Liam

"So what now?" Liam said, standing from the place where she had been squatting next to a distressed Dean. She, Sam, and Blaire moved to the side in a secretive huddle while Dean took long pulls of his liquor, bracing himself on the trunk of the impala. "We look into Garland?"

"Yeah," Sam agreed, nodding, "I guess we could try the police station again?"

A silence fell over the group as they sent sideways glances at Dean. Sam sighed.

"I don't think he'll be in any condition to talk to the police," Blaire ventured to guess, "besides, he needs a chance to calm down. At this rate, he'll be having a heart attack in no time."

There was another pregnant pause as they all waited to see who would volunteer to take him. The most obvious choice was Sam, but they knew he was still uncomfortable with their involvement and wouldn't want them proceeding without him.

"Alright, how about I take him back to the Bluebird, keep an eye on his vitals, and you two go to the sheriff's office to see what you can dig up?" Blaire said, shoving her hands into the pockets of her denim jacket.

"You're sure?" Sam said, eyebrows furrowing, "I don't know how bad he'll get -"

"Which is why you need me," Blaire said, her mind made up, "besides, he'll be wasted in about 15 minutes anyway, right Dean?" She added, walking over to him and giving him a hand-up.

"Huh?" He murmured, eyes still wide with fear, though they were beginning to glaze over a bit.

"Let's get you in the car," she said, patting him on the back as she led him to the passenger side of her car.

They took a moment to put their weapons away and pull a set of professional clothes from their respective trunks, and then Liam climbed into the passenger seat of the impala.

"We'll stop somewhere to change," Sam assured her, turning the key in the ignition. Liam put on her seatbelt and settled in.

"It's a nice ride," She tried to make conversation as she glanced around at the interior. Sam let out a breathy laugh that sounded more like a snort.

"Don't tell Dean that. He'll never stop talking to you about it."

"Right," Liam said, clearing her throat, "so you already spoke to the sheriff before?"

"Briefly," Sam replied, "He was...an interesting guy."

"Interesting like he builds ships in bottles, or interesting like he's an asshole?" Liam deadpanned, watching the trees pass by her window as they pulled back into the more residential area of town.

"The second one," Sam said, "I'm guessing you know the type?"

"You have no idea."

Liam smiled politely at the woman who sat in the lobby of the police station, presumably waiting to file a report of some kind. The deputy behind the counter didn't strike Liam as the most helpful person, and she wondered how long the woman had been waiting. The young man returned to the counter with a manila folder in hand, handing it over to Sam.

"This is the Garland file," he said, giving a tight-lipped smile to the both of them. Sam flipped the file open and titled it to the side so that Liam could glance at it as well if she wanted.

"According to this, the guy died of physical trauma. What does that mean?" Sam asked.

"The guy died twenty years ago - before my time. Sorry," the deputy said with another close-lipped smile that didn't look particularly sorry.

"If only there was some way of knowing about incidents that happened in the past," Liam said, taking the file from Sam and shooting the deputy a withering glance over the top of it. She continued her tirade, raising an eyebrow, "it's a shame we don't keep systems for recording things like that."

The deputy shrunk back a bit, sending Sam an uncertain glance.

"Physical trauma is a blanket term," Liam said to Sam, glancing over the pitifully vague file, "could mean anything from a car accident to a stabbing, and there's no way of knowing based on this report." She turned back to the deputy, who straightened a bit under her gaze, "we need to speak to the Sheriff. I'm guessing he'd know?"

"He's out sick today," the deputy said. Liam's eyebrow arched again, but she said nothing. Sam cleared his throat and cut in.

"If you see him, will you have him call us? We're staying at the Bluebird. Mind if I take this?" He said, holding up the file. The deputy nodded, and Sam tapped the file on the counter twice before turning to leave. Liam held the deputy's gaze for a long moment before turning to follow Sam with one last smile at the woman in the waiting area.

"I didn't realize we were doing a good cop/bad cop routine," Sam said as they exited the station.

"We weren't," Liam said with a smirk, "we were doing fake cop/real cop."

"Alright, well, I guess we wait until the sheriff turns up again?" Sam said, brushing her comment off with a laugh as he rounded the impala to the passenger side door.

