Demon Blood

Chapter Seven: The Roadhouse

This chapter includes some dialogue and action from 2.02 "Everybody Loves a Clown".

For over a week following Thomas' exorcism, Sam was allowed to recuperate. True, they still made him drink demon blood three times a day, and yes, the amount of blood made him want to be sick on one level while another craved what he got and lusted after more, but he was getting more sleep, and one demon was actually working on redeveloping his food intake. Sam was surprised by how healthy his meals suddenly were, with plenty of colors, fiber, and healthy amounts of protein.

During that time, Sam had another muddled vision, this time with a guy who appeared to be Dean shooting someone he couldn't make out in a place that might have been a clinic. Or something. It left him feeling very confused. He also found it was getting easier to control the telekinesis, and he'd spend hours moving various objects the demons brought him through the air, practicing balance and fine motor control. The fact that none of these objects were hard, heavy or sharp didn't escape his attention, and even though he hated himself for his curiosity, he couldn't bring himself to stop anymore.

"As long as I'm around, nothing bad is gonna happen to you."

Dean had tried so hard to stay strong for him, had listened to him, stayed by his side through everything, and now Sam was alone. And a lot of bad things were happening to him. Dean had always been there, every time Sam needed him, and every time he didn't. Sam had always looked up to him, trusted him in ways he had never trusted his father. No matter what trouble he ended up in, Dean had always come to the rescue, but now, as the days dragged on, Sam found he was starting to lose hope, thinking that maybe it was best if his dad and Dean never found him. He didn't deserve to be saved, didn't deserve a brother like Dean. He was tainted and losing sight of the faith he had carried in his heart as a child despite the horrors that he knew lay beneath the shadows. For the first time, he really understood Dean's lack of faith in angels and even God. How could someone so powerful and wonderful allow so many bad things like this to happen?

The plastic ball Sam had levitated suddenly dropped to the ground, bouncing a few times before rolling away and coming to a stop in the far corner of the room. There was no help coming for Sam, no salvation and definitely no forgiveness. So, what was the point of fighting? He'd been marked since before he was born, after all.

I'm sorry. Mary's apology that night in Kansas suddenly made a lot more sense. She had made the deal to save John and damned Sam's life in the process. And yet, Sam couldn't hate her for it. He didn't think she'd known exactly what Azazel was going to do ten years down the line. Hell, for all he knew, she had forced herself to forget everything until the night she died. Sam imagined she had run away from the world of Hunting, from the supernatural just as he had, and they had both paid dearly for it. And now, Sam didn't think there was a reason to hold onto his hope, to keep fighting. Azazel was going to win.

"Aren't you worried that I could turn into Max?"

And suddenly, Sam found the reason for why he should keep fighting.

"Nope. No way. You know why?"

"No. Why?"

"'Cause you got one advantage that Max didn't have."

"Dad? Because Dad's not here, Dean."

"No. Me."

Sam closed his eyes, remembering every time Dean had been there to catch him, to support him, to knock some sense into him, to save him. Sam loved his dad, but Dean had always been there. Dean, who told him the truth, who looked out for him when no one else cared. Yes, Sam felt damned, felt like a freak, but if he knew anything with absolute certainty, it was that Dean would tear the world apart to find him, to save him. Dean would want him to stay strong. Dean would never want Sam to give in to these cravings for demon blood.

Just then, the door to Sam's room opened and Tara entered, carrying a fresh bowl of demon blood while the two burly demons followed behind her. "Time for your dinner dose," she said with a light smile.

Sam would stay strong because he knew that was what his big brother would want, and Sam trusted him above all others. So, he put on the best smirk he could manage as he met Tara's eyes.

"Make me," was all he said.

"Here?" Dean asked skeptically.

"Yes," John answered with a snort. "She's waiting for us, c'mon."

Shaking his head, Dean slid out of the Impala, taking in the building before them. It looked pretty sturdy, but pretty old, too. "Harvelle's Roadhouse," Dean said aloud. "How do you know this Ellen, again?"

"Husband was a Hunter," John answered, striding toward the entrance.

"Was?" Dean questioned. John paused just before grabbing the door's handle and another one of those sad looks crossed his eyes briefly.

"We had a bad hunt together," he said after a moment. "He didn't make it."

"Oh," Dean said, shifting awkwardly. "Sorry."

