Chapter Twenty-Nine
Randall Gorman blinked tiredly when the sound of his cell phone ringing woke him.
Who was calling at this time of night? The doctor?
It was past midnight and Randall was sure that if something had happened- happened to the kid who was going to get his kidney in a couple of days- the physician would wait until morning to tell him.
Grabbing his cell, Randall cleared his throat and answered.
"Gorman, here," Just in case someone had a job for him.
"Gorman…" the voice on the other end said slowly, as though testing the name out.
"Yeah," Randall answered, "Who is this?"
"You're giving my son a kidney," the mysterious voice answered.
Randall frowned; how did this guy get his number? Dr. Greene had assured him of his privacy.
"You're not supposed to have this number," Gorman told the man.
"I know," the man- the boy's father- said, "But we need to talk."
Randall, who rarely ever felt afraid of anyone, grew nervous.
"About what?" he asked, his mouth dry.
"Can you meet me at Jackie's Café?" the man asked, "It's on the main stretch in town, I'm sure you've seen it."
Randall nodded; he had seen it. Had even eaten there a couple of times since stopping in Sioux Falls.
"Why should I trust that this isn't some kind of set-up?" Randall asked suspiciously.
"I'll be there," the man said, not answering his question, "And I'll be waiting for you."
Randall opened his mouth to speak but all he heard on the other end was the dial tone.
"Dann it!" he swore and closed his cell.
He wiped a hand down his face, weighing his options. He could go to Jackie's Café and perhaps walk into some kind of ambush or he could stay here and piss off a concerned father.
"What's he gonna do, not let me give my kidney to his kid?" Randall thought out loud.
But he didn't blame the man for wanting to know who he was. He'd probably be the same if he had a kid in that same situation.
Besides, this didn't feel like a trick. If someone- probably William Findlay- wanted him dead he wouldn't bother inviting him out for coffee first.
Deciding that the least Randall could do was hear the boy's father out, put his worries at ease as it were, he grabbed some clothes, threw them on and left his motel room.
SPN
John lowered the phone and wondered if he should have handled that better. He hadn't meant to sound unsavoury, he was just asking the guy to meet him at a coffee shop so he could get to know him. But it hadn't come out like that at all.
John cringed; he sounded like some mob boss or something. He just hoped he hadn't scared the man away, for Sam's sake.
The father thought about calling Gorman back and trying to start over but decided against it. What would be the point? What would he say as an excuse for his earlier conversation? I don't trust people who want to give my son their organs out of the blue?
John shook his head. He should get going.
He gaze traveled upwards and he wondered how Sam was doing. He wanted to go upstairs and be with his sons- he should be there- but he had already made his plans with Gorman.
Sighing, John shoved the scrap of paper into his pocket along with his cell phone, slipped his boots on and stepped out the front door.
SPN
"Sammy?" Dean said when he stepped into the guest bedroom. Bobby was sitting on the edge of his brother's bed, a washcloth in his hand, comforting the young man.
The grizzled hunter looked over his shoulder at Dean then back to Sam.
"Yer brother's here, Son," he murmured to the eighteen-year old.
Dean approached the bed and took Bobby's seat. Sam looked bad; his face was pale and beaded with sweat, there were dark circles under his eyes and two red spots high up on his cheeks. Dean took the cloth from Bobby and laid it gently against his sibling's brow.
"D'n?" Sam muttered; milky eyes wide.
"I'm right here, Sammy," Dean assured him and reached down to squeeze his brother's hand.
"M'cold," the eighteen-year old mumbled and closed his eyes.
"I know," his brother said, "It'll pass."
Dean looked up at Bobby, "Did he puke again?"
The grizzled hunter shook his head; "I don't think there'd be anything left in his stomach if he did."
Dean sighed and turned back to his brother. Releasing his brother's hand, he reached out and ran his fingers through Sam's short hair.
"I'm right here, Sammy," he whispered, "You rest, okay? I'm not going anywhere."
SPN
John parked the Impala in the lot for customers of the coffee shop and saw that his was the only vehicle.
Sighing, hoping he hadn't shot himself in the foot with his phone call, John climbed from the classic Chevy and stepped into the coffee shop.
Jackie's Café was open seven days a week, all day and night. John guessed that was a convenient place for cops and other people who worked late into the night, to grab a bite to eat and a coffee.
A young female waitress looked up when John opened the door and grabbed a pot of coffee from behind the counter. The father found a booth at the back of the café and sat down.
"Can I get you anything?" the waitress- whose nametag read 'Ashley'- asked.
"Coffee's fine," John replied, "I'm actually waiting for someone."
Ashley nodded, "Let me know if you change your mind. We have great pie."
John smiled and watched the waitress make her way back towards the counter.
John stirred his coffee with a spoon without putting any sugar or cream in it and took a sip. From his seat he had a perfect view of the front door. He hoped that the man- Randall Gorman- would come. He just wanted- needed- to be sure that nothing was funny with this.
W
Time passed slowly. Ashley came back and refilled John's coffee cup, once again asking if he wanted anything else.
"I'm alright," he told her, not taking his eyes off the front door.
Ashley looked over her shoulder when she heard the door open and a man stepped into the café.
The waitress smiled and called a greeting. The stranger lifted his hand in response, eyes scanning the booths until he caught sight of John.
He strolled across the room and slid into the booth across from the father.
"Gorman?" John asked even though he was certain it was.
The man nodded. John was surprised. The man was wholly unremarkable, his features were bland- forgettable- and his wardrobe was muted colours, khaki pants, sneakers, and an olive green jacket over a grey t-shirt.
