When the Cradle Falls
Chapter Thirty-Two: The Wound That Would Not Heal
Summer
Wiping a sheen of sweat from his forehead, Noah sighed, glancing around the room. "Cara?"
No response.
With a huff, he removed his leg from the coffee table. There was a heavy thud as the cast slammed down onto the ground. "Cara!" Noah tried again, but to no avail.
Glancing around the room, Noah spotted his crutches on the other end of the couch. He contemplated leaning forward to grab them, but instead slowly rose up on his good foot, trying to put little pressure on the cast. It hurt, but Noah just bit his tongue and hobbled forward, arms stuck out the keep himself balanced.
As he walked from the couch, towards the window, Cara appeared in the doorway. In one hand, a book was held right in front of her face. In the other hand, she had a sweating glass of lemonade.
Evidently not seeing or hearing Noah, she walked straight into his path, the two colliding. Noah immediately collapsed to the floor like a dead weight. Able to stay upright, the lemonade and book flew from the young girl's hands.
Flustered, Cara noticed her brother on the floor, and his crutches leaned unused against the couch. "What do you think you're doing?!" She demanded, grabbing him under one arm to hoist him up.
Wincing as Cara helped him stand, Noah motioned around the room. "I was trying to open a window! It feels like a hundred degrees in here!"
Once Noah was situated back on the couch, Cara stood over him, hands on both hips. "And you decided to try and open it without your crutches?" She retorted.
"They were too far away. I called you but you were too buried in your book to hear me."
Scoffing, Cara bent down and picked up the book, throwing it on the coffee table beside him. "Yeah and thanks to you, because you think you're Superman, I have to clean this up before Uncle Bobby sees the broken glass and the mess you made."
"My fault? You're the one who had your nose shoved in a book!" Noah picked it up. "Demons? Again? And you're lucky that Dad's been outside all day. If he saw you reading that-"
"And if he knew you were walking around without your crutches-"
"Well sor-ry I hate having this stupid thing on. You have no idea how hot and itchy it is."
"Sure I do," Cara responded. She had retrieved a broom from the kitchen and was in the process of sweeping up the broken glass.
"Yeah, well lucky you, you got your cast off before it really got hot. And you know, all I wanna do is run around outside but I can't do that because of this stupid thing! You're not even hurt anymore and all you do is sit inside all day reading about monsters!"
"What do you want me to do about it?" Cara asked, annoyed.
"I'm just saying it's not fair."
"Well, maybe if you listened to the doctor and used your crutches when you were supposed to, you could get the cast off faster. And since all you're doing is sitting there complaining, maybe you could pick up a book too and learn something for once."
Flopping back down on the couch, Noah glared at his sister, but didn't say anything. They had been at Bobby's for a few days. School had been out for a few weeks-but it's not like they had gone back after the demon incident.
They had come to Bobby's to give Alice time to try and track down and talk to her cousins, as well as take care of some other things. That was right. Aunt Jan had children. Perhaps internally Cara and Noah both knew that, but it was something that was never discussed so both of them wondered if they had just made it up. Evidently not, as that's what their mother was off doing.
Noah had heard his parents discussing what would happen. Alice needed to go off on her own and find her cousins, but Dean insisted he help her. However, Alice said it was something she needed to do herself and that the kids needed to rest. Noah was quite surprised his mother had been the one to suggest he and Cara should go with their father to Bobby's.
And now, that's where they were. Either kid barely saw their father, as he was outside most of the day, tinkering away at the car. Sam would come around occasionally, but also disappeared for large chunks of the day.
While the brothers were attempting to cope, Bobby had given in and started to teach the kids about the lore of monsters-mostly by Cara's insistence. Noah just wanted to learn how to hunt, but apparently to do that, he actually had to know about what they were hunting. He supposed it made sense, but it still irritated him Cara had hijacked it and turned it into a makeshift summer school.
They had to do this on the down low, for ever since they had tried to bring up hunting at the lake, their father hadn't uttered another word about it. Both kids said they wouldn't bring it up again.
At least not to Dean.
But most of the time, when he wasn't learning about the lore, Noah sat around doing nothing, as he wasn't allowed to do much of anything for himself.
"I'm so bored," he said, after a couple minutes. Cara had finished cleaning up the spill and had returned to her book. He didn't understand how she didn't lose her mind of boredom from reading.
Without looking up from the book, Cara tossed another one at him. "Here. You wanna be a hunter, right? While your leg is healing why don't you actually learn about what you apparently wanna hunt."
"I thought you wanted to be a hunter too."
"I do, but I actually learning things."
Growling, Noah reluctantly opened the book. "This is the worst summer ever," he complained.
A small bell tinkled over the door leading to a dimly lit Mexican restaurant. Glancing around the small joint, Alice slowly approached a young busboy, busy clearing off a table.
"Excuse me?" She asked.
"Seat yourself," he said robotically, not bothering to look up. "Someone will be over to take your order soon."
Alice stiffened, almost frightened away. "Sorry, I'm not here for...I'm looking for Nina? She works here, right? Does she work today?"
"She's on break. Alley. Out back." Still not looking at her, the young man brushed past her, arms full of dishes, on his way back to the kitchen.
"Right. Thanks." But the young man was already gone.
Slowly, Alice exited Chimega's and glanced down both directions of the sidewalk. There were alleys on either side of the restaurant that probably turned into one big one. Not exactly enthralled to be where she was, Alice felt for the pistol at the small of her back. Never had she thought she would actually carry it around, but the area she was in wasn't actually known for it's safe neighborhoods.
Looking down the dark alley, Alice gulped. "I must be an idiot. But if I get murdered in there, I'm blaming you for that, Janet."
Checking the gun was there one last time, Alice thought she was insane, but slowly disappeared from view into the dark alley.
Wiping his face with a grubby bandana, Dean growled internally as he saw his brother once again approaching. Ever since they had come back to Bobby's, when Sam wasn't researching, he was constantly riding Dean's ass.
"What do you want, Sam?" Dean demanded gruffly. He'd lost any and all patience with his brother. This was the fourth time today Sam had come out, asking him it he needed anything.
Trying to hide the wounded expression on his face, Sam just shrugged. "The car looks good."
Turning around, Dean tossed the bandana away. "No it doesn't. It looks like crap."
"How are the kids?"
"Why don't you them yourself, Sam? They're not even thirty yards away."
Sam shuffled his feet. "You want some water? Or a beer maybe…"
Spinning around so fast he startled Sam, Dean composed himself slightly, and dropped the wrench in one hand, trying to remain calm. "Sammy...I swear to God if you ask me how I am one more time I gonna knock you flat on your Sasquatch ass. I'm the same from when you asked me two hours ago."