John sighed and scrubbed at his face. "It was a long time ago," he said, and pulled the door open. Dean silently followed him inside.

There were a few men seated in one corner who looked up when John and Dean entered, eyeing John before nodding respectfully. John nodded back and approached the counter where a brunnete was cleaning glasses. "Hey, Ellen," John said, actually looking a little uncomfortable.

"Hey, John," Ellen replied with a warm smile, setting down the glass in her hand and coming around the counter. She pulled John into a hug and the awkwardness dissolved at once. "It's been too long."

"Yeah," John said with a small smile of his own. "That it has. How's Jo?"

"Good, she's out back right now," Ellen said before catching sight of Dean. "This your oldest?"

"Hi," Dean said, holding out a hand. "Dean."

"Nice to meet you, Dean," Ellen said, taking the proffered hand and giving it a firm handshake. "Don't you have another boy?" she asked John.

"Yeah, Sam," John sighed. "He's the reason we're here."

Ellen's face was immediately troubled. "What happened?"

John glanced at the other Hunters in the corner. "Could we talk somewhere more private?" he asked. "It's really complicated." Ellen eyed John for a moment.

"Yeah," she said, "yeah, I can do that. Jo!" she called as the back door slammed.

"What?" a girl's voice shouted back.

"I need to watch the bar for me, okay?"

Dean watched as a young blonde stepped out from the back room. "Yeah, sure," she said, eyeing Dean for a moment. He couldn't help but return the look, earning an eye roll from his father and a playful smirk from Jo.

"Thanks," Ellen said before guiding John and Dean into a private room. "All right, John, what's going on? Did you find that demon?"

"Wait, you knew about it?" Dean asked. Ellen shrugged.

"News travels fast," was all she said before returning her gaze to John.

"Yeah, I found it," John answered after a long moment. He explained about the Colt, the deaths of Jim Murphy and Caleb, the demon Meg wanting the Colt, Sam's visions, being possessed by Azazel, and the showdown in the small cabin in the middle of nowhere. "And then he left, still possessing Sam and with the Colt in hand."

John paused and Ellen finally spoke up. "Your son was given demon blood that night?" she asked softly, a look of shock and sadness ghosting over her face. John sighed and nodded. "My God, John, that's awful. How was he even coping with that?"

"Not well," Dean answered. "Before we knew about the blood, it was just those damn visions, and it really freaked him out. He honestly thought he was going to turn darkside. Didn't matter what I said to him and I bet knowing what happened the night Mom died is eating him up inside right now." He shook his head, thinking of his little brother. "It gets worse, though."

"What could be worse?" Ellen asked, looking between John and Dean. John picked up the story again, talking briefly about Dean's stay in the hospital before going on to describe trying to track everywhere Azazel had been in the past to see if they could possibly narrow the search for the special children whose mother's hadn't died in house fires. "He strongly favors the Midwest," John added after a moment. "We were also trying to find signs of where he might be currently, but then a girl named Marian turned up at Bobby's place."

Ellen paled as John told her Marian's story about being possessed and Sam saving her by using the powers granted to him through the demon blood they were feeding him. "More blood?" she cut in. "Why the hell are they doing that?"

"Increases the number of abilities he possesses," John sighed. "It also increases how powerful those abilities are." Then he explained Marian's message about Azazel hiding himself and finding a pattern in the past.

"The problem is that we can't find a pattern," John said. "The only thing we know for certain is that this place, wherever it is, it's almost a full day's drive from Bobby's place in Sioux Falls, and we only learned that when Thomas Humphrey showed up two days after Marian left."

"Wait, another one turned up that Sam… saved?"

"Yeah," John answered. "Even better, his uncle's Gerald Humphrey."

"As in Hunter Gerry?" Ellen asked, and John nodded. "God, he was here two weeks back, looking for clues to find his missing nephew. So, a demon had him the entire time?"

"Yes, ma'am," Dean said.

"Anyway," John said, "we need help trying to find a pattern that tells us where Sam and Azazel are hidden."

Ellen leaned back against the wall, thinking for a moment. "Ash is your best bet," she said after a moment. "He's brilliant with computers and stuff. C'mon, I'll introduce you."

They went back into the main room and took seats at the bar where Jo immediately handed over two bottles of beer. Dean smiled in thanks and immediately took a long swig. Meanwhile, he watched as Ellen headed to another room and knocked on a door.

