There's a nod in this one to a (presumably) Tumblr post of unknown-to-me authorage that broke my wee heart. If you've seen it, you'll know it here.
December 15, 1984 – January 7, 1985
Dean had been right. Daddy packed them up and moved them away from Uncle Bobby's within a week. Sometimes they stayed at motels that smelled weird. Sometimes they stayed with people Dean didn't know, but that Daddy said were friends. And sometimes they slept in the car. They never stayed anywhere very long.
They'd been in the car almost non-stop for the last two days. Sammy was cranky and Daddy finally pulled over at a gas station, snapping at Dean to get his brother calmed down. Daddy got out of the car and headed for a pay phone, so Dean dug through the bag that held the last of their food. The only thing in it that Sammy could eat was Cheerios and they were down to the dusty, crumbly bits at the bottom.
After finishing the last of the cereal and drinking some water, Sammy gradually quieted. He was as tired as Dean and nodded off after getting something in his belly. Dean's stomach growled. He looked through the bag again, but there was nothing but empty wrappers and a can of beer. They only had one more diaper left, too. He looked across the parking lot to where Daddy was still talking on the phone. Hopefully he would remember to get food and stuff while they were here.
Dean turned the crank to roll the window down and listened to Daddy talking on the phone, trying to figure out if he was almost done. He sounded even more annoyed than usual, and Dean couldn't tell what he was talking about just from his side of the conversation.
"Look, I know it ain't exactly run of the mill, but I got my reasons, dammit, and they're none of your business!"
"Well, it better damn well work! I got a lot invested in this thing, and if it doesn't do what it's supposed to, I'm taking it out of your ass! I've only got the one shot."
"Yeah, fine. But this guy better have the real thing. I can't afford to be driving all over chasing this down only to find out it's a damn fake."
"And what about the translation? How far are you on that?"
"Any idea how much longer?"
"Yeah, I can have it there by then. First full moon after the solstice, I got it."
"Will the warding work? I can't have angels showing up in the middle of this. And if Gabriel finds out, I don't know what'll happen. I don't know how far he'd go to stop me."
Dean's ears picked up at the mention of Gabriel. Was that why they were driving all over the place? Something to do with Gabriel?
Just then, Sammy jolted out of his doze and started to cry again, so Dean quickly rolled up the window and turned to tend to his brother. Unstrapping him from the car seat, Dean struggled to get Sammy's wet diaper changed in spite of his writhing and furious screaming. By the time he'd finally gotten Sam back into his car seat and calmed down, Daddy was off the phone and had gotten some things at the Gas 'n Sip.
He tossed the bag into the back with Dean and dropped into the driver's seat with a grunt.
"Da dee!" chirped Sam.
"Hey, champ," Daddy said with a tired smile, waving his fingers at Sammy.
Dean opened the bag to look inside. "We need diapers, too, Daddy. Sammy's out."
Daddy looked at him in the rear-view mirror. "Now you tell me this? Dammit, Dean."
"I'm sorry, Daddy."
Daddy opened the squeaky car door and got out, then leaned back in to glare at Dean in the back seat. "You're too damn old to be calling me Daddy."
Dean dropped his eyes to his lap. "Yes, sir."
Dean lost track of all the places they'd stayed. He was exhausted and it was getting harder to keep Sam quiet and happy. He'd been watching the moon, though, and it was close to being full. He didn't know what Dad had been talking about, but maybe this was the full moon he'd meant.
He'd been slumped sideways in the back seat, lulled to sleep by the rumble of the engine, when he woke up to the creak of the door opening. Dad was pulling Sam's car seat out of the back.
Dad saw he was awake. "Come on," he grunted.
Dean slid himself across the seat and climbed out while Dad went around to the trunk and pulled out a duffel bag. Dean followed him up the dirt drive to a small building that, from what little he could see in the deep twilight, seemed to be falling apart. Dad opened the door and walked right in, so Dean stayed on his heels.
Inside, there was only one room. There was a lamp in one corner, sitting on the floor and throwing weak light across the space. Red scribbles were drawn on all the walls and windows. Candles flickered here and there around the room. In the middle of the floor were more scribbles and a woman sitting with a bowl in front of her.
"Nothing like cutting it close, jackass," the woman griped. "You've got about two minutes. You sure you want to do this? A guy in my building was killed by demons three days ago. If he'd had an angel..."
Dad crossed the space and dropped the duffel next to the woman, then knelt across from her, setting Sammy's car seat beside him. "Screw you, Barnes, we're doing this. I'm here, ain't I?" He turned to Dean who was still hovering just inside the door. "Get over here."
Dean reluctantly did as he was told. He didn't like this place or the woman even though she smiled at him.
"Hey, honey," she said. "I'm Pam. What's your name?"
"That's Dean," his dad answered for him impatiently. "Now get on with it – you're the one bitching about time."
Pam sent a black look his way. "Fine. I was just trying to-" She cut herself off. "Fine."
She opened the duffel and pulled out a bunch of stuff – weird things that Dean had never seen before. After she arranged some of the things around the scribbles on the floor, she put more stuff into the bowl. As she worked, she muttered words under her breath, but Dean couldn't understand.
At last, she held her hands out over the bowl and spoke louder, but the words still meant nothing to Dean. The lamp in the corner flickered and the hair on Dean's arms prickled and stood up.
Her eyes flew open and instead of clear green, they were white. "Now, John!"
Dad grabbed Dean's wrist and dragged his arm out over the bowl in front of Pam. He tried to pull away, but his dad held him in place with a hand on the back of his neck.
Before he even saw it, Pam had cut open his palm with a short silver knife. Dean shrieked in surprise and pain, trying to yank his hand back, but he couldn't free himself. His dad held his hand out over the bowl, letting the blood drip into it.
Pam continued chanting the strange words, louder now, over Dean's cries. The only word he recognized was 'Gabriel'.
Sam woke and started to scream. The lamp flickered again, then sizzled and sparked as the bulb exploded. Pam was shouting over the noise, then she struck a match and dropped it into the bowl. Flames burst up almost to the ceiling, then everything went dark except for the faintly flickering candles around the room.
Pam blinked and her eyes were normal again. "It's done."
Dad nodded, then pulled a cloth from his jacket pocket and wound it around Dean's palm. "Quit your whining," he snapped at him. "You're fine."
Turning to Pam, Dad asked, "How will I know if it worked?"
She shrugged. "Ask the kid to call him."
"Dean, pray to Gabriel. Tell him you need him."
This was wrong. What was happening? "Why?"
"Just do it, Dean!"
Dean closed his eyes and prayed as hard as he could. Gabriel, please come! Something bad is happening, and I'm scared. I need you. Please!
He kept it up until Dad stood up next to him. Dean looked around, but Gabriel was nowhere to be seen. "Dad? What'd you do? Dad?"
But his dad didn't answer. He pulled a thick envelope from inside his jacket and tossed it to the floor next to Pam. He picked up Sammy's car seat and walked out the door. "Let's go."
Dean watched him go, but stayed frozen to the spot.
Pam reached over and squeezed his arm. He turned to her.
"He banished Gabriel," she said softly. "The spell forces him away from your bloodline. He can't come close, and he can't hear you anymore. I'm sorry, Dean. Your angel is gone."