When Heroes Go Down (They Go Down Fast) 5/12
Title: When Heroes Go Down (They Go Down Fast) 5/12
Author: buffyaddict13
Rating: a strong R for language and a lot of violence. some of it's fairly gory. sorry folks. the end of the world isn't a shiny happy place.
Characters/Pairings: sam, dean, andy, OCs. Gen.
Summary: The war is at hand. it’s demon against man and we’re losing the fight. the special children are wreaking havoc across the land, side by side with demons. dean is on a desperate hunt to find and save his brother while leading a small band of survivors to a final showdown.
A/N: i know you're all sick of apocafics, but I’ve had this idea in my head for a while. I think there will be at least 8 or 9 chapters to this story, and each chapter is going to be pretty longish. ginormous hugs to
kroki_refur , the bestest beta who ever betaed. and thank you to everyone who's been reading this. your kind words mean the world to me. feedback tastes better than chocolate, yo. the title comes from a suzanne vega song.
Disclaimer: I own nothing winchestery. sucks to be me.
You ask me why I’m weary, why I can’t speak to you
You blame me for my silence
Say it’s time I changed and grew
But the war’s still going on dear
And there’s no end that I know
And I cant say if we’re ever...
I can’t say if we’re ever gonna to be free.
--Blue Oyster Cult
Chapter 5
"So you’re telling me you actually used a Devil’s Trap and it worked?" Craig is incredulous. "How did you even know how to draw one? I’ve only read about it in passing."
Dean shrugs. "A family friend gave us a copy of the Key of Solomon." He darts a quick look at Sam, then turns his gaze back to Craig. "We’ve used the Trap a couple of times, now."
Craig stops abruptly. "You’re telling me you’ve seen an actual copy of the Key of Solomon?"
Dean’s pretty sure the professor just wet himself. He rolls his eyes, then snags Sam’s arm and pulls him into the conversation. "Sam’s the geek. He’s the one that memorized the whole thing."
"Do you still have it?" Craig asks. "I’d love to look at it-if that’s okay," he adds quickly. "I’ve been making notes on various aspects of fighting demons and I’m hoping to get it published someday." He laughs softly. "And by get it published I mean recopy my notes and pass them around the campfire."
"I vote yes for anything that helps teach people how to fight demons." Dean nods toward Sam. "Not everyone was raised like we were."
"You can say that again," Andy interjects. "It took me a long time to admit I wasn’t fucking crazy." He grimaces at Luke. "Uh, sorry." Luke ignores him.
Dean grins. "Dude, just because you know how the world works doesn’t mean you’re not crazy. I’ve spent enough time with you know you’re a few cards short of a deck."
Craig turns to Sam. "What about blue chalcedony? Do you find it has the same repellent properties as salt?"
Dean stares at Craig. "Repellent properties? What the hell kind of classes did you teach?"
Craig chuckles. "Let’s just say the students liked me more than the faculty did."
Sam shakes his head. "Salt works better. Or I should say, works, period. Chalcedony makes a nice necklace, but that’s about it. It’s more of an old wives’ tale." He regards Craig with curiosity. "What did you teach? You have a pretty good knowledge of folk magic, but I’m guessing you didn’t teach the correlation between that and Christian symbology." He pauses. "Did you?"
Craig snorts. "Not exactly. I did let the kids do an extra credit paper every semester outlining the Christian symbology used in Stephen King’s work. Eventually I had to leave The Stand off the list of permitted books because every kid and his brother picked it. But that was just extra credit stuff. My main classes were early Christian studies, exploration of Middle Eastern religions, and every once in a while I liked to throw in a class on various mythologies."
"That still doesn’t explain how you know about salt or the Key of Solomon," Dean points out.
"Studying folk magic was a hobby of mine," Craig admits. His good humor fades. "I never knew I’d actually use any of it."
"Guys, wait up," Izzy calls, trailing after the group. "I don’t…I don’t feel so good." As if for emphasis, she sways on her feet.
Andy’s instantly at her side. "What’s wrong?"
She grimaces. "I don’t know. I’m cold. Freezing. And my head hurts. I just want to lie down."
