Chapter 5 - Expect the Unexpected
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After a short shopping trip to refill supplies the three were quickly back on the road to the plantation. Sam found himself musing on how comfortable the silence in the car felt, considering their last 24 hours. Hoyt fit in well, surprisingly well. Maybe that was part of what triggered his irrational flare of jealousy earlier. Sam had never thought of himself as someone unwilling to share, but when it came to his brother, everything was just so raw and tender after the past several months, and while their earlier talk had settled something deep inside that he hadn't really even acknowledged feeling, he still was unwilling to let go of this new-found assurance of his value in his brother's world. Aside from that, however, he found Hoyt funny, charming, and easy to talk to. I guess friendship isn't out of the question.
Hoyt, for his part, had been staring blankly out the window for most of the drive, and as they turned onto the dirt driveway again, he hesitatingly spoke, "Do you - …" He paused, reluctant to put words to what he had been thinking. Dean pulled the car to a stop in the driveway and turned to face him questioningly. "Do you think…doyouthinkmyDad'saghost?" In spite of the actual question coming out garbled, both Sam and Dean understood.
"Maybe." Sam said softly. "You said it yourself, though, you don't know what happened to him. It's possible he is alive…" Even as he said it, Hoyt was shaking his head no.
"He was obsessed with finding answers, and if he was alive, he would have retrieved the box. Not to mention kept the necklace!"
"Well, let's find us some answers." Dean replied, offering a shotgun to Hoyt. He raised his eyebrows, but accepted, expertly checking the weapon. "Salt-filled shells" was Dean's explanation to the inquiring look Rawlins gave him, "Salt and iron are your friends with ghosts, but keep in mind it is temporary. We need to figure out what is keeping these ghosts here and burn it or destroy it, if they are going to be released."
"Ten-four." Girding his loins, Hoyt swung around and headed for the house.
"Just a minute," Sam called after him. Regrouping, they stared briefly at one another. "We have a lot of ground to cover, with multiple ghosts to be aware of. Let's split up, but be careful. Holler if you run into trouble." Nodding in agreement, they entered the house, Sam immediately splitting off to more thoroughly search the first floor. Hoyt and Dean headed up the staircase again, and Dean pointed Hoyt down the hallway to the right, while he headed left. Searching was tiring, dirty work, and when they regrouped in the entrance hall a few hours later without incident, it was also with nothing to show for their efforts.
"Let's take a quick look around outside and then go find some food." Dean suggested. Sam nodded, and led the way down the hall to the grimy kitchen in the back of the house, then out a door that led to a sagging back porch. Looking out from their vantage point, the boys could see acres and acres of tall unkempt lawn, dotted with shade trees and sloping down to a wilderness area. Sam carefully stepped down into the grass and made his way to the right side of the house. Rounding the corner, he abruptly came face to face with a stranger. Startled, he was barely able to block the first punch the man threw, and the second to his solar plexus knocked him down, forcing the air out of his lungs. The man turned and fled, even as Dean and Hoyt rushed to Sam's aid. Waving them on, he gulped huge breaths of air, willing his breathing to return to normal. After another glance to be sure Sam was going to be fine, Dean chased after Hoyt, who was rapidly gaining on the attacker. A flying tackle brought the man down, and as Dean ran up to them, he saw Rawlings roll the man over, raise his arm to punch him, then pause. He looked at Hoyt, who had frozen and noticeably paled, then at the stranger glaring up at them. Hoyt swallowed, then spoke shakily. "Well howdy, Pa."
—-
"That's Hoyt's Dad?!" Sam exclaimed, tolerating Dean as he tipped his head to check the bruise just beginning to dust his jaw, but pushing him away as Dean attempted to raise his shirt to check his abdomen. "Quit. I'm fine." Rolling his eyes, but satisfied that Sam probably was fine, Dean huffed and looked over to the heated conversation taking place across the yard. They had retreated to the porch steps to give the Rawlings men a chance to catch up, but still managed to catch a phrase here and there as the "catching up" seemed to be happening at a raised volume and with red faces.
