Chapter 8
Sam's spoon scraped noisily against the ceramic bowl as he hungrily dug into the oatmeal he'd gotten from Jody's pantry. Even after a full chicken dinner the night before, he was still famished. But he'd gotten a shower and change of clothes, even though the sleeves on the shirt Claire had bought were a little short on him, and he felt better after a few good hours of sleep.
Claire and Dean had taken off to dump the stolen Honda, and Alex had headed to work early. Because she actually had a job at the hospital with established shifts. And there wasn't much more she could do for her supernatural patients, anyway. Sam had checked in on them when he'd woken up, and found Amy asleep on the bed next to Ryn, Cas sitting vigil over them both. Sam had asked if his wound was any better, and had gotten a noncommittal shrug in response. He'd try to get the angel to eat something a little later, once Amy was up. She'd be good backup for guilting Cas into listening to them.
Jody came in with her open laptop. "Call for you."
Sam quirked a brow at her until she set the computer in front of him and he saw Eileen on the screen. He straightened immediately. "Hey," he said and signed simultaneously through the webcam.
"Hi, Sam," she replied with a smile. "I'm afraid I don't have much for you. People are pretty tight-lipped about the British Men of Letters, but I found a hunter who had heard of them."
"Anything you can tell us would be helpful," Sam assured her.
"Word is they've made England virtually monster free. Which sounds good, but they have a reputation for being ruthless. And not just with monsters."
Yeah, Sam could attest to that.
"They also have a ton of supernatural tech," she went on. "Weapons that can be used on monsters to quickly neutralize them." She grimaced. "Again, it kind of sounds pretty good."
"On paper," Sam replied. "But we hunt monsters who hurt people. We don't torture and experiment on them to make better weapons."
Eileen shrugged in agreement. "I'll keep reaching out to my contacts in Ireland, let you know if I find out any more."
Sam nodded gratefully. "I'll send you a new number once I get a phone."
"Be safe, Sam."
"You too," he signed back.
She disconnected the web call and the screen went black. Sam closed the laptop and returned to his breakfast, though it'd gone gloopy during the conversation and the news had left a sour feeling in his stomach.
The phone rang, and Sam heard Jody pick it up in the living room. She'd already called in for a personal day. After a few minutes, her voice started to get a little agitated. Sam felt bad for complicating her life when she was busy enough as it was. She could go in to work if she was needed; they could look after themselves. Since they weren't doing much at the moment anyway.
He finally abandoned the rest of his breakfast and stood up to go wash his dish in the sink.
Jody came in a moment later, expression troubled. "I just got a call from a hunter who said he was approached by some posh British guy who wanted to recruit him." She folded her arms across her chest. "Seems these British Men of Letters are going around recruiting lots of American hunters."
Sam's brows rose. "For what?"
Jody worked her jaw. "The way they're telling it, to stop you and Dean before you endanger the world again."
"That's ridiculous!" They saved the world, dammit. None of those British Men of Letters ever stepped up to help.
"It gets worse."
Sam stiffened. How could it get worse?
Jody gave him a level look. "They're also telling the American hunters that in order to do that, they need to take the Alpha phoenix and phoenix-angel hybrid off the street. Troy called me up to ask if it was true, if that kind of monster really existed and the Winchesters were harboring it." She held up a hand. "His words, not mine."
Sam reeled back. So now the British Men of Letters were turning their own hunting community against them? And who knew what heinous lies they were spreading about Ryn and Amy. How were they going to protect them?
A hard lump settled in his throat. "Jody, thank you for everything you've done for us, but I don't think it's safe for us to stay here anymore. I- I don't know how much information the British Men of Letters got from me and Dean. They at least have our phones, and maybe that's how they started reaching out to hunters. But if they realize we're friends, they could come here, and it'd be safer for you all if we were gone."
Jody's expression hardened. "We can handle ourselves." She hesitated. "But I agree it'd probably be safer for you if you went to a safe house. Bobby had a couple that I'm pretty sure other hunters didn't know about. We'll get you there today and you can lay low while you guys recuperate. Claire and I will handle the American hunters."
Sam frowned. "If they come looking for us, just play dumb. Don't put yourself on a side here."
She scoffed. "Of course we're on a side here, Sam. There is a right and there is a wrong, and we just have to convince the American hunters who the real enemy is."
Sam's chest constricted with gratitude and worry. He shook his head. "I appreciate the support, Jody, I do. But you don't need to stick your neck out like this."
"Yes, I do," she countered. "Because you're family. To me, to Claire, to Alex. After everything you've done for us, you think for one second we wouldn't do the same for you?" She slapped his arm. "Now stop arguing and go tell the rest of the kids we're moving."
