Hello! So when I realized that I hadn't updated this story since last August, I about had a heart attack. I am so sorry! School and life in general consumed me, and it's such an awful excuse. So many apologies! Thank you guy so much for sticking with me! I made this chapter extra long for you (my longest ever!) and added lots of original parts in. Also, I have already started on the next chapter, so yay!
This chapter mentions some things that I wrote in detail about in Chapter 26 of Growing Up, Winchester Style, so if you want some more background information after reading this chapter, feel free to check that one out!
Special thank you to sweetkiwi604, SPNxBookworm, and ispiltthemilk for their help and support!
Please let me know what you think about this chapter! I'd love to hear your feedback :)
Most importantly, enjoy!
The whole ride back to the hotel was something worse than torture. I could only manage to take very shallow breaths as my mind kept racing, constantly replaying Dean's words…"Thanks…uh, for staying…Both of you," his voice looped over and over. It was the worst feeling: thinking that he knew nothing only to find out he DID know something but now I didn't know how much he did know about what he shouldn't know cuz I didn't want him to know. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?! I sure as hell didn't. So did he know about the first time, the second time, both times, or was he just making this up for shits and giggles? Because I was NOT giggling, but shitting, yes. Shitting bricks. DO YOU SEE THE PROBLEM?
And to make this whole situation even worse, I was pretty sure Sam had more questions than I had myself. When Dean had said both of you, it was hard not to miss Sam's head jerk in my direction; clearly he was shocked and taken back because he realized that there was some secret he had not been let in on. Well, in my defense, I wasn't aware anyone else had been let in on it, at least not in the Winchester family. So, just what I needed. More problems and anxiety in my already messed up, confused life.
I convinced Dean to drop me off at the motel so I could sleep, but in reality it was because 1. I couldn't handle going to breakfast with them for fear that the topic would come up and 2. I still didn't want to eat. The less and less I managed to eat, the deeper the hole felt inside of me, and it was somehow comforting. I could control that emptiness I felt, and it was now my solace as I was still grieving and processing my dad's death. And in my messed up mind, it all made perfect sense.
I was able to get a few hours of shuteye, but Sam and Dean came busting through the door like the two jackasses they were. I was rudely awoken from my slumber and that pretty much guaranteed a bitchy Kate. "What the hell?!" I slurred, sitting up and bed.
"Pack up your shit, we're taking a field trip," Dean fumed as he tossed his duffle on the bed.
"Where to?" I asked, getting slowly out of bed. Might as well get up and at it now because it didn't seem like more sleep was going to happen.
"Ask him," Dean answered coldly, nodding in Sam's direction. "He's the one who insists on going."
I turned to Sam and waited for some sort of explanation. The way he scrunched up his face made me see that, for some reason, the answer wasn't as simple as it should have been. "After all that's happened, it just seems like the right thing to do, going to visit mom…," he ran a hand through his hair as he explained, but was cut off, unable to elaborate further.
"Kate! What did you put in here?!" Dean yelled, holding up his duffle bag to show me what was inside. Oops, looks like I never got around to sorting the clothes from the laundry I was forced to do yesterday. Sorry not sorry that everything was all mixed up and jumbled together.
"Oh, my bad," I replied sarcastically, opening up my own bag. "But between Gordon making snide remarks, you punching Sam, and oh, almost getting killed by the freak ass, I guess I just couldn't make enough time to sort this crap out." I tossed a few shirts to both my brothers that I'd found in my bag.
"Yeah, I'm not touching any of that," Dean said, pointing to the inside of his bag. Seriously? The guy's maturity level really needed to be looked at by a medical professional.
"Well me either. Do it yourself or just let it rot in there forever," I quipped.
Sam and I laughed as Dean picked up one of his own socks from the bag and put it on his hand to use as a glove. Standing as far away as his reach allowed, he stuck his hand in the bag and pulled out a large, green shirt that I sleep in. Making a disgusted face, he threw it at me and then reached back inside the bag and pulled out a pair of my gym shorts and one of Sam's shirts. He practically gagged as he took the sock off and shook his hand. Seriously? An old t-shirt and a pair of gym shorts deserved that much of a scandal?
"I really think we need a re-vote on who the family drama queen is," I jeered, cramming the clothes back in my bag. I can only imagine the outrageousness that would have occurred if, demons forbid, a pair of my underwear had been in there.
"Dude, they're clean," Sam laughed as he finished sorting clothes from his own stuff.
"Yeah, but you never know with her suckass washing skills," Dean defended.
"Sorry, guess I'll have to buy the cootie killing soap next time," I joked, earning me an annoyed scowl from Dean.
With our clothes finally sorted out, we were able to load up the impala and get on the road. Where to? Well none other than Greenville, Illinois. What was there? Mom's grave. Unfortunately after the fire, there wasn't any body left to bury, but some uncle on Mom's side of the family wanted to have a place where she could be remembered. I had never been to the tombstone or anything, so I wasn't sure how I really felt about everything.
We had just passed a sign welcoming us to Greenville, announcing that we were ultimately close to our destination. "So you just wanna do what…go pay your respects to a slab of granite put up by a guy we don't even know?" Dean asked, sarcastically.
"That's not the point," Sam defended. "It's not about the body or casket. It's about her memory, okay?" And there it was. Memory. Something they both had of her. The only memories, if you can call them that, I have of my mom came from stories Dean told me over the years. There was a beat of silence before Sam continued, "And after Dad, it just….just feels like the right thing to do."
So we lose one parent, the one we were all closest to and spend all of our lives with…when that parent dies, it suddenly made sense to go visit the grave of our other parent who died all those years ago? His train of thought clearly didn't coincide with mine. "Do you guys even think Dad went to see her grave?" I interjected. For some reason, I just couldn't picture my dad coming and sitting beside a grave, talking to my mom, but then again John Winchester had always been a mystery, even to his own kids.