"Or," Liam said, sliding the file across the roof of the car to him so that he could take another look, "we check in with his next of kin."

Sam's eyebrows furrowed as he looked at the report again, "Right. How about we head back to the hotel to check on the others, and then we can make a few calls and figure out where to head next?"

"Sounds like a plan."

"It looks like Jack Garland is currently in an assisted living facility," Sam announced as he hung up his cell phone and slid it into his back pants pocket. Dean, who was trying his hardest not to scratch at his forearms, gave his brother a wary look.

"That's not good," he said, "how are you going to get in? Lie?"

Sam opted not to respond, instead turning to Blaire, who was settled on the pull-out sofa.

"I think this might be more your area of expertise, if you're up for it," he said, shrugging his jacket back on, "and if Liam's okay to watch Dean, that is."

"Sure," Liam said, plopping down in a chair at the table, "just tell me what to do."

Blaire spent a couple of minutes chatting with Liam about how Dean had been doing and what to watch out for before heading out with Sam to talk to Luther Garland's brother. The room was quiet after they departed, aside from the creaking of the floor as Dean paced the room.

"Why don't you sit down?" Liam suggested, gesturing to the chair across from her. When he complied, she got a closer look at his expression. She couldn't tell if he was more dazed from the illness or from the alcohol he'd been consuming all afternoon. He was looking through her rather than at her, and she decided it would be good for him to focus on something.

"I saw the interior of the impala," she said, "it looks really nice. You restore it yourself?"

"Yeah," he said, his eyes coming to focus on her face as he swallowed hard and nodded, "couple of times, actually."

"Where did you get it?"

"Used to be my dad's," he said, moving to scratch his forearm and then stopping himself, "he gave it to me when I got older."

"And your dad's a hunter, too? This is his?" Liam asked, picking up the journal she'd glanced through earlier. The name John Winchester had been scrawled on the first page.

"Yeah, he was," Dean said. Liam made note of the past tense, chewing her lip, "Taught us everything we know."

"How did he get into hunting?" She asked, but Dean's focus had gone astray again, as he stared pointedly at something across the room. Liam glanced over her shoulder, seeing nothing of interest, and turned back to him, "Dean?"

He didn't respond, and his eyebrows arched anxiously as if he were having an internal battle over whatever he was seeing and experiencing. Liam moved to sit next to him, taking his wrist in her hand. He yanked away, startled, and she placed a hand on his shoulder to calm him.

"Dean, I'm just taking your pulse. You need to stay calm, okay?" She spoke as soothingly as she could, and he allowed her to take his arm again, turning it to expose the soft skin of his inner wrist. She placed two fingers on his pulse point and began to count, using his watch for reference.

"A little high," she murmured to herself, "we need to do the breathing exercise Blaire showed you, okay? Dean, look at me."

Dean focused on her, attempting to take in a deep breath. Liam modeled the box breathing for him, holding and releasing each breath in four-second increments until he caught the rhythm. She checked his heart rate after a couple of minutes, and the spike had seemed to pass for the moment.

"Your bedside manner isn't what I thought it would be," Dean said after a moment, grabbing his open beer bottle from the table.

"Meaning?" Liam asked, checking her phone briefly to see if she had received any updates from Blaire.

"Nothing. You're just being nicer than I expected," He said in a tone that made her wonder if the ghost sickness had made him timid about being left alone with her.

"I'm nice," she said, her tone defensive, "I'm nice all the time."

"Right," Dean said drily, "my mistake."

Liam exhaled deeply, laying her phone face down when she confirmed that there had been no contact from Blaire. She was relieved to have talked Dean down from this attack, but other, larger ones were sure to follow.

"Do you have anyone back home?" He asked, jarring her from her thoughts. She shifted uncomfortably, glancing at him.

"What?"

"Back in your hometown. Your parents still live there?"

"Oh," Liam said, feeling stupid. She had thought he was asking about her love life. "My mom. It was always just me and my mom."

Dean considered this for a moment before nodding, "And where does she think you are now?"
Shame blossomed in Liam's chest. "Traveling for work. New FBI job."

"I gotta be honest," he continued, giving her an earnest look, "I don't get it. I mean, Sam and I do this because we have to. I would kill to have a hometown and a family waiting for me."