Within minutes, Dean steers them beneath an overpass. There’s plenty of room for them to spread out their sleeping bags and light a fire.
Andy unrolls Izzy’s bag and helps her sit. "I thought I was the one who was supposed to get sick," he says wryly.
"I told you you’d be okay," she says, rolling onto her side. She pillows her cheek on one hand.
Andy lowers himself next to her. "You did. And you were right."
Izzy closes her eyes, a line of pain creasing her forehead. Andy covers it with his hand, checking for a temperature. "You must be sick. I just said you were right and you didn’t even do a victory dance." He frowns. "You feel a little warm, but not too bad."
Dean walks over with a bottle of water. "I brought you some fresh water, Iz. You doing okay?" He raises an eyebrow at Andy. How is she?
Andy waggles a hand back and forth. Not bad.
"I feel like crap," Izzy mutters.
"Walking around in the rain probably didn’t help," Dean says. "Sorry about that."
"Go ‘way."
Dean turns his laugh into a cough. "I’m going." He drifts off toward Sam, but hesitates long enough to direct a look back at Andy. Stay with her.
ooooo
"So are you going to tell me what happened back there or do I have to drag it out of you?" Sam and Dean are cleaning weapons by the light of the fire. Correction: Dean is cleaning weapons, Sam’s watching. Dean declared the guns and knives-and even Luke’s bat-off limits.
Sam won’t admit it aloud, but it’s a wise decision on Dean’s part. Sam keeps imagining himself grabbing a gun and putting it in his mouth. He can almost taste the acrid metal, feel the cool barrel (do it). It would take two seconds (just do it). Two seconds and then nothing. His tongue darts over cracked lips, sweat beading on his forehead.
"Well?" Dean prods, breaking Sam’s concentration on the gun. Sam flinches. Stop it. Think about Dean. Dean needs you. You owe him. You owe him your life. It’s all he has to give and it isn’t worth much (now), but Sam will give it as willingly as he can. He avoids Dean’s gaze and concentrates on the fire. "I don’t know what happened," Sam says softly. He moves his hand closer to the fire. What would it feel like? (Jess knows. And Mom.) He swallows hard and pulls it back into his lap.
"First you pulled Yellow Eyes out of Andy’s head," Dean says, his eyes burrowing into Sam, "and now you give some girl-a kid for Christ’s sake-the Jean Grey treatment."
Sam manages a crooked smile. "Dude, that’s two X-men references now. I never knew you were such a fan."
Dean just glares and Sam shifts uncomfortably. "I didn’t have some big plan, Dean. I didn’t even know what I was doing until I was next to her. And then…and then I touched her hand and I just knew what to do." He pulls the cap off his head and bends it back and forth. "I could help her, Dean. That’s all I wanted to do. That’s all I want to do. I want to help as many people as I can."
Dean watches him, a thin smile on his face. "Saving people, hunting things. Is that it?"
Sam’s face shuts down. "No. I’m done hunting." His hands start to tremble and he grinds the palm of his hand into his good eye. "I can’t. I. Dean. No." He has to make Dean understand that he can’t kill any more. There are too many ghosts with him now. There’s no room for more.
Dean has a hand on Sam’s knee. "It’s okay, Sam. Don’t worry about it. I’ll do the hunting, you do the saving, okay? We’re still a team, just like always."
Sam nods woodenly. "Okay."
"I mean it Sam. You don’t have to hunt ever again for all I care."
"Neither do you," Sam says, rubbing his jaw. He knows what happens to hunters (I kill them).
"I think we’re a little busy to be hunting right now. That whole saving the world thing takes up a lot of time, you know?" Dean grins and Sam can’t help smiling back.
"I wish I could have helped those ghosts in Elk City," Sam says. "They just wanted to go…to go home."
Dean sighs. "And I want chocolate air. But nobody’s getting what they want right now, you know? You do the best you can and move on. Besides, you helped that girl."
Sam watches the flames jump and curl. "She was so young."
"I know. What do you think, fourteen? Fifteen?"
Sam shrugs. "I don’t know." His mouth twists into a grimace. "Did you see the way she looked at me? Like I was…" He trails off. She looked at him like he was some kind of savior. The mere thought makes his stomach clench.