"Apparently. He's not dead."
"Yep. Might be wishing he was though. Hoyt doesn't look too happy…"
"Seem familiar?" Dean grimaced, realizing as soon as the words left his mouth he should never have said them. He had so long been the mediator between Sam and their Dad, but with their Dad's death the level of sensitivity and guilt Sam felt about their constant fights was elevated. "Sorry." Sam just leveled a look at him, then back at the Rawlings, suddenly rabbiting towards them as he saw Hoyt take a swing at his Dad.
"You let me believe you were dead!" Hoyt yelled, swinging again at his Dad, who for his part was blocking but not retaliating. Sam caught his arm even as he pulled back for another swing. "Getoff me!"
"Calm down!"
"Son, listen…"
"Everybody stop!" Dean punctuated his yell with a shot from his shotgun, feeling a sense of deja vu. All motion ceased, everyone's eyes turning to him. "That's better. Hoyt, I get you're pissed, but pummeling your Dad won't make up for anything." Hoyt glared at him, and shook Sam off, but took a couple steps away to show he was backing down. His Dad relaxed his defensive stance, also taking a few steps back. Turning to the man, Dean leveled a glare at him. He knew hitting Sammy was probably just a gut reaction to being startled, but that didn't make him ok with it.
"I guess you figured out who I am." the man growled. "Vic Rawlings, Hoyt's dad. Who are you?"
"Dad, this is Sam and Dean Winchester." None of the boys missed Vic's jerked response to hearing the name Winchester.
"You've heard of us?" Sam queried. "How?"
"Look, it's getting late, and this is clearly about to become a very long conversation. What do you say we take this somewhere that has grub and beer?" Vic replied.
"Fine." Hoyt retorted, "lead the way."
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Slightly more comfortably ensconced in a back booth of a greasy pub down the road, having ordered their food and begun nursing the first round of beers, Sam repeated his earlier question. "How do you know our names?"
Vic, picking at the label on his beer, was silent for a minute and then smirked. "Everyone in the community knows the Winchesters." Sam and Dean exchanged looks at that, while Hoyt merely looked confused.
"You're a hunter." Dean stated flatly. The reason for Vic disappearing from Hoyt's life suddenly made a lot more sense. "You disappeared to keep Hoyt from ending up in the life."
"Got it in one." Vic stared at Dean, nodding at the understanding he found there.
"Hold on just a gol-darn minute!" Hoyt blurted, lowering his voice as he saw several heads turn their way. "Since when are you a hunter? And why the hell couldn't you bother to pick up a phone and tell me you weren't dead, even if you wanted to be stupid and protect me - your GROWN ASS SON -" he paused to draw an angry breath, realizing his voice was carrying again.
"I'm sorry, Hoyt, I am. I was injured bad, and it took me months to recover. While I recovered, I researched. The more I read, the more I knew that if I connected with you again, you would want to hunt too. And I just didn't want that for you boy. This world of monsters, it's nasty, and once you know about it, you can't go back to living eyes closed." He glanced at Sam and Dean, holding their gazes solemnly for a moment, then looked sadly back to Hoyt. "Bad enough I couldn't take back my last voicemail and realized you might at some point come looking for Ophelia's letters and journal. I thought I was in the clear after all this time, but then I got an alert when the box was opened, and I somehow knew it was you."
"I need some air." Abruptly Hoyt exited the booth and headed for the door. Vic started to rise but was stopped by Sam's arm on his shoulder.
"I got him." A glance at Dean, and then Sam followed Hoyt out the door into the night.
Staring at the door after Sam, Vic blew out a frustrated breath. "Screwed that one up."
"Yep." Dean smirked at the heated glare thrown at him. "Seriously, how did you think that was going to go?" Vic smiled back ruefully. "Trust Sammy. He'll help him work through it."
"I heard he was the smart one." Now Vic was the smiling recipient of his own glare, but it had no heat in it.