"Winchester," Randall said and held out his hand but the father didn't shake it.
Instead, John asked one word: "Why?"
Gorman blinked, "Why?"
"Why do you want to give my son a kidney?" John elaborated, "I'm certain I've never met you before and I doubt Sam has."
"I heard about what happened at Dunhill and I wanted to help," Gorman answered.
The conversation was put on pause when Ashley approached and asked Gorman if he wanted coffee.
He said that would be lovely and the waitress filled his mug.
"Everyone heard about Dunhill," John replied, "It was all over the news. But Sam's name was never listed as one of the victims. How did you know he was there?"
Gorman stalled for time, adding sugar and milk to his coffee and stirring the liquid slowly before taking a sip.
"I'm not a pervert," he assured the father, "If that's what you're worried about. And I don't want money. I just want to try and make up for what those assholes did. Even if its just one kid."
John crossed his arms over his chest.
"Christo," he sighed, making the word sound like a curse and noticed that Gorman did not even flinch.
"Tell me the truth," he insisted, "There is no way you could have known about Sam unless someone told you about him."
The hunter smiled when he saw Gorman's eyes widen ever so slightly; he clearly didn't think John was smart enough to figure that out for himself.
The man bit his lip, thinking, but then sighed and ran a hand down his face.
"You want the truth? Okay, I'll give you the truth," Gorman said, "But you have to promise me that you won't punch me in the face."
John narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
"I can't promise anything," he told Gorman.
The man however, decided to continue.
"I uh… have a special set of skills that I put to use… serving some interesting people," Gorman said, "I track people down. I have a gift for it."
John's expression darkened. He did not like what he was hearing but didn't speak.
"I heard about your son from William Findlay," the man told him, "He was the direc-"
"I know who he is!" John snapped.
Gorman flinched a little, "Anyway, he wanted me to find your son… why, I don't know… I think he was angry that he managed to get away and break Findlay's neat little operation at Dunhill wide open. I didn't really think much of it… not at first… but then I went there…"
John noticed the change in the man's tone. He hesitated when he spoke, his fingers tapping nervously against the side of his coffee mug.
Gorman cleared his throat and took a drink of his coffee.
"I couldn't believe people could do that to someone- what they did to those kids there- and I thought about Findlay wanting me to find your son and I just… I couldn't do it. I went through with it though, I followed your son's trail all the way here, even into the hospital."
John looked at the man, shocked that he had been so close to Sam and he hadn't even known it.
"I saw him on that dialysis machine and I knew that I couldn't tell Findlay where he was," Gorman said, "That kind of was the last straw for me."
"I'm not a bad person," the man told John, "I wanted to help your son, in any way I could. At first I thought I'd give you some money to pay for his medical bills but then I saw that we have the same blood type and that he was waiting on a new kidney… and I had to do it."
John sat back, stunned. The story was too outlandish, too crazy to be anything but true.
Gorman was looking at him anxiously.
"As soon as Sam gets the kidney I'll leave," he said, "You won't see me again."
John nodded.
"You said you have 'special skills'… a gift… what is it?"
Gorman looked surprised that John would ask.
"I… I'm psychic," he answered, shocked when John didn't scoff or laugh at him, "It's not like I see dead people or know what's going to happen in the future. But I see… I call them auras… colours surrounding people and they leave trails wherever they go. Also, I can sense emotions from people, from objects they've touched or places they've been… like a scent in the air…"
John didn't say anything for a long moment. Gorman took another drink from his coffee mug and waited.
"Thank you," the father said, "For telling me this."
Gorman nodded, stunned that John was taking it all in stride. He was certain when he'd told the man he was psychic he'd be laughed at, or worse, punched in the face.
John stood and pulled a bill from his wallet to pay for his coffee.
"Is everything all right?" Gorman asked.
"Yes," John replied.
Feeling as though he was in a dream, John walked out of the coffee shop. He unlocked the door to the Impala and sat down. He didn't turn on the engine for a long moment but simply stared at the interior of the café through its front windows.
The father sucked in a deep breath and tears began to leak out from his eyes. Lowering his head, John pressed his brow against the top of the steering wheel and cried.
SPN
Bobby looked up when the front door opened and John stepped inside. The grizzled hunter's eyebrows shot up at the sight of the younger man; John's eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, his face haggard.
"How'd it go?" he asked his friend casually. He knew enough when he'd come downstairs and found John missing just what the younger man had done.
"He's good," John replied, "He's good, Bobby."
The veteran hunter nodded.
"Is Sam alright?" John asked worriedly.
Bobby nodded, "His fever's gone down. He should be okay by morning."
John's shoulders sagged with relief.
"Both yer boys are asleep," the older hunter told him, "And it's about time you joined 'em."
John nodded and turned toward the couch.
"Upstairs with you," Bobby announced and stood, leading the way.
John followed, shucking his boots off at the bottom of the staircase before proceeding.
The light was still on in the guest bedroom and John smiled when he saw his sons squeezed together in one of the beds, sleeping peacefully. He went to the empty bed and sat down. Bobby flicked off the overhead light and John laid down, the sounds of his sons' breathing the only noise in the room.
Author's Note:
Thanks to reannablue, L.A.H.H, Ghostwriter, babyreaper, Jenjoremy, SPN Mum, BranchSuper, mandancie, KlainbowsHallowsRumbleroar, ncsupnatfan, MysteryMadchen, and SamDeanLover28 for reviewing.
Thanks to everyone who alerted, followed and favourited.
Please leave a review and I'll update quickly!