"She was just grateful. And maybe a little clingy."
Sam snorts. "That’s one way to put it."
ooooo
Andy’s pretty sure Izzy’s sleeping when he brushes the hair off her forehead. "Are you trying to feel me up?" she asks, eyes still closed.
"You’d know it if I was," Andy grins. He moves her water bottle within reach. "How are you feeling?"
"Like my entire stomach is trying to crawl up my esophagus."
Andy winces. "Do you want me to see if I can scrounge up some medicine?"
"No." Izzy’s voice is small. "Keep me company."
"Okay." Andy settles back onto his sleeping bag and folds his hands behind his head. Izzy falls silent again and Andy wonders if she’s finally drifting off. Sleep is probably the best medicine she can get right about now.
"Andy?"
"Yeah?"
"Have you ever been in love?"
Surprised at the question, he lifts his head to see her expression, but her face is in shadows. He’s not sure how to answer. Eventually, he settles on the truth. "Yeah. I think so."
"What was it like?" she asks, a little wistful.
"It was…it was good." He frowns. Brilliant, Einstein. "I mean…I loved her. Tracy. Her name was Tracy."
"Were you together a long time?"
Not long enough. "About a year."
"What happened?"
I was an asshole. I didn’t know what I had until it was too late. I fucked up the one good thing in my life. I was too busy playing mind games with my super magic powers. "I…I took her for granted and we broke up." He heaves a heavy sigh. "And then my crazy twin brother tried to kill her using his…his ability."
Izzy’s quiet so long Andy thinks she dozed off. Then her voice cuts through the stillness between them. "Oh man. The fucked up thing is, I have a feeling you’re telling me the truth."
Andy musters a weary smile. "Yeah. That’s the truth all right."
"You have a crazy twin?"
Now he’s glad he can’t see her face, because it means she can’t see his. "Not anymore. He died."
"What happened?"
I shot him. A little bit like how Dean shot Sam. See the pattern, there? Brother shooting brother? It’s a fucking trend. "Izzy…I’m sorry. I don’t really want to talk about it." The words feel too big for his throat.
Izzy doesn’t push him. "That’s okay." She wiggles in her sleeping bag, and now Andy can see her eyes on him. Her face looks drawn. "You can tell me some other time." She turns away from him briefly and hisses "shut up!"
Andy pushes himself up on one elbow. "What?"
"Claudia says you’re kind of cute."
He gapes at her. "She…does?"
Izzy snorts. "No, doofus. I’m kidding." She watches him, her face shiny with sweat. She bites her lower lip and then says in a voice just shy of a whisper, "but I think you’re okay."
Andy grins. "Well, if that’s not a resounding endorsement, I don’t know what is." He puts a hand to his temple. "I can feel my head inflating right now."
Izzy chuckles. There’s movement beside her and they both turn to see Luke. He points to the ground next to Izzy and blinks at her.
Izzy pats the ground and smiles. "You can sit down sweetie, go ahead."
Andy smiles at Luke too, but the asshole part of him wants the kid to take a flying leap. But then he sees Luke reach for Izzy’s hand and his annoyance dissolves. Luke’s just a little kid, and as bad as things are for Andy, they’ve got to be worse for him.
Andy feels Izzy’s hand on his own and he sort of wants to yell out to everyone else that Izzy’s holding his hand, but he just grins instead, settles himself back down. Now it’s the three of them, side by side. Luke offers Andy a shy smile and Andy smiles back. He feels like smiling forever. "Come on," Izzy says. "Tell us a bedtime story." She squeezes Andy’s hand. "And it better be good."
ooooo
Craig is paging through the Key of Solomon. He treats each page as if it’s made of glass. Dean and Sam are next to him, and they’ve spent the past half hour answering his questions. Now Dean elbows Sam gently and nods toward the big circle of salt. "Look at that. Luke just went to lie down by Izzy and Andy. They’re all laid out like sardines in a can."
Craig looks up, nonplussed. "I thought Luke as already asleep." He glances from Luke’s empty sleeping bag to the tousled head tucked between Izzy and Andy. The professor sighs. "I’m such a fool. Of course he wants to be by Izzy."
