Firefly – Chapter 20
By: Suz Mc
Ellen was quickly packing Emily's things and it had clearly upset the little girl. Dean took her hand and brought her into his room, sitting her up on the bed to talk.
"I've got a surprise for you, Emily. We're going on a road trip to meet up with your Uncle Sammy." Dean had tried to swallow the urgency he was feeling so Emily wouldn't be frightened and he wouldn't have to deal with running for their lives and a freaked out four year old. Emily was smart. She had picked up on the unspoken nervousness of both adults and hiding things from her was turning out to be more difficult than Dean had imagined. Her eyes were intense and worried and Dean pulled her up into his lap, trying to settle her. "When me and Sammy were little, we drove all over the place and saw lots of cool things. You and I are going to do that, too," he said, giving her a big smile. "It's going to be fun. Trust me."
It wasn't going to be fun. It was running and hiding, but he had to disguise it as fun. "Why don't you go help Ellen pack up your stuff and we'll get going."
Emily eyed him like she had flipped the switch on her own personal bullshit detector. Dean felt the sweat on the back of his neck. He knew he didn't have time for this and should just say, "Get moving," like his dad would have done when the three of them were doing a scoop and run from some crappy town and some evil monster. Dad never gave them time to trust him; he just demanded it.
"Ready?"
She hesitated for a second or two, the trust issues clearly being weighed in her mind, dark brown eyes full of questions. When her decision process was complete, she jumped down off the bed and headed for her room. Hours on the road were facing Dean and he wanted to be away from this place with a target spray painted on its side. He breathed a sigh of relief and began throwing his things into two zipped bags. He'd done this so many times he could pack in his sleep and often did. Order mattered more than anything when your life hinged on grabbing a sawed off full of salt or an automatic with consecrated iron rounds. He couldn't risk any mistakes and slowed down to make sure he wasn't sacrificing safety for speed.
Thirty minutes later, the Impala was packed and Dean and Emily were about to be on their way. Even though he wished they weren't being forced to run, getting back to the freedom of the blacktop didn't feel so bad. Having breathing room to get to know Emily, to get accustomed to fathering her, had been great, but it felt odd to be in one place doing nothing for so long. He knew one day soon he would have to reconcile that wander lust with his need to give Emily a home.
But right now, they needed to stay ahead of a demon.
Ellen knelt down in front of Emily and put a box into her small hands. "I knew that soon you and your Daddy would be going on a trip so I got you a present," she said, gently smoothing the little girl's hair. When Emily pulled the box open and peered inside, Ellen smiled widely. "It's your own DVD player with all your favorite movies." She pulled a pair of earphones from the box and showed Emily how to use them. "When you get bored or when Daddy and Uncle Sammy need to talk about grown up stuff, you can watch all the princesses."
The two hugged tightly and Dean watched as Ellen struggled to keep from letting her tears go. "I'm going to miss you, too, Sweetie. But you'll be back to see me."
Dean waited for Ellen to let go of his daughter and he loaded the child into his large backseat. She wasted no time flipping open her player and sliding a movie inside. After Dean closed the door, Ellen wrapped him in a warm embrace. "If you need anything, if you need a place to stay or anything else, all you have to do is call me. This is your home anytime and I'll help with anything this little girl needs. I mean it."
"I know."
"I don't want to know where you're going right now. I think it's better that way," she said quietly into his ear. "Be careful and let me know when you're all safe."
"I will," he said, breaking the embrace. "I can't thank you enough for what you did for us, for her."
"No need. We're family, Dean. The door's always open."
"Ellen, don't take any chances if those people show up looking for us."
She gave him a confident smile and pointed toward Jake, who was heading toward the car with a small canvas cooler. "Don't worry. Jake and I can handle ourselves," Ellen said, adding, "can't we, Jake?"
Jake gave a silent and solemn nod and walked around them both to open Emily's door. He put the cooler carefully on the seat beside her and said, "Peanut butter and jelly and the blue juice boxes you like. Be a good girl." For approximately half a second, a broad smile broke the lines of Jake's face and he winked at Emily. She winked back and nodded her head in agreement. When Jake pulled his head back from the car, his normal serious scowl was back in place.
