In the Midst of Gods and Monsters
-The John Winchester segment of this story is for California. May your families band together in the midst of peril and tragedy.
Now with all the scrolls of legend peeled away, Mary Winchester sat in a quiet den with two haggard, war-weary men that had once been broken boys. They were staring off into space, leaning slightly on each other as they recalled a man who was both father and commanding officer to their private warfare.
"Dad raised us in this impossible situation. And I fought with him...All the time I fought with him because I loved him. Because I wanted him to be a Dad and not just the demon recon revolutionary he'd turned into." Sam looked up slowly into Mary's eyes realizing only after the articulation that he'd commented on his thoughts aloud. Dean cleared his throat as if he would begin a more formal narration.
"You never knew me and Sam at our Sunday best, Mom. You met us at the tail end of a chew-toy whacked out life. You got the extra crispy leftovers of who we are and I really wish you'd known us when we weren't like that. When we were young guys and Dad, demon recon revolutionary and all, was still alive. He raised us to be warriors and that made us into brothers…"Dean smiled. And then he cleared his throat.
"But Sam's right. Dad was stuck in the middle of an impossible situation and he...He did what he could. I obeyed him...idolized him to an unhealthy thought pattern because I loved him. Because I wanted him to be my Dad and not just a drill sergeant." Dean and Sam exchange a look. And then Sam smiled.
"But he did love us very much, in his own warped way. There was this one hunt in particular where we had seriously ticked an Ancient Hawaiian fire god. You remember that, Sammy? We were in the San Mateo Canyon region on a regular werewolf hunt when we woke the old gods up and started a monster mash right there in the middle of the So-Cal wilderness?" Dean looked at Sam. Sam's eyes were wide.
"Oh, yeah...I'd never forget that. Dad saved us in every way we could have been saved, but he didn't baby us either. If you asked me when I became a grown-up, I'd have to say it was that day." Sam looked at Mary with his eyes shining. But Dean was the one who'd decided to tell the story.
"I was 19-years-old. Sam was 15. Dad said this region probably had answers, that this pack of wolves finally had answers, that we would finally close in on the damn thing that killed you if we just could get close to what the fang bangers of that region called Pele's pit or something. Dad seriously thought Pele was like a sire werewolf. We had no idea he was a like he-she fire demon out for blood against hunters…"
"This is kind of like camping! That is if camping sucked and was ungodly hot. It's like the Devil's armpit out here. Why the hell are we even doing this, Dean?!" Sam had his bare feet on the back window of Dad's truck. He'd laid down flat on top of the gearboxes letting his sweaty bangs fan out upside down. One hand held a rifle to his chest, the other batted at horse flies. Dean stood beside him drenched in sweat, a bandana tied around his head. He was holding a rifle across his knees.
"You know, now's not the time for your sassy BS, Sammy." Dean looked up. Dad stood with a 12 gauge staring into the distant forest. His steady silence spoke volumes as if thunder rolled from his feet like red carpets to the wild. Dean forgot the tongue-lashing he'd gotten about 20 minutes ago even forgetting what it had been about. Dad put off this aura that earned instant respect despite the sometimes mean behavior toward his oldest.
Sam sat up, noticing a change in the older Winchester. He twitched his upper lip and Dean couldn't help but hum soft laughter at the beginnings of facial hair Sammy had been trying to grow for an entire month.
"Dad? Why are we hunting werewolves in the broad daylight? I thought you said they liked night time and the full moon?" Sam looked at Dean. Dean felt nervous without knowing why. Dad was being strangely patient with Sammy's incessant questions and sass.
"Dad...What's wrong?" Dean drew nearer his father. John turned around. To Dean's amazement, there was pure terror brewing under the surface of the coffee dark that was John's eyes. He smiled.
"Stand up, Sam. We're going to do this on foot."John looked sternly at Sam. His tone was enough to silence whatever question Sam was about to ask. John and Sam argued most of the time, but when things got really serious, the two like thinkers worked together. To his amazement, it was Dean who spouted off a question.
