo. Who got it? Firemen? Cops?"
"Ah, this is why I get the big bucks, dude," Sam answered. "Calley was hurt and not conscious until she got to the ER. The two dead teenagers were out of commission, but Lindsey Deaton was mobile enough to crawl out of the basement and call 911." Sam stared at the photo and the complete devastation. The blast from Amora exploding into the room must have been terrifying to a bunch of clueless kids if her appearance did that much damage.
"Could be," Dean said, processing his own theories. "Do you think they summoned Amora?"
"You remember being sixteen? How stupid you can be? One of those girls gets hold of that book, they play dress up at Hot Topic and what starts out as a Goth sleepover turns into wide open Hell." Sam was trying to weave a scenario that left Calley in the dark. He wasn't ready to lay full blame on her for what was happening to Emily, even if she'd been a foolish teenager when it was set in motion.
"This sucks, Sam," Dean said, his voice a combination of exhaustion and frustration. "Lindsey knows what happened. Back then and now. She's responsible for this. I know it."
"I'll find out," Sam said, feeling Dean's anger rising. "How was tonight?"
"Money in my pocket, kid snoring in her pj's, Dean sadly not laid."
"That's a first."
"Yeah," Dean said, the sound of the stairs creaking through the phone. "Can't be bringing pickups upstairs with Emily still having so much trouble sleeping."
It was the sound of a real and true father coming through the line and it didn't sound like Dean Winchester. Or, at least it didn't sound like Dean Winchester before he'd found a little girl who he fell in love with. He was changing. He'd already changed. If that test came back the wrong way, it would destroy his brother and Sam was no longer sure he could be part of that destruction – truth or no truth.
"Here's a thought, Dean, go to bed."
"You're a friggin' genius, Sam. I was in bed before you woke me up."
"My bad."
"Thanks."
"For what?"
There was no more smartass banter coming through the line. "Thanks for being the kind of brother who'd go after this bitch for me and let me take care of my kid."
"You're welcome," Sam said, suddenly glad to be the one folded up in a Honda in Austin. "Is that sniffling I hear? You're turning into a real wuss."
"Shut up."
"Hang up."
"Goodnight and call me the second you get into her place."
Sam closed the line, shut his computer and tried to find room for his legs in the Hot Wheels he was stuck inside for the next few hours.
TBC