Firefly – Chapter 27
By Suz Mc
Dean's entire body fought against Sam's grip as he held on tightly to his brother's legs to keep him from launching himself into the burning wreck. An inferno engulfed the car, snuffing out any chance of survival for anyone inside. His brother's hoarse screams had deteriorated from words to gut twisting sounds that made no sense. Both of them struggled in the dirt, one trying to join a death and the other trying to stop one.
"Let me go, you son of a bitch! Let me go!"
Dean kicked Sam in the chest with his boot, breaking free. He scrambled to his knees only to be flattened back to the ground by another fiery explosion as the flames hit the gas tank. The bright red and yellow flames rolled throughout the metal wreckage, turning midnight into noon.
Sam sat back, bracing himself against the ground with both hands. In the glow of Emily's death pyre, his brother lay face down in the dirt, hammering the earth with his fists. Behind them was a building full of corpses, a body count that was pointless because the one body that should still be among the living was inside that burning car. Dean had vanquished a demon, slaughtered more warriors than could possibly be believed, only to lose his child to a fanatical human being in a fire. His life had come full circle, fire once again destroying any chance he had for happiness, normalcy, and relative sanity.
The entire world had fallen silent except for the crackling fire and Dean's raging sobs. Sam forced himself to his knees and fumbled his way to his brother. His vision was blurred from the smoke and tears and he saw Dean as a hazy shape annihilated on the ground. There was no point in trying to force him to get up, no hope of comforting him. Sam sat down heavy on the ground, putting one hand on his brother's back to at least share the pain with him.
The world was still here. The air, the earth, the stars overhead. But Emily was gone and Dean was going to want to go with her. She'd been his hope for a life he'd given up on ever having, a reason to try to grow old instead of going out in a blaze of glory. Now she was gone and Sam tightened his grip on Dean's back in an attempt to keep him connected to life.
Blood was still oozing from the wounds in Dean's shoulder and Sam turned his attention away from the life he couldn't save to the one he could. Reaching down, he grabbed his shirttail, searching for a relatively clean strip to rip into a bandage and stop the bleeding. His hands were shaking and the operation of destroying his shirt was taking a great deal more effort than he thought it would. Sam turned sideways to get a better grip. Dean had fallen still beside him, slipping into shocked silent grief.
The oppressive heat coming from the burning vehicle stung against Sam's face and he turned away toward the trees into a suddenly cool breeze. It washed over him, drying his wet face. He stayed facing in the direction of that wind, the direction he would have to haul Dean to get back to the Impala if he could ever get him on his feet again. Sam was trying to remember the exact path they took coming in when something caught his eye in the trees.
A light was glowing from behind the trunk of a large tree, about half the distance to where the car was stashed on the other side of the property. It hadn't been there when he started looking in that direction and now it was. It grew brighter as he watched. He jerked Dean's jacket pocket from under his body, and scrambled to get his hands on the binoculars.
Sam yanked the binoculars up to his face, focusing on the now glittering light coming from the forest. Down low near the base of a tree was what appeared to be the tan sleeve of a man's coat. The arm was bent as if holding something. A long length of brown curly hair draped over the fabric and it waved in the breeze that blew through the night.
"Dean! Get up!" Adrenaline shot through Sam's body and he grabbed Dean by his sleeve to force him onto his side.
"Don't!" Dean shook off Sam's grasp and dropped his face back to the ground. One arm was folded under his cheek and he kept his face turned toward the fire as if it was the only way he could still be close to Emily.
"I don't think she's in the car, Dean. Get up and look," Sam called out, getting to his feet.
At this point, Dean was beyond hearing so he had to show him. Looping both arms under his brother's shoulders, Sam heaved him up to his knees. "Look out in the trees, Dean. Damn it! Look!"
He had to grab Dean's face in one hand and hold the binoculars up to his eyes with the other. "See, Dean? That's Emily's hair, isn't it? Somebody's out there behind that tree and Emily's there with him."