Liam nodded, allowing his words to sink in. She could tell his fear was giving him some anxiety about how she might respond. "Sometimes, a person just feels...responsible. And they can't help it. There's a lot of things I feel responsible for, and this is now one of them."

Dean barked a laugh - Liam couldn't decide if it was the product of amusement or sadness. " That I understand."

"Good. Then I don't suppose you need to know anything else."

"Well, I did have one more question."

"Yeah?"

"You leave a boyfriend or fiance back home, too?"

Liam's head whipped up in surprise and embarrassment, but the look on his face indicated that he had noticed her discomfort earlier and was just messing with her.

"Hilarious."

Blaire

Sam and Blaire turned and entered the dimly lit cafeteria. Inside, seated among several empty tables, was Luther Garland's elderly brother. His head rested lazily in his hand, staring off into the distance.

"Mr. Garland. Hi, I'm Agent Tyler, this is Agent Anderson. We're here to ask you a few questions about your brother."

"Let me see some ID," the man demanded raspily, sitting up straighter in his seat.

Sam shot a sidelong glance at Blaire and they reached forward, handing the man their brandished badges. He took a moment to look at each of them in turn. He studied them and the faces they belonged to with prolonged scrutiny. A few beats of silence passed between them before he closed them and handed them back to their owners.

"What do you want to know?"

"Uh, well, according to this, your brother Luther died of physical trauma," Sam began, pulling the chair out beside him for Blaire before taking a seat on his own. Luther's brother let out a snort of disgust.

"You don't agree?" Blaire spoke up, furrowing her brows at the old man.

"No, I don't." He responded defiantly.

"Then what would you call it?" Sam asked, thumbing through the file absentmindedly.

"Don't matter what an old man thinks," Mr. Garland looked down at his hands, his fingers moving over the styrofoam cup in front of him.

"Mr. Garland," Sam began, "we're just trying to get the truth on your brother-"

"We both agree that the police may have missed something. Please let us know what you know." Blaire spoke warmly to him, a stark contrast to Sam's direct line of questioning.

"Everybody was scared of Luther. They called him a monster. He was too big, too mean looking. Just too...different. Didn't matter he was the kindest man I ever knew. Didn't matter he'd hurt no one," his bottom lip began to tremble and Blaire could hear the emotional strain in his voice. "A lot of people failed Luther. I was one of them. I was a widower with three young'uns, and I told myself there was nothing I could do…" He looked away and sighed, out the window, Blaire knew he was looking far beyond the unkept shrub in his line of sight.

"Mr. Garland," Sam began shuffling the drawings from their file. He turned over the charcoal artwork Dean had found at the mill. "Do you recognize this woman?"

Mr. Garland took it from Sam's hand and looked at it briefly before responding assuredly, "it's Jessie O'Brien. Her man, Frank, killed Luther."

Blaire and Sam blanched and looked at one another before Blaire spoke up, "how do you know that?"

"Everybody knows," he smiled gently at her. "They just don't talk about it. Jessie was a receptionist at the mill. She was always real nice to Luther. And he had a crush on her, but Frank didn't like it. And when Jessie went missing, Frank was sure that Luther'd done something to her. Turns out the old gal had killed herself, but Frank didn't know that. They found Luther with a chain wrapped around his neck. He was dragged up and down that stretch outside that plant till he was past dead."

"And Frank O'Brien was never arrested?" Blaire was stunned.

"I screamed to every cop in town. They didn't want to look into Frank. He was a

pillar of the community," the old man shook his head solemnly. "My brother was just the town freak."

"You must have hated Frank O'Brien," Sam offered, looking at him suspiciously.

"I did for a long time," He agreed, and let out a chuckle. "But life's too short for hate, son. And Frank wasn't thinkin' straight. His wife had vanished. He was terrified. A damn shame he had to put Luther through the same. But that's fear. It spreads and spreads."

Blaire was not used to the thundering engine of the Impala when it roared to life under her. Sam looked over and smiled at her lightly before pulling off down the street.

"So, posing as an FBI agent," Sam looked from the road to Blaire with eyebrows raised, "is that...something you've been doing a lot lately?"

Blaire couldn't help but smile softly, "not if we can help it. Liam is still a little on edge about the whole 'impersonating a federal agent' thing. Typically she has me pose as a journalist ."