"I don't know Kate," Dean snapped harshly. "But I do know that this is just friggin irrational, that's what it is," he jeered, his temper clearly on edge. Talk about wearing your feelings on your sleeve.
"Look, I never asked either of you to come," Sam said. And it was true. He had tried more than once to get Dean to dump him off so he could come alone.
"How about we just swing by the roadhouse instead? I mean maybe Ash has something on the demon. That's who we need to be hunting right now," I suggested. To me, it made more sense to go after the thing that killed our dad. Get going on a case. Not go visit a grave that I really had no connection to.
"That's a great idea, you guys should. Just drop me off, I'll hitch a ride and meet you there tomorrow," Sam proposed. Ugh, that idea was shot down because we all knew Dean wasn't just going to willingly let one of us wander off alone and hitch hike.
"Right," he laughed. "Stuck with those people? Kate and Ash making things awkward for everyone? No thanks," he joked. Well I would in fact make things awkward for him because that was my job. But that was a weak excuse, we all knew it.
At the graveyard, Sam found Mom's grave and went off by himself to have a moment, carrying dad's dog tags; I didn't feel compelled to go, so I wanted him to be able to do whatever it was he needed to do there. I may seem heartless, but I just couldn't go there. I would be staring at something that meant nothing to me. A tombstone with a familiar name but no memories. I'd thought about my mom so many times growing up and had already made peace with the fact that I'd never have her in my life; however, on the other hand, Sam and Dean had known her and had memories they could still recall, since they were 4 and 8 when she passed away.
I guess Dean couldn't face Mom's grave either, due to his inability to cope with anything remotely feeling-related. I didn't see a problem in that at all. He could handle his shit however he wanted to. So he and I were wondering around in different parts of the cemetery until Sam finished. Milfred August McFilster, 1879-1940. Well this poor man…nope. Wait. I knelt down to read the fine print under the name: Loving mother…Ok, rephrasing. Well this poor woman suffered her whole life with a horrendous name. And August? Seriously? She wasn't even born in August. Guess there was too much opium going around that night.
"Kate!" Dean bellowed as he came up beside me.
"Dean, sshhhhh," I hushed in a low voice. I had no idea why, but being loud in a cemetery felt…wrong.
"What? You scared they're gonna wake up?" Dean mocked. I narrowed my eyes, giving him my infamous annoyed stink eye. He just let it roll right off his shoulder and pointed to a grave over to my right. "See that?" My stink eye was still in place. Clearly I could see what he was pointing at.
Before I could answer, a misty eyed Sam solemnly walked over to us and without saying a word, looked in the direction Dean was pointing. The look on his face told me he just wanted to jump in this conversation and not be forced to talk about anything. "Dead grass," I stated flatly.
"Yeah, in a perfect circle around the grave," Dean explained.
"So? Maybe the groundskeeper went a little overboard with the pesticide," Sam offered without missing a beat. I looked over at him, stunned that his voice sounded so steady, distinctively not matching his eyes.
"No, I asked him. No pesticide or chemicals. He said nobody can explain why it happened." Clearly Dean had already made his mind up that this was something here. Our silence was his cue to continue. "I'm thinking unholy ground."
"Uh…," Sam muttered in disbelief, not sure how to respond.
"Really though? I mean how many times out of ten do we actually—and literally—stumble upon a case?" I added. I mean it seemed a little too easy that a case would just happen to be at the one spot we dropped by to visit.
"Come one, if something evil happened here, it could easily poison the ground, you guys know that. Remember the farm outside of Cedar Rapids?" Dean tried to justify himself.
"Yeah, but I…," Sam started, but was interrupted.
"Could be a sign of demonic presence," Dean continued. "Or the Angela girl…the one who's buried there, her spirit could cause that if it's powerful enough."
"Sure," Sam responded flatly before turning away and starting off toward the car.
Dean stared at me and raised his eyebrows silently asking for me to agree with him. "I mean I guess it could be possible," I offered halfheartedly. Dean did have some good points and a case was actually believable. And my calendar was pretty open for the next, oh, 938484 years, so it looked like we had nothing else to do but to look into this case for Dean's sake. And get back to the demon hunt afterwards.
"Thanks," Dean muttered, annoyed. He walked past me toward the Impala as I trailed behind, glancing over to look at the gravesite again.
Standing along the side of the car, Sam turned to face Dean as he approached. "Are you sure this is about a hunt and not about something else?" Sam interrogated.
"What else would it be about?" Dean countered, taken back by his question.
Sam sighed and muttered, "You know, just forget about it," before getting into the car and slamming the door behind him.
Dean got into the driver's seat as I slid into the back behind Sam. I silently hoped this conversation had reached its end because tensions were already high enough between everyone, but Dean just had to get another word in. "You believe what you want, Sam, but I let you drag our asses out here, so the least we can go is check this out. The guy said her dad is a professor at the local university, so we can start there." After receiving no response from his brother, he added as an afterthought, "Kate is already onboard, so its best you get on too."
I caught Sam's glance at me through the passenger side mirror. Feeling attacked, I had no choice but to defend myself. "Sam, it's not like we have any other plans lined up for today."
Sam snorted, almost in disgust that I'd so easily taken Dean's side, even though this wasn't a worthwhile fight to take sides over. I just chose the most appealing option. I'd rather have something to do than nothing at all. "Well, why don't you two go check it out then," Sam scoffed, turning his gaze fully on the passing tress out the window. It wasn't a question but an indirect way of demanding Dean drop him off at a motel before we headed to the university to meet Angela's dad.
