Chapter Text
The boys have barely spoken to you. Sure they let you sleep in their beds, taking turns as usual, but that doesn't mean they snuggled up to you like they usually do. No. Far from it. It was like they couldn't be far enough away from you. Every time their legs brushed yours, they moved away as if you had burned them. Needless to say, it fucking blows. You aren't sleeping as well as you should be as a result.
The only person not treating you like you have a contagious disease is John.
Speaking of John, he is around here somewhere, perhaps lurking in his own room. You had a good talk the previous night as you waited for the boys to fall asleep so you could sneak in and get into bed. You promised him you would try to rest up for the fight ahead. But here you are, on your third cup of shitty coffee. Old habits die hard.
The sound of shuffling papers and soft snoring is all that can be heard throughout the room. You sit at the table with everything John had given you last night to go over. Your mother's journal remains tucked away. You've stolen glances time to time. Another little secret you weren't quite ready to share with anyone. The news of your mother being a hunter isn't exactly new, but the depth of her involvement in the lifestyle is more than you had previously imagined. You want the mysterious hidden within the pages all to yourself.
You were mostly caught up with the information John had found; patterns, victims, locations. He had tracked this demon like a predator studies prey. He's dedicated the last 20 years of his life chasing this thing, determined to get revenge for all of your sakes. Everyone you or he have ever cared for is dead because of this monster.
"Violet?"
Your eyes snap up from the paper to see Sam sitting up in bed, a small smile spreads across your lips when you catch sight of his ruffled bed head and drooping eyelids. The past few days had been the first time in a while that the boys could sleep with a bit more peace of mind. It's weird to think that in just a short amount of time, everything will go back to normal. Sam would be back at college studying to be a lawyer. Dean and John back at hunting like a team. And you back at home. Your nails dig themselves into the wood of the chair at the thought.
"Go back to bed." You whisper, making sure not to wake up the other sleeping brother that hasn't moved since three in the morning. The sun is now peaking through the clouds that pass by ever so often. "I'm sure your dad will be in here soon enough to wake us all up."
But he doesn't listen to you. Sam shifts around in bed until he's sitting up. You drop your eyes back towards the paper you were previously reading when he decides to get up. Just as you finish reading a page and reach for another, you stop yourself when you feel a pair of eyes on you. Looking back up, you see that Sam is observing you, like something about you is off. You furrow your eyebrows at him, opening your mouth to question why he's staring at you, but he speaks up first.
"How are you?" A nice choice of words for someone who hasn't spoken more than a few sentences to you in days.
"....Fine."
You try to leave the conversation at that, not sure if he's trying to make small talk or trying to get something out of you, neither of which you are in the mood for. A minute passes by when you finish reading a page of notes, just as you reach for another stack of papers, they're ripped out from underneath your fingertips. An annoyed sigh escapes your lips when you see Sam is now hovering over you like a concerned parent. He can see the dark circles that had been forming from the nonexistent sleep this past week.
Quickly, you reach up and try to grab the papers before he can read them. They are his birth certificate and Mary's death certificate. Both dates are underlined with at least three question marks around them. If he somehow makes the connection, you know that the guilt will break him. No amount of promising him it wasn't his fault will fix it.
But Sam is quick to catch on to what you're trying to do. He puts his arm higher into the air so you can't reach it. Damn that idiot. You let out a breath of annoyance and plop back down into your chair, knowing there is no way you're going to win.
"Have you even slept? You look awful." Sam remarks. He takes notice of your disheveled hair by running his fingers through it to keep it from falling in your face. It's the first time he's touched you on purpose since your fight. You feel the clothes you've been wearing for the second day now on your skin, and you know he sees the hideous dark circles that seem to be getting worse with each passing hour.
"Nope. Been up all night." You answer, reaching for your now cold cup of coffee. Gesturing your arm over the stacks of paper and books, you speak up again after taking a sip. "You're speaking to me now?" You boldly ask.
"Why don't you take a nap or something? I'm sure with everything going on—"
"I'm fine, Sam." You snap at him, your voice rising enough for the other brother to wake up, immediately on the defense. Ignoring their concerned looks, you divert your attention to the papers, shuffling them around until they're back in a decent pile. You make sure to grab the journal after you stand up. "Your dad wants to go over what he found with you later. I'm gonna go take a shower and try to wake up. I suggest you both do the same."
-
October 26th
32 hours. It had taken that long to deliver the precious gift that I fought so hard for. It's a baby girl. David is thrilled, of course. He was the perfect partner through it all. I must've broken his hand to some degree with how hard he let me squeeze it. The look on his face when he cut the cord is something I'll never allow myself to forget. I should be happy, but I can't find it in me. All I can think about is the ticking clock. Even now, as she sleeps in her father's arms, tick tock.
I need time. Time to teach her about the world, time to memorize her face, time to watch her grow into the type of human being I would be proud to know. Time to teach her to not be afraid... to face the things that do scare her.
Mary and John stopped by for a brief congratulations... the look on Mary's face. She spoke about wanting another bundle. I wish it was that easy for us. Dean will make a good big brother, if they manage to conceive. Just like Violet would've made an excellent big sister.
-
You are in nothing but awe at the amount of information that John had collected over the years. The walls in his room are plastered with maps, newspaper clippings, he even had red string connecting certain events together. And what does he have to show for it? His children, alive, and a gun that can kill anything. Including the demon that ruined his life. Multiple lives. The colt hadn't been more than a foot from his grasp since you all had found it.
"This is it. This is everything I know." John says. He gestures a hand to the mess that he finds functional. "Our whole lives we've been searching for this demon, right? Not a trace, just nothing. I thought we were close to finding this thing after it struck again, but it went quiet again until about a year ago. For the first time, I picked up a trail."
"That's when you took off." Dean recalls.
It's funny to think how you've already been hunting for a year. But you remember how it all happened. Dean had been worried sick about not being able to speak to his father. He had come to you for answers, and when you couldn't give him any, you were roped into finding some.
"Yeah. That's right." John says. "The demon must have come out of hiding or hibernation."
"Alright, so, what's this trail you found?" Dean asks, taking a few steps around while his eyes looking over the notes that his father had scattered across the table.
"It starts in Arizona, then New Jersey, California." John explains. "Houses burn down to the ground. It goes after families, just like it went after us."
"Families with infants?" Sam speaks up, you feel your stomach turn.
"Yeah, the night of the kid's six month birthday." John says, knowing that he had finally admitted a piece of information that would change how everyone remembers that night. Sam especially.
"I was six months old that night?" Sam asks, looking at his brother and father for clarification.
"Exactly six months."
'So, basically, this demon is going after these kids for some reason," Sam says, a scoff comes out of his mouth before he finishes with a question. "Same way it came after me?" You swallow, directing your attention somewhere else. Anywhere other than his tortured face. "So Mom's death, Jessica–it's all because of me?"
"We don't know that, Sam." You answer, knowing the both of you are in the same boat. Before you can say anything else to try and make him feel better, he's pushing himself off the bed to his feet and practically stomping over to you. Well, now you know who he's taking his anger out on.