Realizing the charade was up, Sam dropped the act. "Fine, I won't ask again." He pulled out a cell phone in his pocket. "But we've got something, alright? It's what I came by here to tell you. This is one of Dad's old phones. Took me awhile, but I cracked his voicemail code. Listen to this."
"John, it's Ellen...again. Look, don't be stubborn. You know I can help you. Call me."
"This message is months old," Sam said, flipping the thing shut and putting it back in his pocket.
Dean frowned, wiping his hands on his shirt. "Dad saved some chick's message for that long?"
"Apparently." Sam shrugged. I didn't sound like something John would do, but then again, it didn't seem like either really knew that much about their father.
"Well, who's Ellen? Any mention of her in Dad's journal?"
Sam shook his head, feeling pleased that Dean was finally talking to him again, and coming out of his everything-is-fine-I'm-fine shell. "No, but I ran a trace on the call and got an address."
Glancing back at the Impala, Dean sighed. "Ask Bobby if we can use one of his cars."
She was right. The two alleys did split into a long one, the backs of buildings on either side creating a creepy, unsettling pathway.
Coming to what was the back of Chimega's, Alice spotted a woman leaned against the wall opposite of the restaurant. One hand mindlessly traced patterns into the brick, while the other held a cigarette loosely to her lips.
The woman looked to be in her early to mid thirties. She wore ripped light wash jeans, a white baseball style tee with olive green sleeves, and a black waitress apron around her waist. Her short hair was tied up into a ponytail. Her bangs stuck to her face. She wore heavy eyeliner and had a nose piercing.
Alice watched her carefully, trying to figure out if maybe she somehow knew the woman, Nina. But nothing, from the appearance to mannerisms registered with her at all. What did some waitress on the South Side to to receive a letter from Jan, considering the only other people that got letters were her estranged children? Whatever if was, Nina must've left quite the impression.
Entering the alley quietly, Alice looked around. There was the sound of dripping water from some indiscernible location. The sunlight was blocked out by the close buildings on either side.
"Excuse me. Are you Nina?" Alice asked. She had meant to sound confident, but it sounded weak and wavery.
Immediately straightening, Nina stepped away from the brick wall she leaned against, putting out the cigarette with her boot. "Who are you?" She asked, watching Alice with dark, guarded eyes.
Stepping closer, Alice rubbed the back of her neck. "See...that's kind of hard to explain."
"How did you find me? And how do you know who I am?"
"I asked the busboy. He said you were on your break."
"How do you know where I work?" Nina demanded.
"That's also kind of hard to explain." Pulling aside her coat, Alice went to reach for the letter she had in the waistband of her jeans.
Apparently seeing the gesture as threatening, Nina moved like a flash. Darting forward, she pushed Alice back against the opposite brick wall. Pulling something from her own pocket, Nina splashed something on Alice's face and then began reciting some startlingly familiar words.
"Omnipotens, qui fugabunt maligni spiritus invoco. Quia pius es, hunc peccatorem ab igne inferni-"
Alice recognized the words. It was the exorcism Jan had used to get the demons out of Cara and Noah.
"Are you a hunter?" Alice asked breathlessly.
Nina stopped. "What?"
Noticing the small bottle of holy water Nina held in her hand, Alice asked again.
"Are you a demon?" Nina demanded, still evading the question.
Alice held up her hands. "No. I swear to God. Now, are you a hunter?"
Nina scoffed, and spit at the ground. "No. Are you?"
"Not really," Alice said. "That exorcism...and the holy water...who taught you those things if you're not a hunter?"
Becoming guarded again, Nina sneered at her. "Just because you're a demon doesn't mean you're not some other kind of monster."
"Go ahead. Silver, salt, holy water, iron. None of it will work on me."
Seeming to believe her, Nina still didn't let down her guard. "Who the hell are you, then?"
"Look, I don't know why, but does the name Janet Sutton mean anything to you?"
There was a palpable shift in Nina's demeanor. "Who are you?" She asked, more softly this time.
Finally able to pull out the letter, Alice held it out to the other woman, who changed slightly. "My name is Alice. Janet Sutton was my aunt."
"Was?"
"She died. And left you this letter."
"She's dead? And she left me a letter?"
Alice shrugged. "I never heard of you until I read through her will. She mentioned you worked at Chimega's on the South Side. Seemed like she knew you."
"Maybe you should've lead with that."
Alice smirked a bit. "Maybe. Here."
Cautiously, Nina didn't take her eyes off of Alice as she snatched the letter. The woman stared at the letter for a minute, before flicking her back to Alice, who was also watching her.
"I hope you don't expect me to read this letter with you staring at me," Nina said.
"Right. Sorry." Alice dropped her gaze. "But you can't blame me if I'm curious. Aunt Jan never mentioned you, and then you show up in her will with a letter addressed to you. Only a handful of people got letters."
Nina's eyebrows raised. "Really? And I was one of them?"
"You must've been important to my aunt."
Becoming a bit humbled, Nina ran her fingers along the edge of the letter. "I didn't honestly even think she remembered me. It was so long ago…"
"What was?"
Nina sighed and took a seat on a nearby stoop. "Your aunt...she saved me. I was demon possessed and she rescued me. If it wasn't for her, I would've died."
Immediately feeling a wave of sadness hit her, Alice found herself taking a seat beside Nina, unaware of how uncomfortable it made the other woman. Overcome with sudden emotion, Alice bit one of her knuckles and wondered how many people her aunt had saved. It was amazing that Jan never did it for recognition. She did it because she truly cared for others. Not only did she die a hero, she'd lived as one as well.
"If you don't mind me asking, how'd she die?" Nina asked softly.
"What you'd expect. Demons."
In awe of the stranger that had saved her so long ago, Nina felt the familiar feeling of gratitude rush through her. "She's the one that taught me about the prayer and the holy water. She taught me how to protect myself," Nina admitted.
As the pieces fell into place, Alice figured that was where Nina had learned it all. "She was one tough woman."
Nina smiled slightly, staring at the note. "Thank you...for the note. And...I'm sorry I soaked you with holy water."
Alice smiled, fingers running through the places where her hair was damp. "I don't blame you. Look, I know I'm a stranger, but...if you ever need anything…"
Nina held up a hand. "Whatever you're going to say: no. Look, Alice, I appreciate what your aunt did from me, and you for delivering the note but I can't accept any other help for your family. You and your aunt have already done so much for me. And like you said, we're strangers-"
"I understand, Nina. I'll respect your wishes," Alice said. The two women rose slowly and walked to the entrance of the alley. They didn't say anything else to each other, just exchanged one more glance as Nina disappeared into Chimega's and Alice made the trek towards her car.
"Hey Bobby do you have-" Sam had burst into the house, and into the living room, stopping once he saw what was going on.
Standing in the front of the living room was Bobby. Beside him was a chalkboard with several different sigils on it. He had a piece of chalk raised in his hand. Cara and Noah, who had been sitting on the couch, with notebooks on each of their laps, had their heads turned towards where Sam was standing, mouths agape. On the notebooks were crude, hand drawn recreations of the sigils.