"Ah, I see." Sam nodded, eyes trained on the road ahead. "So you've been on the road this entire time?"

"Here and there. For a while it was us trying to find hunts local enough for us to make the drive and get back before we miss too much work."

"I've never heard of a part-time hunter," Sam sounded both impressed and a little

skeptical of their new chosen lifestyle. Blaire wondered if Liam was having to justify their choices to Dean.

She swallowed her desire to bite back, something she often found herself doing when her motivations were questioned, "We are definitely starting to see why."

"Yeah," Sam chuckled, "it was a surprise to see you two. Nine months,

huh?"

"I told you, a lot has changed since we saw you last," Blaire tried to ignore the intensity in which she felt he looked at her as the car stopped at a light.

"And you chose to make this your line of work because…?"

"Because it's not really easy to hold onto information that could save lives and not do anything about it." Blaire's statement came out a little cooler than she had expected and she took a deep breath instead of apologizing, "it was just really difficult for us to put that down and walk away."

"Yeah," Sam caught her eyes with a knowing look. "That I can definitely understand."

When the pair pulled up to the diner they had agreed to meet Dean and Liam at, Sam loosened his tie and threw it into the back seat where he had abandoned his suit jacket. Blaire wished she had brought a change of clothes to accommodate the bloat that would surely follow what she hoped was a generous short stack of buttermilk pancakes. The two exited the vehicle and Blaire noticed herself having to double her strides to keep up with the younger Winchester as he walked purposefully towards Ramona's Place, one of three divey mom and pop diners on the town's main drag.

When the bell rang, she saw both Liam and Dean's heads popping up from a booth diagonal from the entrance. She was unsure if it was Liam's police training or Dean's paranoia that had chosen a spot with a clear view of the only exit.

Sam slid into the booth across from Blaire, beside his brother who was suspiciously eyeing a group of teenagers that gathered across the street from the window he nearly pressed his nose against.

"It's fine, Dean," Liam's voice took a tone that told Blaire that this wasn't her first attempt at reassuring him. "They're harmless."

"No, they're up to something."

"Dean, I-"

"What can I get ya?" The bubbly young waitress appeared at the table too fast for Dean's liking. He lept in his seat, his hand clutching his chest.

"Oh, my goodness!" The waitress cried sympathetically. Sam's eyes shot to Dean and he looked like he'd rather be in any other booth in the restaurant than the one he was in.

"It's fine," Liam assured her, eyeing Dean and then looking back up at the waitress with a smile. "He's fine."

"Well," The waitress looked over at Dean as she spoke cautiously, "what can I get you?"

"Water, please." Sam spoke up, looked down at the menu in front of him for what he could have to eat. "And the cobb salad with a side of fries."

"Sure thing." She wrote it down, and then nodded to Liam.

"Uh, sweet tea. And I'll take the club sandwich with fries, thank you." She handed the waitress her menu as she began to collect Sam's.

"I'll have a water with the short stack, please," Blaire's sweet tooth was dictating her selection.

"And he'll, uh," Sam rolled his eyes at Dean, who was back to being distracted by the gathering across the street. "He'll have the bacon cheeseburger with a side of fries. And maybe just a water. Thanks."

"Sure thing," she was watching Dean with concern, but dismissed herself off toward the kitchen after Sam had handed her the last menu from the table.

"So," Liam began, nudging Dean from under the table to encourage him to focus on the task at hand, "what did you guys find out?"

When they exited the diner, the group convened at the Impala to discuss their next plan. They had noticed that the diner had been too crowded to truly debrief the way they had hoped, too many ears for their liking.

"What's the next step?" Blaire asked, as Sam leaned against the driver's side of the car, watching as Dean scratched at the darkening red marks on his forearm.

"Now we know what these are-road rash. And I'm guessing Luther swallowed some wood chips when he was being dragged down that road." Dean spoke matter of factly. Blaire felt herself massage her throat in sympathy as she imagined it.

"It's almost like you're living out what happened to him." Liam thought aloud, shifting from one foot to the other.

"Makes sense, " Sam agreed and turned his gaze to Dean, "you're experiencing his death in slow motion."

"Yeah, well not slow enough." Dean let out a frustrated sigh, "I say we burn some bones and get me healthy."