"Ash!" she yelled.

"What?" a man yelled back.

"Get out here, I got some friends who need to make use of your computer skills."

The door opened and a slightly pudgy man with a mullet to crown all others came out, wearing a plaid shirt with the sleeves ripped off and scuffed-up jeans and boots. Ellen led him over to John and Dean, quickly made the introductions, and sat back so John could explain what he needed.

Ash looked through John's notes before letting out a long whistling sound. "You tracked a demon like this?" he asked, sounding impressed, and John nodded.

"Took awhile to put together," he said, "but yeah, I did."

"This is incredible," Ash told John, "I mean, damn, the nonparametric statistical overviews, cross-spectrum correlations… I ain't never seen anyone track a demon by the signs that flared up around it."

"I know," John said, sounding slightly impatient, and, Dean thought, looking a little embarrassed by the unexpected praise, "but we can't find a pattern that tells us where he is now, and that's what we need."

Ash stared at John's notes again. "A pattern," he muttered before looking up. "Well, I can fix up something that should at least help out if not solve the problem for us, but that's gonna take some time."

"How long?" John asked.

"Say uh…" Ash debated for a moment before saying, "fifty-one hours." He quickly gathered the research and walked away without another word. Dean blinked after him, slightly stunned.

"That's Ash for you," Ellen said after a moment.

"Where'd you find that guy?" Dean asked. "He looks more like a Lynyrd Skynyrd roadie than a genius."

"He got kicked out of M.I.T. for fighting," Ellen answered with a chuckle, "but trust me, if anyone can put together what you need, it's Ash."

John nodded, and then Dean saw his gaze shift. "That a case back there?" he asked, nodding at a folder placed next to a police scanner.

Ellen looked over. "What? Oh, yeah," she said, standing and heading behind the bar, "I was gonna give this to a friend of mine, but if you want…" John nodded his answer and Ellen snagged the folder, handing it over.

"Dad?" Dean asked as John quickly flipped through the folder.

John sighed and shut the folder before looking at Dean. "We've got over two days before Ash can get us anything," he said, "and Bobby'll be in contact should anything or anyone show up at his place. In the meantime — "

"You're seriously considering working a case while Sam's still missing?" Dean asked, only just remembering to keep his voice down so as not to attract the attention of the other Hunters. "Dad, we need to find him, not mess around with other shit that's got nothin' to do with him!"

"Dean, there is nothing that we can do for Sam right now," John snapped. "We still don't know where he is, and it's been almost a week since Thomas came through. There's just too little intel to get us anywhere right now, and I can tell that you need to be doing something, anything right now. So do I."

Dean scowled and looked away, knowing his dad was right, and resenting it at the same time. He wanted, no, needed to find Sam, but until some new information came up, they had nothing. "What's the case?" he asked, looking back at John.

"Apparently, it's a killer clown that disappears after it kills a child's parents," John answered, already leafing through the folder again.

"A killer clown?" Dean echoed before grinning and shaking his head wryly. "Maybe it is a good thing that Sam ain't here right now."

"What? Why?" John asked, looking up. Dean felt his grin widen.

"Remember the first time he saw Ronald McDonald?" he asked. John seemed to be drawing a blank for a moment before he broke into a grin of his own and started chuckling.

"He's still not over that?" he asked.

"Nope," Dean said.

John nodded. "Anyway, this case isn't too far away, just over in Medford. Ash should be done by the time we finish this case." He dropped some money on the countertop for the beers. "Thanks for everything, Ellen."

"Of course," Ellen replied, leaning on the bar with a sad smile on her face. "You two be careful, ya hear? That boy of yours needs you both alive and sharp."

John smiled back, nodded, and headed back out to the car. "See ya in a couple days," Dean called over his shoulder before shutting the door behind him.

Dean slid into the passenger seat, watching as John dug around his tape collection before pulling out a battered copy of Styx and popping it in, the opening notes of "The Grand Illusion" rolling over Dean as he settled against the seat. Hopefully this case would make the time go by faster, if not ease the aching worry in Dean's heart at the thought of Sam on his own without protection.

And then Dean gave an inward snort. Nothing could ease that worry. Nothing, except finding Sam alive and sane. The whole demon blood thing didn't matter so much as Sam's well-being did. Hang on, Sammy, he thought as John hit the highway. I'll find you soon, I swear.

TBC...