We dumped Sam off at a crap motel we found on the way. Dean stopped the car on the road in front of it, too irritated with him to actually pull in and drop him off at the door. As Sam got out, I made my way to the front seat. Ah, the view was much better up here. There was no oversized head blocking the scenery. The Impala started to pull away and I had to quickly grab a hold of the door to shut it. "Impatient much?" I scowled, folding my arms across my chest.
"Oh god, why do both you and Sam have to be pmsing at the same time?" Dean jeered with a roll of his eyes. "You both need to get your bitching under control."
"Ass…," I muttered under my breath. I knew better than to respond any further because that would just egg him on; he didn't need any extra encouragement, so I opted to stare out the window, but the silence was almost deafening. Both of us were too lost in our own thoughts to turn on the radio. Well, we all know I couldn't turn on the radio because the second my hand would lunge towards the buttons, Dean would reflexively smack it away without even blinking.
"How much further?" I broke the silence.
"I don't know, probably 10 miles or so," Dean responded without taking his eyes off the road. So 10 miles left. I glanced up ahead and noticed we were coming closer to downtown because the speed limit was slowly being reduced to 35 mph. This all just converted into a long time in this car. And now all I could think about was the comment Dean had made the other day as we were leaving Gordon to suffer. It was still eating away at me that he knew. He knew I had wanted to go off to college. And it was killing me inside to not know HOW he knew. I knew Sam had picked up on Dean's comment by the look he'd given me and it was only a matter of time before he demanded an explanation. So it was best I figured out now how much Dean was clued in on, so I wouldn't shove my foot in my mouth later and over-share.
"So, uh, Dean," I stammered, unsure how to word it. "Remember that comment you made outside the Impala as we were leaving Gordon to rot?"
He tore his glance from the road to me, confusion written all over his face. "You're going to have to be more specific. I mean, I say a lot of crap," he said.
I took a deep breath before continuing, "You…you, well I think I heard you, uh, say…," I stuttered. This would have gone much better had I rehearsed how to phrase it. I tried to tread lightly and I was treading so lightly that I was sinking.
"Kate!" Dean scolded, lightly banging his hand on the steering wheel for added emphasis at my pause. "Come on, spit it out already," he grumbled. He was never one for patience, as you already know.
So I had no other choice and I let the words come pouring out at his command, "You thanked Sam…and me for not leaving. For sticking around. How…how did you know I was going to leave?" There. It was done. I finally got it out there in the open. It was general enough, yet demanded a specific response.
"I didn't know," he stated flatly, as his gaze returned to me, shock written all across his face. "But I do now."Saying my heart fell to the floor would be an understatement. Had I just inadvertently given up information that I thought I wasn't offering up in my strategically generalized question? Had he just tricked me? WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED?
He must have seen my distressed and shocked look, because his face softened a little and he said, "I've known for awhile, Katie." I felt my face and shoulders relax, realizing I hadn't just spilled the secret after all. I turned sideways in my seat to face him better, encouraging him to continue with more details. "I saw your acceptance letter," he explained.
"You freaking touched my tampon box?" I asked, both offended and in disbelief. I had hidden them so well. The one place I thought he'd never look or even dream of touching.
"What? Fuck no! Ugh, that's disgusting, Kate!" he said, horrified at even the mere mention of girl products.
"Well I know that's where I hid them," I countered.
"Them?" Dean asked, surprised by the mention of multiple letters.
"One story at a time and it's your turn," I avoided. I mentally berated myself for not catching such a simple mistake. I hoped we'd make it to the university before it was my turn.
Dean narrowed his eyes, silently telling me I was, in fact, going to have to explain that to him. It was that straightforward look, so effortless and plain, yet it drilled into me. It was one of his many looks that Sam and I had learned to read from a young age.
He turned back to keep his eyes on the road and made a left turn. "I didn't see the actual letter. Awhile back when I was on the laptop, I saw the acceptance that Ohio State emailed you," he explained.
And there it was. From that little information, I knew exactly what day and time he was talking about. Here I had spent a year and a half thinking he hadn't seen that email, since he'd never mentioned it or even hinted at it. But I guess fate and that damn computer battery had failed me….
I rubbed both hands over my face in complete disbelief. My heart rate and breathing increased as I entered a state of shock. I had been waiting weeks for this response and there it was, an email from The Ohio State University. It was one of three universities I had applied to, but the first in responding to my application. I knew I'd eventually get a letter version of my acceptance or rejection…but the answers were sitting right there in front of me. All I had to do was click on the email.
Before I had a chance to do so, a little bubble popped up in the bottom right-hand corner, warning me there was only 3% minutes of battery life left. I glanced at it, but couldn't be bothered to care. This was my moment and no dying battery was going to ruin it.
Finally, I opened the email and felt my chest swell with pride and accomplishment. There it was. "We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted.…" I let out a gush of air, not even aware I had been holding my breath. I remember scanning over the entire email and then going back and reading it again…and again…and again. This was my greatest accomplishment and was a total game total changer. This was one of those defining moments people were always talking about. Destiny was staring back at me.
Interrupting my happiness was the damn battery blurb again, informing me it had 1% left. Well talk about a mood killer. Forced down from cloud 9, I scrolled the mouse up to the 'sign out' button on my email, clicked, and then the screen went black. The laptop died. IT DIED ON ME. Had I signed out?! I knew I had clicked the button, but had it gone though in time? Did it log out? I tried to stay calm as I tore apart the hotel room, searching for the charger. I had to be sure it logged out.
I threw things everywhere but the charger was nowhere to be found. I froze, suddenly remembering it was in Dean's duffle in the car. IN THE CAR, I SAY! And as if on cue, the Impala roared into the parking spot outside of the room. I wasn't ready to break the news to Dean yet since I wasn't even sure what was going on, so I had to stay calm. I just needed to keep it together and to not attract any suspicions.
