Wandering around in the past, only part of John perceived that he was somewhere in Pennsylvania, driving along route 80, and that the sun was shining more so into his eyes than before—he was forced to look a little off to the side. There was a clear sky, blue like...'Mary's eyes...'
He heard Mary's footsteps approaching and gazed up from his newspaper to watch her stride, with blonde hair bouncing in time, purposefully into their living room. She stopped right in front of him; her face bright, bursting with elation. Turning her eyes directly to his, she announced in earnest, "John, the angels are smiling down upon us!"
Mary's vivacity was contagious. He was definitely done reading for the day; his body quivered with quiet laughter as he folded the paper. "Angels! Hah!...What are these 'angels' smiling about anyway?"
"Because..." her smile grew wider "…we're gonna have a baby!"
John suddenly felt limp as blood drained from his face. His hands were trembling when he dropped his newspaper on the floor. "We're gonna have a baby?" he squeaked. "You're pregnant?"
Mary's shining eyes continued to stare at him, her expression hopeful. "Well, last I heard, you had to be pregnant to have a baby," she quipped.
"We're gonna have a baby," he whispered in awe as he stood, feeling the corners of his eyes crinkling as he broke into a smile. Joyousness steadily swelled inside him mixed with feelings of apprehension fluttering throughout his stomach.
She stepped closer, invited him into her arms and he went willingly; her body was so warm. John shut his eyes and breathed in her wonderful lilac scent. The feelings of uncertainty vanished instantly; he felt like he was floating and sighed with pleasure. She then spoke softly, her breath tickling his ear, "I know you'll be a great dad."
"Dad." Fingers touched his right shoulder gently from behind. 'Sam…' he realized, shaking his head '…Mary's gone.'
"Dad!" Louder this time.
Dean perceived Sam was only impatient. Having to call their dad more than once to get his attention, especially during driving, was nothing new.
"What the hell time is it?" John responded gruffly.
Sam leaned back onto his seat. "About 4:00. Can we pull over for a little while and walk around?"
Dean scoffed at that. "What Sam really means is that he needs to take a piss."
"Shut up...So do you!"
Dean merely chuckled quietly.
John, showing neither exasperation nor humor, said, "Fine, we'll stop at the first gas station I see."
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It didn't take long for a sign to appear roadside indicating fuel was off the next exit. Following the arrows, John guided the car to the average self-serve station complete with a run-down looking mini-mart and pulled up next to one of its eight gas pumps. This facility was in the middle of nowhere and they were currently the only customers.
Each man exited the car then simultaneously stretched, deeply inhaling the hot, sun-infused air—the scent of petrol prevailed but a bit of vegetation was detected as well. They took a closer look at the surrounding forest; green leaves shaking in the breeze created a captivating display of shade and sparkling light.
Catching his sons' eyes, John said simply, "You've got ten minutes, max."
"C'mon...lets go mark our territory," Dean declared, a grin appearing upon his face when he saw Sam's irritated expression. They walked expeditiously over to the forest, each veering off in their own direction.
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A couple of minutes later, Dean stepped out from the trees. He scanned the area, searching for Sam out of habit, while sauntering toward their car. Dean sighed when he saw there was no sign of him; as quick as a light switch is flicked off, his cheerful frame of mind became sullen.
Dean consequently noticed that a light blue Honda Accord had pulled into the station, apparently during the time he was elsewhere. It was parked at a pump farthest from theirs, about twenty feet away. He briefly made eye contact with a man who stood beside the Honda, filling its tank. Taking a closer look, this man, with short blond hair appearing to be in his early forties, quickly cast his eyes downward. Dean presumed he was hiding the embarrassment of having witnessed a stranger walking out of the forest. "You can't tell me you never had to drain the lizard in the middle of nowhere before," he muttered sarcastically to himself.
Dean's handsome face was marred by a frown and followed by a clenched jaw; Sam had still not appeared by the time he made it to his destination point. His eyes lit up slightly as he then focused on their car. 'Hey, baby,' he purred softly. Knowing it's tank was down to a quarter full, he welcomed the distraction of fueling it up and fished for his wallet to start the process.
While standing by, Dean continuously kept checking the perimeter with eyes squinted against the bright sunlight. An elderly man and woman came into view, casually walking around one area off to the right. Mingling with the sound of rustling leaves, their voices penetrated his awareness, the conversation too distant to make out.