"He misses his mom," Dean says gently. He glances at Sam. They’ve spent a fair of amount of time identifying with older women over the years-- Missouri, Ellen-- but he doesn’t want to think about them (gone) so he clears his throat. "What happened to Luke, anyway? How did you find him?"
Craig shuts the book carefully and hands it back to Sam. "I was still in Indiana when things started to…go bad. I packed up and caught a plane-one of the last ones-to Nebraska. My folks lived there." Craig’s hand rubs along the side of his face. "When I got there they were gone. Everyone was gone." He shrugs. "No neighbors, no pets, no nothing. Just--gone."
"The Disease." Dean says softly.
Craig nods. "I think so. I didn’t know what else to do, so I drove until the roads became impassible, then went on foot. By the time I got to Lincoln I’d run into some folks who said they were going to New Mexico. A few days later I saw a sign on the side of the road that said Find hope in Truth or Consequences. So I found me a map and kept walking." Craig’s face grows hard. "That’s when I saw my first demon." His jaw clenches. "It looked like a man, but it picked up a car and tossed it right across the road." He shakes his head. "A car. And there were people in it. A woman and a child-- I could see them from where I was hiding. The woman was dead, but the boy was still trapped in the back seat, belted in.
"I didn’t know what to do. I taught kids who yawned their way through St. Augustine and the Confessions, you know? I didn’t know anything about…about this." Craig laughs without humor. "It was like a movie, only it never ended. Everywhere you looked there were buildings on fire. People dead or dying and I couldn’t do anything about it but pray and hide like a…like a coward."
"Hiding doesn’t make you a coward," Sam says. "It makes you alive."
"I started reciting this old exorcism…we talked about it after discussing movies that featured exorcisms. You know…The Exorcist, The Exorcism of Emily Rose. It’s called the Vade retro satana. Do you know it?"
Dean nods. "I’ve heard of it. But it’s, uh…"
"Kind of like saying gesundheit to a demon," Craig continues. "But I thought it worked, because the demon stopped bashing the car." He hesitates, as if he’s going to say more, but goes silent.
Dean waits. Sam taught him patience a long time ago. Sam’s hands shift in his lap, and Dean wonders if Sam’s even aware of the movement.
Craig sighs, and runs the back of one hand over his mouth. "There was another guy there. He had an ax." Craig’s looking at the fire, but Dean knows he’s seeing something else. "He cut the thing’s head right off. And I saw this…smoke come out of the body. I was…freaking out, to say the least, but I managed to get to the car and unbuckle the boy. He was screaming. He pulled away from me and ran to his mother." Craig’s voice is brittle; each syllable is injected with false calm. Dean recognizes the effort the other man’s making; he’s done it himself in the past. "And this other guy is telling me to give him the kid, because he’s worth money. No, not money," Craig says, with a slight shake of the head, "he’s worth credit. With the demons. Or other survivors. He’s telling me how he can trade the kid for food or weapons, or whatever. But I’m not really listening because the kid is holding his mother like he’s never going to let go. He’s not screaming any more, but he’s sobbing into her chest, and his face is smeared with her blood.
"This man--who just saved him from a demon--tries to pull the kid out of the car. The kid doesn’t want to go, and I don’t want him to go either-at least not with that…that bastard. So I shook off a little of my cowardice and was able to show my fellow traveler the error of his ways."
Dean lifts an eyebrow. "You did?"
Craig’s mouth twists. "Well, not me so much as…" he trails off and pats the hammer hanging from his belt. "They make it look so easy to knock someone out on TV." His eyes shift to Dean’s. "I find it to be much harder."
"So you got away?" Sam asks.
Craig glances back at Luke’s sleeping form. "Yes. I pried Luke away from his mother and basically dragged him down the road. We’ve been walking for…I don’t know…a couple of weeks. It’s been slow going. And then we met you." He manages a shaky sigh. "The end."
"And Luke hasn’t spoken in all that time?"
"He was definitely saying words when he was screaming over his mother. But I’m not sure what. It sounded like I could have saved her." Craig’s voice finally cracks. "But he’s just a boy. She was already dead. I tried to get him to talk a thousand times, but he just won’t. I’ve bored him silly with my whole life story, asked him about his parents, where he’s from…and nothing. But since we met you guys, he’s definitely more outgoing. That’s something, at least."
