When the Cradle Falls
Chapter Nine: The Overlap of Worlds
John Winchester didn't get hungover. Hadn't since Mary. Even if he fell asleep blackout drunk, he would wake up with the open or close of any door, he swore. So when the motel room quietly shut, John sat up abruptly from the bed and felt himself swaying as his vision blurred. Sam's hand was still curled around the doorknob. Dean stood in the doorway, kicking off the boots he wore, setting the army green duffle bag on the ground. He reached out to ruffle Sammy's hair, the younger brother swatting away the affectionate gesture.
"Dean," John muttered. He slowly stood and tried to make himself appear upright. He tried to flatten his greasy hair. A pizza crust fell out of the pocket of his shirt.
"Dad," Dean responded dopily. He dropped the syrupy smile for a straight face, yearning for a break in the sameness of the expression, but knowing very well the repercussions of cracking a smile, at the risk of looking like a smart ass. "I ganked the ghost," Dean said.
"You disobeyed a direct order."
"Yes sir," Dean intoned, seemingly unaffected. This infuriated John. Usually Dean was the one that understood the severity and importance of every situation. Perhaps the solo hunt inflated his ego a little too much, making him think he didn't need to respect or listen to John anymore. But just because the kid had done one little hunt, and done it sloppily, didn't mean he could handle the cold dark world by himself.
Without thinking, the man lunged forward and grabbed Dean by the collar of his shirt. He slammed his oldest son so hard against the wall, a dusty little knick knack on a high shelf shuddered and fell to the shag carpet. That was all it took for John to see his hands held so viciously to his son. Quickly dropping his hands, John took a few steps back. "You're on weapons duty for five months," John reminded, quickly grabbing his coat and exiting the room. It was too early for any bars to be open, so the brothers had no idea where their father was planning on going.
When the brothers were left alone, Dean's dopamine levels-a science term that had been on the GED exam-dropped rapidly. No longer was he standing in the lofty, dark house of Alice's aunt's. No longer was there a small baby scooting around on the floor, as Alice tried to teach that Dean was 'dada'. Here in this musty knock off of the early seventies was where Dean came back to his real world. For him, that included ganking monsters and travelling the country with his generally pissed off father and generally moody brother. He'd never had an issue with it, for Dean had never known anything else. But, seeing a small glimpse at something that could become part of his life really made him wonder. At seventeen, there was still a small part of Dean that thought maybe he could hunt and have a family that was completely separate from this world. He knew this was the only thing he could see himself doing for the rest of his life, even over having one woman for the rest of his life, and a child with that woman. Dean quickly quieted this thought, one that was already growing, even after being away from Alice and Cara for only a few hours.
"How was the hunt?" Sam sourly inquired. He crossed his arms in jealousy and sat down on one of the beds. He scowled at Dean, who seemed unusually happy, the common denominator being that Dean had been away from their father and him.
Dean shrugged. "It was fine. The son of a bitch was a little more slippery than I thought. I burned the bones but the thing was attached to a comb of all things." He paused, noting how robotic and stiff he sounded. "I got the girl though. Woo. Lemme tell you about this chick, Sammy."
Any suspicions Sammy had evaporated. He held up a hand. "Dude I don't wanna hear about it."
Dean whistled. "She was something."
Having no idea Sam knew exactly the girl Dean was referring to, he spared himself from any unsolicited, uncensored information by escaping into the bathroom, saying he was going to take a shower.
Once alone, Dean's euphoria slowly deflated. It was the feeling a normal person would feel stepping back into their dark house after an exotic location, or a college student returning to their messy dorm after a week at home. To Dean, the equivalent was leaving Alice's life and restepping into that of a hunter's.
He couldn't just sit here like this.
Dean needed to go hunt something.
There was a tremendous crash outside the motel room door that would've strengthened Dean's belief in God have there been one in the first place. Quickly releasing the safety on his gun, Dean arced around the room and went to peer into the keyhole when the door was blown back, knocking Dean flat on his ass while the door splintered around him. A figure fell to the ground beside him.
