In Harm's Wake - Part 2
Title: In Harm’s Wake - Part 2
Series: Aunt Sissy's Universe
Rating: G/Gen
Pairing: None
Word Count: 13,151 (Part 1 and Part 2)
A/N: This is a third story in the Aunt Sissy Universe. It’s not a sequel to the other two, Out of Harm’s Way, or Safe From Harm, but more a companion piece that takes place a few years after both stories. Sam wanted to have his own story about her, and who am I to resist such a cute little face (This story is also posted on the Supernaturalfic LJ.)
"The greasy ones, they were so greasy they were limp.”
"With the gravy to dip them in?”
“Yeah.”
Now Sammy remembered. It had been on the last day in the mountains, the day Dad’s bandages had come off. They’d all gone celebrating at some burger place near the gate where the park rangers took money for going into the forest. Dad had remarked that it was a nice treat, because of course, he hadn’t known that his boys had been eating that way for days. They’d all gotten cheeseburgers and then the French fries had come out in a basket, piled so high that some spilled onto the table when the waitress had laid the basket down. And, wonder of wonders, she’d placed a large bowl of white gravy next to the basket. Dad had wanted to know if the gravy was extra, but Aunt Sissy had shushed him to never mind that now. Dad had shushed, and it had been fun to see him do as he was told, the way they always had to do as they were told. Probably no one else could have gotten away with it, but Aunt Sissy could. Then she’d given the boys a look that seemed to say check me out, bossing your dad around. Which had made both Dean and Sammy snicker, which they did on and off during the meal, and especially each time Aunt Sissy spoke to Dad, either to remind him to use his napkin or to take his elbows off the table.
It hadn’t lasted past the meal, but it had been fun. Which had made it even harder to say goodbye to Aunt Sissy afterwards. They’d driven back to the motel and helped her pack up her car, and then she’d stood next to it, looking at them, while Dad stood in the open doorway. Keys in her hand, mouth drawn down into a frown like she sometimes got. She was wearing the jeans she’d won on the day she’d arrived, and they had a bloodstain from Dad’s leg on them that she seemed not to notice. It was right at her waist, and Sammy made himself stare at it instead of at her face, because if she was going to be sad, then he was going to be sad. And then, after she left, Dad would probably yell at him. But, if it was possible, Dean looked worse than Sammy felt. His face was long and drawn, like something was pulling at him from the inside. Or like his mouth tasted bad. Like someone had smacked him and it had just stabbed at him. And would again. And would forever. Then he’d walked up and hugged her, which meant that Sammy could too, because Dad couldn’t really say anything if both Dean and Sammy had gotten soft.
Aunt Sissy’s returning hugs had been hard and fast and then she’d jumped in the car and driven off as fast as she could, spitting gravel from underneath her tires.
“Time to clean up and pack up, boys,” Dad had said. As if Aunt Sissy had never been there, and they must be on their way.
“Those were some good fries,” said Dean now.
“I still don’t want to eat that-” Sammy gave his tray a shove. “I’m not eating that crap.”
Dean raised his eyebrows in mock shock at his brother’s language, but then he winced.
“Don’t do that,” said Sammy.
“I won’t.”
The door at the far end of the dining hall opened. Someone walked in wearing a suit and a tie and no name badge. He was carrying a clipboard, and stood a head taller than the orderly at the door.
“Winchester boys,” the man barked. “Come with me.”
Dean froze. “Jeezus, it’s Dad.”
Sammy had to look again. Yeah, it was. The suit had thrown him off, and the tie, and the neat part in the man’s hair. And he was clean-shaven.
They got up, trying not to hurry, and dumped their trays at the counter. They walked up to him. Sammy tipped his head back to take in the unaccustomed vision of his dad wearing a tie.
“Look sad,” Dad said, muttering down at them. He consulted his clipboard in a loud way as he escorted them to the door. “Being transferred, I see, for causing too much trouble.”
He nodded at the orderly at the door, the orderly nodded back, and Sammy and Dean followed him through the doorway, heads down, looking as contrite as they could. Sammy concentrated extra hard. He wanted out, and didn’t want to screw it up.
“Dad,” said Dean.
“Be quiet,” said Dad.
Dad’s black shoes made clicking noises on the polished floor.
