A Family Business 6/6
Title: A Family Business 6/6
Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing. It’s all Kripke’s and the CW’s and blah blah blah. We all know who the real brain trust is around here.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: General for the series. Takes place in two time periods, one pre-series and the other situated at some point between 3x04 (Sin City) and 3x05 (Bedtime Stories).
Summary: In 1996, John Winchester is hunting a creature who mauled a man to death. John's top suspect is the man's teenaged daughter, sole witness to the tragedy, but Sam and Dean aren't so sure. And in 2007, Sam and Dean are looking into a rash of missing persons and trying not to think about Dean's deal.
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
She picks at a seam in the car’s leather upholstery. Her head is bent, she is so tired, more tired than she’s ever been. So much has happened, so many things have changed, and she’s only now beginning to realize what it all means. She knows so much more than she did, and not nearly enough.
The car vibrates under her, the engine rumbling down silent streets. It’s strangely soothing. When it stops it’s like electricity shoots through her body. This is it, she has to stand up and face what is waiting for her.
She doesn’t move for a few, timeless seconds. She can’t. She knows that when she opens the car door everything will come crashing down. The dead will still be dead, and she’ll finally have to deal with that fact.
She looks up and catches Dean’s eyes in the second before he looks away. The startling empathy she sees puts steel back in her spine. She can do this.
It’s cold in the gray pre-dawn. She stands in the yard and watches the black car pull away. She grips her sister’s hand and doesn’t let go as the car disappears down the road. She’s not sure if she can go back to her old life, or even if she wants to, but she’ll protect what she has left, no matter the cost.
Gillian blinked her eyes awake. The tattered remnants of her dream floated around her head, the past and the present seeping into each other. She lay still for a moment and tried to pierce the confusion in her mind-she wasn’t entirely sure where she was. Everything felt distant and muzzy.
She groaned and stiffly pulled herself up into a sitting position. From the new vantage she could recognize her living room; dusty sunlight streamed through a crack in the blinds and the television stood silent sentry over her feet. For some reason she’d decided to sleep on the pull-out bed in the couch.
Gillian jerked when a dull moan resonated from under the covers. She was really off her game if she hadn’t noticed someone else in bed with her. What had she done last night?
The bed shifted and the blankets moved aside to reveal her little sister. Angie looked awful-her hair tangled Medusa-like around her head and deep circles under her eyes.
“Angie?” Gillian asked. She swallowed hard and tried to work some moisture down her throat; her voice felt like it hadn’t been used in days. “When did you get here?”
Angie sat up and stared at her sister, a hundred emotions chasing themselves across her face. “When did I-?” Her eyes flared with righteous fury. “When did you lose your goddamn mind? What the fuck were you thinking going into that forest on your own? You could’ve died in there and I never would’ve known what happened to you and what the fuck?”
Angie shoved herself out of bed and stalked over to the kitchen. Gillian sat in shocked silence. She ransacked her memory for any hint about what had Angie so worked up. Foggy images started to coalesce, something about the forest and Luisa’s cousin. She could just see that strange, deadly clearing and the bodies in the tree. The only way she’d been able to get Hector out had been to trade places with him.
“Holy shit,” Gillian whispered. She looked up at Angie who was now standing by the bed, holding out a cup of water. She took the cup and sipped before continuing. “Angie, what did you do?”
Angie sighed and pulled over a chair. “I did what I had to do, what you couldn’t do. I gave that thing what it wanted.”
“But what? How?” Gillian stopped, she didn’t even know what to ask. All of her research hadn’t prepared her for the reality of what she’d found in the forest, hadn’t even hinted that there could be something like that hiding in the trees. All she could remember from her own experience was being wrapped in music, drained and insensible. There hadn’t been anything there to bargain with.