Sam opened his mouth, but stopped. He really was touched by her loyalty and fierce devotion. And when the rest of the world seemed to be turning against them, that was just what they needed to keep going.
Dean sat on the back porch of the lake house overlooking the water, whittling aimlessly at a piece of driftwood he'd found on the beach. He wasn't really carving anything specific, just keeping his hands busy. His thoughts were too fraught with tension and violence to create anything beautiful anyway.
Incongruent with his tempestuous emotions and grave circumstances, the view was tranquil—calm, blue waters rippling under a white-speckled sky. Birds chirped melodies in the surrounding trees. It would have been a nice vacation spot for the family. The two-story house had a decent kitchen with a range stove, and a wide open living area, and then two bedrooms upstairs. It was rustic and simple, but they knew how to make do. Sometimes it was nice to get away to simplicity for a refreshing retreat.
Except they weren't on vacation. They were in hiding. Driven from their home and peace of mind by a group of people who wanted to incarcerate half of them and use the other half as lab specimens.
Dean kept one eye on his niece down at the water's edge. Her long brown curls swept over her shoulder in the slight breeze, but otherwise she remained moored on the shore, facing the waves, a silent and stoic sentinel so much like her father.
Amy had become quiet and withdrawn in the two days they'd been here. Dean knew she just needed some time to process. Her world had been turned upside down, something Dean had never wanted for her. She was supposed to have a perfect life. Not almost lose both her parents and be hunted down like an animal. Like a monster.
He nicked his knife a little harder at the piece of wood in his hand, casting shavings angrily to the ground. Dean wasn't dealing with things all that well himself. He was restless, and felt trapped. Especially without a vehicle—or, mostly, his Baby—to be able to drive into town for supplies or have the means for a quick escape should they need it. Never mind their two tickets on Angel Air, because Cas was still recovering from his gunshot wound and hiding it from Amy. Dean didn't bring it up, for she was stressed enough, and it'd be a lot to have the two of them try to fly the rest of them somewhere.
No, Dean preferred the Impala. Which he didn't have. She was as much a part of their family as any of them, and he hated being without her. He hated feeling helpless.
The rumble of an engine drew him out of his brooding, and he set the driftwood aside, pocketing his knife as he stood up.
"Amy!" he called, starting to make his way around to the front of the house. Though they were safe out here—for the moment—he was still uncomfortable leaving her to go off alone.
He rounded the corner as a giant truck pulled to a stop in the dirt driveway. The front door creaked open as Sam came out as well, just as the driver's side door opened and Donna hopped out.
"Hiya, boys," she greeted.
"Hey, Donna," Sam said with a return smile, reaching out to give her a warm hug.
Dean walked up, and she gave him a pointed side look before spreading her arms and beckoning him in.
"Come on."
Dean couldn't help the corner of his lips twitching upward, and he hugged back.
Donna pulled away, and her eyes turned compassionate. "I brought you groceries and supplies. Clothes, weapons, etcetera. Oh, and this." She leaned into the truck cab toward the passenger seat, and came back out with a plastic animal carrier. A russet colored feline gave a plaintive meow inside.
Sam's mouth quirked with a relieved smile, and he quickly moved in to take the carrier. "Thank you," he practically gushed. "We really appreciate this."
"You didn't have any trouble?" Dean asked tensely.
"Not a wink," she replied. "I watched the place for a couple hours first, made sure no one else was lurking around. And then I got in and out real quick, just to be safe. Also took the Kit-Kat here on a little scenic road trip, just to make sure we weren't being followed."
Dean allowed himself to feel a small measure of relief. He wished he'd gone with her so he could have retrieved the Impala, but understood why it was better he hadn't. If the Brits had been staking out the bunker and spotted him, they would have moved in right away, and he wouldn't do his family any good getting captured again.
"Amy's gonna be really glad to see her," Sam said, lifting the carrier in reference to the cat. "She's been having a rough time of it, and hopefully having Kit with us will help some."
"She's out back," Dean told him.
Sam nodded, and turned to head around that way.
Dean stayed to help Donna start unloading the supplies.
"And how are the rest of you holding up?" she asked as she went to pop the trunk.
Dean huffed. "Honestly? I feel like I should be out there doing something, not sitting back here having a holiday." He glanced at the house, and his shoulders sagged. "But Ryn and Cas aren't doing well, and I can't leave them."
Donna just gave him a knowing look. "You're exactly where you need to be." She pulled out some grocery bags and passed them to him. "And don't worry. Me, Jody, and Rainbow Brite got your backs. You let us take point on this one, okie dokie?"
Dean snorted under his breath, but he nodded. "Thanks, Donna."
She flashed him a beaming smile. "Any time."
He shook his head, her effervescence contagious. "Come on. I'll introduce you to the rest of our motley family you're helping to protect."
