"Balls," Bobby grimaced at the sight of the Impala in front of him. "How did you bang 'er up so hard?"
Dean rolled his eyes. "It wasn't me. It was some jackass that ran a red light and slammed into her."
"You let the guy go?" Bobby raised an eyebrow.
Dean scoffed. "Of course not. No one gets away with hurting my Baby."
"Uh-huh. Well, you boys are stuck here, until you can get that car fixed." Bobby stepped aside and let the boys back inside. "How you kids holdin' up?"
"Perfect."
Bobby didn't like Dean's answer.
Sam just nodded curtly. "We're doing good. Thanks, Bobby."
The older man shrugged. "Well. You boys tell your old man that if he wants to stop by then he better be ready to face a shotgun. Got that little girl killed in his revenge plot." And she'd been like a daughter to them both. A high pitched bark had him looking down. A small little puppy appeared out of nowhere and ran into his legs. "Oh there you are, Rumsfeld."
"Rumsfeld?" Dean looked appalled at the furry little creature that was now coming up to him to sniff him. "Since when do you have a dog, Bobby?" Dean dodged the poor pup's sniffing attempts and the puppy whined. Sam was a lot more welcoming, kneeling down to rub the pup's head and letting him drool all over his hands. "Who's a good boy?" The youngest Winchester cooed.
"Since I decided I needed a little company." Bobby scoffed at Dean's apprehension. "Now you gonna get that paperwork done?" Bobby motioned to the stacks piling up on his table. "All of those things need your signature."
"I only came here for the will." Dean's voice was tight.
Bobby softened a little. "And you'll get it, Dean. I've already called her lawyer. She changed it last minute to someone you boys probably already know. James Roberts?"
"That guy?" Dean scoffed. "Should have known when she was saving his number. So, uh, when's he coming?"
"He's a little tied up with something right now. Said he would be here in five days' time… why don't you start working on that car? And start checking out…" Bobby searched Dean's face for a reaction. "Her stuff? See if there's anything you wanna keep?"
Dean's face was stiff. "And what're you gonna do with the rest?"
"Keep it in her room… maybe donate some of that stuff. Those blankets could go to the local shelter. And the dolls could go to hospitals or senior livings or even hospice." She would have wanted that.
"Well. Whatever Bobby, it's not like she's gonna whine about anything."
Dean thought he would feel a lot worse if he came up to her bedroom. He took in the sight from her doorway, which he himself had once painted a bright lavender several years ago.
Bobby had left everything pretty much untouched. Other than a few dustings here and there, and an incense stick smoking away on her night stand, it looked and felt the same.
Her bed was made with way too many lumps and her many pillows lined the walls along with different blankets with different thicknesses and different purposes. A giant teddy bear was flopped onto the floor, her personal little armchair.
First things first. He took his shoes off and stepped into the little wonderland. He would have thrown up at the sight if this wasn't her little haven. A crocheted version of Baby sat on her bookshelf, proudly guarding the titles behind it, and a dragon with fire coming out of its mouth faced off against it. He smirked at the sight. Baby would win no doubt.
He sank down on her mattress and dared to look up, posters and pictures of all kinds of things covered the ceiling and the walls, and right above her desk were random formulas and Latin chants that she'd been in the middle of memorising before he'd dragged her away.
His hands were shaking. She wasn't coming back. He could hear Sam and Bobby talking below him. Something about law and whatnot. They weren't gonna come up any time soon. He laid back on her pillows and let the tears fall silently, staring blurry eyed at her crocheted animals that seemed to be crying with him.
Sam was perplexed. Dean hadn't started fixing Baby, hadn't started picking out what he wanted from Sharon's things, hadn't even looked at the piles of documents waiting for him to be looked at. Instead, he'd looked up a case– a demon case– and taken a 69 Camaro that Bobby had just finished fixing up for a spin.
Sam rolled his eyes. Bobby had taken one look at Dean's freshly tear stained face lighting up the tiniest bit at the sight of the freshly red painted car and had suggested that the two brothers take it out for the case while he fixed up Baby.
Right now, if he looked to his left and took out his earbuds, he would see and hear Dean drumming and terribly humming along to Metallica on the radio with a smile on his face and the wind blowing what little hair he had through the open window. He looked happy. Too happy. Like he was forcing himself to be happy.
Sam finally slipped his earbuds off and caught his brother's green eyes. They were still a little red from earlier. "You're in a good mood." He said instead.
"Why shouldn't I be?" Dean grinned and turned up the music a little louder. "Bobby's fixing up Baby, said he would give her a couple of surprise upgrades, and I got a cool car just like her." He stepped a little harder on the accelerator and whistled. "Listen to her purr!"
Sam scoffed. "Let me know if you two want a room."
"Oh I'm a loyal man. Baby is my only soulmate and you know it." Lies, so was Sharon. "Well, in any case. The lawyer and paper stuff shouldn't take much longer. Things are finally looking up!And, we got a case."
"Wow. You hear a couple of severed heads and a pile of dead cows and you're Mister Sunshine."
Dean ignored Sam's comment. "How far to Red Lodge?"
"Uh." Sam shuffled with the map. "About another three hundred miles."
"Awesome." Dean floored it.
Dean and Sam were now sitting across from a sheriff sporting an insane mustache.
"The murder investigation is ongoing, and that's all I can share with the press at this time." the sheriff said. Dean was holding himself back from laughing at the way the man's mustache moved more than his mouth every time he spoke.
He let Sam continue speaking. "Sure, sure, we understand that, but just for the record, you found the first, uh, head last week, correct?"
The sheriff hummed, rubbing his mustache.
"Okay, and the other, a, uh, Christina Flanigan."
"That was two days ago. Is there–"
Dean looked up when a woman knocked on their door. "Oh. Sorry boys, time's up, we're done here."