"Yeah," Dean agrees and his eyes slide to the sleeping boy. "I guess it is."
ooooo
When Izzy opens her eyes there’s an arm pressed against her cheek. It’s not her own. She blinks and takes a moment to figure out the arm is both thinner and smaller than hers. It belongs to Luke; he’s curled beside her, shivering, and that’s when she realizes she feels better. She takes a deep breath and stretches, decides she feels pretty good, in fact. But the sheen on Luke’s forehead and his shivering tells her he doesn’t, as does the fact that his bright yellow aura has paled to the color of unripe bananas.
Feeling guilty, Izzy pulls her sleeping bag over the boy. She shouldn’t have let him sleep next to her. A glance around tells her everyone else is already up. Craig is sitting cross-legged on the ground, and Dean sits next to him, his arm propped on the wheeled carry-on bag. Dean’s light blue aura mixes with Craig’s soft pink one to create a patch of lavender. She rubs a kink out of her neck and gets to her feet. Moving closer, she can see what Craig is doing -- he’s giving Dean a tattoo.
"That’s so cool!" she breathes, impressed. "Can you give me one?"
"He’s not doing butterflies," Dean snarks.
"I don’t want a butterfly," Izzy glares. "I want a heart."
Dean rolls his eyes. "You would."
Craig glances toward Izzy. "My dear, you won’t get anything if you don’t move out of my light."
Izzy takes a step back. "Oh. Sorry."
Craig chuckles. "Not a problem."
Andy comes over and shows her his arm. An angry looking tattoo marks his upper arm, the same shield knot pattern that Craig wears. Izzy beams at him. "I like it!" She falters a little. "Did it hurt?"
Andy shrugs. "A little. But not much. And it’s worth it if it helps protect me."
"Which we don’t know if it will," Dean points out.
"Then why are you getting one?" Izzy demands.
"Because it’s always better to be safe than sorry," Craig replies, his smile warm, eyes bright. "Isn’t that right, Dean?"
Dean scowls, but Izzy can tell it’s mostly for show. "I always thought my first tattoo would be so much cooler than this. And have boobs." He nods to Sam. "You’re next, dude."
Sam’s still sitting in the salt circle. It’s scuffed now, the circle broken, and he’s making a little pile out of the salt. He doesn’t look up, but his answer is loud enough for them to hear. "I’m not getting one."
Claudia wanders over to Izzy and sing-songs, I’m nobody! Who are you? Are you a nobody too?
Izzy flashes Claudia a warning look. "Shhh." Sam’s aura is a deep purple, almost black, and she crosses over to him, kneels beside him.
"Why not?" she asks.
"Why not?" Dean echoes. "Don’t you think we should try whatever we can to protect ourselves? From overzealous hunters and demons?"
"I don’t need a tattoo for protection," Sam says simply.
Dean’s eyebrows rocket upward. "Oh really? And why’s that?" Craig holds the needle steady above Dean’s arm, waiting for him to calm down.
Sam looks up and meets Dean’s hard expression. "Dean. If the Sixers find me, they’re either going to try to get me back, or kill me. And if somebody recognizes me, all the tattoos in the world aren’t going to save me." He looks back down at the little pyramid of salt. "Besides, I don’t think I can be possessed. Not anymore."
"What makes you think that?"
Sam’s finger drifts in the dirt and he draws a circle filled with intricate lines. Izzy doesn’t know what it is, but it looks kind of pretty. "I just feel it," Sam finally says. "Just like when I used to sense things. How I helped Andy and that girl last night. I just know."
"That’s not good enough for me," Dean says. "It’s just not. I need you to be safe."
"I need you to trust me."
Sam’s aura flashes royal blue to dark purple and back to blue.
Dean sighs and nods for Craig to continue with his tattoo. "Sam, I do trust you."
"He has faith he doesn’t need a tattoo," Craig says, concentrating on making the last loop of the shield knot. "Sometimes a little precaution and faith can go hand in hand."