Dean stared toward the light, frozen and processing the scene and slowly peeling away his shock and disbelief. It took a few seconds for the reality of what he was seeing through the glass to sink in. When it did, Dean was on his feet, .45 in hand, cutting a path through the trees. He didn't speak, as if he couldn't stand to give voice to the hope as he made a grab for it. Sam followed, silently obeying Dean's hand signals to circle around to the left and box in whoever was on the other side of the trees.
Sam was about a half-second behind Dean in getting to the trees and the glowing light. He watched Dean's face, hard and angry, as he pounded into the clearing. His gun was held in one hand, pointed unmercifully at the target.
"Let her go, you son of a bitch, before I blow your fucking head off!"
Sam moved faster, trying to cover any escape attempt or take out another freak they might have missed from the house. He was thrown off balance when Dean's furious demeanor fell away into a stunned gaping silence.
"Dad?" Dean said the word in a shaking gasp.
The figure of John Winchester didn't speak. He only put one finger to his lips and said, "Shhhhh…"
Dean stood frozen, gasping for air. He lowered the gun a fraction, and then raised it again. "I don't know who the fuck you think you are, but put her down and back away."
The form that looked like Dad didn't react to Dean's orders and he sure as hell didn't react like John Winchester. He sat quietly, almost serene in his posture. One leg was thrown out in front of him and the other was propped up to hold Emily up against his chest. He was holding her gently with her head cradled in the crook of one arm while the other held her bare feet off the leaves and forest litter scattered around the base of the tree. Emily's face was resting on the worn cloth jacket he was wearing, a slight pout on her lips as she slept soundly next to his heart.
"I told her we'd wait out here where it was safe until her daddy came to find her," he said, looking down at Emily, smiling. That in itself was strange; almost as strange as their years dead father sitting in front of them. Sam rarely saw John Winchester's expression hold a smile for more than a second or two. This Dad, or whoever this was, had been smiling like some Cliff Huxtable wannabe since they'd found him.
"Dean, what do you wanna do here?" Sam held his weapon steady, not willing to be tricked into the notion that this was actually John Winchester.
Dean's face was still wet and dirty from his breakdown in front of the exploding car and he was staring a hole directly through the body that looked like their dad. Slowly, he walked forward, jaw tightened against the onslaught of emotions he was dealing with. "Did they send you to take her?" he said, another tear running down his face.
Immediately, Sam realized what Dean was thinking and he felt his own heart constrict at the thought that this John Winchester look alike was really a reaper sent to collect Emily's soul. He stepped a little closer. The soft glowing light reached out to fill the clearing, enveloping all of them.
"No, son," the man said, that odd, warm smile breaking wider across his face. "She's just asleep. I thought it would be best for her to sleep until you got her away from this nightmare." He paused, waiting for Dean's hope to fill up the hole that watching the car explode had dug into his chest. "If you'll put that weapon away, you can come over here and take her. You don't want to hold her while your hand is shaking and you're holding a loaded gun." The man looked over at Sam. "Sammy's still deciding if I'm the real deal. He's got me covered."
In a motion that belied bones and joints, the big man stood, instantly going from reclining on the ground to standing upright. Emily remained undisturbed and snuggled tightly against his body. One handed, he slid his large fingers behind the little girl's neck and untied the black ribbon, letting it fall to the ground. Her skin was red where the band had rubbed against her throat and he brushed fingertips over it as if trying to soothe her.
Dean let go, falling fully into the idea that Emily was truly alive and being held by the one and only John Winchester. He jammed the pistol into his belt and moved in to risk touching his fantasy. He wiped dirty hands on his jeans and ran one palm over his face. When he put his hand on her head, all of the pent up pain and sorrow rushed out, drawing a hard catching sound from his chest.
"Is she okay? Is she hurt?" He took her into his arms, rocking her slowly and kissing her forehead. She stayed sound asleep, but wriggled up beside his neck, a satisfied smile taking over the pout.