First things first, I needed that life saving piece of cord. I pounded on the window to get his attention. "Dean, bring in the charger!" I commanded, being sure to flash a fake smile of appreciation.
He bought it, mostly. I heard him grumble as he got into the trunk and pulled out his bag. Storming into the room, he tossed it carelessly on the bed, making his way to the couch. I scurried over and dug it out of the bag. I plugged the little miracle worker in and stared at the screen, waiting for it to come to life again.
"The weapons haven't been cleaned?" Dean bellowed, motioning towards the numerous weapons lying on the other bed.
I looked at him like a deer caught in headlights. I knew there was something I was supposed to do, but the email had been way more important. "I just gotta finish this assignment real quick and I'll get to it," I offered. Once that computer powered back up, it would load the screen exactly as it was when it died. Meaning if my email hadn't been logged out, my acceptance email would be the first thing to pop up on that screen. I had to wait. Had to be safe, because sorry was not an option.
"No you won't. Get started now," he said in a low tone, clearly he hadn't been able to find all the information he needed for his case today because there was no escaping his bad mood.
"But, Dean, just one min—" I started, but was interrupted.
"No. Katelyn. Now." Each word was spoken with such force that they formed their own separate sentences, packed with meaning. Dean continued, "Dad's going to be home tonight and if it isn't done he's going to rip both our asses," he threatened. When he noticed I wasn't budging from my seat, he came over and literally shoved me out of the seat, my strength crumbling under his. He sat down where I had been moments earlier and pointed towards the weapons on the bed without saying another word. I stood there, completely helpless as I saw a blue light from the laptop screen reflect off the window, showing it was starting back up. Dean's dark scowl burned into me, compelling me into reluctant obedience. I shuffled over to the bed and sat down with my back facing him. I didn't want to see his face in case my open email popped up as the computer resumed its previous session.
I don't think I took a single breath for two minutes. My shoulders fell forward, curving into my body as I prepared myself for the screaming that was inevitably going to come at me from behind. But nothing happened. Nothing was ever said, and after 5 minutes, I finally relaxed a little, knowing that I had logged out in time.
So I had been wrong all this time; he had seen it. "Why? Why didn't you say anything that day?" I questioned, still not fully able to process it.
"What would be the point? I couldn't stop Sam so there was no point in repeating our family drama again," he explained. "I knew how important it was for you to make that decision on your own. And I wanted you to come to me about it, not me yelling at you because I found out by dumb luck."
And there it was. I now knew what Dean knew and thank the pagan gods he didn't know it all. But this revelation was enough to make me speechless. I mean, how do you respond to that? I felt slightly guilty for never going to him about it, but since I didn't end up going to college, there had been no point to create a scene. The past is the past, as they say.
"Thank you," I offered up quietly, but sincerely. Being a Winchester, expressing feelings of gratitude wasn't my forte. I couldn't believe Dean had been considerate enough to put me before everything else in all of this. And if this was as far as the story went for him, that was even better news. But I had to make sure. "And, so, what would you have done if I'd decided to go to Ohio State?"
"I woulda tied your ass up and thrown you in the trunk for good," he joked, flashing his quirky, stupid grin. His never-ending buckets of sarcasm were my cue that he wasn't going to elaborate anymore. Dean turned another corner and I could see big brick buildings up ahead. "So," Dean paused. "There was more than one letter?"
I shut my eyes hard and reluctantly answered, "Yeah, there were three. Ohio State, University of Pennsylvania, and Duke University."
"And you were accepted to all of them?" Dean pried, but his tone was nonchalant.
I breathed a sigh of relief as the university entrance sign came into clear view. Dean parked the car and cut the engine as I responded, "Yeah, all of them," I confirmed. If I didn't know any better, I would have sworn I saw a small tug at the corner of Dean's lips, forming a sideways grin of approval. But I knew I was imaging stuff, because that was not possible. Dean Winchester approving of something, much less a college matter? See, it even sounds like a lie when you put those first 3 words side-by-side.
We got out of the car and Dean completely changed into case mode, thank bob because that put an end to our college conversation. We made our way up to Dr. Mason's office and I knocked on the door.
A short, slightly balding older man opened it. "Dr. Mason?" Dean asked.
"Yes," he confirmed.
"I'm Kate, this is Dean," I motioned toward my brother. "We were friends of Angela…we wanted to offer our condolences." I offered, flashing a small, sympathetic smile.
"Please come in," Dr. Mason said gently, motioning for us to enter his office.
I sat down on the couch with him as he opened up a photo album. Dean casually browsed around the office, looking for anything of interest while I distracted the guy. "She really was beautiful," I said. And it wasn't a lie. She was petite with long, brown hair. Her smile really looked infectious, like everywhere she went, she brightened people's days.
"Yes, she was," Dr. Mason said melancholically.
"This is an unusual book," Dean interrupted, showing the cover of a book he had been leafing through. I immediately noticed the Greek letters.
"It's ancient Greek," he explained. Score, I knew it. "I teach a course," he finished before returning his glance to the photo album.
Dean placed the book back in its spot and stepped towards us. "So a car accident, that's horrible," he said, lacking sympathy. He really needed to work on his comforting skills, because without Sam, I was really carrying the team here.
"Angie was only a mile away from home when, uh…," he trailed off, not wanting to speak the words. He couldn't even lift his eyes from the photos.
"It's gotta be hard. Losing someone like that," Dean began. Well he had something right. Losing someone sure was hard. We were all too aware of that. "Sometimes it's like they're still around. Almost like you can still sense their presence." I shot Dean a look. Remember when I said he wasn't being sympathetic? Well he just got worse in that department. "You ever feel anything like that?" he finished. I knew he was trying to get at something, but this poor old man just didn't seem like he was the demon, hoodoo, evil type.