“There was a voice,” Angie’s voice softened and her eyes went distant. “But not really, it was more of a thought. It wanted me, but it couldn’t take me like it took you and all of those other people. I can still hear it.” She blinked and her eyes refocused on the present. “I could’ve walked away, it couldn’t stop me. But I wouldn’t leave you like that.”
Gillian closed her eyes. “Oh, Angie, you shouldn’t have done it.” She’d worked so hard to keep her little sister safe.
“Oh, that’s right, you’re the only one who gets to throw her life away, who gets to run away to the other side of the state and have a massive sulk.” Angie’s voice cut into Gillian’s chest, the sarcasm razor-sharp. “Well screw that. Screw you and your issues and everything. You left me and I needed you. I had to grow up and be an adult while you tried your damnedest to follow Dad. And, fuck-” She broke off, her voice suddenly hoarse. The bed-springs creaked and shifted as Angie sat down.
Gillian opened her eyes. Tears leaked down Angie’s cheeks, her face a mask of anger and desperation.
“I don’t know what happened to me out there, I don’t know what’s going to happen to me or if I can ever leave again, or what. But I do know that we’re going to face this together. No more secrets.”
Gillian nodded, tears of her own springing into her eyes. She grabbed Angie’s hand. “Yeah, together,” she rasped. “No more secrets.” She wouldn’t leave her alone again.
The stairs creaked, breaking their moment. Angie ducked her head and Gillian looked up. There was a guy at the foot of the steps that went up to her bedroom, his mouth twisted in an uncomfortable, bemused half-grin. Something about him pricked at the edge of her memory.
“Hope I’m not interrupting. Just looking for some coffee,” he said, his eyes darting from one sister to the other.
“Go ahead and make some, Dean,” Angie replied, absently wiping her face. “There’s stuff in the cupboard.”
“Awesome,” he said and turned away.
Gillian stared at his back as he pulled the canister out of the cupboard and blinked rapidly. The past and the present collapsed and she was pretty sure that this was what it must feel like to go insane.
“Dean Winchester?” she gasped. His shoulders stilled but he didn’t turn around. She looked back at Angie, somewhat surprised to be met with a look of utter confusion. “Dean Winchester helped you come and get me?”
Gillian put her head in her hands as laughter bubbled up out of her chest. Once she started she couldn’t stop. Her life was way too friggin’ weird.
~~~
It was a gray day; the sun struggled to slip through the low-hanging clouds that covered the sky. The air was heavy with moisture and still, as if the wind was worried that a stray puff would bring the heavens pouring down.
Sam slumped against the dusty cabin, sweat dripping down his back. He watched Dean and Gillian as they puttered around the Impala’s open trunk; Dean pointed to various objects, his mouth moving a mile a minute, and Gillian jotted down notes in a battered journal. It was always good to see how much Dean really, truly enjoyed his job.
The screen door to Sam’s left slammed open and shut as Angela came outside. She glanced over at the hunters’ conference by the car and then elected to parallel his position by leaning a few feet to his left.
“So,” she said, eyes focused on the trees across the yard.
“So,” he repeated, tone casual. Curiosity thrummed under his skin but he didn’t want to push too hard and scare her away. Besides, she had that confessional look in her eyes; he’d seen it often enough in the girls Dean picked up, not to mention nearly every victim they’d ever interviewed.
Cicadas buzzed loudly and the seconds ticked by. Sam glanced at Angela out of the corner of his eye. Her mouth was fixed in a hard, flat line, her face twisted into an expression that promised either tears or screams.
Neither appeared. She swallowed and took a deep breath, her face cleared into a rueful grin. “You’re pretty good at the interrogation thing,” she chuckled a little wetly. “Ever think of going into the fascinating world of psychology? I have a strong feeling that a spot in Michigan State’s graduate program is about to open up.”
Sam grinned. “Nah,” he drawled. “I’ve kind of got a full-time job right now, but thanks for the offer.” He shifted a little so that he could see her. “What happened last night?”