"One last question." Sam gave a thin lipped smile and turned back to the sheriff. "What about the cattle?"
"Yeah, what about the cattle?" Dean pressed.
"Excuse me?" the sheriff was taken aback.
"You know, the cows found dead, split open, drained... over a dozen cases."
"What about them?" The sheriff was beginning to look annoyed.
Sam continued. "So you don't think there's a connection?"
"Connection… with…"
"First cattle mutilations, now two murders? Kinda sounds like ritual stuff." Huh, Sam was going in hard.
Well, then Dean was too. "You know, like satanic cult ritual stuff?"
The sheriff laughed. But then slowly stopped when Dean and Sam gave no further response. "You're not kidding."
"No." Dean needed to know. If it was a demon.
"Those cows aren't being mutilated. You wanna know how I know?" the sheriff smirked. "Because there's no such thing as cattle mutilation. Cow drops, leave it in the sun, within forty eight hours the bloat will split it open so clean it's just about surgical. The bodily fluids fall down into the ground and get soaked up because that's what gravity does. But, hey, it could be Satan. What newspaper did you say you work for?"
"World Weekly News," "Weekly World News," Dean looked at Sam and Sam looked back at him, unimpressed.
"World–"
"Weekly World–"
"Weekly…" Dean sighed, giving up. Too many Ws. "I'm new."
"Get out of my office."
Another day, another morgue. But they were being blocked by a stubborn intern standing in front of them. The kid looked like he hadn't slept in days let alone eaten or showered, or shat, Dean noted. He looked a little closer at the kid's ID. J. Manners. What J name was most likely? John seemed safest. "John."
"Jeff." the kid scowled as he corrected.
"Jeff. I knew that." he cleared his throat. "Dr. Dworkin needs to see you in his office right away." What kind of a last name was Dworkin?
"But Dr. Dworkin's on vacation." John- no Jeff blinked.
"Well, he's back. And he's pissed, and he's screaming for you, man, so if I were you I would…" The kid was gone before he could finish threatening him with an angry boss. "Oookay." He turned to Sam. "Hey, those satanists in Florida, they marked their victims, didn't they?"
"Yeah, reversed pentacle on the forehead."
"Yeah. So much fuckedd up crap happens in Florida."
Dean grabbed a box of latex gloves – XL obviously – and passed a pair to Sam. Both of them dramatically snapped them on like they were the heroes in a crime show.
Sam wheeled out a corpse from one of the compartments. He reached for the box at the foot of the corpse and blinked at the lid.
Dean looked at his brother. "All right, you open it."
"You open it."
"Wuss." He took the lid off and grimaced.
Sam cringed at the sight and smell too.
"Well no pentagram." Dean held back a shudder.
"Wow. Poor girl."
Dean nodded slowly. "Maybe we should, uh, you know, look in her mouth." He flashed a smile at Sam. "See if those wackos stuffed anything down her throat. You know, kinda like, Moth in Silence of the Lambs."
Sam nudged him. "Yeah, here, go ahead."
Dean resisted the force. "No, you go ahead."
"What?"
"'Put the lotion in the basket'."
Sam fixed him with a glare. "Right, yeah, I'm the wuss, huh? Whatever."
Dean watched as Sam started poking his fingers into the head's mouth.
"Dean, get me a bucket."
Dean perked up. "What. You find something?"
"No, I'm gonna puke."
Dean ignored his brother's gags. He would get over it soon enough. "Wait, lift the lip up again?" He could have sworn there was something there.
"What? You want me to throw up, is that it?"
Like that would bother Dean. He'd been cleaning up Sammy's puke since forever, half of it off of himself. "I think I saw something." He reached out for the lip himself and lifted it up. "What is that, a hole?" Dean pressed on it and a tooth slid out.
"It's a tooth." Sam gawked.
"Sam, that's a fang. Retractable set of vampire fangs, you've got to be kidding me."
"Well, that changes things."
"Ya think?"
Dean and Sam pulled up to a bar. It looked shady and cheap enough for vampires to be finding prey that hardly anyone would miss. They strutted up to the bar confidently and took their seats on the barstools.
"How's it going?" Dean asked the bartender.
"Living the dream." The man looked bored out of his mind. "What can I get for you?"
"Two beers, please."
"So, we're looking for some people." Sam asked before the bartender could disappear completely from sight.
The man raised an eyebrow. "Sure. Hard to be lonely." He fell silent when Sam dangled a fifty dollar bill from his fingers. He slipped it out from his fingers and slipped it into his pocket. "Right. So these, these people, they would have moved here about six months ago, probably pretty rowdy, like to drink…"
Dean didn't miss the way the man next to them eyed them, clearly eavesdropping. "Yeah, real night owls, you know? Sleep all day, party all night."
"Barker farm got leased out a couple months ago. Real winners." The bartender grinned. Clearly he was making money off of them. "They've been in here a lot - drinkers. Noisy. I've had to 86 them once or twice."
"Thanks." Dean nudged Sam and they left their half drunk beers on the counter.
Slow methodical footsteps echoed behind them as they walked. They were being followed. Was the guy next to them from the bar a vampire? Sam did a small gesture with his hands. His baby brother was too smart for his own good. Dean flicked his hand to the left.
They took a turn and he felt for the cold blade against his side. The second the prowler turned, Sam had the man pinned against the wall and Dean pressed his blade against the man's neck. Easy.
"Smile." Dean demanded.
"What?" The black man, obviously very fit, looked flustered.
"Show us those pearly whites."
"Oh, for the love of - you want to stick that thing someplace else? I'm not a vampire."
Sam frowned.
"Yeah, that's right. I heard you guys in there."
"What do you know about vampires?" Sam didn't loosen his grip.
"How to kill them. Now seriously, bro. That knife's making me itch."