"What are you-"
"Sammy, I'm gonna hit the shower then-" Not able to finish his sentence, Dean, who had appeared beside his brother, stopped when he saw what was going on. "Bobby why do you have a chalkboard?" He asked, a bit lightheartedly, before he saw what was on it. The most telling sign were how quickly Cara and Noah turned around when he walked in, as if they were pretending he didn't exist.
After walking into the room, Dean spun in a slow circle, looking at everything. "What the hell is going on here?" He asked Bobby, looking at the older man with folded arms.
Like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar, Bobby gave a sheepish smile and gently chucked the chalk behind him. "Just some summer school."
"In what subject?" Dean asked lowly, moving closer to the chalkboard.
"Geometry," Bobby said, even though he knew it was a blatant lie.
"Really. Because those sure look a lot like demonic protection symbols."
"Please, boy. Like you know what geometry is really even like."
"Bobby," Dean warned. It was apparent he wasn't in the mood for jokes. Hadn't been in awhile.
"This is all your fault, Cara," Noah muttered under his breath, slamming his own notebook shut. Although he didn't like feeling like he was in summer school, at least it gave him something to do. And now that Dean had figured it out, he was back to doing nothing but staring at the walls.
"Shut up," Cara growled.
"What's he talking about, Cara?" Dean demanded, spinning around to his children.
Cara clutched a book tightly in both hands. Normally, she would've felt afraid when her father spoke to her in that tone of voice, but ever since they'd come to Bobby's, he'd been essentially ignoring them. Perhaps this was her chance to get his attention. "Uncle Bobby's teaching us about monsters and demons."
"And why is that?"
Cara shrugged like it was obvious. "So we can protect ourselves. Look, we said we wouldn't ask you to teach us to hunt again, so Uncle Bobby will teach us to."
"I'm doing what?" Bobby had agreed to teach the kids things about monsters, but he hadn't promised to teach them how to actually hunt.
"Cara-"
"Don't worry, Dad. We won't bother you with it. You can just go work on your car some more." Cara turned away from him, as if dismissing him from the room.
Up until that point, Dean hadn't had any qualms about leaving with his brother to track down this mysterious Ellen woman. Not until Cara's words barbed a hole in his already battered heart.
While normally, he probably would've been angry at the disrespectful way she talked to him, he forced himself to take a step back before he exploded at her. That's how everything was manifesting itself in him. He would be fine and then suddenly shout at someone, and then pretend like nothing ever happened.
And before he did that to his daughter, Dean forced himself to actually think through a situation for once.
He'd taken artillery fire like a soldier in a trench. Non stop. Non stop. Fire after fire after fire after fire. And even after the enemy had evidently retreated, he was still left to care for the wounded and torn apart.
"Cara."
Wincing at the use of her name, the girl reluctantly turned around, seeming to regret the harsh words she had used. "Yeah?"
Moving so he was in front of the couch where the kids sat, Dean took a seat on the coffee table, so he was equidistant from Cara and Noah, who faced him. "You think I've been spending too much time working on my car?" Dean asked.
With a pouty face, Cara looked down at the notebook in her lap. "No."
"Then what?" Dean asked. He was trying hard to remain calm, but the stubborn way Cara was refusing in engage in the conversation she brought up was frustrating him.
"It's not about the car," Noah said, holding back an eye roll. Did he really need to spell it out? Perhaps being stuck inside all day had made him irritable, especially when the only people that kept him company, was Cara while she was more focused on something else, or Bobby when he was teaching them about the lore.
Still not seeming to understand, Dean asked again what they were referring to.
Before either kid could speak up, Bobby was shoving the other man out of the room. "Come with me, idjit," he directed, knocking both brothers back through the kitchen and back door.
"Bobby, what the hell?" Dean demanded, rounding back on the older man. He threw his arms out wide on either side.
"I always knew you were thick in the head boy I didn't realize your brain was missing too!" In anger, Bobby reached forward and swatted the back of Dean's head.
"Ow, what? What did I do this time?"
Bobby pointed a finger back towards the house. "Those kids!"
Not exactly knowing what Bobby was talking about, Dean rubbed the back of his neck and looked down at the ground. "What about 'em?" He asked almost noncommittally.
Bobby raised his hand again, but then dropped it with a disgusted scoff of disbelief. "Maybe that little girl is right. Maybe you've had your head under the hood of the car for too long."
"Okay if all of you have a problem with me working on my car-"
"It's not about the car, Dean. You heard what Noah said," Sam interjected quietly. He had been standing silently nearby. After the interactions, he understood what was going on. "They miss you."
Dean frowned, not understanding. "Miss me? I've been with them for weeks."
Wanting to facepalm at the dumbfounded expression on Dean's face, Bobby jumped in. "Well put yourself in their shoes, you idjit. Yes, you're here, but how often have you actually been there? Is there any other time you actually see them, other than when you tell them goodnight before passing out in front of the TV after drinking two six-packs."
"I don't need to hear this right now," Dean muttered petulantly.
"Yes you do, boy. Now look, I know you've been in real bad shape since your daddy died-and if you want to deal with that by blocking out your problems, working on that hunk of metal, and drinking like a fish, by all means, be my guest.
"But you not dealing with your own shit needs to be put on the backburner if that means you're neglecting your kids."
That angered Dean. "Neglecting? You think I'm-"
"I don't need to tell you what they've been through, Dean," Bobby said.
"I know what they've been through. But they're tough they-"
"Maybe, but they're still just children," Sam added. "And with their mother taking care of things, they were expecting their father to look after them. But their father seems to be worried about other things."
Crossing his arms, Bobby couldn't help but draw parallels between Dean and his father. Sure, Mary had been killed and Alice was just off taking care of some obligations, but still, two children were left under the care of a father. And although both situations were vastly different and Dean had extra help, a seed of worry began to grow inside of Bobby.
Was Dean on the path of turning into his father?
"Sounds familiar, doesn't it, Dean?" Bobby finally asked.
Electrified by the insinuation, for several reasons, Dean physically stepped back from his brother and surrogate uncle. He looked between the two of them in disbelief. Sam had this pitying look on his face like he was dealing with an abused puppy, and Bobby looked like he had to put down the abused puppy.
Dean's first thought was panic and worry that he actually was acting how John had after Mary had died. A second afterwards, Dean immediately felt terrible for blanching at the thought of being like his father. His father had been a great hunter, smart, cunning...but Dean couldn't bring himself to admit John had been a great father. Maybe he'd tried his hardest, but it hadn't been enough. After thinking that, Dean inwardly whipped himself for thinking that too. John had died in the ultimate sacrifice to save Dean and was now paying the price for it in Hell.