“But Dad-”
Dad stopped. His glare at Dean felt like bullets, even if they weren’t aimed at Sammy.
“I told you to be quiet.”
“But Aunt Sissy’s here,” said Sammy.
The glare was aimed at him now. He shrank back behind Dean.
“Well, she was here,” said Dean. “She went out of the visiting room shouting and left her purse.”
The glare disappeared, and Sammy felt his chest relax. At least Dad was listening now.
“She never came back for her purse?” asked Dad, bending close.
Dean shook his head. “No, but they took it.”
“I thought that was her car in the parking lot,” said Dad. Then he straightened up.
“Okay,” he said. “Stay close.”
He lifted the clipboard up high again and they marched down the hallway as they had before, towards the front office. When they got there, an orderly sat behind the desk. It was one that neither Sammy or Dean had seen before, which seemed to be the way of the detention center, there were no repeats.
“I’m looking for Ramona Blessing,” said Dad, his voice strong and powerful. “I understand she was here this morning?”
The orderly checked the book in front of him. “She was, but we had to lock her up.”
“Lock her up?” asked Dad.
Sammy felt the yelp inside of him gather itself up to be released, but then Dean stepped hard on his toe. Sammy glared at him, but kept quiet. If Aunt Sissy was locked up, they would have to get her out. It would be scary, but at least Dad was here. He would take care of it.
“I need her released to me,” said Dad.
“Look mister-”
"Mr. Forbes.”
"Mr. Forbes, I don’t know who you’re with-”
“Social Services of Denver,” said Dad.
“Okay, Social Services, fine, but she’s under arrest for assaulting an employee of the United States government.”
“Assaulting?” asked Dad. His eyebrows went up in his forehead. Dean and Sammy looked at each other, and Sammy could feel his own amazement reflected in Dean’s face. “What do you mean, assaulting?”
“Evidently she attacked Mr. Clarke, and landed several punches before being subdued. We’ve got her handcuffed in detention room number two.”
Now Sammy yelped. He could not help it, and was grateful when Dean did not reprimand him with a smack or a jab.
“You can release her to me, I’ll take care of it.”
“Sorry Mr. Forbes, but we’ve called the local sheriff to come and get her. She’s under arrest, like I said.”
“And I say,” said Dad, echoing the snotty way the orderly spoke, “that you are going to take us to detention room number two right now.”
Dad reached behind him with his free hand and pulled a 45 pistol from the waistband of his pants. With his thumb, he clicked off the safety loud enough for everyone to hear it. Then he laid the clipboard on the desk so he could cock the gun.
“Now.”
The orderly looked like he wanted to say no, but with one quick reach, Dad placed the barrel of the pistol against the orderly’s forehead.
“And the keys to unlock her,” said Dad, as if all of this were a foregone conclusion.
The orderly’s forehead was slick with sweat and his eyes looked glassy, the way Sammy had seen sometimes when people weren’t used to guns. Sammy couldn’t really blame him because Dad had that look on his face that he sometimes got when you got the feeling he didn’t care who he hurt, as long as he got his way. Sammy swallowed a shiver.
The orderly was reaching into a drawer in his desk.
“Slowly.”
But they had to hurry, even Sammy knew that, for who knew who else might come along and screw everything up.
Dean leaned close. “They’re all at lunch, Sammy, don’t worry.”
“Dean get the door keys. Sammy, you get the handcuff keys.”
The boys did as they were told. This separation of keys was so that when it came down to it, there would be no confusion as to who was to do what.
Dad kept the gun to the orderly’s head, and the orderly led them out of the processing office. Then Dad slipped the gun down to the orderly’s side, in case anyone else was in the hallway. But there was no one, and Dad’s shoes clicked on the floor at a fast pace that matched the hammering of Sammy’s heart.
“This it?” asked Dad, when the orderly stopped in front of a metal door. It looked a lot like the door behind which Dean and Sammy had been locked the night before.
“Yeah,” said the orderly, sounding as hoarse as if he’d just run a mile.
“Dean, door.”
Dean slammed the keys in the lock and pulled the door open so hard that it almost hit him, and then smacked loudly against the wall. Dad gave Dean a glare and then shoved the orderly in front of him into the room. There were so many bodies in such a small space, that all Sammy could see were backs and the walls and the edge of a table. It was not the same room that he and Dean had spent the night in the night before, except for the walls being the same green color, and there being a barred window along the far wall.