Angela looked up at him, her eyes wide. “I’ve been trying to put my memories together and make sense of it all. But I guess ‘sense’ is a relative word.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When her eyes reopened they were unfocused and dim. “There’s something out there in the forest, something immensely old and terrifyingly lonely. It might be like what you said-some kind of manifestation of the earth itself, or maybe not, maybe it was created by the people who dreamed it into being. All I know is that it’s been lashing out, looking for someone to fill a void. It needs us, needs worship or veneration or maybe connection. I guess Gillian and all those other poor people could hear it lashing out but couldn’t give it what it wanted.”
“What did it want?” Sam asked quietly.
She made a noise that was half a sob. “Me, I guess. I can feel it in the back of my head; it’s been there ever since I gave in. I think it’s a part of me now, or I’m a part of it.”
Memories flashed through his mind; Angela yelling into the wind and then the sharp crack of night falling. When his vision had cleared Angela had been seated on the ground with her sister’s head in her lap, and Dean had been at his shoulder, anger and outrage radiating from his body. Angela had lead them out of the forest, and he hadn’t wondered at the ease with which she’d guided them back to the car, too wrapped up in relief at Dean’s relative safety and bewilderment over what had just occurred. She hadn’t stumbled, not once, even though the flashlights wouldn’t work.
“So, what, it’s going to kill you now? And we’re supposed to let that happen?” he demanded, outrage laced through every syllable.
Her eyes flickered and he knew that she remembered what he’d done, the callous way he’d been ready to burn everything to the ground, her sister included.
“I don’t think so. If it wanted to kill me it wouldn’t have let any of us out.” She shook her head. “No, I think I’ve already made the sacrifice it wanted. But I don’t think I can leave, I don’t think it would let me. And someone has to make sure that more people don’t die out there.” She glanced at her sister. “Anyway, I have to stick around to make sure that Gillian doesn’t pull anymore idiotic stunts.”
“I-” Sam stopped abruptly, suddenly certain that sympathy was the last thing she wanted. “Yeah, good luck with that,” he joked instead, cutting a quick glance at his own brother. He had more than a little experience with recalcitrant older siblings. “And you’re okay with it?”
“No, but I’ll have to get used to it.” She huffed out a tired breath, the back of her head thunking against the wall behind her. “Man, Mom is going to flip out when I drop out of school. Thanksgiving is going to suck.”
Sam didn’t reply. Mothers and their responses were something completely outside of his field of experience.
They stood for a few minutes in companionable silence. He wasn’t shocked by what she’d done. It was the kind of thing you did for the people you loved, for your family. He only hoped, for her sake, that she’d eventually come to grips with her new life.
“Angie!” Gillian’s shout brought them both back to the present. “You have got to come over here and see this trunk.”
Angela grinned at Sam, a familiar mixture of embarrassment and love. She shrugged and headed towards her sister.
Sam followed more slowly. Dean detached himself from Gillian’s excited lecture and met him a few feet from the car. His look of self-satisfaction slowly melted away as he got close enough to be infected by Sam’s more solemn mood.
“You doin’ okay?” he asked with a concerned shoulder bump.
“Yeah,” Sam nodded with a slight smile. “It’s just been a weird couple of days.”
“Tell me about it,” Dean half-laughed. He jerked his head towards the car. “You ready to hit the road?”
“You bet.” It was funny how the prospect of the open high way was instinctively comforting. After all, moving on was really the only constant he’d ever had.
The grin returned to Dean’s face and he went back to the trunk. The Dewars stepped away as he did a scattershot visual inventory before slamming it shut. He capped it off with an affectionate pat for his girl.
He turned to where Gillian and Angela stood. “You’ve got Bobby’s number, right? He should be able to hook you up with those books I was telling you about.”
Gillian nodded and tapped her journal. “Yeap. I’ll give him a call right away. If there are as many demons out there as you think, I’ll need to be prepared.”
“We’ll need to be prepared,” Angela emphasized. The sisters shared a long, meaningful look before Gillian looked away and nodded.