A cloud floated in front of the sun and slightly obscured its light and heat thereby causing Dean to pull his arms in closer when a strong breeze blew past. Suddenly, he felt the back of his neck tingle and the chill ran down his spine; someone was watching him. Dean whipped his head around to his left then right but didn't see anything unusual. He did, however, catch a glimpse of the blonde man as he disappeared into the forest which elicited a wry expression.
With each minute passing of no "Sammy sighting", as Dean often affectionately referred to it, his chest became tighter and tighter. 'For your sake, you had better be only just walking around,' he thought. ''coz if you're not okay, I'll kick your ass.' In his mind he could hear Sam return with, 'dude, that doesn't make any sense.' Dean shook his head and mentally added, 'I just want you to be okay.'
Out of the corner of his left eye, Dean saw John appear, glance at him then proceed to enter the mini-mart. He visually tracked his father until he passed through the door and was brought up short as the window next to the entrance revealed a female store clerk standing there, just staring directly at him. She was an older looking woman with dark hair pulled back but he couldn't make out much more of her appearance through the dirty glass. Unable to tear his gaze away, she leered at him with the most toothy grin he ever recalled seeing. 'Now I feel dirty,' he mused with a shudder. She then waved.
The loud thunk sounding from the nozzle that indicated the tank was now full shook him out of his stupor. 'Maybe it was her giving me the creeps just now,' he thought. 'Really, the people we see sometimes...' He bent forward to remove it and when he glanced back to the window, he was gratified that she was no longer facing him.
As Dean was putting the hose back on the pump—about ready to start a frantic search for a missing little brother—Sam finally exited the woods from a location different than the one he entered. Dean wanted to run over to him, throttle him and hug him at the same time. He did neither.
Blowing out a steadying breath, pressure in his chest was relieved. Dean tried as best he could to seem casual as the kid calmly approached.
"Walking around again?" Dean mentally kicked himself over hearing the higher than normal pitch of his voice but Sam didn't seem to notice.
"Obviously," Sam snapped as he opened the door to the back seat then peaked at his brother. He couldn't mistake the turbulent expression on Dean's face; he seemed to be slightly out of breath as well. "Are you pissed you had to fill the tank again? Dad did say we had ten minutes."
"No, that's not it," Dean growled.
Sam then paused and took a closer look across the car. Dean's eyes revealed fear circulating beneath his outward irritation. Sam swallowed. "Hey, what is it?"
Dean simply looked down, shrugged his shoulders and started his way around the car, visually checking the tires. Though the dreadful feeling of being watched was not forgotten, nothing currently seemed out of place and Dean now felt foolish for worrying unecessarily. He heard Sam sigh and ask, "Well, where's Dad?"
Without looking up, Dean gestured toward the store.
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John could barely keep a hold on all the items he picked out as he reached the front counter to pay. The clerk looked up and smiled. It was her eyes that made John pause, they hinted at as much depth as those of a dead fish.
"Those boys near the black car yours?" the middle-aged woman asked as she started ringing up the merchandise and placing the items in a bag.
"Yes," John replied absently, looking, anywhere but directly at the clerk before him, now through the window and focused on Dean leaning against the hood of their car.
"Fine looking young men...Mmmm Mmmm...indeed...practically edible..."
John whipped his head around and raised his eyebrows at at her. "What?"
"...that'll be $10.36," the clerk said. The woman's smile expanded to reveal her back molars.
He shook his head trying to clear it and wordlessly placed down a $20 bill. "You look like you're on a road trip," she said while counting the change. "Where are you all headed to?"
"We're..." A flickering light to his left caught his attention..."there seems to be something happening with the wiring."
"Oh, dear me," the clerk said as she handed him his money. Her smile flashed and she said nothing more.
John once again quirked up his eyebrows but his only thought was, 'we meet the strangest people sometimes.' He decided simply to nod his thanks as he turned to exit.
"See you in Henderson," she whispered behind her teeth when he pushed through the door.
