Okay, the Hell House chapter is finally here!! I do have several more chapters after this one written and in the beta-ing process. They go pretty AU, by request. Thanks again to all the editors on this fic and to everyone reading it.
Chapter Eight: Ties That Bind
(Shadow)
Dean glanced back at Sam, carrying an overstuffed duffel. "Why didn't you just leave that stuff in the car?"
"I've said it before, and I'll say it again – better safe than sorry," Sam insisted. Dean could tease him from now until doomsday, which was nearly today, and he would stand by his gut feeling. His gut told him this was not quite over.
Dean opened the door to their room. As Sam reached for the light switch, Dean hollered "Hey!" Sam flipped the lights on as Dean's gun pointed into the dark room. "Dad?"
"Hey, boys." Dad's familiar baritone voice penetrated the room.
Sam's hand trembled against the wall. Dean approached Dad slowly. Now he would know; he would see the truth for himself. Dad's arms opened and embraced Dean in a tight hug. Sam imagined if he could watch Dad hug him, it would look the same. Of course, there was no guarantee that would happen.
Dad moved Dean to the side, approached Sam. "Hi, Sam."
"Hey, Dad." Sam lowered the weapons bag to the floor.
"Dad, it was a trap," the note of anxiety in Dean's voice was prominent. "I didn't know. I'm sorry."
Dad turned to the side, where Dean could see his face and that blanket of sincerity he had worn for as long as Sam could remember. "It's all right. I thought it might've been."
"Were you there?" Dean asked softly.
"Yeah, I got there just in time to see the girl take a swan dive. She was the bad guy, right?"
"Yes, sir," Sam responded automatically, in perfect sync with Dean.
Dad's eyebrows lifted, eyes darting between them. "Good. Well, it doesn't surprise me. It's tried to stop me before."
"The demon has?" Sam demanded.
Dad nodded. "It knows I'm close. It knows I'm gonna kill it. Not just exorcise it or send it back to hell – actually kill it." Sam almost smiled at that tone. He always believed Dad when he sounded like that, even if logic dictated it was a lie.
"How?" Dean asked from behind Dad.
Dad smiled, turning to include Dean in the conversation. "I'm working on that."
"Let us come with you," Sam demanded. "We'll help." He ignored any look coming from Dean.
"No, Sam. Not yet." Dad sighed, eyes dropping for an instant. "Just try to understand. This demon is a scary son of a bitch." Dad's eyes bored into him, impressing the words on his brain. "I don't want you caught in the crossfire. I don't want you hurt."
"Dad," Sam pushed back his irritation, knowing that was the quickest way to get a NO, "you don't have to worry about us."
Dad's eyes widened at that. It took Sam a moment to realize it was the 'us' that caught Dad off guard. Well, turn about was fair play. It wasn't like Dad ever called or wrote to warn him about Dean. His imagination conjured that letter for him: Dear Sam, guess what? The stork dropped off an older brother for you. I'm sure you can't wait to meet him.
"Of course I do. I'm your father." Dad scratched the back of his neck, that telltale sign of nervousness. "Listen, Sammy. Last time we were together, we had one hell of a fight."
Dean's eyes were wide over Dad's shoulder. "Yes, sir," Sam replied.
"It's good to see you again. It's been a long time." Dad's arms opened.
Sam reached for his dad, pulling him in tight. "Too long." They stood there a long time in that hug, trying to wash away the past years of estrangement and mixed emotions. Finally they released each other. Sam wiped the tears from his cheeks as he glanced at Dean, expecting some kind of 'chick' comment. Instead he saw Dean with watery eyes.
Before Sam could open his mouth, a force hooked around his middle and dragged him backward. He heard what sounded like a body slamming into the cabinets behind him. "No!" Dean's voice shouted through the room.
Sam glanced up as Dean was thrown the other way. The pressure around his chest eased. Sam groped for the bag. He rummaged around until his hand hit what he wanted. Pulling a couple of flares out, Sam shouted "Shut your eyes! These are shadow demons, so let's light 'em up!" He ignited the flare, looking away. The brilliant light blinded him for a moment. Sam threw one flare across the room before lighting a second.