"I'd say we're pretty fucking sure, Vi." He yells, but you're quick to snap back at him. It hurts how much this Sam contradicts the Sam from earlier.
"Hey, tall person, did you forget my parents are dead too in the midst of your pity party?" He's cracking the thin ice of your patience.
It's off to the races in the trauma olympics now. While feeling responsible for your parent's deaths has crossed your mind, you haven't yet allowed yourself to really feel the weight of it the way Sam will. It would be too much to bear. The deeper into this shit show you get, the less stuff starts making sense.
"For the last time," Dean yells loud enough for the two of you to break eye contact. You look over at the man that still seems like he fully intends to forget you exist after this spat. "What happened to them isn't either of your guy's fault."
"It's not my fault, but it's my problem!" Sam targets his brother next to continue to yell out his frustration. You rub your temples when you feel a headache beginning to form from the piling stress that doesn't seem to be ending. It never ends.
"No, it's not your problem. It's our problem!" Dean corrects his younger brother.
"Okay, that's enough." John finally finds his voice, standing up from his seat to stop the fight before it gets worse. All of you take a moment to collect your thoughts before focusing yourselves back on the important things. Demon hunting.
"So, why is it doing it? What does it want?" Sam questions, breaking the small silence.
"I wish I had more answers. I do. I've always been one step behind it." John says. "Look, I've never gotten there in time to save..." He suddenly stops mid-sentence.
"Alright, so, how do we find it before it hits again?" You ask, ignoring the looks from the boys when you speak.
"There are signs. Look, it took me a while to see the pattern, but in days before these fires, signs crop up in the area–cattle deaths, temperature fluctuations, electrical storms." John explains to you. "And then I went back and checked and," He trails off.
"These things happened in Lawrence." Dean steps in.
"The week before your mother and Violet's dad died." John confirms. Suddenly the room feels smaller, you blink a few times, directing your attention to your shoes when they became more interesting. "And in Palo Alto...before Jessica. And these signs–they're starting again."
"Where?" Sam questions.
"Salvation, Iowa."
-
You waste no time packing up your shit to endure another long drive with the men you feel so far away from. You sit in the backseat, your favorite book splayed in your lap. The edges tattered, some pages missing, the effects of time and love. When you see a welcome sign for the town of Salvation pass by on the left, you face forward to see where you were heading.
You grow confused when you see John's truck, that was driving ahead of you, pull off towards an opening that has everyone off on the side of the road. Dean follows behind and parks. You and the boys waste no time in getting out of the car to see what had caused John to pull off.
"Damn it." John hisses underneath his breath, slamming the car door in anger.
"What is it?" Dean asked. He walks forward to question John while you and Sam stay behind, leaning yourself against the Impala with your arms crossed over your chest.
"Son of a bitch." John swears again, failing to answer anyone's questions.
"What is it?" Dean repeats himself.
"I just got a call from Caleb." John says, visibly calming himself down.
"Is he okay?" Dean asks in a concerned tone. You know Caleb is one of the few hunters that the brothers have called on a time or two. You wonder what must have happened to the man to make John so upset.
"He's fine." John answers. "Jim Murphy's dead."
"Pastor Jim?" Sam looks at his father, who just nods his head. "How?"
"Throat was slashed. He bled out." John explains. You hear Sam let out a small noise of disbelief and you yearn to hold his hand and offer him some form of comfort. "Caleb said they found traces of sulfur at Jim's place."
"So it's a demon." You point out the obvious. "The demon?" You look at John with hopeful eyes.
"I don't know. Could be Jim just got careless. Slipped up." John theorizes. "Maybe this demon knows we are getting close."
"What do you want to do?" Dean asks.
"Now we act like every second counts. There's two hospitals and a health center in this county. We split up. We cover more ground." John says to all of you. "I want records. I want lists of every infant that's gonna be six months in the next week."
"Dad, that could be dozens of kids." Sam argues. "How the hell are we gonna know which one's the right one?"
"We'll check them all. That's how." John simply says. You let out a small sigh and rub your hands over your face. It's gonna be a long fucking night. John eyes your expression and gives you a serious look. "What? You got any better ideas?"
"No, sir." You mumble.
You see in the corner of your eye that Dean is going back to the car. It eerily quiet between the rest of you as John just lingers for a moment.
You glance over at Dean, and notice the expression on his face. He's worried about his dad. John's friend, dead. You know the man is in mourning but he hasn't shown any signs of it.
"Dad?" Dean calls out.
There's a delay in answer as John straightens his spine. "Yeah." He mumbles, turning around to face his children again. "It's Jim. You know, I can't..." He trails off. "This ends now. I'm ending it. I don't care what it takes."
You watch as the man hoists himself into the lifted truck and starts the engine. You and the boys follow in his actions and load into the Impala, following behind John as he heads back to the main road. You only hope you can find this baby before the demon does.
-
You walk the hospital halls with a handful of different files cradled in your arms. Your new fake badge, that Dean happened to have lying around for each of you in the car, is clipped to your jacket.
Research had been more of a grueling task than you thought it was going to be. There could be at least a dozen babies fitting the profile of what you are looking for in this hospital alone. It gives you little hope that you are going to locate the one that this demon is planning on making its next victim. Sam is just down in the other room where he had been busy observing different birth certificates while you and Dean check with every nurse to get the records that are needed.
As you turn the corner to head back to the room the hospital had provided for you, a frown begins to stretch across your lips when you see that Dean is hard at work flirting with some pretty brunette that must have been the receptionist. He spares you a glance that makes you feel like he's trying to piss you off on purpose.
If you were just a little bit crazier, you'd head over to them and ruin the moment. Though the heavy files bring you back to reality. There is more important shit to worry about right now. Fuck him and his petty bullshit, anyway.
You end up slamming the folders down on the table rather harder than you had planned. Sam jumps up from the paperwork he is observing to see you lurking over the table. Letting a small frown spread across your lips, you mumble an apology before the both of you get back to work.
"He's just doing it to get to you." Sam breaks the silence.
"Fuck him." You let the conversation end there.
Luckily, all of you had managed to chip away at the large pile of files into just a few children that fit all the criteria. You made sure to make copies of the certificates and stash them away for future reference before heading out with Sam.
The man had tried several times during your research to make conversation, but you mostly ignored him. It just feels too awkward.
Following behind Sam; you busy yourself with making sure that you have everything you need, knowing that it wouldn't be long before John would be grilling all of you about the contents of the files you pulled. Sam keeps his attention on his small book where he had written all his notes. Just as the both of you step towards the sidewalk, your eyes trail over to the younger Winchester.
You glance over your shoulder when you notice that Sam isn't walking in sync with you anymore. Your eyebrows furrow in concern at the sight of him now. He is standing there with his eyes closed shut as a hand goes up towards his forehead like he was having a sudden rush of pain. It only takes you a moment to realize what was going on with him. Of course—he must have been having another vision-thing.