Sam cleared his throat, "Dean, it won't be that easy."

Blaire and Liam's heads shot towards Sam and then Dean. Blaire already found herself considering objects of significance they may have glanced over at the mill that they would need to burn instead.

"No, no. It'll be that easy," Dean said dismissively, not fooling a single one of his companions as he looked at each of them with widening eyes. "Why wouldn't it be that easy?"

"Luther was road hauled," Sam folded his hands together and rested them on the Impala's roof." His body was ripped to pieces. He was probably scattered all over that road. There's no way we're gonna find all those remains."

Dean's face fell, "you're kidding me."

"Look, we'll have to figure something else out," Liam spoke up encouragingly, she leaned forward against the trunk of the impala and pressed her hands to the sleek black exterior. "There's got to be something else we can find that he was attached to."

"Yeah, we can head back to the hotel for the night and head out to the mill first thing tomorrow morning." Blaire tried to interject, her voice taking on a tone of positivity that she knew was partially feigned. Dean did not seem to take on the same energy.

"You know what, screw this," he began to walk past the girls away from the Impala.

"Woah, woah, woah, Dean. Come on." Sam pushed himself away from the car and moved toward him. Liam and Blaire stepped back as they felt the moment growing more tense.
"No, I mean, come on Sam. What are we doing?" Dean's voice came out strained and uncertain.
"We're hunting a ghost," Sam responded matter-of-factly.

"A ghost! I mean, who does that?" Blaire looked at Liam, the two exchanged an awkward glance. She was starting to feel tension growing in the pit of her stomach.

"Us."

"Us? Right. And that Sam, that's exactly why our lives suck." There were a few beats that passed before Dean took a deep breath, "I mean, come on, we hunt monsters! What the hell! I mean, normal people, they see monsters, they run. But not us! I mean, we-we search out things that want to kill us. Yeah? Huh? Or eat us! You know who does that? Crazy people!" Dean was beginning to escalate, his eyes wide and chest heaving.

Blaire looked to Sam who had been looking over at the pair of them standing uncomfortably a few feet away from his panicked brother. He swallowed and opened his mouth to say something.

Before Sam was able to get a word out, Dean began again, "We...are insane!" He gestured between his chest and his brother who watched him in confusion. Dean started to pace back and forth, "You know then there's the-the bad diner food and then the skeevy motel rooms and then the-the truck stop waitress with the bizarre rash. I mean, who wants this life, Sam? Huh? Seriously? Do you actually like being stuck in a car with me eight hours a day every single day? I don't think so! I mean I drive too fast and I listen to the same five albums over and over and over again and I'm-I'm- I'm annoying, I know that. And you-you're gassy! You eat half a burrito and you get toxic!" Sam blanched and shifted his feet, embarrassed.

"Wait-" Blaire began, having sat idly by long enough to grow concerned by Dean's escalation.

"And you two-" Dean rounded on them breathlessly, eyes wide. "You had normal lives! You had a roof and four walls and a 401k and you threw it all away for-for what? To chase around ghosts, flush away all that you had to put yourself in danger? You don't want this." He gestured between himself and Sam again.

"Dean, come on." Sam began, looking over at Blaire and Liam and then his spiraling brother. "Leave them out of it."

Dean continued as if he did not hear him, "you don't want any of this. Look at what happens when you try to save the world! It takes a great big dump on you. Get out of it now while you can." Dean began to walk off.

"Woah, Dean. Where are you going?"

"Stay away from me, Sam. Cause I'm done with it. I'm done with the monsters, and-and the hell hounds and the ghost sickness and the damn apocalypse. I'm out. I'm done. I quit." Dean walked off in the opposite direction, towards the empty sidewalk at the corner of the lot.

Sam let out an exasperated sigh, his eyes widened as if he, too, was still reeling from Dean's explosion. Blaire and Liam looked at each other, unsure of what to do.

It was Liam who spoke up first, "Do you think we should go after him?"

"Give him a minute to cool down," Sam replied, leaning against the car again.

A blanket of silence fell between them, Blaire watched as a car turned the corner and pulled down the road Dean had disappeared down. For a moment, she wondered what to say to diffuse the tension in the air. Unable to find something intentional to add, she swallowed and ran a hand through her hair.