"I was hoping you'd say that," she replied with a gleam in her eyes. "I've been wanting to meet an angel."
Dean finally smiled genuinely. "We got one and a half of those. And a phoenix."
Donna grinned, and filled her arms with shopping bags too. "Lead the way."
Claire stood leaning against the wall, arms crossed, as Jody addressed the group of hunters who'd agreed to meet with them about the British Men of Letters. Except, these guys weren't seeing the organization as a problem at all.
"Their goal is a world without monsters," one of the hunters was saying, leaning forward on the sofa. "Isn't that what we're all in this for?"
"And they have some really nice tech," another guy spoke up from where he was reclining in one of the dining room chairs. "Makes taking out vampires and ghouls like cake."
"I get it," Jody said, standing to face them all. "It sounds great. But have you stopped to think about the cost? What good is ridding the world of monsters if they're willing to sacrifice innocent lives while they're at it?"
"From what the Brits said, the ones they're after ain't exactly innocent."
"And you just trust them at face value?" Claire retorted. "They want to lock up a teenage girl and experiment on her just because she's not human, when the worst thing she's ever done was sneak off to a rave without permission."
"You mean the phoenix hybrid," someone, Roy, she thought, said coldly. "That kind of creature is too dangerous to let run around."
"She hasn't done anything. I think she's killed one demon in her lifetime. One! And it was a demon."
Andrew cleared his throat. "She badly injured several of the British Men of Letters."
"That was self-defense!"
"Claire," Jody said lowly with a cautionary glance. She turned back to the seven hunters gathered in her living room. "Look, I know this kid. She's not evil. And neither are her parents. They actually hunt real monsters just like we do."
Roy shook his head. "It's not worth the risk, Jody. You can't say what she'll become in the future."
Jody shot him an incredulous glare. "That's like saying every black first grader should automatically go to prison because they might become a gang member later."
He rolled his eyes. "You know that's not what we're talking about. These are monsters, not humans."
"What about Garth?" Jody rejoined. "Is that what he is to you now? A monster?" She whirled on another hunter, Lori, abruptly. "Didn't you take a case from him just last month?"
"Garth got turned; he wasn't born a werewolf."
"You think these British Men of Letters would make that distinction? Because I'm pretty sure that world without monsters spiel includes everyone."
The hunters exchanged looks at that, but Claire could see they were far from convinced, and it was making her angry.
"Okay, setting aside the monster debate for a second," she said snappishly, "we're also talking about you all being willing to turn on Sam and Dean Winchester. They're human."
"They did start the Apocalypse," Lori said almost regretfully.
"And stopped it."
Roy rose to his feet. "And how many died in the process?"
Claire shoved away from the wall to meet him. "How many more would have if it had kept going? We wouldn't even be here right now if it wasn't for the Winchesters. You think the Apocalypse wouldn't have started without them?" She let out a humorless laugh. "The Powers That Be would have found another way to start it. It was a battle between Heaven and Hell and you think they were gonna let a bunch of humans stop them?" Claire lifted her chin. "But Sam and Dean did."
She shifted her gaze around to meet everyone else's in the room. "My dad gave his life helping the Winchesters stop the Apocalypse. He sacrificed everything to save his family, to save the world. He was a hero, and so are Sam and Dean. You know why? Because they always do the best they can in a world that's constantly falling apart. And they've never quit." Claire returned her sharp look to Roy. "You think you could have handled all that crap?"
His eyes narrowed a fraction, but before he could respond, another hunter stood up with a sigh.
"What are we really discussing here?" he asked. "Because these Brits seem like they're here to stay. And maybe they aren't perfect—but neither are the Winchesters."
"No, they're not," Jody said. "None of us are. We're all in this line of work because we've lost loved ones. Family members. And we hunt to make sure that kind of thing doesn't happen to other people. We fight to save lives. These British Men of Letters may claim that's what they're in it for, too, but look at how they got their fancy, supernatural tech—by torturing and experimenting on monsters. Now, I'm all for killing what needs killing, but we don't take pleasure in it. We don't revel in pain and suffering, because no living thing deserves that."
Jody paused, meeting each of their eyes. "What we're really discussing here is morality, and right and wrong. Would a world without monsters be great? Yes. But not if we turn ourselves into the monsters in order to accomplish it. So I'm asking you to stand on the side of right here, to stand with our own people, and our way of life. No, it's not perfect. But it's honest."
Jody nodded once, finished. Her speech was met with silence. The hunters shared looks, some uncertain, some chastised, others exasperated. Jody waited, but no one said anything.
Claire dropped her gaze to the floor, clenching her fists. If they couldn't regain the support of their own community, how on earth were they going to stand against the British invasion?