"Sammy? Hey, you okay?" You try to get him to snap out of it. But he keeps gasping for breath as his hand presses to his temple. It takes him awhile before he is back to normal. "Sammy?"
"A train." Sam mumbles to himself, still lost in his own thoughts. He is acting as if he had forgotten about your presence all together.
You furrow your eyebrows when you catch what he had said. "What? Sam what are you—" But the question dies on the tip of your tongue when you watch him scurry around to pull out the map that he had buried in his backpack. He observes it for a few moments before he is off. You let out a sigh at his confusing behavior, before following him where he leads.
The two of you wander through the town for at least five minutes; dodging cars and making your way through the dewey grass, wet from the recent rainfall that drizzled down earlier, as you cut through the park. Sam finally stops at the edge of the sidewalk when a small neighborhood comes into view. He looks around for a few moments before the man finds what he is looking for. You keep your eyes wandering around the streets to see what he is staring at, and you feel your stomach drop at the sight.
A woman that looks to be a few years older than you is pushing a baby stroller, enjoying the weather while on an afternoon stroll with a child. She smiles and waves at a car that passes her by before continuing to head down the street. You slowly piece everything together. It seems that the family you are hunting down had found Sam first. You don't know if this could be a chance for all of you to save them....Or if you'd be stuck watching as history repeats itself with another family.
With little time to pester Sasquatch, you trail behind the youngest Winchester even after he begins walking towards the woman. You have to practically jog to keep up with his wide stride. You are just a few steps behind when he makes his move. A warm smile and hello is all it takes to get her to stop. The woman struggles with holding both the stroller, and an umbrella.
"Here. Let me help you. You don't need that anymore." Sam says, offering a hand to help the woman out. She smiles at his act of kindness when he places a hand on the stroller to keep it steady while she puts the umbrella underneath, making sure to thank him. You lean over the stroller to see the baby; a smile growing across your lips to see a little girl in a light pink jacket. She occupies herself by chewing on a teething toy, only drooling more and giggling when she sees you.
"She's gorgeous." You comment while looking back up at the woman. "Is she yours?"
"Yeah." The mother answers. You watch as her smile grows when she glances down at her daughter once more. A guilty feeling begins to claw at your stomach.
"Oh, wow. Hi." You coo at the baby. But just as the mother begins to walk again, you quickly look up at Sam, knowing that the man had serious business to take care of if this sweet little family wanted to live.
"I'm sorry. I'm rude." Sam steps in front of the woman, flashing another smile before placing his hand for her to shake. "I'm Sam and this is Violet. We just moved in up the block."
"Oh, hey. I'm Monica." She says. Monica bends down and points a finger at her daughter, and in a baby voice, introduces the small child. "This is Rosie."
"Rosie. Hi, Rosie." Sam leans over to look at the baby, she just stares at him.
"So, welcome to the neighborhood." She says, you smile at her.
"Thank you." You mumble. Taking a bit more of an examination at Rosie, you notice how quiet she was, only making small noises every so often. Most babies her age would babble on or cry in front of strangers that gave them this much attention. But it was like she was on her best behavior. "She's such a good baby." You remark, wiggling a finger at her before smiling again.
"I mean, she never cries. She just stares at everybody." Monica jokes. "Sometimes she looks at you, and I swear it's—it's like she's reading your mind."
Your smile falters, but you force out a laugh to keep yourself acting normal. Sam speaks up again, trying to keep the conversation going in the right direction. "What about you, Monica? Have you lived here long?" He curiously asks.
"My husband and I," Monica points towards the white house that is just a few feet from where the three of you are standing. "We bought our place just before Rosie was born."
"How old is Rosie?" You ask, looking back at the woman.
"She's six months old today. It's big, right?" Monica goes on. A smile grows across her face when she looks down at her daughter. Oh, she has no idea, you think to yourself. "Growing like a weed."
"Yeah." Sam mumbles. He looks down at the baby and forces a smile. A silence had fallen over the three of you, the mother looks at you and Sam with curiosity, not sure if this is the end of the conversation, but the man continues talking. "Monica," He starts, but finds himself trailing off again.
She leans in slightly, wondering what he was going to say. "Yeah?"
Sam still kept quiet for a few moments while he flexed his jaw. It was like he was trying to find the right words to say without getting her freaked out. But he bails at the last second and tries a different approach. "Just, uh, take care of yourself, okay?"
"Yeah, you too, Sam. And of course, you too, Violet." Monica says, nodding her head. You smile at her again when she begins to push the stroller towards her house. "We'll see you around."
"Yeah, definitely." You respond, stepping out of the way so she could continue down the sidewalk.
Just as you two walk across the street and away from the family, you look over your shoulder when you hear her talking to her daughter in a happy tone. "Oh, there's Daddy!" A smile spreads across her face when she catches sight of the red minivan pulling into the driveway. Just the sight of the family makes it feel like a hand is gripping your heart.
Monica stands there with the stroller and grins when she watches as her husband walks forward and embraces her in a quick kiss before heading inside, leaving you and Sam to sit and wonder if this family is really the one that you were looking for. But it isn't long until you had some more evidence.
"Aah!"
You quickly snap your head to the side when you hear Sam yell out in pain again. The visions are happening again, and by the sounds and facial expressions he is making, you know he's in a great deal of pain. You don't know what to do, shaking him out of it won't do any good. He just clutches his head and presses his eyelids shut as hard as he can. You reach out to touch him after he zones out for more than a minute, growing concerned for the man. When you place a hand on his shoulder for comfort, it seems to be a wrong move on your part.
In just a blink of an eye, it was like you were some person trying to sneak up on the man. His instincts must have kicked in from from whatever the vision had been, it had turned his hunter side on. You let out a gasp of pain when you feel his grip tighten around your wrist to the point where you fear he would leave bruises behind. You call out his name, hoping that it would be enough to snap him out of his trance, but he just squeezes harder.
"Sammy, please." You try to draw him out, but he keeps his grip on you. So you shout at him loud enough to get his attention, but not loud enough for everyone else around you to notice the dispute. "Sam, stop!" And finally, he does.
You loose a sigh of relief when the iron grip loosens just enough for you to snap your arm away and cradle it against your chest. He happened to grab the one that you had broke not too long ago. You look at him with a mix of confusion and fear, not sure what had happened to him. Sam blinks a few times before he realizes what he had done to you. He opens his mouth to apologize, but you stop him, pretending that you are okay. You drop your arm back down to your side before hiding it behind your back so he couldn't see it. You put on a fake smile, knowing there are more important things to worry about.
"I'm fine. Are you okay?" You ask in a concerned tone.
He shakes his head when he begins to go on about what he had seen to you about Monica and Rosie. You can't help but draw the connections to the night Mary died. You furrow your eyebrows before motioning for him to start walking, knowing you are going to have one concerned older brother and father waiting for the both of you back at the motel. While he isn't looking, you wiggle around your wrist, making sure he didn't do any damage before shoving your hands inside your pockets and pretending as if this little incident never happened.