"All that stuff he said to you," Sam began, scratching the back of his neck. "I-"

"It's fine." Liam dismissed, waving away whatever Sam was going to explain next, "he's panicked."

Blaire nodded in agreement, though she couldn't help but feel the weight of some of what Dean had said. They had spent months and months overcoming the doubt that was beginning to creep in. As she stared, fixated on the yellow line on the pavement at her feet, she began to wonder how long it would take before one of them had a similar fracture to the one she had just witnessed.

"Blaire?" Liam asked, nudging her gently with her elbow. "You okay?"

Blaire cleared her throat and her mind, focusing back on Sam and Liam who were looking at her expectantly, "yep," she smiled. "All good."

"Alright." Sam nodded, swinging the keys around his index finger. "I think I'll go take a drive to see if I can get him back to the hotel."

"Do you want backup?" Liam offered and Sam shook his head.

"Nah, I got it." He smiled at them. "I'll let you know when we get back and we can figure out the plan for tomorrow morning."

Liam and Blaire nodded, taking the hint that maybe recovering Dean was more of a brotherly duty than a collaborative effort. The two were nearly at their own car when they heard the Impala roar to life several cars away.

When the girls pulled up to the Bluebird once more, Liam let out a sigh as she cut the engine. The drive over had been quieter than either had anticipated given the explosion that preceded it.

"Do you think they're going to let us help out with getting rid of this thing tomorrow?" Blaire was eyeing the motel, surveying her surroundings before shutting the door behind her.

"They're not going to let us do anything. They have no choice," Liam asserted, pulling her hair down from its professional bun as they began their trek up the stairs toward their room. "We're a part of this now. No matter what they think we're prepared for."

"Yeah," Blaire started to wonder just what it was they actually were prepared for. Trying not to let her confidence deflate in front of her friend, she swallowed it silently as she counted her steps toward the fourth floor.

The keys let out a jingle as Liam pulled them from her pocket. Excited to get out of her professional clothes, Blaire followed her inside quickly, kicking off her heels.

"There was one thing that Dean said that really stood out to me…" Liam spoke as she began to unbutton her blouse.

"Yeah?" Blaire was trying to figure out what part of his anxious meltdown had made an impact. Blaire hoped she was not alone in feeling knocked down a peg by the direct hit to their sense of purpose.

"He was going on about ghosts and hell hounds and all that. But he mentioned the apocalypse…"

"Hmm…" Blaire paused thoughtfully as she placed her white button down shirt on a hanger in the shabby closet.

"You don't think that he's actually talking about like...the end of the world, do you?" Liam spoke so uncertainly, Blaire knew that she was fearful of sounding ridiculous.

"Maybe he was just rattling off and maybe was exaggerating the experience a little bit," Blaire offered after a moment of consideration. Though she had heard it, it was not that part of his tirade that had managed to make her highlight reel.

"You're probably right. Everything to him right now feels like the end of the world." Liam agreed, dismissing her thoughts as she pulled a crew neck sweatshirt over her head.

"We could ask them about it when they get back," Blaire rifled through her bag to find a long sleeve shirt and a pair of sweatpants.

"Now may not be the best time. Who knows what may send him spiraling again."

"True," Blaire replied, pulling on her more comfortable clothing with a sigh. "I hope he's okay."

"If we don't hear back from Sam in a half an hour, we can go out looking," Liam was braiding her hair to keep it from her face.

"Yeah, sounds like a good idea," Blaire folded the sleeves up on her shirt and took a seat on the bed. She cracked her knuckles as she stared at the faded wallpaper.

48 minutes later, Blaire exited the bathroom with a recently towel-dried face. Liam was pacing back and forth near the window with her thumbnail rested on her bottom lip, her phone held to her ear.

"Yeah," she nodded to the person on the other end. "Sounds good." When she noticed Blaire staring at her expectantly, she pointed to the phone and mouthed, 'Sam.' Blaire nodded and listened to her close the conversation, "Alright, see you in the morning, then," and she snapped her phone shut.

"All good?" Blaire hesitated to sit down until she got the all clear from Liam.

"Yeah, turns out he ended up back here."

"And what's the plan?"

"Get some sleep and figure the rest out in the morning."