Dean cocked his head curiously. Huh. a hunter? The man squirmed and Sam pushed him back tighter.
"Whoa. Easy there, chachi." the man raised his hands in surrender. He slowly lifted his upper lip. "See? Fangless. Happy?"
They were, in fact, normal human gums. Dean released him and Sam fell back with him. "Now. Who the hell are you?"
"Sam and Dean Winchester. I can't believe it. You know I met your old man once? Hell of a guy. Great hunter. Heard of Bobby's girl too. One of you married her, huh? Heard she passed. I'm sorry." Dean's skin bristled when the man, Gordon, shook his head. "Real nice girl too."
"You seem to know a lot about our family." Dean cut in.
"Word travels fast. You know how hunters talk."
"No, we don't, actually."
"Well your girl did. If you called her with a question on lore or even just wanted a pen pal, she replied faster than the internet." She did? He always thought her services were exclusive to him and a few close others.
Sam shifted uneasily. "So, um, so those two vampires, they were yours, huh?" Thank God for Sam changing topics.
"Yep. Been here two weeks."
"Did you check out that Barker farm?" Dean asked.
Gordon nodded. "It's a bust. Just a bunch of hippie freaks. Though they could kill you with that patchouli smell alone."
"Where's the nest then?"
Gordon shook his head with a chuckle. "I've got this one covered. Look, don't get me wrong. It's a real pleasure meetin' you fellas. But I've been on this thing over a year. I killed a fang back in Austin, tracked the nest all the way up here. I'll finish it."
"We could help."
"Thanks, but uh, I'm kind of a go-it-alone type of guy."
"Come on, man, I"ve been itching for a hunt." And he had been. He needed to get the edge off and just drinking wasn't helping.
"Sorry. But hey," Gordon smiled. "I hear there's a Chupacabra two states over. You go ahead and knock yourselves out." And he got back in his car. "It was real good meeting you, though. I'll buy you a drink on the flip side."
Like hell Dean and Sam were just gonna let this hunter run off like that. Especially on a vampire hunt. Not solo.
They piled into the Camaro and drove after Gordon's car with the headlights off, obviously. They weren't about to be caught by the man.
"He went in there." Sam pointed towards the mill.
"Well," Dean killed the engine. "What're we waiting for?"
They went prepared. Machete in hand and muscles ready for action.
By the time they managed to make their way into the mill, Gordon was being pinned down by a vampire doing his best to bite the man.
Sam knocked over the creature and pulled Gordon away, and Dean used a chainsaw to decapitate the thing.
"So uh, I guess I gotta buy you that drink." Gordon laughed.
Sam and Dean just stared at each other.
Sam was scowling the whole time. He wasn't enjoying this one bit. Gordon said one thing nice about Sharon, bought Dean one round of beer and suddenly Dean was talking to this guy like they'd known each other for years.
"Another one bites the dust." Gordon raised his glass.
"That's right." Dean toasted back.
Sam clenched his own glass and downed it.
"You alright, Sammy?" Dean said, a little too loosely.
He was drunk, Sam noted. "I'm fine."
"Well, lighten up a little, Sammy."
And maybe he himself was a little tipsy because he snapped at Gordon. "He's the only one who gets to call me that." and Sharon.
Gordon raised his hands defensively. "Okay. No offense meant. Just celebrating a little. Job well done."
"Right. Well, decapitations aren't my idea of a good time, I guess."
"Oh, come one, man, it's not like it was human. You've gotta have a little more fun with your job."
Dean practically glowed. "See? That's what I've been trying to tell him. You could learn a thing or two from this guy."
That rubbed Sam the wrong way. He couldn't do this anymore. "Yeah, I bet I could. Look, I'm not gonna bring you guys down. I'm just gonna go back to the motel."
"You sure?" Dean glanced at him, but his eyes were already hazed over.
"Yeah." He pushed his chair back with a screech and stood up.
"Sammy?" He looked down at his older brother. "Remind me to beat that buzzkill out of you later, all right?" That jerk. But Dean tossed him his keys anyway and Sam headed for the door.
"Something I said?"
"No, no, he just gets that way sometimes. Tell you what. Match you quarters for the next round."
He didn't bother listening any further.
Dean was having the time of his life. After a very long time. Finally, someone he could talk to about all the violence with once again. "…So. I pick up this crossbow. And I hit that ugly sucker with a silver-tipped arrow right in his heart. Sammy's waiting in the car, and uh, me and my dad take the thing into the woods, burn it to a crisp. I'm sitting there and looking into the fire, and I'm thinking to myself, I'm sixteen years old. Most kids my age are worried about pimples, prom dates. I'm seeing things that they'll never even know. Never even dream of. So right then, I just sort of –"
Gordon gave a knowing smile. "Embraced the life?"
"Yeah." Dean couldn't believe it. This guy got it. It felt like this guy understood him. In a way his Dad, Sam, even Sharon never did. "Yeah. How'd you get started?"
"First time I saw a vampire I was barely eighteen. Home alone with my sister. I hear the window break in her room. I grab my dad's gun, run in, try to get it off her. Too late." Gordon inhaled sharply. "So I shoot the damn thing. Which of course is about as useful as snapping it with a rubber band. It rushes me, picks me up, flings me across the room, knocks me out cold. When I wake up, the vampire's gone, my sister's gone."
"And then?" Dean asked gently.
"Then… try explaining that one to your family. So I left home. And then bummed around looking for information: how you track 'em, how you kill 'em. And I found that fang - it was my first kill." Gordon grinned.
"Sorry about your sister." Dean said, almost robotically.
"Yeah. She was beautiful. I can still see her, you know? The way she was. But hey, that was a long time ago. I mean, yourwife. It's gotta be rough."