"Dad!" Dean's voice pierced the room.
"Over here!" Sam followed his father's voice and the sounds of Dean's movements. Together, they managed to escape the room with Dad and the weapons.
What happened after that, though, really blew Sam's mind.
"How could you do that, Dean?" Sam turned pleading eyes on his brother who was driving the car. Man, they had a lot to clean and bandage. Dean's face looked like he just finished fighting a grizzly. "We've been looking for him for months! Were you afraid if Dad and I were together that we'd dump you?" The words of the shapeshifter about how Dean expected everyone around him to leave sprang to mind.
That expression of absolute amazement crossed Dean's face. "What the hell are you talking about, Sam?"
"Why did we just let Dad leave, Dean!" Sam's voice filled the car.
Dean sighed, shaking his head. "Sam, they used us to get to Dad. We make him vulnerable."
"We are stronger as a family, Dean!" Sam stopped just after the words left his mouth. Yes, he did mean that. "The three of us, we're a family. We're stronger together!"
Dean shook his head, staring into the night. "I don't think it works like that, Sam."
Sam glared in his brother's direction. "Then I'll just have to prove it to you."
--
(Hell House)
They walked down the street in a small town with a ghost problem. At least, Sam thought it was a ghost, Dean thought it was a prank. Dean was hungry, big surprise, so they planned to hit the local pizza joint.
"Jerry!"
Arguing about whether or not it could be an angry spirit, they ignored the shout.
"Jerry Whitehead!"
Now Sam glanced around. "What's wrong, Sammy?" Dean asked. He gave up a while back trying to get Dean to call him Sam.
Sam shook his head. "Probably nothing."
"Jerry!" A guy close to Dean's age ran across the street, forcing a car to slam on its brakes. "Man, is that you?" The guy grinned broadly, slapped Dean in the shoulder. "It is you! Good to see you, Jerry. Man, of all places to cross paths, huh? It's been, what? Eight, nine years? What brings you here?"
Sam raised an eyebrow as Dean grinned. "Oh, just work. And you?" His eyes darted back and forth between them. Now what?
"The same. Yeah." The guy's head bobbed. "I'm an insurance claims adjuster. My company sent me out to check up on a couple of the deaths in that Hell House place. Heard of it?"
Dean nodded slowly. "Yeah, a little. My brother was telling me about it. It really has a website?"
"I said it was featured on the website Hell-Hounds-Lair-dot-com," Sam interjected. Dean gave him that 'duh' look. Well, okay, so he didn't want to be forgotten. Dean could sue him for it later.
"Your brother?" The guy looked Sam up and down hard enough to make Sam feel just a little uneasy. "You never mentioned a brother. I thought you lived with foster parents?"
Dean grinned. "Not for a long time now. This is my brother, Sam."
Sam held out a hand, wondering if the guy would bother to introduce himself. "Nice to meet you, Sam." Sam did not like the way the guy said his name. "I'm Bob Reiner."
"Nice to meet you, Bob," Sam said, shaking his hand. Bob's handshake was a little too firm for Sam's liking, so he squeezed back. When Bob took his hand back, he had to shake it out. Sam heard Dean's chuckle, so he figured he would not be in the doghouse because of it. "So, you two go back a ways?"
"High school," Dean supplied, looking amused. "Bob was one of those jerk jocks."
"Jerry here was the local autoshop wizard. Anything you wanted done to your car, he could do it," Bob said.
"That sounds like him," Sam agreed. "Uh, well, we were just going to lunch." He caught Dean's eye. "Should I go grab a table?"
"Lunch sounds good," Bob said, smiling. "Where are we going?"
Something flashed across Dean's face, but it was too quick for Sam to catch. "Pizza."
"Works for me," Bob said, leading the way to the closest pizza place.
Sam tried to catch Dean's eye, figure out if he wanted to talk to this guy, but Dean just gave him a shove in the shoulder. So Sam followed, like he usually did. They took a booth and Dean slid in to sit beside him. Bob beamed at them, like the guy suddenly knew something really juicy. Sam's gut twisted. He wondered if Bob still lived in Dean's hometown. Maybe he shouldn't have put his name on those flowers for the funeral.