“Sammy, handcuffs.”
A gap appeared between Dad and the orderly, and he felt Dean pushing him forward. There was Aunt Sissy, sitting in a chair at a metal table, her purse on the table next to her. Her hair had pulled itself out of the ponytail, and went everywhichway like she’d just gotten out of bed. Her t-shirt was ripped at the neckline, and there was a dark smudge along her jaw. And she was handcuffed to the table.
“Sammy,” she said, “oh, Sammy.”
He moved forward as fast as he could, fingers tightening around the keys, working them into the tiny keyhole as well as he could, his heart shaking. His hands shaking. Little stiff jabs marking time behind his eyes, which felt hot enough to burn in. He knew he couldn’t have taken very long, but it seemed that he did because when he felt the cuffs fall away from her wrists, he felt a hand on his collar, jerking him back. It was Dad, face darkened because he looked mad enough to start hollering, maybe even deliver a smack or two to make a point. But instead, he handed the gun to Dean, who held it on the orderly, and pulled Aunt Sissy out of the chair with one long move, and then shoved the orderly down. Snapped the handcuffs on his wrists, and took up the purse to give to Aunt Sissy. But it seemed she wouldn’t, or couldn’t take it, so he tucked it in the curve of her elbow, and then tucked Aunt Sissy inside the curve of his shoulder.
“It’s gonna be okay,” he said.
Dean nodded at her, and then put the safety the gun as he eased it down.
Which is when she started to cry.
“Don’t be scared, Aunt Sissy,” said Sammy, slipping his hand into hers. “Dad’ll get us out of here.”
“Who’s Aunt Sissy,” said the orderly, looking up at them.
“I am, you bastard,” said Aunt Sissy, sounding like she was choking. Then she reached out smacked the orderly across the face. “How DARE you treat these boys this way, HOW D-”
“Time to go,” said Dad, pulling her back.
Her hand was pulled from Sammy’s and it was all they could do to match Dad’s pace as he hustled them down the hall, through the front office. At the far end of the hall, people were spilling out from the cafeteria, and Sammy tugged at Dad’s suitjacket and pointed.
“Okay, Sammy,” said Dad. “Get the door.”
They stopped long enough so that Dad could rip a page out of the registration book at the front desk. Then they walked out the front door, and Dad kept their pace in the direction of the Impala to a walk so as not to attract attention.
“What about my car?” asked Aunt Sissy, wiping her face.
“We’ll get it later,” said Dad. “We need to lay low for a while.”
“But they’ll-”
Sammy knew what she was thinking, that her car might get towed. But the parking lot was full of cars. No one would notice if hers was there for a while. He wanted to say this to her, and hurried to walk beside her. But when she looked down at him, she started to cry again.
“Get in the back, Dean,” said Dad, reaching in his pocket for the keys. “Sammy you too.”
He escorted Aunt Sissy to the passenger seat and Sammy could see that she was shaking from head to foot. When they were all in, Dean put the gun under the driver’s seat, and Dad started up the engine, and drove out of the parking lot and down the road at what he liked to refer to as a stately speed, the kind that would bring them to the attention of exactly nobody.
“Did you get a room last night anywhere?” Dad asked Aunt Sissy when the Interstate came into view.
She pointed, and Sammy could hear her sniff. “The Super 8,” she said.
“Good and cheap,” Dad said, wheeling into the parking lot. “We can hole up there and get your car back come dark.”
“I’m not a convict on the run, you know,” she said. Her profile as she turned to face Dad, looked hard, in spite of the tear marks streaking her face. “I had every right to-”
“You don’t,” said Dad. “You can’t strike a government official, let alone two, and expect nothing to happen. Even my boys know that.” He put the car in park and turned off the engine.
“Your BOYS-” began Aunt Sissy, taking a deep breath.
“Not now, Aunt Sissy,” said Dad. “Besides which, you were an accomplice in taking Sam and Dean out of the hands of the same aforementioned government officials.”
“It’s not a jail, Dad,” said Dean.
"Shut up, Dean,” said Dad. “So, Aunt Sissy, I’d say you’re a wanted woman. And, being wanted, you need to lay low. For a while.” His voice softened. “Just until dark, okay? Then you can go home.”