"Yeah. Yeah, you know. He was just one of those women. Feminine as fuck, but manspread more than I probably do, and the way she talked, man. So you're always thinking to yourself, she knows how to defend herself. She's smarter than anything in this world, could probably outsmart God if she met him– that she'll always be around, you know. We're the same age, same vibes. Then just like that." He snapped his fingers. "She's gone. I can't talk about this to Sammy or Dad. You know, I gotta keep my game face on." He cleared his throat and looked down at his drink. "Feels like they all moved on. But uh, the truth is I'm not handling it very well. I feel like I have this–" He wasn't sure how to describe it.
"Hole inside you? And it just gets bigger and bigger and darker and darker? Good. You can use it. Keeps you hungry. Trust me. There's plenty out there needs killing, and this'll help you do it. Dean, it's not a crime to need your job."
Gordon wasn't wrong. The anger from her death had fueled him into following up with this case. He'd taken down a killer clown with his Dad. And now these vampires with Sam. In almost less than two weeks. Gordon was right. He was doing good. He was doing good.
John stood over the bagged up skinwalker still bleeding onto the cloth he'd wrapped it in for transport. Another job well done. He rolled the corpse into the grave he'd randomly dug in a school playground and reached for his lighter in his pocket. Only to be met with a vibrating phone instead.
He checked the caller ID. Sammy.
"Hey Sammy," he smiled despite the flickering of his lighter. "Everything okay with you boys?"
"Yeah. Yeah, everything's fine. Got a question." His Sammy, always concise and to the point.
"Of course, son."
"You ever run across a guy named Gordon Walker?"
John really wished he had a beer right now. "Yeah, I know a Gordon."
"And?"
He sighed. Why did Sam want to know this? He paled. Had they met? "Well, he's a real good hunter. Why are you asking, son?"
"Well, we ran into him on a job and we're kinda working with him, I guess."
Absolutely not. "Don't do that Sammy."
John could almost see his youngest tensing up. "I-I thought you said he was a good hunter."
"Look, he is dangerous to everyone and everything around him. If he's working on a job you boys just let him handle it and you move on. Don't let Dean near that man."
"But he said he worked with Sharon." John didn't miss the way Sam avoided bringing up Sharon.
"I know. But it was only through letters, and Sharon didn't like him that much either. Keep. Dean. Away. From him." For the first time in his life, John was telling his youngest to watch out for his firstborn. Oh how the tables had turned.
"Dad–"
"No, Sammy. Don't argue. Just listen to what I tell you."
Sam audibly swallowed. "Okay."
"Do I need to come?"
Sam paused his movements on the other side. "No, Dad." was the quiet answer. Of course. John let the body under him burst into flames and looked up at the starry sky. He'd forgotten what it felt like to be the one the boys called. Sharon was dead and their go to source for support and information was gone. And there was no one to take care of Dean except for Sam. At least Sam had Jess. He closed his eyes as the last sparks died out. His kids didn't even need him anymore. "Not yet. I'll call if we need help." John inhaled shakily, as the words left Sam's mouth at last.
"That's good enough for me, son."
Dean felt happy. Well, it was more like he couldn't feel anything. Not the pain, not the sadness. All he felt was the buzz in his head, lighter than a feather. He couldn't remember the last time he felt like this. Free from worrying about a woman pressed against his arm like he was the only thing keeping her tethered in this world.
That thought left a bitter taste in his mouth. He chewed the insides of his cheek. He liked having her hanging off of him. He wanted that warmth back at his side. Yeah, it had felt like he were responsible for her, but she had also been responsible for him. And sometimes — more often than not, truthfully — he was the one holding onto her while the world fell apart around him.
He tipped his glass back again. The whiskey was hardly doing anything for him anymore.
"Know why I love this life?" He was glad for Gordon's talkative nature.
"Hmm?"
"It's all black and white. There's no maybe." Dean mulled over this thought. "You find the bad thing, kill it. See, most people spend their lives in shades of gray. Is that right? Is that wrong? Not us."
"Not sure Sammy would agree with you, but uh…" Sharon wouldn't agree either.
"Doesn't seem like your brother's much like us." Gordon shook his head slowly. "And neither was your wife. Always trynna convince me totalkto these mindless creatures." Gordon gave Dean a pointed look that Dean was suddenly uncomfortable with. "She was a good informant, but she wasn't cut out for this life. I'm not saying either of them were wrong. Just different. But you and me? We were born to do this. It's in our blood."
Dean wasn't the smartest. His brother and his wife could outwit him any day. But one thing Dean did pride himself on was his instincts. They were rarely wrong. And his instincts tonight in front of Gordon, said that this was a dangerous man. That he should stay away.
Sam stood in front of the vending machine by the motel, debating what to get. There was sweet tea, unsweetened tea, ten kinds of sodas, and a few candies stuffed into the bottom shelf. Dean would appreciate the candy for sure. But if that man ate sugar after all that alcohol, Sam had no doubt the man would end up in the hospital.
Sam scoffed to himself. But he bought the overpriced candy anyway and stuffed it into his pocket. He reached out to press the unsweetened tea, when everything went black.
Sam felt like a damsel in distress. He was gagged. He'd been tied up to a chair and the thick ropes dug ruthlessly into his skin. There was a sack on his head, but it was unceremoniously ripped off his head, sending his carefully combed bangs into a frenzy.
He narrowed his eyes at the male vampire – the bartender he'd bribed – taking tentative steps towards him, fangs out, ready to bite.
Sam jerked at his bonds uselessly. They wouldn't budge. He growled low in his throat when the vampire got too close. Had Dean noticed he was missing yet? Or was he too drunk to even care? The candies were heavy in his pocket.
"Wait! Step back, Eli!" came a female voice.
Sam flickered a glance towards the woman. Who was this woman? Another vampire? Shit. How was he going to fight off two vampires like this?