Gillian briskly cleared her throat. “Well, next time you guys are in the area give us a call. I think we owe you a beer or ten.”
Dean opened his door. “We’ll do that. Just don’t get eaten by anymore trees. Cause that’s just wrong.”
“Ho Tom Bombadil,” Gillian agreed with a grin.
“Tom Bombadillo,” Sam replied. He couldn’t help laughing at the identical looks of confusion stamped on Dean and Angela’s faces.
Dean rolled his eyes in annoyance at his geek brother and slid into the car. Sam promptly followed, the door shutting with a tired groan.
The familiar purr of the engine rumbled up Sam’s spine; he’d never admit to Dean how truly soothing that noise was. He glanced at Dean as his brother threw the car into gear.
“Do you think there are more people out there-that we’ve helped, that Dad helped-that have turned out like them?” He couldn’t stop asking these questions, poking at and examining the parts of their lives that were the hardest to comprehend and endure. Sometimes he wished he could be more like Dean and simply accept things for what they were.
Involuntarily, Dean’s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror. “I hope not,” he grimly replied, fierce lines etched around his mouth.
Sam glanced in the side mirror. The sisters remained in front of the house, a rising wind plucking at their hair. Angela gripped Gillian’s wrist, and they seemed to be holding a silent conversation even though neither of them looked away from the departing car.
With a jolt the relentless ticking of a clock swelled in his ears. He looked at his brother’s face silhouetted by the gray light, the way Dean’s eyes shifted as he slipped into the worn habits of driving and the road, of finding new hunts over the next hill. Dean popped a tape into the player as rain started spilling over the windshield. Bon Scott screeched out of the speakers and he settled more comfortably into his seat.
Sam refused to lose him. He’d do whatever he had to to keep him from the pit. Dean would just have to deal with it. Anything else was unacceptable.
The car squealed onto the highway and sped off towards the horizon.
~~~
Download the podfic read by baylorsr.
Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing. It’s all Kripke’s and the CW’s and blah blah blah. We all know who the real brain trust is around here.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: General for the series. Takes place in two time periods, one pre-series and the other situated at some point between 3x04 (Sin City) and 3x05 (Bedtime Stories).
Summary: In 1996, John Winchester is hunting a creature who mauled a man to death. John's top suspect is the man's teenaged daughter, sole witness to the tragedy, but Sam and Dean aren't so sure. And in 2007, Sam and Dean are looking into a rash of missing persons and trying not to think about Dean's deal.
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
She picks at a seam in the car’s leather upholstery. Her head is bent, she is so tired, more tired than she’s ever been. So much has happened, so many things have changed, and she’s only now beginning to realize what it all means. She knows so much more than she did, and not nearly enough.
The car vibrates under her, the engine rumbling down silent streets. It’s strangely soothing. When it stops it’s like electricity shoots through her body. This is it, she has to stand up and face what is waiting for her.
She doesn’t move for a few, timeless seconds. She can’t. She knows that when she opens the car door everything will come crashing down. The dead will still be dead, and she’ll finally have to deal with that fact.
She looks up and catches Dean’s eyes in the second before he looks away. The startling empathy she sees puts steel back in her spine. She can do this.
It’s cold in the gray pre-dawn. She stands in the yard and watches the black car pull away. She grips her sister’s hand and doesn’t let go as the car disappears down the road. She’s not sure if she can go back to her old life, or even if she wants to, but she’ll protect what she has left, no matter the cost.
Gillian blinked her eyes awake. The tattered remnants of her dream floated around her head, the past and the present seeping into each other. She lay still for a moment and tried to pierce the confusion in her mind-she wasn’t entirely sure where she was. Everything felt distant and muzzy.
She groaned and stiffly pulled herself up into a sitting position. From the new vantage she could recognize her living room; dusty sunlight streamed through a crack in the blinds and the television stood silent sentry over her feet. For some reason she’d decided to sleep on the pull-out bed in the couch.