John put one hand on Emily's head and another on Dean's shoulder. "The wound on her arm is busted up, she's got a little bump on her head, and a couple of scrapes from running through the brush but that's it. She'll be fine. When she wakes up, she won't remember today. I wish I could take away more, but it's the best I can do."
"You can really do that? Make her forget today and what happened?" Dean was holding his face close to hers, taking in every breath she made.
"Like I said, today I can. She's going to be fine. She's got her dad."
Dean kept his eyes on Emily's face, as if he thought she could turn into dust at any second. "Are you sure she's okay? When I got there, this bastard was alone with her and he was going to hurt her. He was--"
"You got there in time." John stroked Emily's hair, and laughed. "She's fast, this one. After she bit a plug out of that bitch's arm and got away, I really had to pour on the juice to catch up to her. When I did, she came right to me, like she knew who I was."
"I showed her your picture," Sam said, lowering his weapon slightly.
"You did? That must be it then," John said, happiness still weirdly decorating his face.
There were cards that had to be laid out on the table and Dean was too off balance after watching what he thought was Emily's scorching death then getting her back in the space of a few minutes to pin down the hard facts. It was odd to see him this way. Dean was the skeptic, the one who demanded to be shown the truth. Sam had to take that role now for all of their sakes.
"How can you be here, Dad?" Sam lowered the weapon more, realizing he'd just called this person, or thing, or whatever it was "Dad."
"Your brother asked for help, Sammy. There was quite a line, but I was able to push my way to the front of it." He raised his eyebrow as if congratulating himself. "Just reminded them I had special skills."
"The broken neck and the exploding rental car? That was you?"
That got the true John Winchester I'm-proud-to-be-a-badass grin. "I may be dead, but I'm still me."
Sam dropped his weapon and laughed out loud. "It's him, Dean."
"You heard me?" Dean was finally putting himself full on into this reality where Emily was alive and safe in his arms and his dad was standing in front of him. "So what? Now you're an angel?"
"God, no!" John almost sounded offended.
"Holding out for the top job, Dad?" Sam couldn't help but poke at his father. The entire situation was surreal, almost silly.
"Look, boys, I'm still figuring out how all this works. I can't just jump down here when I want. This will probably be the only time. It's complicated." John was holding Emily's hand lightly with only a couple of his fingers. "She's beautiful, Dean. A granddaughter. Wow." He kissed the little fingers and laughed. "Payback is going to be a bitch for you, boy."
"Dad, I don't know what I'm doing." Dean's voice had lost the grown man quality and he'd faded back to his secondary spot next to Dad.
John moved his hand from Dean's shoulder to his face and looked at him for what seemed like a very long time. He still had Emily's fingers resting on his own and had created this intimate, private loop between the three of them. With his voice low and rough with emotion, he said, "You're going to be a much better father than you had, Son."
John changed his focus to Sam and the look from his father disassembled the armor he'd spent years building up to protect himself from Dad's never ending disappointed onslaughts. "The first kid you raised turned out pretty good."
"Dad, I've got things I need to tell you, things I need to ask you." Dean was holding on to John's sleeve, trying to keep him from disappearing.
He didn't wait for Dean to voice the unspoken questions that had kept him up at night for years. "Dean, you don't need to tell me or ask me anything. Hell is long gone for you, Son, for both of us. What happened with Calley is in the past. You have more important business here in the now where none of that other stuff matters."
"You know about Calley?"
"I do." John shifted his tone a bit, like he knew he had to firm up his approach to get Dean to trust what he was saying. "It's time for you to go home."
"Home?"
"Yeah, home, Dean."
"You mean Lawrence, don't you?"
"Yep. Home. What should have always been home."
"Well, Dad, someone kinda lives in 'home' and she wouldn't be too keen on boarders."
"Go to Samuel's place. You've been there before," John said, a small huff of laughter breaking from his chest before he added, "Dean Van Halen. You do get around, boy." He looked down at Emily, as if he was memorizing her face. "Go back to Samuel's, to Lawrence."