"Thanks, Jake," Dean said as Jake passed by and grunted in response. He didn't expect an answer but he wanted to say the words just the same. Silent Emily seemed to truly enjoy Mostly Silent Jake's company.
Dean pulled open the heavy Impala door and slid behind the wheel. He and Emily were about to be solo. Shifting the car into gear, he put a hand on the seat and twisted around to watch the view out the back window as he backed up. For a second, he caught Emily's eye. She wasn't scared anymore about leaving and smiled happily back him. The overwhelming power of that trusting little smile rushed over him, heavy and deep in its intensity. It was completely wonderful and terrifying. Sammy looked at him like that when he was that size and hadn't yet started complaining about being called Sammy. Sammy had looked at him like he had all the answers, all the strength, all that was needed to get through the day whole. Knowing that someone trusts you completely when you don't even know if you can trust yourself is ego-boosting and gut jarring at the same time.
"Ready to roll, Cutie Pie?"
Emily gave him a thumbs up signal and they drove away.
***
Ariel Anderson had been more than happy to store Ellen's car in her garage and that lifted a great burden off of Sam's shoulders. It was one thing to borrow your friend's car, but another to leave it a couple thousand miles away parked at the airport. Ariel had even driven him to the airport, with the offer of free tickets back for a visit whenever they wanted to bring Emily to visit her hometown. She was going to handle Calley's finances and home and would get all the papers to them when they were ready.
Which was wonderful since at the moment, Calley Rail's estate was the last concern on the Winchester To Do List.
It had been a while since Sam had waited in an airport. With Dean's pathological fear of flying, it wasn't worth the tranqs and handholding it took to get his brother through even a short flight. Even trains were too much for Dean. Control issues were his brother's Achilles Heel. He wanted to feel the brakes, the tires, the hum of the engine, and know with one turn of the wheel or tap of the brakes, motion would change or stop. As the years went by, it bothered Sam less and less. Dean's quirks were no more or less crazy than his own.
He'd resisted the urge to call Dean on his cell. If these people had access to spy crap like tazer grenades, tracking and monitoring cellphone conversations wasn't out of the realm of possibility. Dean and Emily were probably well on their way to Cheyenne Wells by now and barring any flight delays, they might all reach the motel at the same time. Things would feel a great deal more manageable once Sam could put his eyes on the rest of his family and still the rumbling panic that was making his heart beat just a bit harder than normal.
Sam had a half hour before his flight would begin boarding and he was taking advantage of that time to wade through the twenty pages of Latin standing between him and knowing Amora's plan for Emily. He settled the pages on a seat to his left and gripped a pencil in his right to scribble down the words as he processed them. While he read and translated, he said a silent thank you to long dead Pastor Jim and the hours he spent teaching him true Latin and not that "farmers and their daughters" crap they taught in high school level Latin classes. "If you're going to exorcise with zeal, you should understand the words you're saying, Son," Jim Murphy had said, knowing that Sam was desperate for understanding, even then. Dean was content to memorize the sounds as long as that would be enough to send a demon to Hell and could care less what he was saying.
The first pages were basically a rehash of things they already knew about Amora, her crimes, and what her punishment had been. Sam was just beginning to get to the final acts required to free Amora from her regulatory bondage when his flight was called over the airport intercom. Quickly, he folded the pages and stuffed everything into his backpack and headed for the gate.
***
The sun was beginning to set when the three suits walked into Ellen's bar. Suits were rare in the Roadhouse and the temperature seemed to drop a bit as the incongruous group stalked their way into room. The two men were similar in build, tall lanky bodies and solemn faces. One had thick, dark red hair and a slightly contemptuous look to him as opposed to the softer look of his blonde partner. The woman with them was harsh, had her hair slicked back in a severe bun, and she clicked her black pumps across the floor as if that gave her more authority.
Ellen stayed still behind the bar, eyeing each one carefully as she plastered a pleasant expression on her face. "Hello. I'm Ellen Harvelle. What can I get you?"