How dare you, Dean thought in his head. How dare he stain the last memory of his father. The man wasn't perfect, but no man was.
Surprised that the next words out of his mouth were not shouts or cries of pain, perhaps the only thing holding them back was the strangled whisper Dean spoke in. "After everything he's done, you two don't see him as the man he really was, do you?"
Dean's volume began to rise and both Sam and Bobby looked down, ashamed. "Why do you two look at me like I'm some pariah, huh? Sam, you lost a father, just like me. And don't like you're so well adjusted. All that's been on your mind lately is revenge: hunting down the demon and icing that bastard.
"And you, Bobby. You act like everything is fine, but you lost someone too. You push it down just like me; you drink more than me.
"You lost Jan.
"Maybe I didn't realize it right away, because I thought you were mourning my dad. But after I thought about it, that man caused you nothing but grief. By the time he died, he was barely a friend to you. So no. Dad wasn't the one you were torn up about. It was someone else. But it was still someone.
And I don't know what kind of relationship you had with Jan, but she meant a lot to you. That I can tell."
In a sudden, uncontrolled display of emotion, but charged forward and grabbed Dean by the front of the shirt. With gritted teeth, Bobby shook Dean roughly, while the younger man just gaped in surprise.
Dean wasn't caught off guard by the sudden bout of anger-he figured he had that coming. What surprised him was the sheen of Bobby's eyes. No tears were escaping, but he could tell the older man was doing everything he could do hold them back.
Then, as suddenly as Bobby grabbed Dean, he let him go. Taking a step back, Bobby sniffled. "Don't talk about things you don't understand." The tone suggested said case closed, never bring up this topic again.
Perhaps realizing he crossed a line, Dean's shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry, Bobby."
Clearing his throat like nothing was wrong, Bobby punched Dean's shoulder. "You know you're a real pain in the ass sometimes, right?"
"Back at you, old man."
"Don't push your luck," Bobby said in a warning tone. He sobered. "You still need to spend more time with those kids. And just so you know, the only reason I'm teaching them anything about the lore is because they wouldn't stop yammering about it. I never said anything about actually teaching them how to hunt. "
Dean nodded in contemplation, still a bit put off to hear Cara and Noah had spent most of their time thinking about hunting. But maybe...was it possible...that letting them learn about monsters wouldn't be the worst thing in the world?
The sudden revelation surprised Dean. Ever since the day at the lake, he had been actively trying to not think about the conversation with Cara and Noah and especially hadn't been thinking about the visions Noah apparently had.
Looking back towards the house, Dean sighed. He turned back to his brother for a moment. "Sammy, why don't you tell Bobby what you told me. I'm gonna go talk to them."
"Sure," Sam agreed quietly, not watching as Dean walked away from the group.
When Dean came into view of the house, he saw the curtain in the living room fall back into place. Smirking a bit at that, he slowly made his way into the home, trying to figure out what he needed to say to his kids. Honestly, they had seemed fine. He knew they were tough and he thought they were handling everything well. Kids were resilient, but Sam was right. They were still just kids. The physical injuries were still visible on Noah, and often Dean forget there were scars on the inside too.
Entering the room, Dean found both kids casually posed. Noah lay on the couch, leg propped up on a pillow. He stared up at the ceiling, repeatedly throwing and catching a tennis ball that was in his hand. Cara sat awkwardly on the edge of the coffee table and pretended to pore over her notes, as if frantically trying to prepare for an exam at the last minute. Both sets of eyes shifted to him for a second, before pretending like neither of them noticed him come in, as if they hadn't been watching out the window thirty seconds ago.
Catching the ball while it was in midair, Dean instructed Noah to scoot over so he could sit down. "Cara, do you mind putting down the book so we can talk?"
At first, Dean didn't think she'd heard him, but she had. Slowly, and with an attitude, she closed the book and slammed it down beside herself.
"Umm...it's been brought to my attention that I guess I haven't been spending all that time with you guys," Dean said, self-consciously itching the side of his face. Based upon their unimpressed reactions, Dean could tell they thought he was full of shit.
With a sigh, he dropped his hands into his head, forgetting they were there for a moment. He didn't know why everyone wanted him to be so vulnerable and sensitive all the time; it wasn't who he was.
"Alright, look…" Dean began, trying to think of what to say. "We've all been through a lot. And we all have different ways of handling it. But I get what you guys are saying. I'll try harder. I'm sorry." His words were candid and short, as he didn't want to seem weak in front of anyone, especially his children. "I'm here for you guys. Okay, Cara? Okay, Noah?"
It took several seconds, but both kids muttered affirmatives, still looking down at the ground.
Sighing, Dean put his arm around Noah. "C'mere, Care," he said, holding his other arm out for her.
The three sat there in silence, the thoughts bombarding Dean, a few nagging sentiments unable to leave the forefront of his mind.
It was a while later. Dean had finally taken a break from his car and sat in the living room while Cara and Noah sat at the kitchen table, finishing up their lunch. The curiosity had gotten the better of him and he had flipped through the notebooks Cara and Noah were working in. So far, it seemed like basic notes on how to defend against commonplace creatures such as spirits, werewolves, and demons. The newest pages seemed to be their attempts at drawing protection sigils.
There was a shift in the weight distribution on the couch, as Sam sat beside his brother. He reached for one of the notebooks that sat between them. Flipping through it, Sam commented, "It's not bad."
Dean nodded pensively.
"I'm sure Bobby didn't mean to go behind your back. If you're upset-"
"Just because the three of us had that little powwow a while ago, I'm still not talking about my fucking feelings, Sam," Dean said, sounding and feeling like a broken record. He stood up suddenly and walked to the other side of the room. If there was one person he couldn't stand to be around right now, it was Sam. If his little brother didn't constantly try to talk about their feelings, then Dean wouldn't have had a problem with him. For the more Sam pressed Dean, the closer the younger brother got to a truth Dean tried bury deep down. "Bobby say he has a car for us?" Dean asked, quickly moving onto the next topic.
"Uh yeah he has one up and running. Dean?"
"What?"
"Maybe I should go alone?"
"Why?"
"Maybe leaving the kids alone isn't the best thing in the world right now."
"I'm going with you, Sam-"
There was a slam from the doorway.
Both brothers turned, ready to fend off a monster. But instead, they realized they were going to have to deal with a pissed of ten-year-old. "You're leaving?" Cara asked. A heavy book had slid from her hand and rested beside her on the floor. Her face was slowly turning red. It was hard to tell if she was on the verge of yelling or crying.
Glaring at Sam for a moment, as if the whole thing was his fault, Dean took a deep breath and slowly stood up from the couch. "Cara…"
With a shake of her head, she turned and stormed back into the kitchen, moving for the back door. Just as she was about to wrench the door open, Dean grabbed her by the arm. "Cara, wait. Listen," Dean began.