"I don’t have faith," Sam blurts. He gets to his feet so quickly that he stumbles and puts a hand on Izzy’s shoulder for support. "Not anymore."
Craig looks at Sam for a moment, then goes back to the tattoo. "I do."
Dean can’t keep the disbelief from his voice. "You believe in God? After all this?"
Craig dips the needle in the ink, then carefully inserts it into Dean’s arm. "Yes, I do."
Claudia tilts her head. Why? Izzy has a better question. "How do you know God even exists?"
"I see proof every day," Craig says, blotting Dean’s arm with a paper towel.
"What proof?" Dean asks grimly. He glances around. "Where?"
"Right here." Craig smiles and wipes the needle down with a handy-wipe. "He kept me alive." He looks at Dean, his face calm. "And then he led me to you."
ooooo
Dean’s relieved Izzy’s feeling better, but Luke apparently caught her bug, because he’s wrapped in her sleeping bag, still fast asleep. His face is so pale, his skin looks almost translucent.
Izzy is sporting a shield knot of her own-as well as a little heart-and the ink and needle have been put away. Sam is answering more of Craig’s questions and Dean stands over the sick boy, frowning.
"So now what?" he asks. "I guess we could hang around here for today." Except he doesn’t want to hang around here. They have fresh supplies and the weather’s decent. He hates wasting a day like this, but it’s not like he can just drag Luke along. Maybe they should head back to Elk City and look for a wagon.
"I don’t think we should stay here any longer than we have to." Sam strides over to Dean, his own face drawn. "We really need to get going."
"I know that, Sammy, I do. But what about the kid?"
Sam bites at his thumbnail for a minute, then moves over to Luke’s sleeping form. He feels the boy’s forehead. "Feels like a slight temp," he says. "Can you bring me some water?"
Dean pulls a fresh water bottle from his duffel and hands it to Sam. Sam gently shakes Luke awake. The boy’s eyes open slowly, then he burrows deeper into the bag and tries to turn away. Sam smiles faintly at Dean. "It’s like trying to wake you."
"Ha ha. Very funny." But Dean grins back, careful not to let on how good it feels to have Sam mock him. It’s these glimpses of the real Sam that keep him going.
Luke finally turns back to Sam, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He blinks at Sam, his face pinched. Sam offers the bottle to the boy and instructs him to drink, and Luke’s expression softens a little. He takes a long swallow and hands the bottle back, rubs his head and makes a face.
"Not feeling too good?"
Luke shakes his head. No.
"I’m sorry about that. But we were hoping we could keep walking today."
Luke looks crestfallen, but Sam hurries on. "Would it be okay if I carried you?"
Luke regards him with a clearly doubtful look, and Sam’s mouth twitches into a smile. "You have a choice, okay? I can carry you like this-" Sam holds his arms like he’s carrying an invisible bride over the threshold, "-or I can give you a piggyback ride, if you feel up to it."
Luke leans forward and taps Sam’s back. He offers up a tentative smile to match Sam’s.
Sam nods and looks to Dean. "Okay. It’s settled. We keep going."
Dean’s grin almost breaks his face. Not only are they hitting the road, but Sam actually interacted with someone else. Of his own accord. He starts whistling as he packs his gear.
ooooo
His good mood takes exactly three hours to die. By two in the afternoon he’s already tired and his left foot has a blister roughly the size of the moon. He’s sick of walking, the endless monotony. Although, at least monotony roughly translates into safe.
Andy and Izzy are walking shoulder to shoulder, and Dean thinks something must have happened between them, because they’ve gone from being chummy to looking at each other with heart-shaped goony eyes. Dean can barely keep from rolling his eyes right out of his head every time Izzy giggles at some (apparent) witticism from Andy.
Quit being such a dick, he tells himself grimly. He’s glad for them. He loves them both. It’s just that letting yourself fall in love now, during the end of the world, seems a little dangerous. A little careless. He shrugs and scratches the back of his head. What does he know? He’s no expert on love.
The sound of laughter pulls Dean’s thoughts away from the Wonder Twins. Luke is grinning on Sam’s shoulders, his laughter like bells. He’s got two loose handfuls of Sam’s shaggy hair and Sam is veering back and forth across the road as if the kid’s steering him. Dean’s mouth drops open in amazement.