"You remember Joe Williams? Head of the debate team?" Bob asked before their server showed up. "He went to law school. Got a good little accidental injury practice."
"Sounds about right," Dean muttered.
Their server, a cute gal with brown hair that framed her face in curls, walked up. "What can I get you boys to drink?"
"Coke," Bob ordered.
"Beer," Dean said.
"Pitcher," Sam corrected. Even after Dean gave him a look, Sam told her, "and there's a good tip if you hurry back with it." Dean followed it up by throwing her the kind of wink that makes girls blush. She giggled and hurried away from their table.
"Think they sell it by the slice here?" Bob asked.
"God, I hope so," Dean muttered, his eyes still plastered to the girl's backend.
Sam nudged him, not so subtly. Dean's attention snapped back to the table. "What?"
"The pizza, Dean," Sam muttered.
"Oh, right." Dean picked up the menu, though Sam wondered why he bothered. Dean always ordered the same kind of pizza, no matter where they were.
The girl came back with one coke, a pitcher of beer and two frosted glasses. She set them on the table, giving Sam a meaningful look. He nodded. She would be getting that tip. But with the way Dean was looking at her, Sam knew that his brother might have another kind of tip in mind.
"Ready to order?" she asked.
Sam had not looked at the menu, but these places were almost always the same. "Small pepperoni for me."
"I'll take a medium with damn near everything you got on it," Dean said, his voice with that deep pitch that meant Sam could expect Dean and the cute waitress to disappear for fifteen or twenty minutes, especially if she kept making those eyes at Dean.
"I'll share theirs," Bob announced, handing the menus back.
Their waitress leaned way over Dean, giving him an eyeful as she took the menus. Sam leaned over to whisper. "You are not sticking me with Bob."
Dean turned to look at him, startled. "Sammy? Would I do that?"
"Do what?" Bob asked.
Sam crossed his arms over his chest. "Never mind." He scowled.
Bob looked like he just hit paydirt. Great. Perfect. He definitely knew about the flowers. Where was their food?
Bob prattled on about people from Dean's high school and what they were doing now. "So what are you doing now, Jerry?"
"What?" Dean nearly sprayed beer all over Bob.
"I said, what do you do? You know, for a living?" Bob asked, leaning back into the bench seat.
"Uhhhh…" Dean turned to Sam, eyes pleading with him.
Yeah. Dean sucked at lying. "He's a mechanic," Sam said, eyes searching for the waitress and food.
"Here?" Bob asked, voice suspicious.
"We're on a road trip," Dean said quickly. "Sam…" his voice trailed off. "We're on a road trip." He sounded firmer the second time, like he dared Bob to question it.
Now Bob focused on Sam. "What kind of road trip?"
Pizza appeared in front of Sam. Oh, thank God. He shoved a slice in his mouth to duck answering.
"Dude, I gotta, uh, hit the head." Dean slid out of the booth. Unfortunately, since his mouth was full of pizza, Sam could not call his idiot brother back. All he could do was watch helplessly as Dean followed the cute waitress into the back, sticking him with Bob. Oh, Dean so owed him. Sam crammed the rest of this slice into his mouth. How long could he hold Bob off?
Ten minutes later, Sam decided Bob was a world class idiot and Dean was ducking him on purpose. That was forgivable. Sticking Sam with the idiot, that was not.
"So where do you think Jerry got off to?" Bob asked, leaning out of the booth to peer down the hallway toward the bathrooms.
"To get off," Sam mumbled around a mouthful of pizza.
"What?" Bob asked, looking back at Sam.
Sam shook his head. When he glanced at the back room where his brother and the waitress headed into, Sam saw him striding toward them. Sam swallowed what was still in his mouth. Dean slid into the booth with a wide grin. "Hope this didn't get cold. Man, I'm starvin'!"