Trying to shake herself from her father's grip, Cara shook her head. Angry tears were beginning to form in the corners of her eye. "After what you said you're just gonna leave?!"
"What?" Noah asked, from the kitchen table.
"Cara, please, there's some things I have to take care of," Dean pleaded.
"Let go! Let me go!" Cara yelled.
"Dean, let her go," Sam said quietly from the doorway.
Dean released her, and the young girl went flying back into the wall from the pulling force she was using to get out of his grip.
Quietly, Cara picked herself up. She indignantly wiped her tears and looked at her father. "Just go," she finally said. "That's all you do: leave us."
The room echoed with the back door closing. At a loss, Dean stared at the spot where Cara was. Then, he found himself to his only remaining child, still like a statue at the kitchen table.
"Noah…" Dean began.
Pushing his plate aside, Noah sighed. "She doesn't understand."
"Understand what?" Dean asked.
"I know that when you leave, you'll always come back."
"But Cara doesn't believe that," Dean said, with small revelation.
Noah looked up at his father, but didn't say anything.
"Okay…I should get her before she gets too far. You okay, Noah?"
Quietly Noah nodded. "Yeah. I'm great, Dad."
A few moments later, Dean had also exited the house, in search of Cara. Once his father was gone, Noah sighed, pushed his plate to the side and rested his chin on the surface of the table, staring blankly ahead.
Sam had watched in silence on the perimeter of the room, as Dean scrambled to handle parenting. It was something that Sam knew was hard for him to begin with, but coupled with Dean's own problems, and his inability to acknowledge and handle his problems, it was obvious Dean was scrambling.
But the scene in front of him now, a young boy, sitting alone, staring off vacantly and wonderingly at the same time.
It reminded Sam of himself.
"How you doing, buddy? Sam asked, scraping a chair across the floor so he could sit beside his nephew.
Noah turned his head slightly so he could see his uncle better. With a slight shrug of his shoulders, Noah answered the question. "I'm fine, I guess."
Sam nodded. "You know...you can talk about how you're feeling. I know your father is pretty terrible at that, but you can always come to me, if it feels like you can't talk to him."
Glancing at his uncle, Noah considered that. Sam seemed very sincere in what he was saying, but Noah wasn't sure Sam would be able to keep it to himself.
"I'm okay, really," Noah insisted.
Sam stared at Noah for a few more seconds with his puppy dog eyes. When he finally realized Noah wasn't about to share how he was feeling-just like his father-he reluctantly pushed back the chair. "Okay. I won't make you talk if you don't want to," Sam said.
"Great...do you mind getting me my crutches?" Noah asked, changing the subject.
Sheboygan, Wisconsin
A few different strings were strummed on an old, acoustic guitar. After a discordant noise came from the instrument, the owner set it to the side. "No, no, that's wrong," said a voice. The owner of the guitar, a man leaned forward and erased a few notes off the sheet paper in front of him. On an ashtray nearby, he picked up the poorly made joint, and took a hit, before replacing it.
Returning to the guitar, a bit more focused, the man poised his hand to strum a new combination of strings. About to test the new notes, the house was instead filled with the sound of someone knocking on the door.
"Shit." Jumping up, the man tossed the guitar onto the couch. On his way to the door, he grabbed the joint in one hand and tossed it into the trash can located in the kitchen.
The man opened the door to a woman. She seemed to be about his age. Long, wavy caramel hair fell down both sides of her face. She wore bootcut jeans, boots, and a loose tank top. In one hand she held a letter. However, that wasn't what alerted him. Once the man looked at the woman's face, he felt any semblance of a smile slip off his face.
He recognized this woman instantly.
"Alice?" The word seemed to get caught in his throat.
"Seth," Alice said, simply.
"You shouldn't be here," he said, face flat.
"Seth, please." Alice caught the door with one hand as he tried to close it. She shoved her way between the door so it could not close all the way.
Mouth growing into a grimace, Seth stepped further back into his apartment. "What do you want?" He demanded, wishing she would just leave.
"There's something I need to tell you," Alice said, as she grabbed the door once again when Seth tried to close it.
"Fine. Then tell me."
Alice looked around. "It would really be better if I can inside."
With a scoff, he rolled his eyes. "I don't think so." He saw her hesitation. "If you're not gonna tell me, then leave."
Seeing the cold sneer in his face, Alice stepped back from the door so she stood in the hallway. If Seth wanted to slam it on her face after what she told him, then she supposed there was nothing that would get him to let her in.
Realizing there was nothing left to do but tell him, she broke the news, right in the middle of the hallway.
"Your mother's dead, Seth."
"Cara! Cara, where are you?" Dean yelled, circling around a pile of cars in the far, back corner of the salvage yard. It was quite a sprawling place, with grids of abandoned cars stacked upon one another. It was an easy place to get lost in.
And an easy place for a child to get injured in.
With an aggravated sigh, Dean stopped at the wire fence that separated the yard from the dirt road that ran parallel to the property. He tried to keep his worry down, but all Dean could imagine was Cara climbing and getting stuck somewhere she shouldn't be or being crushed under a precariously placed car.
As his mind whirred through the worst possible scenarios, Dean stopped when he saw a disruption in the uniformity of the wire. Part of the fence-between two wood posts-was caved in, as if weight was placed on top of it. On the other side of the fence, on the dirt road, Dean could make out very faint footprints. They were small.
With a mixture of anger and anxiety, Dean clumsily hopped over the poorly constructed fence and jogged down the path of the footprints. Based on how close together they were, he could tell Cara had started off running but eventually slowed to a walk.
"Damn it," he muttered, keeping a quick walking pace. He didn't know how far she had gone, but he knew when she got angry that she had a tendency to want to get as far away from everyone and everything that made her mad as she could.
After a significant amount of time, Dean finally noticed the footprints seemed to me more sure, like they were newer, fresher.
It was only a few moments later that Dean spotted the black dot of a figure moving in the same direction as him.
"CARA!" He yelled, knowing that there would be no one else navigating the maze of dirt roads on foot.
Although the figure was far away, he could tell if pause for a moment in hesitation. Perhaps she was thinking of bolting, but probably realized that her father would've dragged her kicking and screaming back to Bobby's if he had to.
"Stay there!" Dean yelled, with less harshness. He jogged towards Cara, her figure slowly growing larger and larger.
The closer he got, the more easily he could make out her appearance. She was half turned away from his, arms crossed tightly across her chest. Her shoulders were drawn up tightly, defensively.
When he finally reached her, Dean slowed to a walk and stopped about ten feet away from her. "What were you thinking?" he said, slightly out of breath.
Staring from beneath her eyelashes, Cara gave him a baleful look but remained silent.
"Answer me, Cara," Dean demanded. There was more force behind his voice. Her actions and attitude were starting to grate on his nerves. First, she yelled at him, and then ran away. And now, she was refusing to speak to him. "Cara," Dean growled one last time.