Moving quickly, Dean jumped up from the ground, gun pointed at the monster.
But Dean faltered as the monster slowly stood.
The monster was a young girl, probably not any older than fourteen. She had short frizzy hair that was cut at the chin. Prominent freckles spattered across her face and neck. She was gawky and had large feet.
She looked around, frowning, like she didn't know what she was doing there.
All it took was for her to take a stumble towards Dean for him to raise his gun. "Stop! Don't move!" He yelled. "Who are you?" She continued to frown as though she didn't understand.
Sam was suddenly there, in the doorway of the bathroom, hair wet and wearing fresh jeans and no shirt. "Dean, don't!" He shouted, seeing the gun trained on the young girl.
"It busted down the door, Sam! It's a monster!"
"No, she's not," Sam insisted, coming a little closer, holding up his hands placatingly.
"Yes she is!" Sam strode towards the thing and grabbed Dean's gun arm. "That's Penny. She...went to the school I was at while Dad was hunting. We had some classes together."
"Well whatever it is, Sammy, it's not your friend." Dean turned for a fraction of a second, and the thing that was supposedly Penny took the opportunity to launch herself at Dean, proving his suspicions.
She knocked him down and bared her teeth at him. The most telling sign was the quick flash of her eyes that became as dark as the night sky for a very brief second. Dean would've missed it if he didn't know to look for it.
"Demon!" Dean shouted, trying to wrestle the beast off of him. He knew plenty of demons and had watched his father exorcise them, but never really knew the full magnitude of their strength until now.
Sam grabbed a container of holy water and splashed it on the demon. The skin on her back began to burn through her clothes and sizzle. Penny screamed in pain and gave Dean a chance to flip her off and throw her to the far side of the room.
"Sam!" Dean yelled as the demon was back up, crouched, and ready to charge at the older Winchester.
"Uh...yeah... Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus...spiritus? Uh... omnis satanica potestas, omnis-" Sammy nervously stopped when he couldn't remember what came next, and stood frozen for a minute, unsure of what to do.
The demon side tackled Dean onto one of the beds. "Sammy!" Dean yelled.
Reanimating, Sam tried to vain to find their father's journal, which was undoubtedly in the Impala, which John undoubtedly had. "Dean, I-I don't know the rest of it and Dad has the journal."
"That doesn't really help me!" Dean snapped, trying to fight the monster off. She growled and bit at him like a rabid dog.
Running out of options, Sam grabbed a canister of salt and flung it on the demon. He tried very hard not to look at Penny's face. For the image of her sweet face slowly coming closer to his kept flashing through his mind. Locking that down, he went into hunter mode and did what he had been trained to do. He pushed the demon writhing in salt off his brother who took the opportunity to recover and land on his feet.
Just as the thing was back on her feet again, the door burst open, and John Winchester emerged, chanting the Latin words Sam and Dean did not know by heart yet. As flawed as the man was, he always managed to come in at the eleventh hour to save the day.
When the smoke finally erupted from the young girl's mouth, Sam darted forward and grabbed her body before she could hit the floor. He sank down and cradled her head in his lap, checking her neck for a pulse, holding a hand to her mouth to check for a breath. He concentrated for a moment, then his tense muscles relaxed when she turned her head, showing signs of life.
Dean watched Sammy thoughtfully for a moment, noticing how tenderly the younger brother handled the girl.
"She's alive," Sam said. "We need to get her to the hospital."
"No," John said. He strode over to Sam and yanked him up by the arm, an unconscious Penny flopping to the floor. "You need to get out of here." He shoved Sam towards the door, but Sam held his ground and shook his head. "Yes, Samuel. Get out."
John paused when he saw the hard approach wasn't looking. "I promise I will get her to the hospital, Sam, but you need to go, okay?"
Choosing to believe his father's words, Sam grabbed his things and went out the door.
Dean followed suit but paused when John grabbed his arm. "Watch out for him," John said.
Dean nodded. "I always do, Dad."