The vampire named Eli backed off. The woman took a step forward and Sam readied himself for a punch, a kick, a bite, a– but to his surprise, the woman took off his gag. He gasped and glared into the woman's eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, anything to buy time, but the woman spoke first.
"My name's Lenore, I'm not going to hurt you. We just need to talk."
Ridiculous. "Talk? Yeah, okay, but I might have a tough time paying attention to much besides Eli's teeth." He snarled.
"He won't hurt you either, you have my word."
Sam snapped. "Your word? Oh yeah, great, thanks. Listen lady, no offense but you're not the first vampire I've met."
Lenore's bottom lip trembled. "We're not like the others. We don't kill humans, and we don't drink their blood. We haven't for a long time."
Sam looked from her to Eli and then back to Lenore. "What is this, some kind of joke?"
"Notice you're still alive." Lenore quipped.
Yeah… but so was she. "Okay, uh, correct me if I'm wrong here, but shouldn't you be starving to death?"
"We've found other ways. Cattle blood."
"You're telling me you're responsible for all the–"
Lenore shuddered. "It's not ideal, in fact it's disgusting. But it allows us to get by."
He couldn't wrap his head around this. Vampires not drinking human blood but surviving off of cattle blood. "Why?"
"Survival. No deaths, no missing locals, no reason for people like you to come looking for people like us. We blend in. Our kind is practically extinct. Turns out we weren't quite as high up the food chain as we imagined."
Eli scoffed. "Why are we explaining ourselves to this killer?"
"Eli!" Lenore pleaded.
"We choke on cow's blood so that none of them suffer. Tonight they murdered Conrad and they celebrated."
Based on Eli's tone, Sam had no choice but to believe the two vampires in front of him when they said they didn't kill humans. But he had to make sure.
"Eli, that's enough."
"Yeah, Eli, that's enough." Sam taunted.
Eli shrugged. "What's done is done. We're leaving this town tonight." Eli and Lenore turned to leave.
No, he couldn't just let the targets get away. "Then why did you bring me here? Why are you even talking to me?"
"Believe me, I'd rather not. But I know your kind." Lenore's eyes were haunted. And Sam shuddered at the way she said 'your kind'. He also addressed vampires as 'your kind' but he'd never heard humans be called that. "Once you have the scent you'll keep tracking us, it doesn't matter where we go. Hunters will find us."
"So you're asking us not to follow you."
"We have a right to live, we're not hurting anyone."
Sure. sure they weren't hurting anyone. Gordon wouldn't have just come here and started killing unless something was seriously wrong… right? "Right, so you keep saying, but give me one good reason why I should believe you."
"Fine. You know what I'm going to do? I'm going to let you go." Lenore clasped her hands together as she gingerly approached him with the sack that had been on his head. Sam was more than startled. "Take him back. Not a mark on him."
And the sack was put back on him.
Gordon was a brash driver. Dean couldn't help but notice. He drove almost like him, a little more reckless, but the road was empty. It felt nice to be passenger princess– prince– no wait, King– without having his knees slammed up against the dashboard.
Gordon slid into the parking spot next to Baby and got out. Dean pushed his side of the door open and brushed his hands against his own car. Baby looked unharmed. He spotted the vending machine in the corner and made a note to buy Sam some soda as a treat. The kid had looked bummed out at the bar too. Some sugar would do him good.
"Which room is it again?" Gordon looked around the hallway.
"Second one on the right." Dean answered and followed after Gordon. He could get Sam his treat later.
Maps were thrown across the table. Gordon had a one track mind. Not getting side tracked by some random bird outside the window like Sammy or fumbling over street names as he tried to reorient himself like Sharon. Dean could live with this. Nothing, just alcohol and hunting. And, it seemed like Gordon agreed. None of that chick flick crap.
"This is the best pattern I can establish. It's sketchy at best." Dean looked down at Gordon's rough sketching on the map.
He placed his bottle of beer on a corner and nodded. "Looks like it's all coming from this side of town. Which means the nest would be around here someplace, right?"
"Yep, that's what I'm thinking. Problem is, there's thirty five, forty farms out there. I've searched about half of them already, but nothing yet. They're covering their tracks real good."
"Then I guess we'll just have to search the other half." Dean glanced at his watch and frowned. Sam should have been back by now. "What time is it? Where is Sam?"
"Car's parked outside." Gordon shrugged. "Probably went for a walk. Seems like the take a walk type."
Dean's heart went into overdrive. Sam wouldn't leave for so long. "Yeah, he is, but…" He grabbed his jacket. His baby brother had to be okay. He paused in his tracks when the door opened and a stunned Sam stood in front of him. "Sammy." He immediately made his way to him. "Where you been?"
Sam glanced at Gordon but focused back on Dean. "Can I talk to you alone?"
Dean wasn't about to deny his baby brother that request. He turned to Gordon. "You mind chillin' out for a couple minutes?"
Dean and Sam ended up walking around the parking lot.
"Dean, maybe we've got to rethink this hunt." Sam started.
"What are you talking about? Where were you?"
"In the nest."
Dean's heart sped up with excitement. "You found it?"
"They found me, man." Sam gave a laugh in disbelief.
Dean was a little more concerned. But Sammy didn't look hurt. "How'd you get out? How many did you kill?"
"None."
"Well, Sammy, they didn't just let you go."
Sam pressed his lips together. "That's exactly what they did."
Maybe they'd sent out Sam as a challenge. "All right. Well, where is it?"
"I was blindfolded. I don't know."
"Well, you've got to know something."
Sam looked uneasy as he finally gave a small piece of information. "We went over that bridge outside of town, but Dean, listen. Maybe we shouldn't go after them." Why was his brother so defensive over a bunch of vampires?
Dean crossed his arms and leaned against Baby. "Why not?"