"Why?"
"There might be some solutions for you there. Your mom couldn't face that place but maybe you can."
"Can you be a little more specific?"
"What would be the fun in that?"
"Yep, he's definitely Dad." Sam jumped into the conversation. At least one thing was constant about his dad -- no information was going to be given away freely.
John's new smile faded away slightly. "I need to take care of one more thing before I go." He took Emily's wounded arm and reached to unwind the gauze.
"Wait!" Dean stopped him with a sharp word then quieted his tone as Emily stirred against him. "You can't do that. It hurts her."
"Dean, I won't hurt her. I promise." Slowly, he began to unwrap the bloody bandage, paying careful attention to his movements and hers. "That mark on your arm reminds you that there are things greater than yourself and dealing with the dark side is a bad idea." When he'd exposed the bloody, torn burn, he paused, holding Emily's arm in his large hand.
"Damn."
He whispered the curse, not able to cover the anger that flashed over his face. Someone had squeezed and twisted the burn until even the healed portions had broken open again. "Hurting her was an easy way to control her. Fucking cowards." He calmed his voice and took in a deep breath as if preparing for something. "This only serves to give Emily pain and keep her fear alive. It's just another burden when this baby girl already has a full load. It also makes her too easy to find if Amora isn't gone for good."
That perked Dean's senses into red alert. "You think the icon didn't destroy her?"
"I'm not sure, Dean. We'll just have to wait and see." Turning his focus back to the child's arm, he leaned close to the wound and began to blow his breath softly over Emily's skin. The gruesome scar, the blood, and the crusted torn flesh disintegrated into dust that glittered off into the breeze. As they watched, John's breath forced the wound from Emily's arm, sending it off into the air and leaving only fresh, pale skin where the angry melted flesh had been.
Dean watched, stunned at the miracle his father's breath had just performed. "What the hell?!"
"Holy shit, Dad. You can really do that?" Sam watched as his father, the father who shunned all things not normal and human, used actual supernatural powers to heal his granddaughter.
"Looks like it," John said, planting a kiss on Emily's newly repaired arm. "At least I can today. Don't know about tomorrow. Like I said, it's complicated." He straightened and got that full, happy smile on his face once again. Taking a step away from Dean, he said, "I have to go."
"Wait, you just got here!" Dean moved to reach out to his father but he'd already moved on to stand in front of his younger son.
Being the sole focus of John Winchester was always a bit scary for Sam, even without Dad's new magic tricks and smiley face. Those happy moments of being close to his father had been crushed under harsh words and arguments. Even when his dad had crawled out of Hell through an open door, Sam had only rated a quick nod and a smile. Dean always seemed to need the attention more, like it was his water and air. Sam had learned to live without it long before leaving his father's authority. He'd prided himself in not needing anything from the larger than life John Winchester.
But it was a lie and he knew it. He wanted his father to look at him, to want to talk to him and acknowledge him, to give a damn if HE was okay. When he felt Dad's hands on his neck, it was strange and startling and he wasn't sure how to react.
"Sammy, you've done good, son. I'm so proud of you."
"Dad, you don't have to—"
"Yes, I do. I've always told your brother to look out for you. Now, I'm leaving those two with you, Sammy. They're both going to need help that only you can give them and I know that you'll do what's right for them." When the hug wrapped around him, it was odd and he resisted at first but John held on, not letting Sam pull away or make light of the moment. It felt better than Sam thought it could feel, to be accepted by his father, entrusted with the protector role over Dean for once, to be loved just for being Sam.
Sam returned the embrace. "Don't worry, Dad. I've got it covered."
"I know you do. You're an amazing kid – I mean, you're a good man." John squeezed him in more tightly as the sensation of holding changed. The "I love you, Son," breezed into Sam's ear, the touch turned to mist, and Dad was gone.
TBC