"Ma'am, I'm Donna Talbot from the Texas Department of Child Welfare," the woman said, flashing a plastic case with an ID inside. "These are my associates, Mr. James and Mr. Larken, and we're here looking for a child who might be at risk." She sat a briefcase down on the bar and pulled some very official looking documents from inside then flopped them onto the bar in front of Ellen. "Do you know the whereabouts of a four year old named Emily Winchester?" Her manner was direct, but she was clearly going for the concerned social worker vibe.
Ellen gave the papers a cursory glance. "What makes you think she's in danger?"
"It seems she was illegally taken across state lines after her mother was killed," said Mr. James, the blonde man who spoke with a soft, quiet voice. "We have reason to believe she was taken from the hospital and delivered her to her father."
"If she's with her father, what's the big deal?" Ellen handed the papers back to the woman and folded her arms in front of her.
"We can't just allow children to be plucked from our state and handed over without due process, can we?" The red-haired Mr. Larken had a sarcastic bite to his voice. "We have to look out for the best interests of the child, Ms Harvelle. Investigations must be done and we will need custody of the child until we're certain she's safe."
"Yeah," Ellen responded, offering no other information. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Certainly," said Ms. Talbot, returning her paperwork to her briefcase.
"Why didn't you go through the local authorities? The local sheriff is a friend of mine and I'm sure he would have come by if you had called him." Ellen picked up the phone. "Maybe we should just call him now."
"That won't be necessary, Ms. Harvelle," snapped the red-haired man. "If the child is here, we just need to see her and do a quick interview. Why don't you bring her and her father out to talk to us and we can settle this quickly?"
Jake put down the glass he'd been drying and made his way over to stand behind Ellen. She didn't turn to look at him, but he casually tapped the end of the shotgun he was holding against her calf so she'd know he had the backup if needed.
"Can't. They've been gone quite a while now." Ellen had reasoned quickly that saying Dean and Emily had never been there would be pointless. She couldn't point them in the wrong direction since the true direction was a complete secret, but she could at least throw them off in regard to time. "Left two days ago without even saying good-bye. I don't expect to hear from them."
Her answer clearly frustrated the man and he moved in closer to the bar with a rushing step. "If that child is here, you'd better produce her, now!" He slapped his hand on the bar.
Jake responded by slapping the barrel of his gun against the bar right in front of the angry Mr. Larken.
"My bartender gets nervous when strangers start threatening his boss," Ellen said, watching the aggression change to fear in all three strangers posing as public servants. "Anything happens to me, there's no one to sign the paychecks."
"Okay, let's all just calm down," Ms. Talbot said, taking a nervous step backward. "Do you realize how much trouble you'll be in if you don't tell us where that child is, Ms. Harvelle?"
"Do you realize how many holes will be in the three of you if Jake here pulls this trigger?" Ellen steeled her glare at them, communicating her commitment to that course of action. "I told you they're gone and you could stay here all day to verify that fact or you can get the hell out of my bar."
The three stood silent for a moment, offering each other quick glances and deciding their chances of out running Jake's shotgun weren't in their favor. The woman nodded at the other two and pulled out a business card. "Okay, Ms. Harvelle. No need to take this to felony level. We just want Emily to have the life she's meant to have. If you hear from them, call us." She slid the card carefully across the bar and they turned toward the door.
"Yeah, I'll do that. Right after you kiss my ass."
Ellen waited for the trio to drive away before picking up the phone and dialing. Calling Sam seemed the safer bet.
"Hey, Sam. They've already made it up here looking for Emily," she said worriedly into the phone. "No, we're okay but I thought you should know. Have you talked to them yet?" She listened as she watched Jake put away his shotgun for another day. "I don't see how they could find them now, but promise me you'll all be careful. Okay. Bye."
Ellen hung up the phone, hating how helpless she was to protect any of them now.
***
"Are we going to hang around this Nebraska shithole forever, Drake?" Lonnie grumbled over his sloppy diner fries.
Drake was more than annoyed and reached over to grab a handful of his partner's meal. The handheld GPS had been stowed away in the trunk while they hunted a pack of black dogs and by the time he'd checked it again, Winchester had been two hours away. There were still two of those bastards missing and if they were going to get paid, they had to deliver all ten corpses.