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Dean, having accomplished his task of checking the tires, reached the front of the car and chose there to wait for his dad. The sun was back as he gazed out at the pleasant forest; however, that and the warmth softened by occasional cool breezes ruffling his hair did nothing to alleviate his recent misgivings. 'What's to talk about?' Dean suddenly contemplated with bitterness. 'I freaked out again, so what? The three of us, that's all I have.'
Dean was startled out of his thoughts and jerked slightly forward with the sudden revival of the Honda's engine. Looking around to his right, he noticed the older couple climbing in before it drove away. He then lifted his gaze, watched as another cloud passed over the sun and trembled at the slight drop in temperature.
A glance over his left shoulder showed Sam sitting on the back seat, his door left open; more than that, he was under his little brother's surveillance. Dean wasn't at all surprised.
He leaned back against the hood and sighed to himself; he knew Sam would be thinking about him. 'I'm sure he'll want to talk about this,' he realized which elicited an odd mix of him cringing and feelings of affection. 'Maybe I should let him know I was worried about him...the last thing I want is to have Sammy think I am pissed at him when I'm not...that's Dad's style...having one person who acts this way in the family is enough.'
Moments later, John came out from the store and briskly made his way to join his sons. He was carrying a bag filled with items he had purchased from there and handed it to Dean who promptly straightened up his position.
Dean peaked inside. "When can we stop to eat some real food?"
"Hang on until we cross the state line, it will help me feel like we're making progress" John replied as he continued past his son. "Let's go."
Dean remained rooted in his position, heard Sam close his door and watched his dad about to open the door to the driver's seat. "Don't you want me to drive?"
John shook his head. "Just go to the front seat...you can drive next."
Nothing was said as John, focused only on getting back onto the highway, steered the car out of the gas station. Dean proceeded to take out a package of cookies, a bottle of water, and the Time magazine from the bag then turned around and wordlessly handed it to Sam.
"Thanks."
Dean nodded and quickly whirled back to face the front before he could see Sam's anticipated reaction. He then popped a cookie into his mouth and bent his head down to read his magazine.
Sam opened the bag and saw what was inside. 'Huh...he usually takes the donuts,' Sam observed and, suddenly, his head jerked back up. The declaration was immediately clear; if Dean had stated outright, "I love you," Sam would have said, "Christo." A rush of affection for his big brother swelled within him. 'I love you, too, Dean,' Sam thought while staring at Dean's back '...and I'd die for you.'
Dean was unable to focus on his magazine; he was distracted by the sensation of Sam's eyes on his back. He then had a feeling Sam was about to speak. 'Oh God, kill me now...please don't say "Are you okay?"'
"Dean?"
"What?"
Sam contemplated his brother with his solemn eyes. "I just was wondering if you wanted some of the donuts."
Dean quirked his eyebrows. 'Sam understands me better than I thought.'
They each exchanged a knowing smile and Dean replied, "Naw, Sammy, I'm good...thanks anyway." He then shifted his position back to facing the front.
'I knew Dean wasn't pissed at me,' Sam acknowledged to himself with relief. Still looking at the figure before him, he determined, 'Dean worries too much,' and shook his head sadly. 'This has got to change, for his sake...I've got to do something...but what?...maybe he'd be better off if you were dead.' Sam was shaken at that last thought; he never considered hurting himself before—it was almost as if the suggestion had been whispered to him.
Sam looked one last time at Dean before turning to gaze out the window. Watching the flow of scenery and other cars, Sam contemplated his reality. 'It's too late for "things would be better if I'd never been born"...If I died, that would hurt him more, not help him...maybe if I left...' It wasn't the first time Sam had considered going his own way; doing something besides hunting had been in the back of his mind since he was fourteen, thanks to his English teacher, Mr. Wyatt. He then closed his eyes and smiled as he imagined himself in a library, surrounded by books.
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In their car, running at a smooth clip back on the highway, the Winchesters were quiet; Dean was reading his magazine, Sam dozed, and John, while trying to focus on driving, was silently coping with his desire to slaughter a certain supernatural creature. 'That's just fucking great,' he thought. 'That fucking flickering light and that fucking woman back at the gas station dug into me somehow.' John almost let out loud rage-filled roar but checked it.