"Hey, I'm sorry." Sam grabs your arm gently and examines your wrist.
"I... I'm sorry too." You look up at him, hoping he knows exactly what you're apologizing for.
"I guess we both kept things from each other, huh?"
"Let's not do that again." You smile a bit sheepishly.
"Deal. Has Dean spoken to you yet?" Sam asks.
"...No. I think he's really upset."
"He will come around. He always does... just gotta let him be pissy for a little bit."
-
"A vision?"
You lean your back against the wall that acts as a divider between the two beds where John and Dean are sitting while Sam is parked at the small table, where he continues rubbing his temples from the headache that doesn't seem to be going away. You cross your arms over your chest and listen as the conversation goes on.
"Yes." Sam answers. "I saw the demon burning a woman on the ceiling."
"And you think it's gonna happen to this woman you met because...?" John questions, as if he isn't believing what his son is saying.
"Because these things happen exactly the way I see them." Sam explains, dropping his hands down to the table, aggravated from having to explain himself so much. You and Dean had seen this happen once before, the Miller family flashes in your mind. Max the Psychotic Psycho Wonder. Or, another victim of this demon. Either way, tragic.
"It started out as nightmares," Dean explains, getting up from the bed and heading towards the sink to put away his coffee cup. "and then he started having them while he was awake."
"Yeah. It's like—I don't know." Sam goes on. "It's like the closer I get to anything involving the demon, the stronger the visions get."
"Alright, when were you gonna tell me about this?" John questions all of you. You and the boys look at him like he had grown a second head while he speaks, not sure if he is serious.
"We didn't know what it meant." Dean says first, telling the truth, but that doesn't seem good enough.
"Something like this starts happening to your brother, you pick up the phone, and you call me." John scolds his oldest son.
You tilt your head to the side looking at the man with an annoyed glare, surprised to hear an ignorant statement like that come out of his mouth. And before you can stop yourself, it is happening again. You let your emotions block your judgement. Just like the day that you had found him after the brothers had dealt with the horrors of their old home.
"Call you?" You question the man. You push yourself off the wall and walk over to him, everything you think is falling right out of your mouth. "Are you kidding me? Dean tried calling you from Lawrence, you showed up—but didn't even face them when they needed you the most. You even made me feel like I couldn't tell them which, by the way, was a really shitty thing to do. Hell, Sam called you when I was dying. And nothing." You hiss at him. "Getting you on the phone—please. I'd have a better chance at winning the lottery."
You can feel two pairs of eyes burrowing holes in the back of your head for what you had just said to the man. Just the sight of him sometimes makes your skin crawl in anger. Any lecture from him should be ignored, you think to yourself. But you are quite surprised to see the opposite happen when he looks up from his shoes to look at you.
"You're right." John agrees, nodding his head. "Although I'm not really crazy about this new tone of yours," You can't help yourself but roll your eyes at the comment. "You're right."
"Look, guys, visions or no vision," Sam speaks up, bringing your attention back to the elephant in the room. "The fact is, we know this demon is coming tonight. The family's gonna go through the same hell we went through."
"No, they're not." John quickly speaks up to correct his son. "No one is...ever again."
You return to your position back on the wall when you feel the stress of everything begin to weigh down on your mind. Rubbing your hands over your face, you hear Sam's cell phone go off, and without thinking any more of it, you find yourself zoning out, listening to the conversation as background noise. But your head snaps down when you hear a very familiar name cross the conversation. A look of confusion begins to grow across the youngest Winchester's face.
"Meg." Sam says out loud. You watch from the corner of your eye as John gets up off the bed while you move closer to hear more of the conversation. "Last time I saw you, you fell out of a window."
"Oh, yeah, thanks to you." Meg sarcastically replies. "That really hurt my feelings, by the way."
"Just your feelings?" Sam questions. You bite the inside of your cheek. "That was a seven story drop." But she ignores his comment, drawing the conversation somewhere more important, for her, at least.
"Let me speak to your dad." She orders.
Sam looks over at his father, not sure what to do, but lying is always the best policy when talking to the enemy. "My dad. I don't know where my dad is." Sam dodges her command, shaking his head as if she were here in front of him.
"It's time for the grown ups to talk, Sam. Let me speak to him. Now."
You turn to see that John is looming over his son, not sure what to do. Sam just looks at John for an answer. John finally decides it's for the best if he talks to the woman you all assumed dead. You watch as he grabs the phone and puts it to his ear, ignoring the brother's looks.
"This is John." He answers, stepping away from all of you, but not far enough, so you could still keep listening in on the conversation like you had hoped.
"Howdy, John." The bitch's tone is cheerful, you can almost picture her grin. "I'm Meg. I'm a friend of your boys and pretty little Violet. I'm also the one who watched Jim Murphy choke on his own blood." The room falls silent, that comment alone would have made you snap if you were in John's position, but he just keeps silent for a few moments. "Still there, John boy?"
"I'm here." He finally speaks up, breaking the tension.
"Well, that was yesterday. Today I'm in Lincoln...visiting another old friend of yours." Meg says, you clench your jaw in anger. "He wants to say hi."
There is a small pause before a familiar voice sounds on the other line , you remember it from the times that you heard the boys talking to the man. It is Caleb. "John, whatever they do, don't give—" But before he can finish, something stops him from continuing.
"Caleb? Caleb!" John nearly shouts, trying to get the other hunter's attention, but still, there was no one on the other line at the moment. "You listen to me. He's got nothing to do with anything. You let him go."
"We know you have the colt, John." It is Meg again, and her tone doesn't inspire confidence that Caleb will be left unharmed. It seems they are one step ahead of you. But John tries to play dumb, hoping to fool the demon.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh, okay." Meg nonchalantly answers. "Listen to this."
A sudden yell of pain can be heard over the phone before the sounds of someone gagging begins to ring in your ears. You press a hand to your mouth to keep a gasp of surprise from falling out. That stupid bitch.
"Caleb?" John calls out. "Caleb!"
"Can you hear that?" Meg asks, her tone of voice almost curious before it drops into a threatening one. "That's the sound of your friend dying. Now, let's try this again. We know you have the gun, John. Word travels fast. So, as far as we're concerned, you just declared war. And this is what war looks like. It has casualties."
"I'm gonna kill you. You know that?" John threatens.
"Oh, John, please. Mind your blood pressure." Meg brushes it off with a sarcastic comment. "So, this is the thing—we're gonna keep doing what we're doing, and your friends, anyone who has ever helped you, gave you shelter, anyone you ever loved, they're all gonna die unless you give us that gun." The man lets out a sigh, knowing he has just been placed in a tough spot. "I'm waiting, Johnny. Better answer before the buzzer."
"Okay." John mumbles.
"Sorry?" Meg asks in a dumbfounded tone. "I didn't quite get that."
"I said okay." He repeats his answer. "I'll bring you the colt."