"I do, as a matter of fact," he answered solemnly, still not able to look at us in the eye.
"That's perfectly normal though, Dr. Mason," I added, trying to decrease the intensity in Dean's attack.
He took it as his cue to continue on. It seemed like he just wanted someone to share this with and we happened to be there. Finally, he drew his gaze over to me and explained, "You know, I still phone her. And the phone's ringing before I remember that she's, uh…." Dead. The one simple word that so many of us couldn't utter. I felt the pit in my stomach make itself known again. All of this death talk was just exasperating my emptiness. "Family's everything, you know?" Yes, I did know. "Angie was the most important thing in my life. And now, I, I, I'm just lost without her." Well he wasn't the only one who was lost. And it was that kind of lost feeling where you knew you couldn't be found again.
Ever since we spoke with Dr. Mason, Dean had been solely in hunting mode, and much to our despair, we'd arrived back at the hotel to the same old grumpy Sam. Maybe I really did need to give him some Midol or something.
"I'm telling you there's something going on here. We just haven't found it yet," Dean stated confidently, standing outside the bathroom as Sam finished washing his face.
"Dean, so far all you guys have is a patch of dead grass and nothing," Sam countered with his logic.
"Well, something turned that grave into unholy ground," I interjected, crossing my arms and standing beside my eldest brother. I had to agree with Dean, this did seem like it had case-like qualities and potential. It was worth checking into further before we peaced out of this town. And shut it Sam. I just countered your logic with my own logic.
"There's no reason for unholy ground!" Sam's voice rose, clearly exasperated. "You guys basically found out that Angela Mason was a nice girl who died in a car crash. Nothing more. Nothing less. This isn't exactly vengeful spirit material."
"Well maybe Daddy doesn't know everything there is to know about his little angel, huh?" Dean argued. He threw his glance in my direction, as if to silently prove his point between the two of us from our earlier conversation, and then he walked out into the room.
"You know what? You guys never should have bothered that poor, grieving man! We shouldn't even be here anymore," Sam spat as he trailed behind Dean.
"So what, Sam? What, we just bail? Without even figuring out what's going on?" Dean argued. He took the words right out of my mouth. WE HAVE NOTHING ELSE TO DO, SAM!
"I think I know what's going on here. It's the only reason I went along with you guys this far," Sam began. He took our silence and intrigued looks as a sign to continue, "This is about mom's grave."
Dean scoffed, "That's got nothing to do with it." Well this conversation took an interesting turn to a full on therapy session.
"Neither of you would step within a hundred yards of it!" Sam exclaimed. "I get why Kate doesn't feel a connection to the grave, but, Dean, you knew her. You have memories of her and you couldn't face her tombstone." He paused, expecting some sort of response from us. "Look, maybe you're imagining a hunt where there isn't one, and Kate just follows along because that way, neither of you have to think about Mom. Or Dad," he finished in a soft tone. I was pretty sure Sam went to college to be a lawyer, not some bogus psychologist! But yet here he was, making assumptions.
I just rolled my eyes, looking away. Nope, not taking his bait this time. This was more about Dean anyway because clearly Sam was seeing something in him that I'd missed. Dean turned to look at Sam straight on, his face tight. Sam sighed before adding, "You wanna take another swing? Go ahead, if it'll make you feel better."
Can we just take a moment to acknowledge that Sam was handing out a free punching card? And freaking Dean offered up a freebee just the other day. Why did no one ever offer me a free shot? Rude.
Dean's jaw sat rigid and firm, anger slowly gravitating across his facial expressions. He reached over to grab his jacket and keys off the table. "I don't need this crap." He made his way to the door, pausing briefly when he heard Sam's voice.
"Where are you going?" Sam asked, concerned at his overall evasiveness.
"I'm going to get a drink," he snapped. "Alone," he added in a low, affirmative tone.
And Dean called Sam and I moody. He just went from being focused on figuring out this case to total bitch-out mode. Gosh, I just need to start spiking everyone's drink with midol so this shit got under control.
Sam must have taken this as his opportunity to open up a family therapy session, because he turned to me with his share-and-care face on. "Do you want to talk about it?" he suggested lightly.
Yes, I had broken down to him right after Dad had died. Yes, I was a blubbering mess and things just started flowing out of my mouth, but what I was dealing with now was not the kind of thing you shared with anyone, let alone an overprotective brother. "Oh hey, Sam, yeah, I'm neglecting food on purpose because I can't seem to shake this lifeless, limp, and empty feeling that is slowly consuming my entire body." That would go over real well.
"No, Sam, I'm good," I answered flatly. I shoved my way past him and over to the couch, seeking an escape.
"Are you sure? How are you feeling about everything now?" Sam pried, sitting down beside me on the couch.
I began to search all over for the remote because I desperately needed to turn on the TV and drown this guy out. "I'm fine, Sam, how are you dealing?" I mocked. Finally, I spotted the remote resting on the nightstand in between the beds.
As I walked over there, I heard Sam let out a heavy sigh and say, "I'm still processing everything too. I'm grieving and trying to find a way to move on, but you…and especially Dean…I'm just worried about you guys."
I narrowed my eyes at the back of his head and stared at the remote in my hand. I was unexpectedly overcome with the burning sensation to just chuck it at his stupid head. I was tired of him being worried and constantly bringing up Dad. Call me impulsive, but I pulled the remote back over my shoulder, in full launching position. Without another thought, I hurled it in his direction, but at the last possible second I felt remorse, causing its flight course to be diverted slightly to the left. Damn that remote-thrower's-remorse. And before Sam knew what had (not) hit him, the remote made contact with the middle of the TV screen. I was momentarily thankful the screen hadn't shattered, but Sam's harsh look threw daggers at me when he turned around. This was what happened when you didn't fully think things through.
