The Plague Pt 12 B FRAO Sam/Dean, John, Bobby
John snorted.
"Bobby this little one is the only one that's your kid, besides Dean is twenty-six and Sam is twenty-four. I think they're a bit too old for a stepdaddy. We want to pull our weight around here. I don't expect you to take care of us all."
"John, I didn’t bring this up before but you really don't have to worry about that. I've got it covered. Don't talk just listen? You know my family comes from Texas, don't you?"
Bobby paused and John nodded looking as if he was going to ask just what that had to do with anything, but before he could say anything Bobby continued.
"It's just, my granddaddy, well… he was sort of a prospector except they didn't find gold or silver. John, I own one-fourth of one of the largest oil fields in the state. Last time I talked to my accountant it was worth sixteen million, and with the investments and all I'm talking a good twenty million. You don't have to work."
"But…my god, why didn’t you tell me?"
"I thought that you'd get offended. I know, why do I live in that little house and work on that crappy garage and salvage yard. It suits me. I like that house; I was born in that house. You know all that land we went shooting on, the two thousand acres? I own that too. Well, actually you own it now. I had it put in your name. Same with the house."
"Why did you do that?" John said, "Hell we weren't even married."
"I wanted to be sure you and the kids, and that means Dean and Sammy too, had a place to live just in case you decided that it wasn't worth it putting up with me."
"Take it back," John said. Bobby looked at him.
"I can't do that Johnny. I won't do that. You know we're married now, share and share alike."
"I don't have anything to share; you're giving too much Bobby," John said quietly.
Bobby leaned over and patted John's belly.
"You're wrong, Johnny. You're giving me everything worth having."
"You should have told me, it wouldn't have made a difference, Bobby. I don't know what to say."
"That's why I didn't want to tell you right away. I didn't want you seeing me as anything but some good old boy. I love you, John and I love that baby more than anything in the world. You won't hear it very often, that’s just not how I am. And I know you're the same. But for what's its worth just remember it, okay."
The Roadhouse looked deserted when Dean pulled the Impala into the parking lot. Sam leaned forward glancing around the grounds, but nothing moved. Shrugging he turned to his brother.
"I don't see anything, Dean."
Dean nodded.
"Yeah, I know. That's what bothers me. It's twelve-fifteen in the afternoon. There should be somebody moving around in there. Ash is gone and all of the hunters I know of left yesterday, but Ellen should be up and around."
"We might as well check it out,” Sam replied.
Pushing the door to the car open he stepped outside. Dean went to the trunk and hauled out the sawn off shotgun, checking the rounds before handing it to Sam. The younger man took it and watched as Dean pulled out the .45 and slammed in a clip.
The doors were locked but it took Sam less than two minutes to jimmy the lock. He stood up glancing back at Dean who just nodded. Sam took point lifting the shot gun and raking it around the interior of the front room.
The tables were empty; no one was behind the bar. The room was eerily quiet. Dean took up position behind Sam as the younger man walked to the bar. There was no sigh of the woman who owned the place. Leaning over the bar Sam checked the bar-back then shrugged. Nothing.
"I don't know, Dean. It's pretty empty in here."
"Let's check the back areas, the family's apartment."
Dean jerked his head in the direction of the corridor behind the bar. Sam pushed the door open. The hallway itself was empty but Sam could see several doors leading into side rooms. The first door was open. It was a small bedroom. The single bed was neatly made but Sam could coarse grains of rock salt, in a line, on the window sills and at the door. The line was unbroken, and he was sure that this was the room that Pastor Jim had used the night before. He would have laid the salt lines when he felt Jo come into the building.
There was nothing useful in the room so they passed it by, moving on to the next door. It was locked; but Dean reared back kicking it in. The room was small; a walk in closet that was being used as a pantry of sorts. There were boxes and bags of various dried goods, alongside piles of linen. The single bulb cast a soft glow on the shelves, and neither young man could see anything unusual in the storage area.
The last door opened into a large, airy bedroom. In the center of the north wall was a huge old oak four poster bed piled high with pillows. The covers were rumpled as if someone had sat on the bed, but not actually lay down to sleep. Beside the bed was a pair of women's shoes, and Sam thought he remembered Ellen wearing something like them. He bent down pulling the shoes out from under the bed. Beside the shoes on the floor were a few stands of hair. They were too light to belong to the older woman, and Sam knew that Jo had pale blond hair. He lifted the strands up holding them out to his brother.
Dean glanced down shrugging. Sam shot him a look.
"Jo was blond. This has to be her hair."
"Yeah, but we don't know how long it's been here. It might be from before she died."
Sam shook his head.
"I don't think so Dean. Look how clean the rest of the room is. There's no dust on anything. Jo's been dead for almost six months from what I can tell. These must have been left last night."
"So we know that Jo came back. Where the hell did she go?"
Sam rose walking to the window. He could see the back yard and the small outbuilding at the edge of the property. The storage shed was on the lower end of the yard, deep in shadow and removed enough from the main building that not many people would bother going down there without a specific reason for doing so. He nodded.
"I say we check out the shed, it's small and dark, a good place to hide."
"At least maybe Ellen is out there. She sure as hell isn't in the bar anywhere," Dean grumbled.
The door to the storage shed was open slightly, hanging uselessly on bent hinges, and Dean was sure it had been damaged when the vampires had taken his father. John had not gone quietly. The floor was bare cement, stained in places by oil and rust. Piles of boxes and bags were scattered through out the small building. From somewhere behind the boxes came the sound of shuffling feet.