"Unless you've suddenly hit the lotto and don't need the ten grand that Hoodoo bitch is offering for an entire pack of black dog bodies, we got a couple more dead dogs to get our hands on, moron!" Drake snatched up the check a timid waitress had eased onto the corner of the table and flung it at Lonnie. "Pay the check. I'm hittin' the head."
He'd have loved to turn out onto the highway and catch Dean Winchester with his pants down, but black dog trails went cold fast and they had to get more supplies and get back to it. The man pounded his way to the back of the diner and reached for the men's room doorknob, only to find it locked.
"Shit!" He gave the door a quick pound and growled, "Hurry up in there." Drake leaned against the wall, fuming and twitchy. This Winchester crap had thrown off his entire game. It ate at him to let the ass whupping he'd taken from that boy go unanswered, but the way things were going, by the time they got the dogs, drove to the Gulf to unload then and got paid, catching up with that freak boy and his brother was going to take more trouble than it was worth.
He reached over and beat on the door again.
"We've got ten hours left, Donna. How the hell are we supposed to find them in time?" A red-haired, red-faced man in a cheap suit was blabbering in the booth beside Drake's back and he smiled a little at the thought that somebody may be having a shittier day than he was at the moment.
"Call your buddy and see if he's been able to pick up any activity from his cell," the woman said, nervously tapping her glass. "He's got that little girl with him and there's no way he can go completely underground and unnoticed."
The man leaned back disgustedly in his seat and shoved his uneaten lunch away from him. "I just called him fifteen minutes ago and he said he'd call ME if there was anything new. Winchester's no fool and we're screwed."
Drake felt an enormous silver lining open up and a hallelujah chorus burst into song overhead. Smoothing his hair and straightening his shirt, he approached the group at the booth. "Excuse me, sir, I don't normally stick my nose into other people's business, but you wouldn't happen to be looking for a Dean Winchester, would you?"
The woman practically lurched forward toward him and said, "Yes! Yes we are. Do you know him?"
"That depends, ma'am," Drake said, oozing greasy charm out onto the table top. "Just why are you fine people looking for him?"
The man on the other side of the booth jumped into the conversation. "We're from the Texas Department of Child Welfare. We think he is traveling with a child who could be in danger."
Drake pushed his way onto the seat beside the man, a look of deep concern on his face. "Thank the Lord you people are here to rescue that poor child. I've seen that little girl and she looked scared to death. That Dean Winchester is a violent, dangerous man." He pointed to his wounded neck and bruised face. "He did this to me just the other night for nothing more than looking at him in a local bar." He took the woman's hand in his. "I'd be glad to help you protect that little girl." With a wink, he added, "It takes a village, you know?"
A relieved smile spread across the woman's face and she patted Drake's hand in response. "It's wonderful to know there are men like you out there, sir, willing to protect children from dangerous predators like that Dean Winchester."
"Men like that need to get what's coming to them, ma'am," Drake said, rubbing a thumb over her hand. "You getting that little girl out of that maniac's clutches, well, that's the kind of thing that makes the world a better place."
"Just how can you find him? We're fighting the clock here, Mister..?"
"Drake. The name's Drake." He untangled his hand and stood beside the table. "Come out to my truck and I'll show you everything you need to put your hands on that helpless child."
The trio followed Drake and joined up with a puzzled, but silent, Lonnie. When they reached the parking lot, the red-haired suit stopped Drake and eyed him suspiciously. "You're sure you can point us toward Dean Winchester? We, I mean, that little girl can't afford any mistakes."
"Oh, this will take you right to them, Mister," Drake drawled his response and put his GPS tracker into the man's hand. "All I ask is that when you rescue that sweet, vulnerable child, you tell Dean Winchester who sent you in his direction."
The woman took control of Drake's machine, nodded and all three left in a bland rental car. Drake began to laugh uncontrollably and Lonnie smacked him on the shoulder. "What the fuck was that?!"
"That, my friend, was the sound of the worm turning." Drake smiled after the respectable people heading off to do his dirty work and said, "Let's go play dog catcher."
TBC