I just shrugged my shoulders and went back over to him. "Sorry, it slipped," I halfheartedly apologized as I collected the discarded remote off of the floor. Reclaiming my seat on the couch, I pressed the power button and waited for my escape from this conversation.
However, my plan seriously backfired on me. The screen came to life and the sound was pouring out of the speakers, but the picture had (ironically) a huge black hole in the middle of it and like this spider-ey-web-looking-nonsense spread out around it, distorting the image even further. Only the colors in the four corners were visible. There was going to be no watching TV, unless we wanted to go old school and just listen to it.
"Nice going," Sam scoffed. This may appear to be my fault, but I can assure you it wasn't. I think we can all be in unanimous agreement that Sam was to blame. I was provoked.
"Dean's going to be pissed at you," I placed blame. I mean it's an unwritten rule that the first to place blame wins. I felt like we reverted to our childhood.
"Me? You're the one who chucked the remote! And you clearly need to work on your aim," Sam crossed his arms in defense. Lame lawyer, always presenting the obvious evidence. Time for a counter argument.
"Well, you should be thanking me for my awful aim because I missed my target—your head," I retorted, shutting off the TV. I was officially calling this thing a goner.
Sam gave me that one look. You know the one where he looks like a hurt puppy that's asking why would you do such an awful thing to me? Screw that look. I wasn't falling into his trap anyway. I threw myself back in the couch and slouched down, staring at the broken TV wishing it back to life.
"Yeah, I'm sure Dean will take your side anyway," he jabbed. I mean, duh he would take my side because when Dean Winchester was the judge in sibling's warfare court, the one who bribed better always won. And I had a pack of skittles stashed away. But the tone in Sam's voice made it clear that he wasn't just joking around, there was something underlying.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I countered, looking over at him.
"Seems like you two are pretty close," Sam sneered.
I sat up straighter, now on the defense. "Closer? Just because I agreed with him that we should look into this case? You think he and I are bffs now?" My voice dripped with sarcasm; that couldn't be further from the truth.
"You could have fooled me," his scoffed.
"Yes, because Dean and I stay up late at night sharing our greatest hopes and dreams." I rolled my eyes. "Get a grip, Sam!"
He laughed in disbelief. "Oh, come on. I heard what he said back at the farmhouse. You two still have your secrets. I thought we'd gotten caught up on all the crap that went down those two years we didn't talk, but apparently there are some things…big things…that you guys are still keeping from me!"
In sheer Winchester avoidance fashion, I stood up and turned away saying, "I don't know what you're talking about."
Before I could get more than a step away, Sam had his hand wrapped around my upper arm and yanked me around to face him. "Yes you do know," he affirmed in a low voice. "And I don't understand why you guys are still keeping things from me."
Realizing there was no way out of this one, it was time to get it over with. "Dean andIaren't keeping anything from you. I thought I was the only one who knew and that very same day, I found out, same as you, that Dean had known all along."
Sam and I both sat back down on the couch, a little calmer than before, and I went into all the details: how I'd found out about my first acceptance and then the others, the cursed battery, what Dean told me in the car, everything. He listened intently as I kept talking, careful not to interrupt until I had stopped.
"And…why did you decide not to go?" he asked. There was no resentment or judgment in his tone, just a simple, fair question that deserved an honest answer.
"After my high school graduation, after Dean came out to support me…I just couldn't go through with it, leaving him behind. But I couldn't not do it either." Sam's eyebrows rose in curiosity at my contradiction. I took a deep breath before continuing, "I sent in my letters of withdraw, letting the colleges know I wasn't going to go. But then it came time to send in the last one…"
I stared at the letter. A few months ago we had finally passed through Montana and I was able to sneak over to the post office where I had set up a P.O. box, so I could retrieve the physical admissions letters. I had to finish and mail them today to meet the June 15 deadline. Two had already been filled out and sealed, sitting beside me on the picnic table at the park. Now I had one left. Ohio State. Once I checked that second square box, I'd officially be throwing away any chance I had at going to college. Deep down I knew I couldn't go through with it. I just couldn't, but now that the actual moment was here…I couldn't make that definitive decision. The heaviness of the situation was becoming so real. There was no turning back. My eyes glanced down to the third box, which stated something about a 'deferral'. After reading the fine print, I realized this college offered a one year deferral to new students who had extreme circumstances that prevented them from coming this fall. One year. I'd have one more year to wrap my head around this and then I could slam this door shut and move on. My head was telling me how stupid this idea was, but my heart couldn't cope. So without another thought, I checked the deferral box and started filling up the lines in the "Explain Reasons" section, making the lies as convincing and 'extreme' as possible.
"A few weeks later, I received an email confirmation that my acceptance was accepted as a deferral for the following year. But, uh, Dean still doesn't know about this," I finished, searching Sam's face for some kind of response.
Sam nodded, as if he was silently agreeing that this was going to stay between us. "So you would have started this fall?" Sam questioned, trying to fill in the gaps. Yes, I was set to go to college a few months ago.
"Yeah, in late April they send me the acceptance again, waiting for my confirmation. And I was going to go, Sam. I really was. I even sent in the housing form. I mean, you were back, Dean had you here. You both had a new crusade to fight and didn't need me around anymore. I wanted to go off and see what it was like. To learn about something that actually interests me. But then Dad finally showed up and the wreck and the demon was so close and…," my voice fell at the end. He laid a supporting hand on my knee.
"And things changed," he finished. He knew exactly what I was thinking. We had found our dad and that's when things got more intense. He had a huge lead on the yellow-eyed demon and there was just no getting out of this for me. I never even had a chance to respond to Ohio State and tell them I wasn't coming before all of this went down.