Gillian jerked when a dull moan resonated from under the covers. She was really off her game if she hadn’t noticed someone else in bed with her. What had she done last night?
The bed shifted and the blankets moved aside to reveal her little sister. Angie looked awful-her hair tangled Medusa-like around her head and deep circles under her eyes.
“Angie?” Gillian asked. She swallowed hard and tried to work some moisture down her throat; her voice felt like it hadn’t been used in days. “When did you get here?”
Angie sat up and stared at her sister, a hundred emotions chasing themselves across her face. “When did I-?” Her eyes flared with righteous fury. “When did you lose your goddamn mind? What the fuck were you thinking going into that forest on your own? You could’ve died in there and I never would’ve known what happened to you and what the fuck?”
Angie shoved herself out of bed and stalked over to the kitchen. Gillian sat in shocked silence. She ransacked her memory for any hint about what had Angie so worked up. Foggy images started to coalesce, something about the forest and Luisa’s cousin. She could just see that strange, deadly clearing and the bodies in the tree. The only way she’d been able to get Hector out had been to trade places with him.
“Holy shit,” Gillian whispered. She looked up at Angie who was now standing by the bed, holding out a cup of water. She took the cup and sipped before continuing. “Angie, what did you do?”
Angie sighed and pulled over a chair. “I did what I had to do, what you couldn’t do. I gave that thing what it wanted.”
“But what? How?” Gillian stopped, she didn’t even know what to ask. All of her research hadn’t prepared her for the reality of what she’d found in the forest, hadn’t even hinted that there could be something like that hiding in the trees. All she could remember from her own experience was being wrapped in music, drained and insensible. There hadn’t been anything there to bargain with.
“There was a voice,” Angie’s voice softened and her eyes went distant. “But not really, it was more of a thought. It wanted me, but it couldn’t take me like it took you and all of those other people. I can still hear it.” She blinked and her eyes refocused on the present. “I could’ve walked away, it couldn’t stop me. But I wouldn’t leave you like that.”
Gillian closed her eyes. “Oh, Angie, you shouldn’t have done it.” She’d worked so hard to keep her little sister safe.
“Oh, that’s right, you’re the only one who gets to throw her life away, who gets to run away to the other side of the state and have a massive sulk.” Angie’s voice cut into Gillian’s chest, the sarcasm razor-sharp. “Well screw that. Screw you and your issues and everything. You left me and I needed you. I had to grow up and be an adult while you tried your damnedest to follow Dad. And, fuck-” She broke off, her voice suddenly hoarse. The bed-springs creaked and shifted as Angie sat down.
Gillian opened her eyes. Tears leaked down Angie’s cheeks, her face a mask of anger and desperation.
“I don’t know what happened to me out there, I don’t know what’s going to happen to me or if I can ever leave again, or what. But I do know that we’re going to face this together. No more secrets.”
Gillian nodded, tears of her own springing into her eyes. She grabbed Angie’s hand. “Yeah, together,” she rasped. “No more secrets.” She wouldn’t leave her alone again.
The stairs creaked, breaking their moment. Angie ducked her head and Gillian looked up. There was a guy at the foot of the steps that went up to her bedroom, his mouth twisted in an uncomfortable, bemused half-grin. Something about him pricked at the edge of her memory.
“Hope I’m not interrupting. Just looking for some coffee,” he said, his eyes darting from one sister to the other.
“Go ahead and make some, Dean,” Angie replied, absently wiping her face. “There’s stuff in the cupboard.”
“Awesome,” he said and turned away.
Gillian stared at his back as he pulled the canister out of the cupboard and blinked rapidly. The past and the present collapsed and she was pretty sure that this was what it must feel like to go insane.
“Dean Winchester?” she gasped. His shoulders stilled but he didn’t turn around. She looked back at Angie, somewhat surprised to be met with a look of utter confusion. “Dean Winchester helped you come and get me?”