Since leaving the gas station, John had been doing his best to recapture pleasant memories of his wife. Instead, he thought back to that horrible night, about that thing responsible for her murder. Mary's hopeful eyes he remembered from thirty minutes prior were replaced with his recollection of her terror filled ones. While watching the road, his brown eyes were windows to a tempest of fury. If looks could kill, all the insects would be dead before they hit the windshield.
John inhaled deeply and realized he must have been holding his breath. He then imagined Sam's soft voice directing him to "Breathe..." and he exhaled. He needed to just focus on driving—just get to the next place in one piece; therefore, he welcomed his second son's often repeated advice. "...Breathe," he heard Sam say once more and he inhaled again.
John was feeling better. 'Well, sort of...' he amended. Suddenly his ears detected a distinctive sound coming from above. He gazed up, off to his left, and caught sight of a helicopter chugging along. Seeing it triggered the memory that there was a heliport near Pastor Jim's church; John enjoyed watching the flying machines go by during his visits there. 'Maybe I'll call upon Jim when we're done with this job...it's been too long since I've seen him...last time I was there Dean was fourteen, Sam was ten...'
John and Jim were sitting on a bench outside, behind the pastor's church. They were wordlessly waiting for the helicopter to move away from them, taking it's loud motor with it, so they could resume their conversation.
"Sam and Dean have been talking among themselves about what they think you've been up to these past few weeks," Jim said to John once the flying machine drifted away far enough. "They know it has something to do with that thing that killed Mary."
"Mary..." John whispered. He stared off toward the nearby playground; all he wanted now was to watch Dean push Sam on a swing and think of Mary in peace.
"It's tough to solve something when all leads are cold," Jim prompted after a minute of respectful silence. "Anything new with those other kids?"
John wordlessly shook his head. There was still nothing unusual with them; Jim already knew as much as he did. One child was adopted as a newborn, the other wasn't. There was no pattern except for the child's age. It seemed as though he hit a dead end and John sighed.
He turned to look at Jim. "No, they are still just normal kids...obviously doing very well in school...but still, nothing else out of the ordinary."
"What kept you away so long this time?" Jim asked in earnest, with no trace of vexation.
"I saw the Miller father was beating the kid...often," John replied. "Let's just say I knocked some sense into him. After, he took off with his family so I followed...stayed long enough to ensure the kid would be okay and looked after by the proper officials."
John glanced back at Sam, saw him now running toward a slide. "Jim, it scares me to know these kids were the same age as Sam," he confessed. The whole thing sickened him. Feeling like the world was spinning, John leaned forward and rested his head in his hands, elbows on his knees.
Jim's silence gave John the time he needed to come to terms with his grief, still so raw; still drowning. The minutes went on...
The roaring in his ears gradually subsided and the sweetness of his sons' laughter penetrated his awareness. Instantly, John realized he wasn't the only one facing this loss; it pulled him from misery to rage in a split second.
Unable to contain his deep anger, John gripped his hair hard enough to elicit pain. "You know, the identical pattern of the kids' ages tells me there is some plotted out scheme...it had to have done something to Sam…those other kids…had to...why else would it let them live?" he spat.
Pastor Jim furrowed his eyebrows. "John, like you, I don't have all the answers...I wish I knew..."
The helicopter had circled and was on its way back to their location; it's rotating blades' repetitive thumping gradually increased in steady increments. Jim was interrupted by the helicopter's booming clamor as it reverberated over their heads.
John straightened and determied he would not give up. "One thing I do know," he shouted over the helicopter as it passed overhead "...is that it will return someday. I can feel it in my gut...and when it does..." he gestured toward his sons "...we'll be ready."
John and Jim shared a candid stare; there were no lies between them. John could see by his friend's expression that Jim understood; that his words were a death sentence - the early end of a tough, sad life - for the Winchesters.
He broke eye contact with the pastor to spend the rest of the time watching Dean and Sam play. For now, he let the helicopter's sound thunder in his ears and take over his mind, causing him to be unable to hear himself think.
As distance grew between the Impala and the helicopter, it's loud choppy whir faded into the sound of their car engine's thick rumble. John was back to driving, knuckles white from clutching the wheel so tightly.
'Goddammit! I'm still no fucking closer today than I was then!' John glanced up to the rearview mirror to see his younger son lying on the back seat, currently oblivious to the world. With eyes close to tears, he thought, 'Shit, Sammy...what does that fucking thing want with you?'