The Aspen Spirit
Chapter Ten
.
They hadn't seen any signs of Lacey since the incident outside the barn. Perhaps it was the shock of the shotgun blasts, or maybe the surprise of Dean's words? Whatever the reason, she was noticeably absent. Dean thought even the aspens didn't look as colorful as usual. It might've been the dawn light, but he had a weird feeling that somehow their appearance was enhanced by Lacey's emotions. If that was the case, she was sulking… although how a bunch of trees gave an impression they were sulking was beyond him.
As soon as it was fully light, they made a move to the hospital. Joe was clearly in a lot of pain and there was only so much John could do to fix a broken shoulder. They left the ranch house in a wary pack, weapons at the ready, but nothing stirred and they made it to town and into the warm fug of the waiting room without incident. Joe went down to surgery almost immediately and with Lacey likely to reappear in the vicinity of either Joe or Dean, it seemed best to remain in the same building. The Winchesters settled in for a long wait.
.
On the mountain, life continued much as it did every day without the interference of humans. The sun rose and climbed over the peaks above the cabin, slid too slowly for the eye to track across the patch of cobalt blue sky and inched its way down again.
It was mid-afternoon when the aspens nearest the cabin began to shake and tremble, a little too fast for the flow of air across the slope. The movement built slowly until every silver trunk in sight was in motion, quaking, shuddering with an unnatural energy until there was a sudden surge and the unseen force was moving, rippling across the mountain slopes from golden tree to golden tree, roaring through stands of slender trunks, leaping like wildfire across gaps filled with pines or mountain grass.
When the flow reached the ranch house, it stopped, paused, swirled. After a while a small tendril reached out and grew slowly alongside the road, feeling its way from tree to tree, exploring, moving gradually towards the hospital.
.
Dean stood by the enormous plate glass window, his empty coffee cup twisted and crushed between his fingers. Somewhere behind him in the waiting room John and Sam were arguing. He wasn't even sure how it'd started. A snarky comment, a sharp put down, a few truths and untruths and they were off. Again. Another layer on top of other, older fights, building up in the enclosed space of the Winchester's tiny family until Dean felt he was suffocating under a mass of angry words and feelings and misunderstandings. He'd tried to smooth it over, keep neutral, all the time feeling as though he was being stretched ever thinner on some invisible rack. Eventually the angry words seemed to suck up all of the oxygen and he'd retreated, struggling to pull a lungful of air into his tight chest.
Even now, twenty minutes and a cup of vile machine coffee later, he had to concentrate. Clench your teeth, don't move, breathe in, breathe out, don't friggin' think about it. I gotta think about it; it's my fault. We should've ganked this ghost and been outta here. If I hadn't got sick… my fault. I can't hear them. That's good… Is that good? Are they really pissed now? What's gonna happen if Sam says somethin' about… 'bout college. Crap. College. He's gonna GO! He CAN'T go! But he has to go 'cause this life, it's no good for him. But what's Dad gonna do? Shit… how can I look after Sammy if he's not here? What am I gonna do?
Dean's heart hammered, the blood pulsing in his ears, breath too quick now, almost dizzy. He stood perfectly still, everything locked inside a statue of tense muscle and taut bone clad in ragged denim and leather, only the white skin around his nostrils and the tightness at the corner of his eyes indicating the trauma behind the perfect features.
Behind him he heard Sam's voice, a snap in the tone, followed by the thud of the toilet door. John's boots sounded, squeaking on the shiny floor until they stopped at the corner of the corridor. Dean knew his father watched him, felt his silent, brooding gaze burning into his shoulders. He froze, refusing to turn, forgetting to breathe, until the boots squeaked back to the waiting area.
Breathe, just breathe. Why can't they just stop? Please… just stop.
The cup crumpled a little more, a trickle of coffee running cold over his fingers and dripping onto the floor. Dean stared at the tiny puddle, unwanted dregs, chilly, discarded, wondered if it was his life dripping away. On the other side of the plate glass an aspen tree shivered on the patch of grass the hospital optimistically described as a garden. Shivered and settled, as though it was waiting.
.
The night crawled by, long silences interspersed with wounded sighs from Sam and ragged snores from John. Dean dozed fitfully, his frame twisted awkwardly on the hard plastic chairs, drawn time and time again to the big window and the wide open space outside. The tree in the middle of the grass patch seemed to be moving independently of any of the nearby bushes or trees. By 3 am, half asleep and eyes sore with tiredness, Dean was sure it was beckoning to him.
Joe signed himself out first thing next morning. White with pain, he looked at them from shadowed eyes and said simply, "She's here."
Dean thought about the lone tree on the hospital grass and wasn't inclined to argue.
.
They drove back to the ranch house with the morning sun behind them, scattering the crumbs and grease of a drive thru breakfast onto the upholstery of the truck seats. Joe rode shotgun up next to John, it being easier to get into the front seat with a broken shoulder. He chewed his breakfast and swallowed painkillers and coffee with a grim determination.
Alongside them the trees rippled, almost as though the passage of the truck created a bow wave of energy.
"She's letting us pass." John observed grimly.
"We're doin' what she wants I guess." Joe's voice was steady.
John raised an eyebrow. "Why the aspens?"
"She loved 'em I guess. Pretty girl, pretty tree." Joe sighed, looked away. "Hung herself from one in the end."
Sam's head came up, interest sharpening his features.
"If Lacey's spirit went into the tree where she died, mebbe she can travel through them somehow?" He frowned, squinting under his bangs as he pulled something out of the recesses of his mind. "I read something about Japan. Way back, they thought nature deities lived in the trees. Kodama, I think? They figured the nature spirits could travel through the forest from tree to tree. I guess Lacey found a way?"
"Sounds good, Sam." John nodded his agreement in the mirror. Sam looked pleased. It was a peace offering of sorts.
John turned his dark gaze to the road ahead, kept it fixed there, his calloused fingers loose on the wheel.
"I guess we could drive away. No aspens. No Lacey."
It was said in a flat tone, but it was a challenge and everyone in the truck knew it.
"Not leavin' innocents to suffer." The answer from Joe, immediate, mild. He didn't even bother to turn towards John, keeping his gaze aimed at the treeline.
A small smile curved the corner of John's mouth beneath the grizzled stubble. Challenge accepted. Test passed. Mary's kin came from a good bloodline.
Behind him in the backseat, his eldest son kept his face impassive and hoped he was worthy of his mother's blood.
.
So… we're heading for a show down…
.
If you're in a region that has holidays this weekend, enjoy!
Many thanks for reading, following, favoriting and reviewing; you keep us poor writers scribbling away!
: ) Special thanks to reviewers:
Duxe, Minion79, celinenaville, mckydstarlight, iwokeuponthewrongsideoflife, waitingforAslan, ngregory763, OnANickle, Beakers47, babyreaper, lenail125, MicheleChadwick, Kathy, DearHart, Irreality, wildandsweet, Tsweeny, Wunjo and Sabidoche, grishma239, arwenadreamer and bagelcat1