"True." Their food came at that point, and both men realized they were famished. They dug in, hoping Sam and Hoyt would return before their food was completely cold.
—-
Pausing to let his eyes adjust to the darkened parking lot, Sam peered around trying to see where Hoyt had gone. Spotting him across the street perched on a picnic table, he strolled over, deliberately making some noise as he came so as to not startle him. Sitting down beside him, Sam stared out at the rolling scenery bathed in moonlight, appreciating the quiet pierced only by an occasional bird cry, and undergirded by the soft hum of crickets.
"I understand what you're feeling." he finally said quietly. A huff of air was his only response, but it seemed like Hoyt was willing to listen, so he continued. "My Dad raised us in the life. Well, he actually tried to keep me out of it, at least until I found his journal one Christmas while he was out on a hunt and read it. I made Dean tell me the truth then. I felt betrayed…Dad had lied to me about everything. Dean too, but somehow it was easier to forgive Dean…maybe because when he told me he lied because Dad said to and because he cared I actually believed him. After all, he was the one who basically raised me and was always there. Dad was…" Sam paused, feeling a wash of anger, frustration, love, and grief all intertwined run through him. "He was complicated. I hated him for a long time for how he treated us more like soldiers than children. I hated how he always expected to be obeyed without question and how everything seemed to be need-to-know - and I never was expected to need to know it." He stared out at the field, seeing something that wasn't there. Hoyt waited silently, sensing there was more to come, and that Sam was sharing something precious that very few ever heard. After a few minutes, he was rewarded for his patience, as Sam resumed. His next words were unexpected, causing Hoyt to stare at him in shock.
"Mom was killed by a demon in my nursery when I was six months old." Locking eyes briefly, Sam looked again out into the distance. "Dad started his vendetta then, his quest to hunt down and kill that demon. It consumed him, and changed the course of our lives forever." Another pause, as Hoyt tried to unpack the horror encapsulated in those few words. Sam had lost both parents at that moment in a sense - one to death, the other to an all-consuming quest that meant he and Dean never had a moment of normal, and very little time not knowing that all the things that go bump in the night are real. He opened his mouth to speak, but Sam cut him off. "I hated Dad for how he raised us. For basically cheating Dean out of a childhood, as he had to be my parent more times than not. For us never being able to live in one place, or have any of the normal experiences a kid does. But…" He took a deep breath, "I get it now." Hoyt raised his eyebrows at this. "I do. I've experienced the pull of needing revenge, of needing to right a wrong. I also understand his desire to protect me from the truth for as long as he could. And Mom…" he paused again and Hoyt could see Sam was weighing whether to continue or not, finally coming to some conclusion.
"We learned later - and I can't explain in a way that will make sense to you, so just trust me on this - we learned later that Mom had actually been raised as a hunter herself. As a result, her deepest desire was for us to never know or experience hunting." He snorted. "Clearly that didn't work out so well. Still, I think if there had been a way for Dad to honor her wishes and not lose us in the process he would have done it…" They sat in silence for several minutes, Hoyt trying to process all Sam had revealed. Sam finally shook himself from his memories and turned to look directly at Hoyt. "So cut your Dad some slack. He clearly loves you enough to try not to involve you in this nightmare…"
"Well, I'm in it now." replied Hoyt bitterly.
"Yep. I get it. Just try to understand why he might have done what he did. I'm not saying it was the right decision, just that I can understand it."
"No promises…but I'll think about it."
"Fair enough. Now, I'm freezing and starving. You?" Hoyt smirked at this, nodded, and slowly followed Sam as he led the way back to the bar. As they rejoined the others, a look of acknowledgement passed between the Rawlings, and the remainder of the evening was spent on light-hearted topics - primarily Dean and Vic swapping ghost stories. Hoyt was uncharacteristically quiet, but the hostility he had been cloaked in earlier was noticeably less. Dean caught Sam's eyes and nodded. Well done, brother. Sam smiled slightly in return, before rejoining the current discussion and laughing loudly at Vic's description of his fight with a (very normal) rogue rabbit.