Sam’s laughing too until he veers too close to an abandoned mini-van and clips his shoulder. Sam pivots wildly, trying to keep his balance, his arms flailing to keep Luke aloft. Sam goes down anyway, but he manages to pull Luke forward over his head and against his chest in a sort of frenzied somersault so the kid is cushioned from the impact.
It takes Dean ten steps to reach Sam. Luke’s eyes are wide and he looks rattled, but he’s not hurt. Dean scoops Luke off Sam and deposits him next to the van. "Sam?"
Sam’s on his back, his face red, eye closed.
Craig puts an arm around Luke. "You okay, son?" Luke nods.
Sam’s eye cracks open and he stares up at Dean.
Dean offers Sam a hand and his brother takes it. "What happened?"
Sam looks away. "I just…forgot."
Izzy and Andy crowd into the group. They’re asking about Sam, but Dean doesn’t have time for them right now. He looks expectantly at Sam. "Forgot what?"
"That my peripheral vision is shot to hell. I shouldn’t have been running with Luke. It was stupid. And irresponsible." He turns to Luke, adam’s apple bobbing. "I’m sorry, buddy. I’m really sorry. Did I…are you hurt?"
Luke shakes his head. He gives Sam a thumbs up and Sam’s face goes blank. "Good. I’m glad." He takes a sudden step back from Luke, as if the kid’s gone radioactive. "I’m sorry," he repeats. His eye shifts to Dean, to Luke, and to the road ahead.
Dean knows that look by now. It’s Sam’s panic look -- he’s a spooked horse, ready to bolt. Dean puts a firm hand on Sam’s arm. "Sam. It was an accident. It’s no big deal."
Sam shakes his head, and Dean can tell his brother’s already tuning him out.
Dean drops to one knee in front of Luke. "Are you sure you’re all right?"
Luke gives him the A-OK sign and nods.
"Good. Can you walk for a little bit on your own?"
Luke gives Dean a look that seems to say, I don’t feel good, but I’m not dying, and Dean almost laughs. "Okay. Can you excuse us for a second? You guys keep going, we’ll catch up."
There’s a general shuffling of feet and an exchange of uneasy glances, but Craig, Luke, Andy and Izzy head down the road after Dean makes a get going, already! motion with his hand.
Sam’s head is down and he’s doing the hunched thing. Dean is torn between hugging him and punching him. He doesn’t know which response would help more.
"Sammy?" He raps on Sam’s head lightly. "Are you in there? You listening to me?"
Sam turns his head toward Dean but doesn’t look at him. It’s better than nothing.
"What’s going on?" Dean demands. "It was an accident, pure and simple. Next time don’t run around with a kid on your shoulders." He pats Sam’s shoulder. "There, problem solved."
Now Sam does look at Dean. "Problem solved? Are you high? I’ll never solve this!"
Dean sighs. "What did I tell you about the melodrama, Sam?"
Sam’s hand shoots out and fists into Dean’s shirt collar. One minute Dean’s an arm’s length away, the next he’s yanked nose-to-chin with Sam’s glowering face. "Don’t patronize me," Sam chokes out.
Dean’s hands go up, palms out. "I’m not. You just seem like you’re, you know, over-reacting. You act like you mortally wounded the kid, but nobody got hurt, Sam. Everything’s okay. Even Luke said so. I mean, he didn’t say so, but you know what I mean."
Sam abruptly lets go of Dean, and his hands plow into his hair, pulling it into spikes. "I thought if I took care of him, if I…if I helped him, I could make up for something. Like when I tried to help that girl last night. But I can’t. I can’t make up for anything."
Dean sighs. "It’s not a scale and balance thing. It’s not how many people you save or you don’t. It’s what you do right now. And yeah, you did help that girl, and you were helping Luke. I know you want to make up for what you did, Sammy. I know you want that more than anything." He grasps Sam’s arms and shakes him a little. "But you can’t. You can just go on. Keep going. Do the best you can. That’s what you can do. Hell, that’s what I do. Just. Keep. Going."
Sam shakes his head. "I can’t."
"You can. Even if I have to kick your ass all the way to New Mexico."