"Yeah, fate intervened," I said quietly. It was just never in the cards for me to go to school. Fate and Destiny had teamed up on me to make that very clear. And I was glad it turned out that way because, even though I'd never admit it, I needed my brothers more now than ever.
"I'm sorry it had to be this way," Sam offered, sympathetically.
"Thanks, but looking back on it all, it was probably for the best. This is where I need to be now."
"I'm glad you're here," He smiled softy, trying to comfort me. I returned his smile, not sure what else to say now. Trying to lighten the mood, he casually asked, "So what were you going to study?"
"Nursing," I responded. Sam nodded knowingly, as if he had almost already assumed that'd be my response. "I had plenty of practice taking care of you guys growing up."
Sam laughed at the irony in it all. "Well, you'd be one hell of a nurse. But I'm glad you're still here because I don't trust Dean for a second to stitch me up," he joked, and that ended our conversation about my almost college experience.
Then, from our lack of entertainment (Sam's fault, remember?), we just sat on the couch and talked about anything and everything. From Sam recalling embarrassing moments in college to stupid things we did in our childhood (may or may not involve a large bucket and a hill). It felt good to finally get my college secret out in the open. I didn't have to hid it anymore and both brothers were mostly on the same page, well at least they were both clued in now. Dean was better off not knowing the rest anyway. What he doesn't know won't hurt him, as they say.
I heard Dean stumble in around 3 am last night, grumbling in anger when he realized Sam and I had each taken a bed, leaving him to the couch. You snooze, you lose. Well, I guess in this case it's 'get pissed and go off drinking alone, you lose'. When I woke up at 7:30, Dean was already gone and Sam was sitting at the table, perusing the newspaper.
"Where'd Dean go?" I asked, still trying to rub the sleep out of my eyes.
"I don't know, he left before I got up," Sam explained with a shrug of his shoulders. Clearly he wasn't too concerned.
I slowly shuffled my over to the bathroom, dragging my towel behind me. "M'kay. Imma shower," I mumbled.
"Fine. I'm going to go grab breakfast. What do you want?" he asked.
I immediately stopped dead in my tracks at the mention of food. If Sam went to get food and brought it back to the hotel, I'd be forced to eat it. I was already pressured into eating a gas station burrito under Dean's careful watch on the drive over here. And that had been hard enough. My stomach had protested the food, along with my mind. I couldn't do it again. "I'll go out and get it. Just let me grab a shower first," I offered casually.
"Nah, I'll just run out right now," Sam countered.
"I'll go. I could really use the fresh air," I persuaded intently.
Sam's expression showed he was a little confused by my sudden persistence, but he relented. "Fine, but hurry. I'm hungry."
"Okay, Dean," I mocked, closing the bathroom door behind me.
I'd made sure to take my grand old time walking to the dinner and walking back. I needed to waste all the time I could if Sam was going to believe my story.
I was walking under the hall overhang outside of the motel when I saw the Impala swing into the parking lot and pull into a parking space a few feet ahead of me. I met Dean as he got out of the car. Glancing down to the two styrofoam containers I was carrying, he said, "There better be extra bacon in there."
"Yeah, yeah," I responded, rolling my eyes. Obviously there was extra bacon. Dean Winchester did not function without extra bacon in the morning. I learned that one early on.
Dean put the key in the lock and slowly opened the door as the audio from the TV resonated through the room. "Next on the Skin Channel, Casa Erotica Four. A tale of two Latin beauties…"
My eyes first widened in shock and then narrowed in disgust. Did I hear what I think I just heard? Sam jumped, instantly noticing our presence in the room. Startled, he quickly shut off the TV and tossed the remote down, rubbing his hand over his chin, trying to act (not so) smooth.
"Uh, hey," he stuttered uncomfortably. He must have instantly noticed the horrified looks on our faces, because he added nonchalantly, "What?" Like he didn't think he was doing anything wrong.
Dean and I both entered slowly; I can't speak for him, but I was scared of what I might find around this little weird diving wall that separated the entrance from the 'living room area'. Glancing between Sam and the TV, he coughed and drew out slowly, "Awkward." Damn straight it was awkward.
All I gotta say is at least there was no funny business going on. Because there's just no recovering from something like that.
"Dude, the screen is broken," I reminded Sam. Which means he was listening to it and picturing…oh hell no. "Freaking gross," I spat, tossing the food down on the table.
"Where the hell were you?" Sam demanded, ignoring me and focusing in on Dean.
"Working our imaginary case," Dean scoffed, taking a seat at the table.
I passed him one of the containers. "Without me?" I accused.
"You were sleeping," he responded with a shrug of his shoulders. I opened my mouth to argue with him, but then I realized that you couldn't argue with that reasoning. He'd actually let me sleep, instead of dumping water on my head to get me up. He's a changed man.
"Yeah? And?" Sam pried for further information as he took a seat on the other side of the table.
"Well, you were right, I didn't find much," Dean began. And there it was. That 'I told you so' look from Sam. "Yeah, except Angela's boyfriend died last night. Slit his own throat. But, you know, that's normal. Uh, let's see, what else? Oh, he was seeing Angela everywhere before she died. But you know, I'm sure that's just me transferring my own feelings," Dean spat. Somebody call a fucking ambulance because Sam just got burned.
Sam held his hands up in retreat, half smiling. "Okay, I get it. I'm sorry, maybe there is something going on here."
"Maybe, Sam? It kind of sounds like more than a maybe," I added, wanting to get involved in this Sam-was-wrong-haha-in-your-face conversation.
"Yeah, I think I know how to do my job, despite what you might think," Dean snapped.