Gillian put her head in her hands as laughter bubbled up out of her chest. Once she started she couldn’t stop. Her life was way too friggin’ weird.
~~~
It was a gray day; the sun struggled to slip through the low-hanging clouds that covered the sky. The air was heavy with moisture and still, as if the wind was worried that a stray puff would bring the heavens pouring down.
Sam slumped against the dusty cabin, sweat dripping down his back. He watched Dean and Gillian as they puttered around the Impala’s open trunk; Dean pointed to various objects, his mouth moving a mile a minute, and Gillian jotted down notes in a battered journal. It was always good to see how much Dean really, truly enjoyed his job.
The screen door to Sam’s left slammed open and shut as Angela came outside. She glanced over at the hunters’ conference by the car and then elected to parallel his position by leaning a few feet to his left.
“So,” she said, eyes focused on the trees across the yard.
“So,” he repeated, tone casual. Curiosity thrummed under his skin but he didn’t want to push too hard and scare her away. Besides, she had that confessional look in her eyes; he’d seen it often enough in the girls Dean picked up, not to mention nearly every victim they’d ever interviewed.
Cicadas buzzed loudly and the seconds ticked by. Sam glanced at Angela out of the corner of his eye. Her mouth was fixed in a hard, flat line, her face twisted into an expression that promised either tears or screams.
Neither appeared. She swallowed and took a deep breath, her face cleared into a rueful grin. “You’re pretty good at the interrogation thing,” she chuckled a little wetly. “Ever think of going into the fascinating world of psychology? I have a strong feeling that a spot in Michigan State’s graduate program is about to open up.”
Sam grinned. “Nah,” he drawled. “I’ve kind of got a full-time job right now, but thanks for the offer.” He shifted a little so that he could see her. “What happened last night?”
Angela looked up at him, her eyes wide. “I’ve been trying to put my memories together and make sense of it all. But I guess ‘sense’ is a relative word.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When her eyes reopened they were unfocused and dim. “There’s something out there in the forest, something immensely old and terrifyingly lonely. It might be like what you said-some kind of manifestation of the earth itself, or maybe not, maybe it was created by the people who dreamed it into being. All I know is that it’s been lashing out, looking for someone to fill a void. It needs us, needs worship or veneration or maybe connection. I guess Gillian and all those other poor people could hear it lashing out but couldn’t give it what it wanted.”
“What did it want?” Sam asked quietly.
She made a noise that was half a sob. “Me, I guess. I can feel it in the back of my head; it’s been there ever since I gave in. I think it’s a part of me now, or I’m a part of it.”
Memories flashed through his mind; Angela yelling into the wind and then the sharp crack of night falling. When his vision had cleared Angela had been seated on the ground with her sister’s head in her lap, and Dean had been at his shoulder, anger and outrage radiating from his body. Angela had lead them out of the forest, and he hadn’t wondered at the ease with which she’d guided them back to the car, too wrapped up in relief at Dean’s relative safety and bewilderment over what had just occurred. She hadn’t stumbled, not once, even though the flashlights wouldn’t work.
“So, what, it’s going to kill you now? And we’re supposed to let that happen?” he demanded, outrage laced through every syllable.
Her eyes flickered and he knew that she remembered what he’d done, the callous way he’d been ready to burn everything to the ground, her sister included.
“I don’t think so. If it wanted to kill me it wouldn’t have let any of us out.” She shook her head. “No, I think I’ve already made the sacrifice it wanted. But I don’t think I can leave, I don’t think it would let me. And someone has to make sure that more people don’t die out there.” She glanced at her sister. “Anyway, I have to stick around to make sure that Gillian doesn’t pull anymore idiotic stunts.”
“I-” Sam stopped abruptly, suddenly certain that sympathy was the last thing she wanted. “Yeah, good luck with that,” he joked instead, cutting a quick glance at his own brother. He had more than a little experience with recalcitrant older siblings. “And you’re okay with it?”