Dean raised the gun, and moved in front of Sam. He rounded the boxes and found Ellen sitting on a wooden crate. She was rocking gently holding something tight against her chest. Dean touched her shoulder and she uttered a brief shriek jumping to her feet. She had been holding a porcelain doll which tumbled to the ground at her feet. The doll's pale face shattered, sending shards of porcelain across the floor.
"All I wanted was my baby back. I came to terms with the fact that Bill was never coming back. I know that John salted and burned his body. I don't blame your Daddy for that; it was what Bill would have wanted. But to lose Jo, too. It's not fair. I just wanted what was left of my family back, you understand that don't you?"
Dean sneered. "You turned our Dad over to the vampires, Ellen. You put his life and the baby's life in danger. I don't give a damn about what you want."
Ellen grasped his arm.
"I didn't know John was pregnant. I wouldn't have done it. It was too late by the time I found out."
Sam sighed. "Why did you do it?"
"I thought, I was mistaken, but I thought that John and Bill. He knew about John being different. He told me about it, so I assumed that…"
"That's a damn poor excuse for what you did. And this thing with Jo. You know what comes back isn't the same as what went into the ground. Why do you think we salt and burn our dead. We all know it, Ellen. Where is she?" Dean asked.
"She was here last night. I know Jim Murphy told you. I thought she might come to me, and she did. But I was afraid, Dean. I was afraid that she was going to kill me. I ran, and when I got back she was gone. I don't know where she is. She was gone when I got back this morning. Please boys, I was wrong."
"Don't worry we're going to take care of it," Dean said. He reached out and took her hand pulling her out of the shed behind him. "Go inside Ellen. Sam and I are going to take care of this."
Scowling Ellen scooped up the shattered doll and wandered out of the shed door. Dean watched her climb the path up to the main building, then followed Sam across the yard and into the woods. Sam was half-way down the trail when he paused kneeling down and pressing his fingers to the moist soil at his feet. Dean stopped looking down over his brother's shoulders.
"Something?" he asked.
Sam nodded brushing the grass away from an indentation in the ground.
"Footprint, looks like a small shoe with some kind of heel. I'm going to assume it’s Jo. I just wish I knew what Ellen had her buried in. Do we even know where her grave is, if we have to salt and burn her body?"
Dean shrugged.
"I'm think re-animation here. So if we have to burn her it'll be on the spot. See any more footprints?"
"Yeah, they're sketchy but following along the path. We should be able to find her easy enough."
Sam rose brushing his hands on his thighs then headed down the trail. Dean pulled his gun following along after the younger man. The path bent around a small copse of oaks, across a narrow stone bridge over a slow running creek. The water bubbled gently beneath their feet. Sam looked over the bridge but didn't see any signs of movement on the soft muddy shoulder of the creek.
The path narrowed and finally disappeared altogether as they crossed a small meadow. Just beyond the rise in the hill Dean could make out a thickly shadowed area surrounded by lilac trees and heavy underbrush. The wind ruffled the knee high grass they were walking in making it impossible for them to approach unheard. Sam paused holding up a hand and Dean drew to a halt beside him.
Something moved in the underbrush, the faint swishing sounds almost masked by the waving grasses. Sam brought the shot gun up then stepped forward. Dean followed along close behind.
The clearing was small, nothing more than a dip in the tree line with heavy vines climbing the larger thicker trunks. She was sitting on the ground, head bent as if she was asleep but when Sam moved closer she looked up, hissing. Whatever thing inhabited the small, slender body it was not the soul of the girl they had met once.
She launched herself at Sam with far more viciousness than he was expecting. Her hands came up raking down his arm. Blood welled on his skin streaming to the ground. Sam hissed in pain and brought the shot gun up firing once at point blank range. The shot hit her in the chest sending the girl sprawling on the ground. She glanced down at the gaping hole in her chest then sneered, eyes going red. Dean spat out a curse and fired the .45. He caught her squarely in the forehead sending her down again. Jo's body jerked once and her lips tipped open as a black oily cloud erupted from her mouth. The cloud rose into the air dissipating on the faint breeze. Dean grinned.
"That's one demon gone back to hell."
They hadn't really come prepared for burning the body so Sam got his arms under her shoulders and her knees raising her up. Jo was small, and even stiff with rigor, her body was easy to carry. He and Dean made their way back up the path to the storage shed.
Sam dropped Jo's body on the cement floor and Dean rummaged through the assembled boxes looking for a shovel.
They dug a trench in the soft soil behind the storage shed out of sight of the main building. Praying that Ellen would stay inside until they were finished Dean carefully laid the girl's body in the earth, then poured salt over her still form. Sam brought a can of gasoline from the shed and doused the body standing back while Dean struck a match.
It took longer than he had thought it would to burn her body, they had to re-soak her with gas twice and the stench of burning flesh made Sam ill. By the time Jo's body was reduced to ash his head was throbbing and his stomach roiled. Sam finally surrendered; taking a few steps away he retched and vomited up the remains of his lunch. Dean stood behind him silently rubbing soothing circles on his back until Sam could finally stand up straight. He looked pale, washed out in a way that made Dean worry.
"Can you get to the car or do you want me to try and drive around here?"
"No, I can make it; I just want to get out of here. Let's just go straight back to Bobby's okay."
Dean smiled. "Okay, straight up the road to the highway and home."
TBC