Letting his anger roll right off his shoulders, Sam suggested, "We should check out that guy's apartment," in his know-all tone, still refusing to come to terms with his wrongness.
"I just came from there," Dean countered, sitting down at the table. "A pile of dead plants, just like at the cemetery. Hell, dead goldfish too."
"Aw, poor fish. What did he ever do?" I sighed. So I had a soft spot for fish. It was the one pet I had for a little longer than a hot minute in my childhood.
Ignoring my comment, Sam asked through a mouthful of food, "So, unholy ground?"
"Maybe, but I'm still not getting that powerful angry spirit vibe from Angela," Dean explained, shoving another piece of bacon in his mouth. He reached over and pulled a pink book out of his coat that was hanging on the chair. It would never cease to amaze me how those inside coat pockets seemed to hold just about anything seamlessly. "I've been reading though this," he finished sitting down the book in front of me.
"You stole her diary?" I accused, picking it up.
"Yeah, I know how much you chicks confide in that piece of crap," Dean explained, continuing to eat. I felt my cheeks boil as the memories came flooding back from when Dean stole and read my entire diary. The embarrassment, mockery, and tears that ensued still haunted me to this day. "But instead of Kate's bitchy tell-all, this girl didn't have a bad thing to say about anyone. She's a little too nice even."
"So what do you want to do?" I asked, skimming through some pages. I felt guilty invading this girl's privacy, but lucky for her, she didn't have to live with these two after they read all her secrets.
"Keep digging, talk to more of her friends," Dean suggested.
"You get any names?" Sam asked, motioning toward the diary with his head.
"Are you kidding me? That thing's her bestest friend in the whole wide world," he joked, his smile telling us he had gotten enough information to go on.
"Wait, where's your food, Kate," Sam asked, suddenly realizing I was the only one not chowing down.
"I decided to eat at the restaurant," I replied nonchalantly, still skimming over more pages.
"Why?" Dean demanded lightly.
"What? A girl can't eat in piece without it being a crime? You chew so loudly that I just wanted a peaceful meal for once," I remarked, trying not to sound on the defense.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my brothers exchange concerned glances, but I avoided any further eye contact, busying myself with the diary in front of me. There was no need for any more secret sharing confrontations anytime soon.
Next stop was Neil's house to see if he had any information that could help us along. So there we were, standing on his doorstep trying to pose as grief counselors. So original, I know.
"I didn't realize the college sent out grief counselors," Neil commented "Let alone three of them."
Before I could even think up a response, Dean replied, "Oh yeah, you talk we listen. Safety in numbers, my friend. We can throw in a little therapeutic collage, you know, whatever jump-starts the healing for ya." Well it might have been the lamest response ever, and it seemed like Neil was thinking the same.
"Well, I think I'm okay. Thanks," he said flatly, still unsure why we were there.
He started to turn back into the house, but I jumped in, "Well, you heard what happened to Matt Harrison, right?"
"Yeah, I did," Neil confirmed, not showing any change in his emotion.
"Well, we just wanted to make sure you were okay. Grief can make people do crazy things," Sam offered. Wasn't that the truth.
But by the look on Neil's face, he didn't agree with that. "Look, I'm sorry about what happened to him. I am. But if Matt killed himself, it wasn't because of grief."
"No? Then why?" Dean inquired.
"It was guilt. Angie's death was Matt's fault and he knew it," Neil spat, accusingly. Well that was new information.
"How was Matt responsible?" I asked.
"Well, she really loved that guy. But the night of the accident, she walked in on him with another girl." I nodded, taking in all of this information, as he continued, "She as really torn up, that's why she crashed the car." He searched our faces, trying to judge our reactions. "Look, I gotta get ready for work, so…thanks for the concern, but, seriously, I'll be okay," he finished, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.
"So this case is turning out to me some tangled web of love," I chimed in.
"Yeah, this vengeful spirit theory is starting to make a little more sense. I mean, hell hath no fury…," Dean trailed off.
"Like a woman scorned," I finished. I mean classic example. You just don't fuck around with women. Literally and figuratively. We will haunt your ass. I don't condone her actions, but still.
"So if Angela got her revenge on Matt, you think it's over?" Sam asked aloud.
"There's only one way to be sure," Dean responded. Ugh. I knew where this was going and didn't like it. It meant great amounts of effort being exerted at ungodly hours of the night.
"Burn the bones," I muttered.
"Burn the bones? Are you guys high!?" Sam joked in skepticism.
Well that was an interesting question. I saw Dean pause for a moment, his eyes looking upwards, as if he was actually contemplating the real answer. "Well, I can't speak for him, but I'm not. However, I mean, I can always call up Leah and she'd know where to score some, if that's what you want for tonight grave diggin' party," I replied, settling into the backseat of the car. Ah, Leah. The girl with all the street smarts and inside connections across all 50 states and Canada.
"What?! No, Kate, I don't want to get high," Sam scoffed, annoyed that we'd sidetracked his conversation.
"Really, Sammy, you sure? Could be some fun family bonding time," Dean quipped in a playful mocking tone.
Sam's jaw set rigid and his lips formed a single line. "No, guys! I'm talking about your moronic idea to dig up her grave. Angela died last week!" Sam bellowed.
"So?" Dean replied simply, shrugging his shoulders as he started up the car.
"So, there's not going to be bones. There's going to be a ripe, rotting body in the coffin," Sam explained emphatically.
Oh no. That was a very good point. I thought old cob-webby bones with worms coming out of the eye sockets were enough. But, no, this had to be much worse.
Dean seemed to pause for a second, fully grasping what Sam had said. "Since when are you afraid to get dirty?" He taunted. As Sam shook his head in annoyance, Dean added, "Well, maybe you could use that pot after all," he joked, flashing his signature mocking grin in Sam's direction as we took off down the street.