You and the boys look at him in disbelief, surprised he had given up so easily. He can't be serious. There is no way in hell he is taking off in the middle of this. "There is a warehouse in Lincoln on the corner of Wabash and Lake. You're gonna meet me there." Meg instructs.
"It's gonna take me about a day's drive to get there." John says, but that isn't good enough.
"Meet me there at midnight tonight."
"That's impossible. I can't get there in time," He argues, "And I can't just carry a gun on a plane."
"Oh, then I guess your friends die, don't they? Meg asks. You know she is pushing all the right buttons to get this man to do whatever she wants. "If you do decide to make it, come alone." And with that being said, the line goes dead.
You find yourself lingering in the background with your fingernails wedged between your teeth, your anxiety beginning to grow worse. Everything is starting to collapse. All the thoughts and hopes that this is going to end tonight are starting to be clouded with a barrage of worst scenarios that crossed your mind. More blood on your hands if John didn't do what he was told. Another family destroyed because of this damn demon. The right ammo for a growing nightmare. Nothing can ever be easy, can it?
"So you think Meg is a demon?" Sam asks his father.
Yes.
"Either that or she's possessed by one." John answers. "It doesn't really matter."
"What do we do?" Dean questions, knowing this is the time to start making a plan.
"I'm going to Lincoln." John says, you look up from the ground when you hear his plan.
"What?" You find yourself speaking up. Your eyebrows furrowing in confusion and anger.
"It doesn't seem like I have a choice. If I don't go, a lot of people die." John says. "Our friends die."
"The demon is coming tonight for Monica and her family." Sam points out. "That gun is all we got. You can't just hand it over."
"Who said anything about handing it over?" John asks. "Look, besides us and a couple of vampires, no one's really seen the gun."
"You're just gonna pick up a ringer at a pawn shop?" Dean asks his father, his tone as if that is one of the dumbest ideas he had ever heard.
"Antique store." John corrects.
"You're gonna hand Meg a fake gun and hope she doesn't notice?" You keep bombarding him with questions. She isn't stupid. Part of you knows she is going to know it is a fake if he pulls up with a random weapon.
"Look, as long as it's close, she shouldn't be able to tell the difference." John tries to validate his decision, but none of you are happy with the idea.
"Yeah, but for how long?" Dean asks. "What happens when she figures it out?"
"I just—I just need to buy a few hours, that's all." John argues. But all of you can read between the lines at the bigger picture he is hinting at.
"You mean for Dean and me." Sam finally spoke up. You look at him before back at their father, a bad feeling begins to creep inside your stomach when you listen to him. "You want us to stay here and kill this demon by ourselves."
"No, Sam." John snaps. All of it is coming out now. "I want to stop losing people we love. I want you to go to school. I want Dean to have a home. I want Violet to feel safe again." You watch as he turns around and faces the window. The next thing that he says makes your heart break. "I want Mary alive."
You look down at the ground for a few moments, trying to keep your emotions in check, this isn't the time to breakdown. "I just..." John finally wanders around again to face all of you with a glazed over look in his eyes. "I just want this to be over."
All of you want this nightmare to end. But after all the talks, hopes and fears about this demon being killed by the man that wanted revenge in the first place, it seems so much like him to pull this kind of move. You don't know if you are beginning to hate John more for pulling a stunt like this on his children. Or if it was because this is the right thing to do. And you know it.
-
Distant sounds of a wailing train can be heard from just above you, the feeling of your shoes sinking into the mud and the breathing from John and Sam are the only things you can make yourself concentrate on at the moment. If you even tried to think about the events ahead for the four of you, you know that the panic and horrible thoughts wouldn't be far behind. So you've been keeping yourself almost at a distance from everything, only speaking when spoken to, doing what you are told, and staying out of the way. You shove your hands inside your jacket pockets and watch as Sam gets his father ready for another meeting with Meg.
And if on cue, you turn your head to see the familiar black Chevy Impala slowly driving up the dirt path until it stops just a few feet from where all of you are standing. Dean turns off the engine and steps out, his father wasting no time in making sure the vintage gun is secure before heading off to Lincoln.
"Did you get it?" John asks, breaking the silence that had been lingering for too long.
Dean opens up his jacket so he can sneak a hand inside before pulling out a crumpled paper bag that is molded out into the shape of a gun. He holds it for a few seconds before handing it over to his father. John wastes no time opening up the bag and taking inspection of the gun to see the work. You have to admit they looked quite similar at a glance. You hope this isn't going to blow up in your face and make the situation worse.
"You know this is a trap, don't you?" Dean asks the dreaded question. You look up at him for a few seconds. His gaze lingers on you and then moves to John. "That's why Meg wants you to come alone."
"I can handle her." John reassures his son. "I have a whole arsenal loaded—holy water, mandaic amulets—"
"Dad" Dean cuts his father off.
"What?" John asks.
"Promise me something."
"What's that?"
"If this thing goes south, just get the hell out." Dean says. "Don't get yourself killed, alright? You're no good to us dead."
The last part of his sentence must have hurt to admit, but there is too much truth in his words. John is the only one that all of you have left. And you would be damned if this man is going to die because of some silly negotiation. He is better than this, at least, you thought so. But you know how sneaky demons can be. They lure you into thinking the end is just out of reach before slamming you back to the starting line. You just hope that the next task wont be planning another funeral.
John keeps his gaze on the gun for a few moments before looking back up at the three of you. "Same goes for you." He says.
You kick a small pebble that is a few inches from the tip of your shoe, trying to keep yourself composed. John can sense the tension that is beginning to grow thick, so he decides to get this plan moving. "Alright, listen to me." He reaches around and pulls the real colt from his back pocket. "They made the bullets special for this colt. There's only four of them left. Without them, this gun is useless. You make every shot count."
"Yes, sir." The brothers mumble in sync.
There is the sound of another train whistling in the background before John speaks up. "I've been waiting a long time for this fight. Now it's here, and I'm not gonna be in it. It's up to you boys now." No pressure. "It's your fight. You finish this. You finish what I started. You understand?"
Dean stares at his father for a few moments while Sam nods his head. Your stomach twists into knots when you feel the attention slowly shifting to you. While the brothers had known their role for this fight, you had wondered for all these months what you would be doing when it boiled down to it. There is nobody out there you can trust, knowing that Meg isn't afraid of getting her hands dirty again if John doesn't show up at the proper time. And you sure as hell aren't going to leave your boys. Even if one of them still isn't speaking to you.
And as much as you want to lie and pretend that everything is okay, you can't anymore. You are scared. The demon that had plagued you with nightmares and taken everyone you loved is coming back. You can't run anymore.
"Violet." You hear someone speak your name and it causes you to force your attention back to the man that had raised you when no one else was around to. You can see him trying to observe your face to see how you are doing. Suddenly you are drowning in guilt from everything you've ever said to him this past year.
All the man ever did for you was take you in during your time of need and look after you like you were his own daughter. He might have disappeared for over a year and the search might have been nothing but near death experiences and fights, but you knew all of this was for the best.