“I’m not driving across Kansas in the dark,” she said. “There’s herds of deer roaming around and I could hit one. I almost did last night coming in.”
“Dean and Sammy, out.” This came out as a bark, and as the boys did as they were told, they could see Dad lean in close, looking up at her. Trying to be nice. “I’m sure the boys are hungry. I know what kind of food those places serve. Could you help me find a good place to eat?”
“Don’t you patronize me, John Winchester,” they heard. “I have every right to be furious. Have you seen the condition of your sons? Have you seen Dean’s face?”
“Okay,” said Dad. “You’re right. But could we please not attract attention in the parking lot by shouting about it?”
This settled her as nothing else had seemed to. She got out of the car, purse in hand, her eyes going to Sammy and Dean right away. She ducked her head to wipe her face, and Sammy let the explosion in his heart move him forward to slam himself into her. Arms going around her waist, burying his head in her side. She smelled nothing at all like she’d been handcuffed to a table, or that she’d gotten into a fight and punched some guy out. No, she smelled like her house, like roses and tea with cream, and fresh air. Or maybe that was just the Kansas wind whipping through her hair.
Her hands wrapped around him, and he looked up at her as she pushed his hair back from his forehead. “Sammy,” she said. Her eyes were damp. She reached for Dean, who took her other hand.
“Don’t cry, Aunt Sissy,” said Dean. “Or you’ll get ole waterspout here going.”
“’m not a waterspout, Dean,” said Sammy, tucking his head to glare.
“Inside,” said Dad. “Can we get inside. Now?”
Dean, not to be outdone, folded himself in the curve of Aunt Sissy’s other arm, so she could touch his head too, and look down at him and smile.
Dad moved them inside as fast as he could, given that Aunt Sissy had to be forced to let go of both her boys to get the key card from her pocket to unlock the door to her room. Dad looked like he approved of the fact that it was on the first floor, but he didn’t say anything, and Sammy was glad, because it would upset Aunt Sissy to think that even the motel room she picked would have to answer to some criteria that implied that danger was at hand.
Once in the room, Dean dashed from Aunt Sissy’s side to throw himself on one of the neatly made queen beds.
“A bed, a real bed,” he shouted.
“Dean, pipe down.” This from Dad as he propped himself on the edge of the same bed.
Aunt Sissy went over to Dean, and bent close to touch his face.
“You need a butterfly bandage and some aspirin,” she said.
“Naw, I don’t need nothin’,” said Dean, but there was a catch in his voice that told Sammy that he was willing to submit to any care Aunt Sissy might be handing out.
“This time,” said Aunt Sissy, “I came prepared.”
And indeed she had the first aid box she pulled out of her suitcase was brand new, never been opened. She tore off the plastic and got what she needed, motioning Dean to sit up as she came back over to him.
“You’re spoiling those boys,” said Dad, shaking his head, but not stopping her.
“They deserve to be spoiled,” she replied. “Sammy, you can help me. Hold this.”
She gave him the butterfly bandage to hold, still in its wrapping, and a little tube of antibiotic cream. Then she opened a little cloth that unfolded, which she used to clean the rest of the blood from Dean’s face. Then Sammy handed her the cream, and watched as she spread it with great care around the cut on Dean’s forehead. Lastly, he handed her the bandage, which she opened and laid into place.
“Get me a glass of water for your brother,” she said, and Sammy ran to do this while she got a bottle of aspirin from her purse
“Take these,” she said, handing two white pills to Dean.
Dean took the pills and drank the water and this, at last seemed to satisfy Aunt Sissy. Then she sat in one of the armchairs that was beside the little round table in the corner. She leaned over to pat the other one, and looked at Sammy. A grownup chair? For him? He was grinning, and he should not have been, for a second later, he was thwacked with a pillow thrown by Dean.
“They’ve been cooped up too long,” said Aunt Sissy.
“Maybe a hike is in order,” said Dad, looking at each of them in turn.
Sammy could not quell his wiggle of pleasure. It was okay now. Aunt Sissy was here. And while she was, Dad was not in charge. There would be no hike. Not today.
“I need to freshen up,” said Aunt Sissy. Her hand went to the neckline of her t-shirt as if she wanted to pull the jagged ends together. “Will you boys be alright with the TV if I leave you to it?”