"Why? I-I thought you said we were just on stakeout duty this time. We...we're not hunting a wolf are we?" Dean heard the shakiness in his own voice. John's face softened, seeming to suddenly remember the ribbing he'd just given the oldest, which was actually about their daylight position as well.
"No, we're not. We're hunting Pele. Thought he was a myth, but...he's real. All the signs are here. This guy...He's a mean SOB, boys. And if we don't leave this spot, we're liable to be sucked right into the middle of his blazing path." John smiled when Sam's jaw snapped open.
"WHY THE HELL DIDN'T YOU SAY SO BEFORE?!" Sam would have gotten in trouble except for the instant look of sheer panic on his face. Ever since he was little, Sam had been afraid of fire. Dean was too, but he would never say anything to Sam about the real reason they both felt this way. That they had been at the scene of their own mother's funeral pyre….
"Sam, look at me, son. Front and center. Didn't tell you because I didn't know who were dealing with until we got out here. I'm sorry, boys. Yeah, this was supposed to be a recon mission but missions go south. You cannot and you will not panic, got that?" John gave Sam a little bit of a shake. Sam's eyes snapped around to his Dad understanding that they were already in danger by his tone. Dean was the one that was starting to panic. He was amazed that he was choking on the urge to vomit now.
"That goes for you too, champ." John was more sympathetic when he looked up at Dean. Neither of the older Winchesters had ever told Sam, but Dean remembered seeing his mother as she'd been in her last few moments. He was more than a little panicky and phobic like Sammy was in his subconscious. He was traumatized and mortified.
"Dean...Look at me, son." John took Dean's shoulders. He made him look at him dead in his eyes. Dean felt raw terror ripping through him like wildcat teeth, but for one split second looking into his Dad's storm cloud eyes, he was totally calm. John nodded.
"Dean, I'm going to cut a path. You and your brother need to put the rifles on your back and take up those stakes I put in the back, the ones made of driftwood. Got that? That fire is coming, boys. We've got to get a move on and I mean now." John nodded. Dean swallowed and turned to Sam.
"Why...Why can't we just take the truck?" Sam's voice cracked. He had already grabbed the stakes that Dean was told to get but they were shaking in his hands.
"Sammy, you're gonna be okay." Dean patted Sam's chest. Sam looked at John as if demanding an answer. John drew a deep breath, acknowledging that this was one time Sam needed an explanation.
"There's a creek down that way, Sammy. If we can get to the water we might be able to survive what's coming." John hid the panic in his voice well.
"All these years later, and it never occurred to me that this was his worst fear coming back to life again. A fire had taken his wife and now a fire was coming for his kids. For Dad, that was something worse than getting killed. But he was rock steady even in the face of his worst nightmare and he was doing it for me because my head was shattering right off my shoulders." Dean swallowed, gripping his knees.
By this time, Castiel had come back. He was going to stay away. But his heart had been aching to know these things, and the ache had become louder than the tears he'd cried at the foot of Jack's bed. Mary startled when Cas sat down next to her.
"I'm sorry...I should I should probably let you all um…"Cas tried to find an excuse for his presence.
"You are part of our family. And you're staying for the rest of this story. Besides, you were the one who was with my boys when I couldn't be." Mary took Cas' hands. Cas smiled at Dean. Dean's hand covered his face. Sam put a hand on Dean's back realizing that he would have a hard time admitting this story in front of the angel he'd always put on a pedestal and the mother near the heart of his pain.
"It's true. We were always afraid of fire, after what happened to you, Mom. It's ironic that the three of us burned in Hell before the end. But we burned for the very same reason every time and that was family." Sam smiled as he rubbed Dean's shoulders. Dean mastered himself again.
"But there was this one time that we climbed out of a fire and it was John Winchester who saw to it that we made it out. That fight, that hunt with Pele actually set him on the path to finally understanding that the Colt was real. I found a note in his journal about it later." Dean drew a breath looking Mary in the eyes. He was determined to make peace with her now that his heart was bleeding in her hands.