"I'm sorry." You croak out. You watch as his eyebrows furrow together, you let out a quiet sigh that only you can hear. "You were only trying to do what was best for me. And I couldn't see it until now. I...I'm scared, I really am." Biting your bottom lip, you keep yourself from getting too emotional, but you can't keep yourself from spilling out your thoughts. "It seems like everyone has a part in this fight and I don't know what to do. Whenever we get even close to this demon, I only end up causing trouble or just make everyone nervous because I can't defend myself. If I just stayed at home like you wanted—"
"You may have ended up dead because of me." John cuts you off in mid-sentence. You clench your jaw at the thought, knowing that everyone seems to be dropping like flies these past few days. "You're as much as part of this fight as we are. Even though I wanted you away from all this, I know you can handle yourself. Just make sure you keep the boys focused. You seem to have a special talent for that." A small smile spreads across your face. "Now, I don't know what is going on between the three of you..." You inwardly cringe at the implication of his words. "But you very may well be all each other has. So stop fighting and start working together. No more secrets. I was wrong to keep things from you."
Dean spares you a glance and you see his throat bob. An unspoken apology hanging between the two of you as neither one of you dares to speak. Not in front of John.
And with that being said, it's go time. You watch as John hands over the real colt to Dean, who observes the gun for a few moments before placing it inside his jacket pocket.
"We'll see you soon, Dad." Sam promises, putting all his optimism in his voice. You can see a small smile spread across John's face at his son's words. You force yourself to smile again, knowing it is better to try and see the light at the end of the tunnel, even though you still feel like you are being buried alive in emotions and doubt and fear.
"I'll see you later." John mumbles. He pats Sam on the shoulder, giving all of you reassuring looks that things would work out for the best. The man walks over towards the driver's side of his truck while you step backwards to get yourself out of the way. He opens up the door and looks at the three of you one more time before turning on the engine.
You and the brothers stand in silence while you watch as the car drives off, becoming nothing more than a figure in the distance, before disappearing altogether. This is it, you thought to yourself. This is really happening. And there is no going back.
-
You sit in the backseat of the Impala with your back pressed against the door and your legs spread out across the bench. A few hours had passed since John left, and you and the boys had been parked outside of Monica's house — looking out for any signs that the demon was here. Sam had instructed you to stay close for "safety", but to leave the dirty work to them.
There is a heavy awkwardness between you and Dean that is beginning to demand your attention. "Dean..." You say from the backseat.
"No, Violet." He refuses.
"Please... what if—"
"We'll be fine, and we can continue ignoring each other until I don't want to yell at you anymore."
"Yell at me." You can't hide the desperation from your tone. "Put me out of my misery here."
Sam shrinks down in his seat and you make a mental note to apologize to him for putting him in such a position. No choice but to listen to the two of you argue.
"I love you Violet. But I really... really don't like you right now. I'd send you home if it wouldn't break Sam's heart."
"You don't mean that."
"Yea I do. Seeing your face pisses me off. I just need some time."
You try your hardest to maintain your composure. "Dean, we may not have any time."
He lets out an exasperated sigh before turning to face you in his seat. "Fine. You wanna go there? We're there. How could you do that? How could you do that to us."
"I didn't—"
"Bullshit you didn't have a choice. There's always a choice and you chose wrong. He's our dad, Violet. Not yours."
"Dean—" Sam interjects, scolding his brother.
"No, Sam, she needs to hear this." Dean shrugs his brother off. "We've been all over the country thinking that the man is dead, and what? She just... lied to us the entire time? And you're ok with this?"
"You know how dad can be." Sam defends.
"Well I—" Dean starts.
"Shut up for a minute." It's your turn to interrupt. "Your dad... he... he made it seem like you two knowing where he was and what he is up against was the worst case scenario. He wanted to keep you away from the fight to keep you safe. He disappeared because he was trying to stay away from you. How is that my fault?"
"It's not your fault dad left. It's your fault that you let us think he was dead." He shifts to face the wheel again, as if ejecting himself from the conversation.
Sam meets your eyes in the rear view and you can see the raw emotion in them, and a small glimmer of hope. The younger Winchester knew Dean would come around, and so did you— to some degree. That's what love means.
"I'm sorry, Dean."
"I bet." He responds.
You keep your mind occupied with reading over your mother's journal. After you had been flipping through it for a few minutes, you stumble across an entry that sparks your interest. The heavy silence and muffled sounds of insects chirping away outside makes you slowly drift away from what is happening. Sam speaking up after a long moment of silence breaks your concentration.
"Maybe we can tell them there's a gas leak." Sam suggests, you tilt your head to the side at his horrible idea. "Might get them out of the house for a few hours."
"Yeah, and how many times has that actually worked for us?" Dean asks. Pissy.
Sam rolls his eyes, knowing that his brother is partially right. The two of them fall silent for a few moments before there is another idea pitched. "Could always tell them the truth." Sam says. A small smile spreads across your lips. Honestly really isn't the best policy in this situation. You might end up getting the door slammed in your face or sitting in the backseat of a police car for harassment.
"Nah." You and Dean say, shaking your heads.
"I know." Sam says. "I know, I know. I just—with what's coming for these people..."
"Sam, we only got one move, and you know it, alright? We got to wait for this demon to show itself, and then we get it before it gets them." Dean says. You wonder how the man is keeping himself so calm and collected while you sit here with nothing but worries.
"I wonder how Dad's doing." Sam wonders out loud, changing the subject.
"Ask Vi, she's probably texting him right now."Dean paused and glances away from the window to stare straight into the street. "I'd feel a lot better if we were there backing him up."
"I'd feel a lot better if he was here backing us up." Sam admits. You and the brothers lock eyes for a few moments, knowing that all of you are thinking the same thought. But you keep silent and swallow your fear, knowing there are more important things to worry about. You drop your gaze back down to the journal while the boys glance back at the house to keep an eye out.
A little while longer passes by with nothing changing; you watch with hooded eyes as Monica's husband goes towards their living room window, he closes the curtains and turns off the downstairs lights. You fidget around in your seat to keep yourself awake, knowing that the demon is going to strike when the family leasts expect it, and everyone had to be on guard when the bastard shows up again to make his move.
Your stomach grows heavy with anxiety and agitation. You want this night to be over with. But you don't want to face this thing again. Just knowing that it was just a small distance away causes a bad shiver to run down your spine. After all these years, all the monsters that you had seen, you still aren't ready to face your nightmares.
"This is weird." You admit, looking away from the window and back to the boys.
"What?" Dean asks, trying his best not to seem too interested. He gives you a curious look that you don't miss. You shrug your shoulders, glancing over at the house one more time.
"After all these years, we're finally here." You mumble, shaking your head as you ever so slightly smile. "It doesn't seem real."
Dean turns his head back towards the front, staring down at his lap for a moment before looking back up at you and his brother. "We just got to keep our head and do our job like always." He says, trying to remain calm, always being the voice of reason.
"Yeah, but this isn't like always." Sam points out.