“Yes, Aunt Sissy,” they all said together.
She got some things out of her suitcase and went into the bathroom, and the shower started running. Dean reached for the clicker and turned the TV on. Now Sammy had to move and lie down on the bed next to Dean to see the TV. It was good to stretch out, to have Dad pat his leg before standing to look down at them both.
“You did good, getting that call through,” said Dad.
“Dean threw himself on the grenade, Dad,” said Sammy.
“So I see.” Dad paused. “I hope you gave as good as you got.”
Sammy turned his head to look at his brother. He could see that Dean’s eyes were shining with pleasure.
“Sammy made the phone call,” said Dean, obviously feeling generous. “Collect an’ everything.”
Then came the nod in Sammy’s direction. He tried not to smile, but failed.
“Jeezus, I’m beat,” said Dad now. He moved to the other bed and lay down on it, and Sammy let himself be lulled by the slow breathing that started up almost right away. Then from Dean too, the clicker falling from his hand to land on Sammy’s leg, a deep, quiet breathing while the air conditioner kicked on and hummed at them. Sammy took a good, deep breath of the cool air. Listened to the shower run. And then didn’t wake up till Aunt Sissy stood beside the bed, neat and tidy, her hand on his shoulder, giving him a little shake.
“Who’s for fried chicken,” she whispered to him. “I know this little place not twenty minutes along the highway.”
“Do they have French fries?” he asked, opening his eyes right away.
She leaned close to kiss him on the forehead. Then she sat down next to him. “Oh my, yes. The very best.”
“And chocolate shakes?” This from Dean who could wake up faster than anyone Sammy knew.
“And strawberry,” she said, reaching over Sammy to pat Dean on the arm. “And if we’re lucky, Fred’s homemade chocolate cake will be on the menu.”
“You shouldn’t coddle those boys,” said Dad, his voice still sleepy.
“You don’t have to come, John Winchester,” said Aunt Sissy with a snap. “That’ll leave more for everyone else.”
“Nag, nag, nag,” said Dad, sitting up. He swung his legs to land his feet on the floor and scraped the hair back from his eyes with both hands. Then he looked at her. “Sometimes I wish I’d never invented you.”
“Oh, don’t say that, Dad,” said Sammy, throwing himself upon her, his arms almost choking her. “Don’t ever say that!”
“She’s not gonna disappear, Sammy, don’t be such a baby.” This from Dean who looked like he wanted to throw himself on Aunt Sissy, too.
“Well you did invent and so here I am.” She patted Sammy’s arms as they clung around her neck. “But your puny powers no longer have any control over me.” This made her snigger as she stood up and reached under Sammy’s arms to pull him off the bed to land him on his feet. “C’mon, let’s go. Being a criminal on the land has me hungry.”
“On the lam, Aunt Sissy,” said Dean, rolling to his feet. “On the lam.”
“Lam. Okay. Right. So who’s driving?”
Dad jingled the keys in his pocket, Aunt Sissy made sure she had her purse and hotel key, and they headed out to the parking lot and the Impala. She wanted to sit in the back with Dean, so Sammy got to sit in front and help Dad navigate.
“Twenty minutes down the highway, Aunt Sissy said,” Sammy told him.
“Which way?” Dad asked. “East or West?”
Aunt Sissy whispered the directions in Sammy’s ear, and he told Dad where to go. Where to turn. When they pulled into the parking lot of Al’s Chickenette restaurant, he got another nod from Dad. That meant: Job well done.
They were quickly seated at one of the wooden tables, and ordered their drinks, chocolate shakes for the boys, and coke for Aunt Sissy and Dad. She told them what was good on the menu, and after they had ordered and the menus were taken away, she folded her hands on the table and gave them all a serious look.
“We might as well talk about this now. Since we’re in a public place, it will keep us all from shouting.”
“Keep you from shouting, you mean,” said Dad.
“And you,” she said. “You shout too, I’ve heard you.”
Dad sighed. “Fair enough. So what’s the problem? The boy are out, no one’s in jail. We’ll get your car back, and everything will be fine.”
“Until the next time you become separated from your boys. What would have happened had they not been able to get hold of me? They could not remember the name of the motel you were in. They could barely remember the name of the town. I had to call practically all of the hotels in Vernon before I reached you.”