In response, Cara stiffened at the tone. It was rare that her father ever used it with her. But ever since everything had happened, it seemed like he was using it more and more. Face pressed into her shoulder, she mumbled something.
"What?" Dean asked, tone still hard as steel.
Cara mumbled something again, still completely incoherent, and only a notch above a whisper.
"Speak up when you're talking to me. I'm not going to ask you again, young lady. This has-"
"I WANNA GO HOME!" Cara suddenly screamed before her father could continue his rant any further. "I wanna go home! I don't wanna be here anymore!"
"And what? You were planning on walking all the way back?" Dean asked.
"If I have to."
"Well, sorry to tell you kiddo, but you're stuck with me for now." Perhaps that wasn't the best thing to say when he was going to be leaving shortly.
"I want Mom," Cara said, wiping at her nose.
Dean lost some of his anger at that. She had always been the parent his kids preferred. There was nothing wrong with because it was all his fault that they felt that way, and because Alice was better than him in every way. Nevertheless, it still ached that he would never be the first person his kids ran to.. Of the few interactions Dean had had with his children recently, rarely seemed like he did much but show his annoyance towards them.
"Look...I know you want Mom, but she has some things she has to take care of."
"I know she's trying to find Aunt Jan's kids. I know that," Cara said, clarifying that she knew exactly what was going on.
Dean sighed and took a moment to actually watch his daughter. She seemed disheveled, indicative of how far she had gone. Coming to stand right in front of her, Dean got down on his knees and plucked her glasses from off her face. The lenses were covered in dust, so Dean wiped them on his shirt. "I don't know how you can even see out of these," Dean noted, carefully placing the glasses back on her face.
Finally glancing at her eyes-which were the same color as her mother's-he was immediately able to sense the depth of what she was feeling. He saw pain, hurt, and frustration. Perhaps the tsunami of emotions behind her eyes could tell him more than anything she could ever say.
Sitting back on his heels, Dean made a snap decision right then and there. Maybe later he would go onto regret it, but all he could think about was how many times he had let his kids down, and especially Cara, who had taken it particularly hard. After everything she'd been through-being nearly drowned, being possessed, having her heart broken over and over again-Dean couldn't do it again.
"Okay...Cara...I can't believe I'm saying this but-" Cara's eyes darted to his face "-I don't know what else to do. So…" Dean closed his eyes for a moment, and placed both hands over his mouth, not believing what he was about to say. "Cara, I will let you come with me and Uncle Sam."
Cara's eyes immediately brightened at that, but Dean held up a hand. "Listen, I will bring you with, but if I do, you have to listen to everything I say, no questions and no talking back. Do you understand? Because if you don't listen, I will drop you right back off here if I even think you can't handle this."
Wordlessly, Cara nodded with wide eyes. It didn't seem to matter to her where they were going. What mattered was that her father was finally seeing her as something other than some immature kid that was too stupid to understand what was going.
"Do you understand? No backtalk, no smart answers. You listen to me. Got it?" Dean asked.
"Yes, Dad. I understand."
Seemingly satisfied with the answer, Dean stood up. "No more running off, okay? That was a little kid thing to do, alright?" Knowing that calling her a little kid would push a button, Dean watched as Cara went to retort, but then remembered what they had just talked about. Instead, she just nodded once.
"Good."
Dean scanned the way from which they had came. "Why'd you have to walk so far?" He asked jokingly.
Letting a small, real smile appear on her face, Cara just shrugged, as if she didn't know any better.
When she stepped next to her father, Dean ruffled her hair affectionately, as the two began the trek back to Bobby's.
The doorframe suddenly shook as Seth's vision became unfocused, his eyes beginning to seize. Alice reacted quickly, catching him as he pitched forward in shock. "Seth Seth Seth. Hey, Seth. You with me?" She looped an arm around his waist to support him and dragged him back into his apartment, kicking the door shut behind herself. Setting him on the couch, she knelt down in front of him and watched the tell tale signs of a panic attack begin to set in.
Grabbing blindly in front of him, needing something to anchor onto, Seth found Alice's hands and sunk his nails into the as he gripped them tightly. His breathing became labored, erratic, and panicked. His face turned red and he could feel his joints beginning to lock, pins and needles underneath his skin.
Alice muttered assurances to him, telling him the panic would pass. She demonstrated deep breathing in an attempt to calm him down, get his mind out the whirlwind it was in. It seemed to help a little bit, but it took nearly ten minutes for the attack to run its course.
Eventually, Seth seemed to come back to reality. He removed his hands from Alice's and slouched back against the couch. Placing a hand against his clammy forehead, Seth took heavy breaths. It felt like he was running for his life away from a monster.
Standing quietly, waiting for him to compose himself, Alice let herself look around the apartment. It was a small place, just a kitchen, living room, bedroom, and bathroom. It was plain; there were no decorations anywhere. It was also surprisingly clean for a late twenty something year old that lived by himself. It also smelled a bit like marijuana, Alice decided.
As Seth came more and more out of the funk he was in, he became more aware of his surroundings. He first heard the constant, low hum the fridge always made. Next, he felt the neck of the guitar underneath one of his hands. Last, he came to see Alice curiously look around the living room, as if in a museum.
Clearing his throat to get her attention, Seth sat up straight and watched her as she turned at the sound and came to stand on the other side of the room.
"How long has it been? Haven't seen you since...ninety-five?"
"Eleven years," Alice confirmed.
"Hmm," Seth said. "Where'd you-where'd you...uh learn how to do all that?" He motioned randomly.
"Oh that panic attacks? I'm a nurse. So I guess I just picked up how to handle it over the years. And...I used to get them sometimes as a kid."
Seth nodded a bit uncomfortably, not really sure how to respond. "So...uh...how'd she...how'd my mom die? What happened?" His hands were twisted together tightly, as if prepared for another bout of panic.
Realizing it was going to be a heavy conversation, Alice took a seat in an armchair diagonal from the couch. "Umm...it was a demon."
Seth's eyebrows raised, and his heart broke a little bit. "I didn't realize you knew about monsters."
"I've known for awhile now."
He thought for a moment before a concern suddenly pinged into his head. "Wait, I thought she stopped hunting."
Alice clenched her jaw. "She did. But I guess you never really escape the life."
"Right. Uh sure." It seemed strange to him to be having this conversation with her. Janet had always told him and his siblings never to mention hunting to their cousin. "But was she-did she get possessed or…"
"She got in the line of fire-got stabbed. She actually saved my kids who were possessed."
"Oh my God." Seth covered his mouth with one hand. He tried not to linger on the image of his mother being stabbed. "Wait. You said kids. As in more than one?"
Alice nodded.
"Oh. I mean I knew you were pregnant the last time I saw you, but I didn't realize you had more than one."