The oldest Winchester stops staring out the window again to look at his brother. You can see him trying to find the right words to make the both of you stop worrying, but it seems that nothing good enough can come rolling out of his mouth. "True." He mumbles before putting his attention back on the house.
All of you become quiet again for a few moments before you hear the sounds of Sam letting out a breath, as if he was about to make a confession. You close the journal and rest it next to you on the seat, wondering what he had to say. "Dean, Violet, uh," The both of you look at the youngest Winchester, he takes a small pause before speaking up again. "I want to thank you."
You furrow your eyebrows while Dean looks around, not sure how to answer. "For what?"
Sam quietly chuckles, he turns his attention to his feet for a few seconds. You wait for him to continue at his own pace. You lean over the seat and rest your head on Sam's shoulder. The love you feel for him... it's bigger than any fear. "For everything." Sam says. "You guys always have had my back, you know? Even when I couldn't count on anyone, I could always count on the two of you. And now...I don't know. I just wanted to let you guys know, just in case."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa—" Dean starts.
"Are you kidding me?" You cut off the other brother, your voice turning serious.
"What?" Sam asks, almost too innocent sounding. He turns in his seat to smooth a hand over your hair and kiss your forehead.
"Don't say just in case something happens to you." You scold him. Suddenly you find yourself changing from scared into protective mother hen mode. "I don't wanna hear that speech from either of you, or I swear, I'm gonna knock some sense into that head of yours. Nobody is dying tonight. Not us, not that family, nobody. Well, except for the demon." You correct yourself. But you still continue lecturing him. "That evil son of a bitch isn't going to get any older than tonight. Now, do you understand me? The four of us are going to be fine."
Sam remains quiet, you watch as he just stares back at the window, knowing there is a chance that one of them could possibly die tonight. You or his brother just didn't want to think that way. It's not that you didn't want to think about the possibilities of someone getting hurt tonight, but you couldn't.
You had already cracked and let some of your emotions spill through the surface earlier today, there was only so much glue holding all of you together before one of you broke from the pressure of it all. All you want is to suppress your emotions and try your hardest to be there for the boys, knowing that it was all you can do right now.
-
Somehow in the midst of all the racing thoughts and possible doom ahead of you, you can't stop thinking about sleep. You keep trying to suppress the urge to yawn and lay down. You force your eyes to remain open and focus on the house, while in the background you can hear the sound of Dean's cell when he tries to call his father for the second time. But it is only a few moments before the familiar voicemail can be heard from the other line. Dean lets out a sigh and shuts his phone again, letting his arm drop to his lap.
"Dad's not answering." Dean says, you bit the inside of your cheek.
All of you stare back at the house once more; only one light is on now, the upstairs room, which happens to be Rosie's room. You can tell from the sight of a mobile over her crib seen from the car. You replay the memory of Rosie and her mother in your head again. A happy little family, you really would hate to see history repeat itself. You had seen the horrible consequences with Max Miller's family, you can't imagine stomaching it again.
"Maybe Meg was late." You say, breaking your concentration from your thoughts. "Maybe cell reception is bad. Could be anything."
"Yeah, well," Dean mutters before becoming quiet again.
You shrug it off and focus on the house once more, knowing it was just a matter of time before the demon is going to show up. But you don't expect it to be this soon. A static sound, almost like a high pitch squeal, pierces your ears, causing you to break your concentration from the house to the radio. You furrow your eyebrows at what is happening.
"Dean, wait." Sam whispers to his brother. "Listen."
He reaches up a hand and turns up the volume of the radio, but all that comes out is the same static noise. Your stomach sinks with realization. Sam fumbles around with the radio for a few moments before a voice finally breaks through. "This is your host, Jack Killian on KJCM 98.3, and goodnight America, wherever you are." You quickly turn your head to the window when the howl of wind begins to pick up with gusts of wind, as if that's not bad enough, the street lights flicker. You nervously swallow and sink down in your seat.
"It's here." You mumble to them. You glance away from the window to back at them, you widen your eyes in anger at them just sitting here. They had little time to think about their own safety when a poor baby and her mother are just moments away from death. "What are you waiting for? Go, dammit!" You growl at them, you clench your jaw and watch as they nearly jump out of the car in sync and run towards the house, soon, all you can see is darkness.
Everything looks to be quiet for the most part. But you can't help yourself but to think that something is off in this situation...you nervously swallow and glance out the window. You have a strange feeling, like someone is watching your every move. You try to brush it off as nothing more than the fear that has been getting too much for you to handle. Although, the feeling seems to be growing stronger with each moment that passes by. You look around again to see if there is anyone around you by chance, a dark figure in the distance, a stray dog, anything. Still, there isn't a soul.
You let out a breath and sink further down in your seat, knowing that you are just going crazy. You close your eyes and try your hardest to get yourself to relax. But when you open your eyes again, nothing more than a panicked gasp escapes from your throat.
There she is.
The woman is bloody, marked up with ripped clothing and stained fingertips. She is standing right next to the hood of the car. You blink a few times, trying to get the vision to go away, but no matter how hard you try, you can't get the figure of your dead mother to leave.
"No," You mumble to yourself while you shake your head. "No, you're not real."
You turn your head when you feel a lingering presence on your left side. A scream rips itself from your throat when she is suddenly standing right next to you, a sadistic smirk on her face. They are all staring at you. You turn your head to the right side in hope that her figure would be gone, but she is there again. Another gasp falls from your lips before you force yourself to close your eyes. None of this is real, you keep repeating to yourself. You're having a panic attack. She is just a figure of your imagination. You're safe.
You force yourself to take deep breaths, having them go from shaky to a shallow depth that slowly begins to make you feel calm again. Everything will be okay. The brothers are going to kill the demon. John is probably heading back now. And you are going to stop having these nightmares. You let out one more breath before opening your eyes again, hoping for relief.
But nothing more than another scream escapes from your lips when you realize that she is closer now. Your mother's figure is practically leaning over the seat with her yellow eyes wide with anger, you throw yourself backwards and try your hardest not to let any emotion show through. You examine her wounds that look scabbed over with dry blood. She isn't the woman that you knew and loved. She is a monster, and even worse from the last time you had seen her.
"I'm coming for you." She hisses in a low tone. Her voice dripping with venom, each word makes a shiver run down your spine. "I told you, Miss Violet, you can't run from me. You can't run from who you're meant to be."
You gather up the courage to make yourself move. You quickly reach for the handle and try your hardest to get the damn door to open. But it wouldn't budge, no matter the effort you put into it. Tears prick your eyes until everything becomes nothing more than a blurry vision. A sob breaks from your throat when you can hear her laughing at your desperation. You feel your heart pumping so fast, so loud. It almost feels like it would jump right out of your chest.
"Stop it." You hiss to the woman between clenched teeth. "I know she's still in there, come on. Stop it!"
But she doesn't break from the character that you had grown to fear everyday of your life. She begins saying things that you try to believe are nothing more than empty threats. But then you imagine the sight of her... the real her... bloody and still. Lying on that damn white carpet with viscera at her neck. And then you hear her... the wailing.