"I don't think they're like other vampires." Sam's voice dropped. "I don't think they're killing people."
Dean couldn't believe it. "You're joking. Then how do they stay alive? Or undead, or whatever the hell they are."
"The cattle mutilations. They said they live off of animal blood."
"And you believed them?"
"Look at me, Dean." Sam raised his arms so Dean could get a better look. "They let me go without a scratch."
And he was right. There was nothing to suggest any harm had come upon him. "Wait, so you're saying…" Gordon had been adamant on killing them. The vampires must have been trying to manipulate Sam into letting them go and using him as a decoy to escape. "No, man, no way. I don't know why they let you go. I don't really care. We find 'em, we waste 'em."
"Why?" Sam snapped.
"What part of 'vampires' don't you understand, Sam? If it's supernatural, we kill it, end of story. That's our job."
"No, Dean, that is not our job. Our job is hunting evil. And if these things aren't killing people, they're not evil!"
Sam was wrong. Supernatural beings were evil. Every single one of those things had tried to kill them. Hell, the whole reason they were stuck in this life was because of some demon deciding to toy with their family. "Of course they're killing people, that's what they do. They're all the same, Sam. They're not human, okay? We have to exterminate every last one of them." But Sam had a point. If they weren't hurting people then were they even to be hunted?
"No, Dean, I don't think so, all right? Not this time."
"Gordon's been on those vamps for a year, man, he knows."
"Gordon?"
"Yes."
"You're taking his word for it?"
Dean didn't like Sam's tone. He tilted his chin further up so he could glare down at Sam. "That's right."
"Dad says he's bad news."
"You calledDad?" Dean hissed.
Sam nodded. And stood his ground.
"And I'm supposed to listen to him?" Dean laughed and shook his head. "He's the one that got Sharon killed."
"Right. And Gordon's the one that saved her. You heard him say it himself, Dean. Sharon's and his ideals don't match."
"Well, now she's dead and he's alive. I think it's clear who wins."
"Why are you talking about her like that?"
"She wasn't meant for this life, alright? She was from the future– 2025. That's still, like, nineteen years away. She wasn't even born yet!"
"Dean!"
"No, shut up Sammy. She's dead. Because this life caught up to her–"
"She sacrificed herself to save our asses. And that's how you're gonna remember her?"
Dean opened his mouth, but he had no retort to that. She would have been alive if not for him and his family, standing right next to him, telling him to not kill the vampires, or at least look into it. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Sam was still going on about holes and hearts and Gordon. "I'm not trynna replace Sharon with Gordon." Dean finally said, quietly. "I'm not replacing her with anything."
"That's not what it looks like to me. And you know as well I do all that is bullshit."
Dean turned around and took a breath. Then, he turned around and clocked Sam right in the cheek. His brother stumbled, holding his cheek, but his jaw set tight. Dean prepared himself for a punch back. He needed to get these thoughts out somehow. In a fight, at least, he wouldn't have to think about the details.
"You hit me all you want. It won't change anything."
Well, if Sam wasn't gonna give him a fight… "I'm going to that nest. You don't want to tell me where it is, fine. I'll find it myself."
Dean stood in the empty motel room. The man was gone. "Gordon?"
Sam's footsteps were rushed behind him. "You think he went after them?"
"Probably."
"Dean, we have to stop him."
"Really, Sam? Because I say we lend a hand."
"Just give me the benefit of the doubt, would you? You owe me that."
Dean glanced at the redness on Sam's left cheek. "Yeah, we'll see. I'll drive. Give me the keys."
Sam's jaw fell open. "They're gone."
Dean cursed under his breath.
"Bobby just finished fixing this one up." Dean grumbled as he finished hotwiring the Camaro. "I don't believe it." He slammed the door shut. Sam slid in next to him. "So the bridge, is that all you got?"
"The bridge was four and a half minutes from their farm."
Dean looked at Sam quizzically. "How do you know?"
Sam shrugged. "I counted." Right. Of course he did. And then he pulled out a map of the area and started drawing on it with his finger. "They took a left out of the farm, then turned right onto a dirt road, followed that for two minutes slightly up a hill, then took another quick right and we hit the bridge."
Dean couldn't help but be impressed. "You're good. You're a monster pain in the ass, but you're good."
Sam sat a little bit taller, a little more confident. And Dean felt the tiniest, just the tiniest bit of guilt at the bruise forming on his cheek.
The sight inside the barn made Dean sick to his stomach. And it took a lot to do that. He'd seen some things.
"Sam. Dean. Come on in." Gordon's grin was far too wide for a man on a simple hunt.
Dean's heart nearly stopped at the sight behind Gordon. Sam stiffened next to him. A woman was tied to the chair, disheveled and bleeding from several wounds on anywhere her skin had been left bare. He shifted his weight to one foot, keeping a hand steady on his machete, the gun sitting right next to it, just in case. "Hey, Gordon. What's going on?"
"Just poisoning Lenore here with some dead man's blood. She's going to tell us where all her little friends are, aren't you? Want to help?"
"Look, man."
"Grab a knife. I was just about to start in on the fingers." Lenore whimpered when Gordon dragged a blood drenched knife down her arm.
Dean shook his head. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey, let's all just chill out, huh?"
Gordon looked surprised. "I'm completely chill."
"Gordon, put the knife down." Sam's voice was low and threatening as he stepped forward.
But this Gordon guy turned out to be a little too crazy in the head. Dean held an arm out to stop his brother from bashing the guy's face in. Gordon had a gun tucked in his jeans. And Dean was not taking any chances with Sammy.
"Sounds like it's Sam here needs to chill." Gordon snorted.
Sam bristled. "Just step away from her, all right?"
"You're right. I'm wasting my time here. This bitch will never talk. Might as well put her out of her misery." He pulled out a freshly sharpened knife. "I just sharpened it, so it's completely humane."