Sammy heard Dean’s indrawn hiss as they both tried to slouch down in their chairs.
“And don’t you glare at them,” said Aunt Sissy, snapping her fingers at Dad. This only made him madder, but she was fearless. “You obviously have no plan in place for something like this, in spite of it not being the first time.
Oddly, this made Dad relax, made the scowl ease from his face. “I see what you’re getting at.”
“Bet you thought I was going to yell at you for handing a fourteen year old a pistol,” she laughed, putting her face in her hands. “Oh, my lord. A pistol to a fourteen year old.” Then she looked up at Dad, still half-laughing, but still worked up. “Please don’t get me started about how Dean handled that gun like no fourteen year old should be able to.”
“He did pretty good, didn’t he,” said Dad.
“Or how Sammy knew how to unlock a pair of handcuffs.”
“He gets faster every time,” said Dad.
Sammy’s joy at Dad’s pride sat at odds with Aunt Sissy’s worry about the whole gun and handcuff thing.
“Don’t worry, Aunt Sissy,” he said. “Dad didn’t give me my first 45 until I was nine.”
For some reason, this did not help. Aunt Sissy’s jaw dropped and she went white.
“John Winchester,” she said to Dad, like she was accusing him. “What in the world were you thinking?”
“But I learned how to shoot when I was six. Like Dean did.” Sammy nodded at her, knowing that this would settle the matter. She shouldn’t worry. They knew what they were doing.
“Shut up, Sammy,” said Dad. “Please, for once in your life, just shut up.”
“Shutting him up is not going to change facts, you know,” she said, letting her voice drop as the waiter came over with their food. There were several baskets of fries, bowls of gravy, a platter of biscuits, and a mound of fried chicken in front of each of them. For a few minutes, they were all silent, passing each other the butter or the honey with only gestures and pokes. Sammy could hear Dean moaning as he ate.
After a bit, when Dad had polished off most of his chicken, he began buttering some rolls and putting honey on them. Sammy liked to watch him do this, liked the way he managed not to get honey anywhere but where he wanted it. And, as always, one of the buttered rolls was for him. The other was for Dean.
“So tell me what facts you want to change. I won’t change the way I’m raising my boys, so it can’t be that.” Dad handed the rolls out to each boy.
“Alright,” said Aunt Sissy, taking a sip of her coke. “Your boys are small warriors, and I’ll take that as a given. But you don’t have a plan B. You don’t have a backup plan.”
“A backup.”
“Yes, and here’s an example. Both times your boys called me, they called collect. I don’t mind the charges, but I think they ought to have a cell phone to make calls on, so that the next time there isn’t a phone available, Dean doesn’t have to be bait. And Sammy doesn’t have to stand by and watch him be bait.”
“Yeah, I hear you, but I thought you didn’t believe in cell phones.”
“Sometimes they are necessary, but quit interrupting. Second, they didn’t know where you were.”
Dad was nonplussed at this. “I left them at the motel while I went hunting, so of course they couldn’t say exactly where I was. It was safer for them that way. I thought you, of all people, would appreciate that.”
“I do,” she said. She paused a moment to dip some French fries in the gravy on her plate. Then she used the fries to point at Dad.
“But Sammy couldn’t tell me the name of the motel you were in.”
“He couldn’t?” Now Dad was glaring at Sammy, who wanted to sink even further into his seat.
“Even if you told him, even if he saw the sign with the name of the motel on it, he’s ten. He’d been absconded by government officials, and shoved in some horrible black hole. How could you expect him to remember, especially with all the places you stay at?”
Dad had no answer for this. Instead he looked at each of his boys as they chewed through their rolls with honey. Sammy had to look away, though he knew that Dean still had the guts to meet Dad’s eye.
“So what do you suggest?” he asked, lifting his head to look at Aunt Sissy.
“Very simple. If you ever get separated, you should always plan to meet up at the first motel in the phone book. Register under the same assumed name each time, so you will always know that it’s one of you.”
“What if we’re not in the same town any more?” asked Dad.
Aunt Sissy threw up her hands. “Then you’re on your own. Use a magic spell or something. Or plan on going back to the last town where you were together, and do the same thing. First motel in the phone book. Even a ten year old under duress can remember that much, because it never changes.” She made a scoffing sound at Dad and then started eating her fries.