"I'll bet," Sam ground out. Dean flashed him that bright, lop-sided grin that confirmed everything Sam figured Dean was up to in that back room. "So I take it I don't have to leave a big tip?"
Dean chuckled. "Nah, got that under control, little brother."
Sam rolled his eyes to more chuckling.
"Hey," Dean said with a mouthful of pizza, "what were you two talking about?"
Bob did not appear surprised by Dean talking with his mouth full. Sam guessed it was not a new bad habit. "Just telling Sam here about some of the guys we went to school with," Bob answered.
Dean rolled his eyes, sharing a look with Sam. At least he knew he owed Sam. Sam took some solace in that. Dean swallowed. "God, you've been out here boring Sammy half to death? Okay Sam, you get the backroom next time."
Sam choked on his beer. Dean slapped him hard on the back a few times until he had his breathing back under control. "Don't," he breathed, setting his beer back down, "I'll get my own women, thanks."
Dean scoffed. "Yeah, right. When?"
Sam shot him that 'shut up or die' look and Dean turned back to Bob. "So, anybody we know rich and famous?" He lifted another slice to his wide open mouth. Bob stuttered only a moment before plunging back into his monologue on their graduating class.
Sam concentrated on draining their pitcher of beer. That Bob could really talk.
"Look, it's been a real slice," Dean's voice penetrated Sam's beer focus, "but we got to be going."
Sam slid out after Dean, watching his brother throw a few bills down on the table. Sam opened his wallet to add a few more dollars. Dean gave him an incredulous look that clearly said she had been tipped enough. Sam gestured to his pitcher of beer, which had nothing to do with that and was probably the only reason he had been able to put up with Bob. Dean shrugged, putting his wallet away. Sam paused at the door to make sure the right waitress collected their money.
Her hair was damp and her clothes a little disheveled, which was to be expected. Sam shook his head, following Dean and Bob outside. How did Dean do that? Maybe he should be taking notes.
"Come on, Jer," Bob was saying in a low voice, "he wouldn't be the first loser we ditched."
Sam looked over just in time to see Dean smile. It was the same smile his brother had for his latest mark in the pool hall. Sam wondered what Dean had in mind, but knowing Dean he would not have long to wonder. Dean motioned to Sam behind his back. Sam moved closer. He held a packet in his hand.
Sam palmed the packet, turned away to inspect it. It was the itching powder the bastard used on him this morning! Sam bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. He turned back to watch for his signal, having some idea of what Dean wanted him to do.
"Now, Bob," Dean stepped into Bob's personal space, forcing the man to take a step back. That malicious grin prevalent, Dean kept backing Bob up right into Sam. Dean gave him a quick nod, so Sam dumped the remaining contents of the itching powder down the back of Bob's collar. "I really don't appreciate you talking about my brother that way."
Bob's face contorted, one hand rising to pull at his collar. Dean's head tilted to one side. "Don't get me wrong. Sam can take care of himself." With one hand Dean shoved Bob across the sidewalk until his back pressed against a brick wall. "But I really don't like people I know picking on my family. Bob." The smile was gone, replaced by that look he found on Dean's face in the Benders' house.
"Come on," Sam suggested, pulling at Dean's shoulder. "He's not worth it."
Dean snarled, allowing Sam to lead him away. "Oh, and the name is Dean."
They fell into step as they headed for their motel. "You do know, that doesn't mean you're off the hook for the itching powder."
Dean chuckled, shaking out the tension from his shoulders. "Bring it on, Itchy."
"Jerk," Sam snapped, but it felt good.
"Bitch." His eyes sparkled with good humor.
"You do know, I'd kill anybody else who called me that," Sam felt the need to point it out.
"But we're family?" Dean asked, sounding confident but the fact it was phrased as a question told Sam what he needed to know.
Sam leaned over, knocking into his shoulder as they walked. "Better believe it." He cleared his throat. "Now, next time we see Dad…"
Dean groaned, rolling his eyes. Yeah, Sam had been hammering that one a lot lately. Well, he still had a full tube of Super Glue in his pocket, now all he needed for a perfect day was the opportunity to use it.