"Yeah. Cara and Noah."
"And how old are they?"
"Cara's ten...well actually almost eleven soon. Noah's nine."
"And is it…"
She smiled slightly, knowing where the question was going. "Same guy. He's actually a hunter too. Kind of the family business."
"I can relate to that," Seth said. Both of his parents had become hunters when they were in college, so he and his two sisters were raised, knowing since birth the supernatural world was more than just an abstraction under his bed.
"So do you still hunt?" Alice asked. Seth frowned. There seemed to be more than just a inquisitive nature behind her question.
Seth shook his head. "No. Not since my dad died. You know, he was also killed on a hunt. That's when Mom kind of stepped back from the whole world too. I guess because I was still a kid I just kind of stepped back with her."
"I see." Remembering the letter on the coffee table, Alice slid it across the surface to her cousin. "This is for you."
"What's this?" Seth gingerly picked it up and turned it over, seeing his name in his mother's familiar handwriting. "What is this?" He asked, with a little more emotion.
"I found it with her will. She wrote one for you and your sisters. As her last request she asked to track the three of you down. I had her cremated and she wanted her ashes sprinkled in Lake Michigan."
Seth sniffled and looked at the unopened letter. "Just like Dad."
"Seth, I don't know what that letter says, but she wanted you and your sisters to be there when the ashes were sprinkled."
Setting the letter beside the guitar, Seth looked at his cousin. "That's not gonna be possible."
Alice sighed. She knew in the will Jan basically said her kids might hate her, but she was hoping that they would at least come to say goodbye to their mother. "Look, I know you guys didn't exactly have a great relationship, but I think it would mean a lot to her-"
"It's not that. I'll go to say bye to her. But it's not gonna happen if you think all three of us are gonna be there."
"Why not?" Alice asked.
Seth ran a hand through the stubble on his chin. "Piper and Olivia don't exactly speak to each other anymore."
"Oh. Do you mind me asking what happened?"
Seth raised his hand. "I'm not getting in the middle of that. And all I'm gonna say is that I'm not exactly thrilled at the prospect of seeing Olivia, either. But I understand it was her mom too, so if you're gonna ask her, I won't stop you."
"Well then, do you know where I can find her?"
Seth frowned. "How did you find me, exactly?"
Alice felt a bit sheepish in her explanation. "I found your address in some of your mom's things. You were never really that far, I guess."
Seth's face turned a bit red. "It doesn't surprise me that she knew where I was, I guess. You have no idea how difficult it was to try and sneak out of that house when I was a teenager."
Alice chuckled at that. "I can only imagine. So, do you know where I can find Olivia?"
Seth's face seemed to darken at the mention of his sister. "No. Like I said, I haven't talked to her. Have no idea where she is."
"Oh. What about-"
"Piper? Now her, I know where she is."
"Dean you can't be serious," Sam said as his older brother breezed right past him.
"Oh now you're gonna start questioning my parenting decisions?"
"This is crazy. You're just gonna bring a kid along into a dangerous situation-"
"We're just tracking down some woman Dad knew. Look, it's not like we're going on a hunt or anything-"
"She's only ten-"
"I told her what's going on. And come on, Cara's smart. Nothing's gonna happen to her."
Sam sighed. His brother was the most stubborn person he knew, and at the rate Dean was packing, and how quickly he had told Cara to get ready-who was evidently excited-there was no way he was changing his mind now. And even if he did, the brothers would have to face the wrath of the Cara. It was bad enough they were already facing Noah's pouting. "Are you at least gonna call Alice?"
"For what, her permission?"
"No...just to let her know what's going on."
"She's busy."
"Yeah but-"
"Will you quit nagging? You're not my wife and neither is she. They're my kids and I can take them wherever I want without needing anyone's permission. Get off my case." He stormed out of the room, duffle in one hand.
Sam heard Dean yell for Cara, to see if she was almost done packing.
"We're rolling out in five minutes! With or without you!" Dean yelled up the stairs to Sam.
"Awesome," Sam muttered and he quickly shoved the rest of his things into his bag, knowing at the rate they were going, one of them was probably gonna kill the other before the little adventure was done.
Downstairs, Cara stood diligently by the front door, her small, purple and pink suitcase sitting beside her. Dean nodded at her as she walked by, before hesitantly going into the living room. Noah, back on the couch, had his arms crossed and was unabashedly glaring at his father.
Approaching his son, Dean hovered near the coffee table, where the crutches were haphazardly thrown around. Reaching down to straighten them, Dean noted how Noah was refusing to look away from his father.
"I know what you're gonna say, Noah. You're gonna say it's unfair that Cara gets to go and you don't."
"And you're gonna say life's not fair," Noah retorted. Dean's eyebrows raised. Noah wasn't usually one to talk back. He was always the agreeable one that listened, but evidently the injustice of the situation really resonated with him. And as both of the kids got older, the smarter their mouths got.
"Look, she's older than you, Noah."
Oh please, by not even two years, Noah thought in his head. He knew better than to roll his eyes at his father, so he did it internally instead.
"And besides, you're still hurt. You can't even walk. Maybe when you're better, I'll take you with me. Just the two of us."
Maybe. And when he was better. To Noah, it felt like he was never going to get better.
"And one more thing...could you not tell your mother about this?" Dean asked a bit sheepishly.
UNBELIEVABLE! Inside, Noah was boiling, but he managed to keep himself composed on the outside. "Sure, Dad." After everything, Dean had the audacity to request something so compelling from his mother. Honestly, the thought of telling Alice hadn't even crossed Noah's mind. Because if she found out-from anyone-Noah knew that would blow his chances of ever being able to go on some kind of hunt.
Looking a bit relieved, Dean reached forward to give Noah a hug. "Okay, bud. I'll see you soon."
Not responding, Noah gave a passive hug and leaned back against the couch, not watching as his family drove away, leaving him behind.
As Dean passed Bobby to the door, he turned to the older man, glancing back at his son. "You'll watch him, right?" There was an edge of worry, and maybe a bit of regret in Dean's voice.
Bobby nodded solemnly. "You know I will."
Realizing the request wasn't necessary Dean offered a quick thank you, and was gone, leaving the sound of the door slamming reverberating around the near empty house.
He'd lost track of how many episodes of SpongeBob he'd watched. The fuzzy television with distorted sound created an eerie, pulsating light that vaguely bathed the dark living room in color. Feeling his eyes begin to hurt, Noah tentatively shut the television off, plunging the space into silence, save for the occasional page turn on the other side of the room.
It took Bobby several minutes to realize the only light source was now the dim lamp sat atop his desk. Looking up from the heavy book he was reading, he noticed the young boy's mop of black hair lean back, as if gazing up at the ceiling. The older man noted Noah had been doing that a lot. He knew the kid was used to running around in the sunlight, loving life and living every minute fully. For Noah, it seemed it had always been okay that life went by at such a slow pace. But now that he was confined to the indoors, each ticking minute seemed to be more painful than the last.