You quickly press your hands to your ears and curl up into a ball, hoping that it would just stop. She isn't real, you kept telling yourself. But the triggering point is when you can feel her breath tickle your nose; the familiar scent of her perfume and sulfur. You can feel yourself becoming sick to your stomach.
You dont know just how long you stayed that way. Curled up in a ball, too scared to open your eyes. You don't hear the sounds of the backseat door opening, but you can hear someone shouting your name in fear and concern. When you feel a hand touch your arm, you break from your torment. It takes you only a moment before you are sinking your nails into the person's skin, trying your hardest to fight them off, shouting for them to get away from you.
But the person wins. You hear soft mumbles of reassurance before someone scoops you into their arms and pulls you from the car. It's then you realize you're crying to the point of hysteria. You bury your face in Dean's neck, clutching onto him for dear life while your eyes search for Sammy. When you see his panicked face, you realize the scene before you.
The home that you had been keeping an eye for the past several hours is now burning down to nothing more than ash and broken wood. A perfectly unharmed family stands a distance away with Rosie clutched in their arms. You try to get yourself to calm down when you see that everything was the way that you wanted it to be. But the figure that lurks in the upstairs window sends a shiver down your spine. He is still here.
"Baby, you gotta take deep breaths." You can hear Dean mumble against your ear. You force yourself to break from the concentration on the window to your breathing that is coming out ragged and sharp. You make yourself suck in a deep breath of the smoke and night air. Your arms wrap around Dean's neck with all your might. His arm is wrapped around your waist while his other hand is buried in your hair. In the distance you can hear the sounds of firetrucks coming down the street that would be here in just a moment's time. You force yourself to look down at the ground and close your eyes, still picturing your mother's face.
-
You sit on the motel bed with your knees pressed up towards your chest, not saying a single word on the long trip back. The mood is nothing more than stress and failure. You can tell Sam is more on edge than anyone in the room from what had happened; he missed the one chance to get revenge on the demon that had caused his family nothing but pain and grief. Dean tried to reassure his little brother that the family was safe, a mother and her child are safe. But it isn't enough. You are beginning to think nothing is going to be good enough for the man until he sees the demon dead.
"Come on, Dad. Answer your phone, damn it." Dean mutters underneath his breath. You drag your attention away from the hideous colored bed sheets to the man that is pacing across the room again. He had been trying to call his father for the third time in just a few minutes, but still, John won't answer. He presses the end button and lets out a sharp sigh, he looks over the two of you. "Something's wrong." But neither you or Sam responds. "You hear me? Something's happened."
"If you had just let me go in there," Sam finally speaks up, his tone of voice filled with tiredness and anger. You furrow your eyebrows at him at what he had said next. "I could have ended all of this."
"Sam," You whisper. You might be at your breaking point over what you had seen tonight, but you aren't going to let someone else die tonight just because the plan went south. "The only thing you would have ended is your life."
You watched as the youngest Winchester turns around in his seat at the edge of the bed the both of you are occupying. The look on his face is nothing more than mental; his eyes squinting ever so slightly, the end of his mouth twitched into a frown. "You don't know that." He says in a matter of fact voice. You shake your head at his comment, knowing he is more out of it than you.
"So, what?" You hiss at him. You find yourself getting up from the bed, not standing for the crazy talk that is falling out of his face. "You're willing to sacrifice yourself?"
"Yeah." Sam answers. He follows in your actions and stands up; towering over you. On any other given day, this might have worked, but you didn't budge from the glare you give him. "Yeah, you're damn right I am."
"Yeah, that's not gonna happen." You and Sam turn your heads to look at the oldest Winchester when he breaks the unspoken staring contest. Dean turns around and keeps walking to the other side, punching in his father's number again on his phone. "Not as long as I'm around."
"What the hell are you talking about, Dean?" Sam questions his brother. "We've been searching for this demon our whole lives. It's the only thing we've ever cared about."
"Sam, I want to waste it. I do, okay?" Dean says, trying to reason with his brother. "But it's not worth dying over."
"What?" Sam asks. His eyebrows furrow, acting as if the older man had spoken gibberish to him. So Dean tries again, using a different angle to make his point.
"If hunting this demon means getting yourself killed," Dean is almost yelling now, but his voice drops when he finishes his sentence. "Then I hope we never find the damn thing."
"That thing killed Jess." Sam points out. You bite the inside of your cheek when he continues with the list of casualties. "That thing killed Mom. Vi's parents."
"You said yourself once that no matter what we do, they're gone." Dean says, speaking the bitter truth that his brother so doesn't want to hear right now. But you know that it wasn't too long ago that the brothers were having the same conversation, this time, the shoe on the other foot. "And they're never coming back."
It seems that was the breaking point for the other brother. You watch as just in a blink of an eye, without you even getting a chance to stop the fight, Sam grabs Dean by the collar of his shirt and slams him against the opposite side of the motel wall. "Don't you say that! Don't you—" He is practically growling at the man, letting all of his anger bubble through. He stops himself for a moment, shaking his head. "Not after all this time, don't you say that."
"Sam, look," Dean speaks up, "The four of us— that's all we have. And that's all I have." You can feel the tears beginning to prick your eyes again. After all this time, all the stress and anger that this entire group of people have been through, Dean seems to be the glue that held everyone together. And seeing him finally let his emotions through, the vulnerability, only makes you feel worse. "Sometimes I feel like I'm barely holding it together, man. Without you, Blue and Dad..."
"Dad." Sam mumbles out, chuckling as if he had forgotten about the man. He steps back and lightly taps his brother on the shoulder, stepping back before turning around and walking towards the other side of the room, a hand going up to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration.
"He should have called by now." You croak, crossing your arms over your chest. Not being the one to jump to conclusions, you clutch at the last remaining hope that John would pick up the damn phone. "Try him again."
Dean punches in his father's number and hits send. You can hear the ringing sound in the distance from where you stand. Crossing your fingers, you hope to hear his voice after the fourth ring. But with the streak of luck you and the boys have been having tonight, who answers the phone shouldn't come as a surprise. But it does.
"You boys really screwed up this time."
Just the sound of her voice makes the tips of your fingernails dig themselves into the side of your arm, the pressure enough to draw blood. You can feel anger beginning to claw at your consciousness. Dean drags his eyes away from the floor to you and his brother. John is in danger, and Meg sounds mad enough to kill.
"Where is he?" Dean questions the demon.
Meg isn't afraid of his tone of voice, spilling out a threat that makes your stomach twist into nervous knots. "You're never going to see your father again."
You and the brothers look at one another with fear glazing over your eyes. All the thoughts and doubts of this trip are starting to come true. John had fallen into the trap like the demon wanted after they figured out the gun was a big fake. You know it is only a matter of time before Meg's threat will ring true. No matter what you had seen tonight, the mental breakdown you had to deal with... None of it is going to stop you from getting back the one man you needed. No one else is gonna die.