Sam pushed past Dean's outstretched hand before he could stop him. "Gordon, I'm letting her go."
The knife was aimed towards Sam's chest and Gordon threatened in a low voice. "You're not doing a damn thing."
Dammit. Dean placed a hand on Gordon's shoulder. "Hey, hey, hey, Gordon, let's talk about this."
"What's there to talk about? It's like I said, Dean. No shades of gray."
"Yeah. I hear ya. And I know how you feel."
"Do you?"
"That vampire that killed your sister deserved to die, but this one…"
Gordon laughed. "killed my sister? That filthy fang didn't kill my sister. It turned her." Dean's blood ran cold. "It made her one of them. So I hunted her down, and I killed her myself."
"What?" He hissed.
"It wasn't my sister anymore, it wasn't human. I didn't blink. And neither would you." Gordon's voice was too calm for Dean's liking.
"So you knew all along, then? You knew about the vampires," Sam's voice rose with every word. "You knew they weren't killing anyone. You knew about the cattle. And you just didn't care."
"Care about what? A nest of vampires suddenly acting nice? Taking a little time out from sucking innocent people? And we're supposed to buy that? Trust me. Doesn't change what they are. And I can prove it." Gordon snarled.
And then the bastard dragged his knife over his baby brother's arm. Sam hissed. Dean saw red. "You let him go." He pulled his gun out on instinct.
"Relax." Gordon scoffed. "If I wanted to kill him he'd already be on the floor. Just making a little point." He dragged a rigid Sam over to Lenore and dripped the blood from his bleeding arm into her mouth. Lenore screamed, her fangs coming out from her gums. Her eyes grew wild and the scream that tore from her throat was anything but humane. Yet, she forced her head away from Sam's blood. "You think she's so different? Still want to save her? Look at her. They're all the Same. Evil, bloodthirsty."
"No!" Lenor screamed.
Sam snatched his arm back. "You see that, Gordon?"
"No, no!" Lenore was crying now, her tears mixing with the blood on her skin.
"We're done here." Sam kept his eyes on Gordon and Dean backed him up.
"Sam, get her out of here." Dean stepped in between Sam and Lenore, and Gordon and kept his gun trained on the vampire killing maniac. Sam wasted no time in leaving with the shaking vampire in his arms. Gordon aimed to follow. "Uh-uh. Uh-uh! Gordon. I think you and I've got some things to talk about." He made a show of clicking his gun as a reminder.
"Get out of my way." Gordon demanded.
"Sorry."
"You're not serious."
"I'm having a hard time believing it too, but I know what I saw. If you want those vampires, you've gotta go through me."
That seemed to make Gordon realise the situation. Gun would win over a knife anyday. Gordon jammed the knife into the table. "Fine."
Dean nodded and slid the clip out of the gun.
And then the punches flew. An eye for an eye. A tooth for a tooth. Gordon was strong, almost as strong as him, Dean realised. But he also only fought with his upper half. Dean jammed his boot into Gordon's knee and the man above him howled. "You're not like your brother. You're a killer, like me." Gordon growled, and threw another punch.
Dean grabbed his fist and elbowed him with his other free hand. "I don't think so, you sadistic bastard." Sharon would agree with him. She called him a 'hero' sometimes, late at night, when she was so sleepy her words slurred and her honest truths came out. Dean slammed his knee up against Gordon's hard stomach, knocking the wind out of the man and ramming him up against a wall. Another punch to the jaw, and the Black man was out cold.
Dean snorted and shoved him into a chair and started tying up the bastard. "You know, I might be like you, and I might not. But you're the one tied up right now."
Gordon was still out when Sam walked in. Dean was pacing the room, his knuckles bruised and blood starting to form on the jeans near his knees. Sam's own cut wasn't faring much better. The wound was itching and he hoped he hadn't gotten it infected already. "Did I miss anything?"
Dean's head snapped up. "Nah, not much." His eyes looked distant. "Lenore get out okay?"
"Yeah. All of them did."
"Then I guess our work here is done. How you doin', Gordy? Gotta tinkle yet?" Dean mocked the unconscious but gagged and tied up man. "All right. Well, get comfy. We'll call someone in two or three days, have them come out, untie you."
Sam nodded. "Ready to go, Dean?"
"Not yet. I guess this is goodbye. Well, it's been real." Dean's fist pulled back before connecting with Gordon's cheek, sending the other man to the floor. "Okay. I'm good now. We can go."
"Sorry about the car, Bobby." Dean said sheepishly as he handed over the keys to the older man. Bobby raised an eyebrow at the sight of Dean's cheek, a punch right to the jaw, and Sam sported one on his cheek too.
"Did the vampires do that?"
"Uhh… kind of." Dean grinned. "This one was taller than me."
"You dumb boys. You fight each other more than those monsters." Bobby rolled his eyes before resting his hand heavily on his shoulder. "You broke her. You fix her."
Dean's smile fell. "I got Baby to work on."
"Shoulda thought about that before hotwiring this one." Bobby scoffed, and turned around. Dean heard a soft but sharp bark at his feet as the Rottweiler's blur shot past him, following his new owner into the building. And Sam left the house with a pile of books in his arms, colourful covers with questionable titles.
"Hey, where are you taking those?" Dean couldn't help but ask.
Sam dumped the books onto the ground and dusted his hands. "Well, she did have some nonfiction in here that I thought I might keep." Sam jerked his head to the pile. "I was gonna sort through them in the house but Bobby said he didn't wanna know what books she had other than 'Beneath the CEO's Sheets', and…" Sam shuddered at the thought. "'The Lust and Lies of Aladdin'."
Dean forced a smile. "And she said I was addicted to porn."