“No, but I’ll have to get used to it.” She huffed out a tired breath, the back of her head thunking against the wall behind her. “Man, Mom is going to flip out when I drop out of school. Thanksgiving is going to suck.”
Sam didn’t reply. Mothers and their responses were something completely outside of his field of experience.
They stood for a few minutes in companionable silence. He wasn’t shocked by what she’d done. It was the kind of thing you did for the people you loved, for your family. He only hoped, for her sake, that she’d eventually come to grips with her new life.
“Angie!” Gillian’s shout brought them both back to the present. “You have got to come over here and see this trunk.”
Angela grinned at Sam, a familiar mixture of embarrassment and love. She shrugged and headed towards her sister.
Sam followed more slowly. Dean detached himself from Gillian’s excited lecture and met him a few feet from the car. His look of self-satisfaction slowly melted away as he got close enough to be infected by Sam’s more solemn mood.
“You doin’ okay?” he asked with a concerned shoulder bump.
“Yeah,” Sam nodded with a slight smile. “It’s just been a weird couple of days.”
“Tell me about it,” Dean half-laughed. He jerked his head towards the car. “You ready to hit the road?”
“You bet.” It was funny how the prospect of the open high way was instinctively comforting. After all, moving on was really the only constant he’d ever had.
The grin returned to Dean’s face and he went back to the trunk. The Dewars stepped away as he did a scattershot visual inventory before slamming it shut. He capped it off with an affectionate pat for his girl.
He turned to where Gillian and Angela stood. “You’ve got Bobby’s number, right? He should be able to hook you up with those books I was telling you about.”
Gillian nodded and tapped her journal. “Yeap. I’ll give him a call right away. If there are as many demons out there as you think, I’ll need to be prepared.”
“We’ll need to be prepared,” Angela emphasized. The sisters shared a long, meaningful look before Gillian looked away and nodded.
Gillian briskly cleared her throat. “Well, next time you guys are in the area give us a call. I think we owe you a beer or ten.”
Dean opened his door. “We’ll do that. Just don’t get eaten by anymore trees. Cause that’s just wrong.”
“Ho Tom Bombadil,” Gillian agreed with a grin.
“Tom Bombadillo,” Sam replied. He couldn’t help laughing at the identical looks of confusion stamped on Dean and Angela’s faces.
Dean rolled his eyes in annoyance at his geek brother and slid into the car. Sam promptly followed, the door shutting with a tired groan.
The familiar purr of the engine rumbled up Sam’s spine; he’d never admit to Dean how truly soothing that noise was. He glanced at Dean as his brother threw the car into gear.
“Do you think there are more people out there-that we’ve helped, that Dad helped-that have turned out like them?” He couldn’t stop asking these questions, poking at and examining the parts of their lives that were the hardest to comprehend and endure. Sometimes he wished he could be more like Dean and simply accept things for what they were.
Involuntarily, Dean’s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror. “I hope not,” he grimly replied, fierce lines etched around his mouth.
Sam glanced in the side mirror. The sisters remained in front of the house, a rising wind plucking at their hair. Angela gripped Gillian’s wrist, and they seemed to be holding a silent conversation even though neither of them looked away from the departing car.
With a jolt the relentless ticking of a clock swelled in his ears. He looked at his brother’s face silhouetted by the gray light, the way Dean’s eyes shifted as he slipped into the worn habits of driving and the road, of finding new hunts over the next hill. Dean popped a tape into the player as rain started spilling over the windshield. Bon Scott screeched out of the speakers and he settled more comfortably into his seat.
Sam refused to lose him. He’d do whatever he had to to keep him from the pit. Dean would just have to deal with it. Anything else was unacceptable.
The car squealed onto the highway and sped off towards the horizon.
~~~
Download the podfic read by baylorsr.