Dad was quiet as he buttered a roll and put honey on it. Then he handed it to Aunt Sissy.
“You’re right,” he said. “You’re so right. I’m glad I invented you.”
She took the roll and bit into it, smiling. Then, talking over her food, she said, “But you still have no control over me and that’s what gets you. Admit it.”
“Yep,” said Dad. He was trying to be stern, but Sammy could see the smile fighting its way to Dad’s mouth. “Okay, boys, we’ve got a new rule, courtesy of Aunt Sissy. First motel in the phone book if we ever get separated.”
“Two new rules, Dad,” said Dean, licking his fingers. “We have to get cell phones.”
“Smart ass,” said Dad.
Dean only smiled and reached for some of Sammy’s fries.
“Dean!” Sammy reached out and smacked the back of Dean’s hand. The fries went everywhere.
“Okay, that’s it.” Dad reached into his pocket for his wallet, but while he was doing this, Aunt Sissy grabbed the bill.
“I win,” she said, waving it at him. Then she signaled for the waiter.
“Aunt Sissy, give that to me.” This from Dad and in that voice that usually had either of his boys shaking in their sneakers. He even reached for the bill, but she only smiled and stood up to be out of arm’s length. She paid the waiter standing up, and left the tip money on the table, and began to walk out of the restaurant. Dean got up and followed her, and Sammy followed Dean. There was nothing Dad could do but get up and leave too.
Outside, the sun was going down and as they stood next to the Impala, Sammy realized that they would have to be leaving soon. Dad sometimes liked to start out at night, besides which, he wasn’t likely to stay in a town where there was nothing to hunt, even if Aunt Sissy was there.
“I guess you’ll be taking me back to my car now, huh?” asked Aunt Sissy, her words coming out like there was something in her throat.
“Looks like it,” said Dad. He turned to look at his boys and shook his head. That meant: Don’t make a scene.
Both boys were silent as they got in the Impala, where Dean allowed Sammy to sit in the back with Aunt Sissy. She held his hand during the short drive to the parking lot of the detention center, where Aunt Sissy’s car sat alone under one of the tall lights. There were other cars in the parking lot, but they were closer to the building.
They got out. Aunt Sissy was clenching her purse very hard, and her fingers were shaking.
“A quick goodbye then,” she said. “Till I see you again. Which doesn’t have to be an emergency, right?”
Dad nodded, and the night fell silent around them as the sun set and the wind picked up. Aunt Sissy gave them each a hug. First Dad, who gave her a squeeze, and patted her on the back. Then Dean, who seemed to melt inside of her arms, and who tried to hide his smile but failed when she kissed him on the top of his head. And then she hugged Sammy, with arms so warm and safe, he wanted to stay there forever. And a kiss too, which she placed on his cheek and whispered a soft goodbye meant just for him. Then Dad pulled him back so Aunt Sissy could be on her way. She got into her car, started it up, and drove off, headed west towards Longmont, without looking back.
Sammy felt the tears slip down his face, then, but he did not let himself make a sound. Not a single one, not while getting in the back seat of the car listening to Dad and Dean talk about where they were headed next. He didn’t want Dean, who was sitting in the front seat next to Dad, to call him a baby or a waterspout. He didn’t let Dad’s eye catch his, not wanting the lecture on being tough. He wiped at his face with the back of his sleeve as Dad drove out of the parking lot. He wanted Aunt Sissy here, he wanted her now. Instead he had only the back seat of the Impala, with its lumps of backpacks and half empty water bottles, the metal frame surging as the car raced up the onramp to the highway.
He lay down and reached with his hand into the darkness that was his duffle bag. Dug till he found the purple shirt, which looked black beneath the dog that seemed to glow, and folded it under his head. Stared up through the passenger window and felt his tears dry as they made their way into his ears. It was darker now that he was lying down, though he could see the flash of lights on their poles as the Impala whizzed past them. He closed his eyes. Felt the flash of the passing lights through his eyelids. They were headed east into the darkness, into nowhere Sammy had ever wanted to go. Not without his Aunt Sissy. He turned on his side so he was facing the back seat and tried to imagine as he inhaled that the shirt still smelled like Aunt Sissy’s house. It was as close as he was going to get for a long, long time.
In Harm's Wake - Part 1