"I mean it Dean, especially this time," John pleaded.
Recognizing the serious tone, Dean frowned. "Dad, what's going on? It was a demon and Sam said he knew the girl it was possessing."
"It's more than one demon, Dean."
"Does it have to do with the demon?"
John shook his head. "No...it was a nest of demons I've run into before. Son, they're bad news and now those bastards are back. Here." John placed the keys to the Impala in Dean's palm. "You take the car and you drive away from here. Don't tell me where you're going-I'll find you."
"But Dad-"
"Dean, these bastards go after everyone important to you. That's what they do. Go now."
John's heartfelt words scared Dean out of the door. He found Sam pacing along the small walk in front of the motel.
Hastily explaining what John said, Dean and Sam piled into the Impala, Dean behind the wheel, Sam in the passenger seat. The car peeled out of the parking lot.
At a gas station nearly a hundred miles away, Dean kept a close eye on Sam who was buying from snacks in the convenience store. While he did that and pumped gas, he pulled out his phone and dialed the number he had memorized in a matter of minutes.
But this time, he was hoping Allie wasn't the one that answered.
And as it would have it, luck was on his side.
"I swear if this is another sales call about-"
"Mrs. Sutton?"
"Seven years a widow but-"
"It's Dean Winchester."
"Oh. Thought I told you to call me Jan. I don't want none of that old lady 'Mrs.' crap, especially with a dead husband."
"Yes m'am."
"If you're wanting to talk to Alice she's not here right now. Took Cara to the park. I'll take a message, tell her to call you back later."
"No, I wasn't looking for Alice, I was looking for you."
"Well, Dean Winchester, am I correct to assume this conversation between us never happened, especially in concern to Alice?"
"Yes m'am."
"Well, this isn't a social call and unless you want me to try and spell it out, you better spit it out."
"Have there been any demon omens in Chicago?"
There was silence on the other end. "I haven't really been watching for demon omens. Should I be?"
Dean pulled the gas pump from the Impala. "You might want to start. Look, apparently my dad got involved with a nest of demons and one of them possessed my little brother's friend from school. She tried to attack us in the motel room. My dad said they go after people you care about. I know demons can read minds and I don't know if they read mine or not but-"
"If you're concerned about Alice and your daughter's safety, don't be. That's more of an insult to me than anything. I can assure you those two are perfectly safe, but you have my word I'll be on the lookout for any demonic omens. I got devil's traps carved, painted, and burned into nearly every surface in my home."
"Devil's trap?" Dean asked.
"You call yourself a hunter? What kind of-"
"Thanks I gotta go," Dean quickly snapped his phone shut when Sam approached with a plastic bag that had 'THANK YOU' written across it in rows that formed one giant block.
"Was that Dad?" Sam asked.
"Sure, yeah." Not looking at him, Dean motioned for Sam to get in the car.
In the car, Sam sat with his arms crossed and Dean eased back onto the road, gunning on the pedal.
"You're hiding something from me."
"What?" Dean looked at Sam for a split second before cutting off a mint green VW Bug.
"Ever since we left, you've been acting weird. And that phone call. That wasn't Dad."
"Of course I'm acting weird! You saw how Dad was acting!" Dean had a hard time modulating the increasing pitch of his voice. "Sorry if it freaked me out!"
But that wasn't good enough for Sam. "There's still something you're not telling me."
Dean scoffed. "Kid, I don't know what you're talking about. But I'm telling you, you're curious for your own good. Stop asking questions or you're gonna get burned."
"Not a kid," Sam muttered. He turned towards the window to pout, stewing. "Jerk."
"Oh don't be a bitch, Sam," Dean commanded. "I'm tired, okay? I just drove a couple hours to have Dad hand me my ass and then fight a demon and now I'm behind the wheel of a car again. Would you cut me some slack, please?"
"Whatever," Sam mumbled in response.
Giving a hard blink, Dean pushed down the fear and the tiredness and focused on the asphalt that went as far as the horizon.
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