Sam nodded. "Well, I'm gonna go get the rest of them out. Might give some of these to charity. There's a couple of kids' books too." Sam held a hand out in the direction of the thick books. "I don't know if you want any but I guess you should look through them." And he disappeared back into the building.
Dean pressed his lips together. Everyone was moving on. Bobby got a dog. Jess took the bike. Dad took all the research she had gathered onto that slim device. And now Sam was sorting through her books. He ran a hand down his face. Dad had been droning about Mom, about how he dealt. He'd tried those methods. Drinking it away. Trying to sleep with other women. Burying himself in hunting. But nothing seemed to work.
He curled his hands into fists. She'd left him. The same her who whispered to him every night that he wasn't alone. And she'd left him alone. He wanted to punch something. Break something to pieces, wishing it was his memories of her. To show her how the pain in his heart felt. And how he wished he'd never given it to her in the first place. He grabbed the hammer and stared at the black paint of the Impala. Baby wasn't gonna leave him any time soon. No matter what he did to her, Baby would always be with him.
So he swung.
He swung on the roof she used to sit on while she watched him work. He swung on the hood where he once bent her over under the stars. He swung into the windows where her head rested as she slept. But he wasn't done. He flipped the hammer around and tore at the handles of the passenger door, the one he never had the opportunity to open for her because she always got to it first. He ripped open the front seat vinyl where she curled up with him on nights they didn't have a motel. And he tore into the backseat too, where he'd made love to her for the first time on their wedding night.
And yet, no matter how hard he tried to shred his memories of her, he couldn't help the angry desperate scream that tore through his throat.
Sammy and Bobby hadn't questioned the screaming or the scrap of metal that was not the glorious Impala. All they'd done was crack the door open, made sure he was alive, and then closed the door so the damned dog couldn't run out of the house.
Dean pulled out his phone and hit the contact saved as 'Dad'. The man picked up on the first ring.
"Hey son." Dad's voice was gentle. And there were birds chirping gently in the background. The wind created a constant gentle swish on the other side too. His Dad was outside, some place quiet. Not at some shitty motel getting drunk. Or at some bar trynna hook up with someone.
Dean swallowed against the tightness in his throat. "So." How was he gonna ask? "Um– about– about Mom–" Dad remained silent on the other side. "Dad– I– I don't know how–" He kicked a pebble. He felt like a little boy asking his Dad how to put on a condom because he wanted to hook up with his Math teacher in middle school.
"Take your time, Dean." His voice was deep and heavy and raw.
Dean nodded, before remembering that Dad couldn't see him. "Okay."
Talk. He was supposed to talk. It was supposed to help everything. Solve nearly all of his problems. That's what everyone said. That's whatshesaid.
"I miss her." He finally managed.
"Me too, son."
A little bit more silence. "Everything reminds me of her."
"Okay."
Dean inhaled shakily. "How did you deal with– Mom's death? You know?"
He heard his Dad sigh heavily. "In the beginning… I didn't. I had you and Sammy to take care of. Mary did so much for you two, and I… I could do so little." Dean had never heard his Dad talk about that before. "Kept you two fed and clothed best I could." Dean remembered his Dad's sad face when his worn out pajamas ripped, the one lone toy truck that had made it out because it was in the Impala, 6 month old Sammy screaming in his crib for the mother he would never have ever again. "I tried to keep it together Dean but I couldn't…"
"That's when you started hunting?"
"Don't interrupt me."
Dean clammed up at the authoritative tone. "Sorry, sir."
His Dad gave a hum of approval. "I started hunting. Figured revenge was the best way. Azazel was gonna come for our family sooner or later." Why them? Dean held his tongue as his Dad continued. "I taught you how to protect yourself. How to protect Sammy. Because if there's one thing Azazel wanted more than Mary… it was Sammy." But why? "Once I did that… I did whatever the fuck I wanted. Anything to get Mary off my mind. The booze helped, the whores in the back of bars did wonders." His Dad chuckled before becoming serious again. "But you've tried all that already."
"Yeah."
"Honestly… the only reason I kept going was you and Sammy. I would have killed myself a long time ago if you boys weren't dependent on me." Dean closed his eyes. His Dad wasn't lying. He knew the feeling now. He wanted to kill himself too. But did he have anything to still live for? Dad had Sam. Sam had Jess. Bobby had that dog. Where did he fit in? "When I realised you two could take care of yourselves… I snapped. Azazel showed up around the same time. So I went after him." His dad breathed shakily. "Well… things didn't go as planned. So…" a few voices came and went by. His Dad muttered a soft 'hi'. Where was he? "I'm visiting her grave today."
Dean's heart almost stopped. He, let alone his Dad, never visited his Mom's grave. "Oh."
"You wanna…" Dad cleared his throat. "You wanna say hi? I can put you on speaker." Dean chewed the inside of his cheek. Did he? "Yeah."
"Hang on." His Dad fumbled with the phone. "Where the fuck is the speaker button–"
Dean cracked a smile at his Dad's incompetence with technology. "Son of a bitch… I got it. Say what you want, son."
"Hi Mom. It's Dean." No reply. Of course there wasn't. But it felt nice to say the words out loud. "Uh… It's going fine." He blinked away his tears. "And, uh. Sammy's all grown now. He's taller than me." What else did one say to their mom? "I got married. And now I'm a fucking widower." He laughed at the statement. Him. A widower. Like his Dad. "The world kind of sucks right now. So… wherever you are… I hope it's better than this hellhole. You wanna talk to Sammy?" No response. His Mom was gone. He heard his Dad pick up the phone and put it back against his ear. He swiped at his wet eyes, refusing to let the tears make it past his cheeks. "Thanks, Dad." He felt like a little boy indeed.
"Yeah. I'll call Sammy in a bit. You take care, Dean." A slight pause. "All of us still need you."
"Yeah. Thanks, Dad."