"I think I've spent most of my day here," Noah commented. He didn't know if Bobby was even paying attention, but he suddenly felt like rambling.
"Give it some time, boy. You'll be running around again before you know it."
"I have been giving it time. I've been trying to give everything time. I've tried to be patient but it feels like I'm never gonna get better. That none of us are." From where he sat, Bobby could see the frustration in Noah's voice, and the expressive way the young boy's shoulders moved.
Bobby relocated to the edge of the coffee table. His hands clasped together as he tried to figure out what to say to Noah. It was evident there were no comforting words that would mean much to the boy, who seemed to be holding a lot of things in.
The man looked at his hands as he spoke. "I know this is the worst part of trauma: when you are so sure nothing can ever be okay again. But Noah, even if you don't think you're ever gonna get there, you will. That may not be the answer you wanted to hear, but it's the truth. You get better. You heal. Just takes time."
They sat in contemplative silence for a while before Noah spoke. "Thanks, Uncle Bobby."
"For what?" Bobby asked with a furrowed brow.
Noah shrugged. "I don't know I guess just...listening. Mom and Uncle Sam are always trying to force me to talk, but I feel like they're not really hearing what I'm saying when I do. And Dad just pretends like nothing is wrong. I feel like Cara is the only one that understands what I'm going through, but there are just some things she doesn't get, either."
"Like what?"
Noah licked his lips, and looked off into space, as if arranging the words of what he wanted to say. "She doesn't have these feelings that I get. The ones where I know something bad is gonna happen but I don't know what."
Bobby nodded silently. First Sammy had gotten visions, and now Noah was following in his footsteps. Bobby could tell it freaked out Dean and Alice more than anything else. Sam felt guilty, as if it was somehow his fault. Cara probably knew the most, because that was who Noah confided in most of the time, but she didn't know how bad they could get.
"And she had a monster in her head too. I know that. But what I did while that thing was in my mind makes me sick to my stomach."
Feeling his own stomach begin to turn, Bobby shifted slightly, clenching his hands tighter together.
"I killed my Aunt Jan." Noah's head bent down so his eyes were out of sight.
"Noah…" Bobby began, but all he could picture in his mind was the knife stealing the life from Jan.
"I did. I did. You can all say it was Murmur, but he used me to do it, and now I'm stuck with those memories forever. That's why I hate sitting around all day because all I can think about is how I was gonna kill Mom but then Aunt Jan pushed her out of the way. And the knife…" Noah's voice broke on the last word, along with Bobby's heart.
Pulling his cap down a little further, to try and obscure his face, Bobby felt like he was losing control of his words. "It's not your fault, Noah. What that bastard did to you and your sister...I wanted to rip 'em apart myself when I heard. But it's not your fault. Not at all. If you need me to say that a thousand more times, I will, because you need to understand that it wasn't you that did that, even if it was you. You follow?"
"Yes," Noah responded softly. Still, he seemed troubled.
"What else is bothering you?" Bobby asked.
"It's so stupid to be upset about killing someone-"
"That wasn't you," Bobby insisted. He meant it. If he had to tell Noah that a hundred times a day, he would.
"Yes sir. But after everything I've been through, I want to be able to...defend myself. I don't want anything like that to happen to anyone I care about or anyone at all. That's why I wanna learn how to hunt. Not cause I wanna be like the rest of my family, but because I know what it felt like not being able to do anything. I don't like that feeling. And I don't think anyone else would, either." The more Noah talked, the smaller his voice got, while the words became more passionate.
The soliloquy really put the kid in a new light to Bobby. Noah had always just been a little brother who was goofy and silly and didn't take anything too seriously. And then after what happened, Bobby thought maybe Noah would've been broken by what happened to him. Initially Bobby thought it was a mixture of childhood innocence and naivety that Noah wanted to learn to hunt. But after listening to Noah, it was obvious the boy's reasons were pure, not because he was young, but simply because he was good.
Unlike his father, uncle, and grandfather, Noah wasn't motivated by revenge, anger, or familial obligation. There didn't seem to be any room for that inside his heart.
"And we bring hunting up to my dad, but he just shuts it down and acts like we never ever talked about it. Then-all of a sudden-he takes Cara with him. You know, it was my idea to hunt but she gets to go first because she's older. Maybe it's a stupid thing to be mad about but I always feel like she's just so Cara. She always has to be right because she's always reading and it...ugh!"
Despite everything, Bobby snorted at that. "It's because she's your sister. Family has a funny way of rubbing you the wrong way and making you angry to no end. And as for your father; he's an idjit, Noah-what else can I say? He drives me crazy sometimes, but I love him regardless, the same way you feel about Cara, I suspect."
"I guess," Noah mumbled halfheartedly, not wanting to actually admit that he loved his sister. Still, the boy looked a bit glum.
"Do you want me to tell you a secret?" Bobby suddenly asked.
Noah glanced up at him. "What?"
"Now, see, I may not be psychic but I can tell that one day you're gonna make a damn fine hunter, Noah." Although Bobby wasn't crazy with the idea of the kids learning to hunt-none of the adults did-it seemed like that's the way their course was headed.
"Really? You think so?" Noah asked brightly, with the quality of a little kid reaffirming they were on Santa's nice list.
"I'm pretty sure of it." With a yawn, Bobby stood and stretched his arms above his head. "It's late."
Catching the contagion of yawning, Noah tried to cover his mouth. Even though he hadn't done much today, he felt emotionally drained.
"I think I'm gonna head to bed, and from the looks of it, you should too."
Not able to hide the tiredness anymore, Noah nodded. "That sounds like a good idea."
"Alright, let's get you up to bed then." Bobby turned and bent down in front of the couch so Noah could climb onto his back. Once the boy was situated, Bobby grabbed the crutches in one hand and ascended the stars, to the bedroom where the kids slept when they came over.
Dropping Noah on the bed, Bobby acted like his back was hurting him, which caused Noah to laugh.
"Night, kid," Bobby said, as he deposited the crutches next to the bed.
Noah slowly got under the covers as the door softly shut behind Bobby.
Adjusting himself, Noah found himself staring at the ceiling after a while. His family was scattered in the four corners of the winds. Everyone had stuff they were dealing with.
Eventually deciding he was done thinking, Noah shut his eyes. Because he had spent most of his day doing nothing, he'd done a lot of thinking. And he needed a break from it for a bit.
It wasn't soon after that Noah had finally fallen asleep, breathing evenly and sleeping deeply.
That night, there were no visions or nightmares of demons, just healing.
We're officially Season 2! I'm so excited! I hope everyone is looking forward to what is coming. Let me know what you're looking forward to in the reviews and what you liked.