Sam trembles beneath Dean’s grip. "I stabbed a kid his age, Dean," Sam chokes out. His voice is broken glass, the words bleeding from his mouth, his eye wide and desperate. "In the face. I look at Luke and I see that kid. I look at Luke and I think, I can fix it." A single tear spills down his face. "But I can’t. I get that. I just want to. I want to so badly."
Dean’s stomach drops like a stone at the words I stabbed a kid, and it takes everything he has to keep his face neutral. He’ll think about that later. Not now. "I know you do," he says, voice gentle. "I know."
He slings an arm around Sam’s shoulder and propels him forward.
"I just don’t know what to do sometimes," Sam says. He sounds lost, and Dean’s chest aches, actually aches for his brother.
"That’s okay, man. I’m smart enough for the both of us."
It doesn’t earn him a smile, but at least Sam meets his gaze. "You couldn’t kick my ass all the way to New Mexico anyway."
Dean snorts. "What? You think I’d get tired out? I doubt it, Sammy. I’m in pretty good shape."
Sam’s lip twitches ever so slightly. "I don’t think you’d be able to reach."
Dean blinks at Sam in surprise. Then a startled laugh bursts out of him and he shakes his head. "I have to say, that was a pretty good one, Sam. Of course, it also proves that you’re a gigantic bitch."
Sam shrugs, but now a smile ghosts across his face. "And you’re a jerk."
It’s the closest they get to saying I love you.
ooooo
It doesn’t take them long to catch up with the others. As soon as they’re in view, Luke runs over to Sam and grabs his arm. He points to Sam’s shoulders, then to himself.
Sam doesn’t know what to do. Doesn’t Luke realize he’s dangerous? Not to mention half blind. "I don’t think that’s a good idea," Sam starts, but Luke just pulls on Sam’s arm like he’s ringing a bell.
Izzy leans in and whispers in Sam’s ear, "Do it. He likes you. Just don’t fall on your ass this time."
Sam doesn’t understand why Luke likes him. He’s afraid to pick the boy up, but he’s also afraid to say no. He’s paralyzed with indecision until Dean winks at him. "I used to carry you around like that. It was like lugging a bag of wild cats on my back."
Sam remembers riding high on Dean’s shoulders. All these years later, and Dean’s still carrying his weight. Sam nods and bends low for Luke to get on. "Are you sure about this?"
Luke grins, eager. He looks so young, so happy. The fever is gone and his eyes shine. He looks the way a kid should look-carefree, excited -- and Sam has the power to put that smile on Luke’s face just by picking him up. He’ll do anything to keep that look there. And Sam realizes, right there, standing in the middle of nowhere, that that’s the exact reason Dean has given up so much for him.
ooooo
"You know," Dean tells Luke, "our Mom was killed by a demon when Sam and me were little. Sam was just a baby."
Luke regards Dean with wide eyes from Sam’s shoulders.
"Craig says a demon killed your Mom too."
Luke nods and his face contracts. He looks away from Dean, his lips pressed together.
"I’m just trying to say we know what it’s like to feel alone. Not to have a family. But you’re not alone, Luke. You have us. We’re all your family now. Is that okay with you?"
Luke nods again, still not looking at Dean. Before Dean has a chance to say something else, the boy taps Sam’s arm. He points to the ground and Sam lowers himself carefully to let the boy off. Luke stands in front of the brothers looking nervous, his eyes suspiciously bright. "Are you okay, buddy?" Sam asks. In reply the boy throws his arms around Sam’s waist and hugs him.
Sam goes perfectly still. He doesn’t move. He can’t. This boy, this boy who’s lost his whole world, is hugging him. Why? He doesn’t deserve it. But even if he doesn’t deserve it, the boy does, so Sam slides his arms around Luke for a long moment. Then he gently pushes Luke back and steers him toward Dean.
Dean waves Luke off with an uneasy smile. "That’s okay. I don’t need a hug. I’m good. Really."
Luke grins and practically launches himself at Dean. "Hey, I want a hug too!" Izzy proclaims, and throws her arms around Luke so the boy is trapped between her and Dean.
"Get off me," Dean growls, but he’s trying hard not to laugh.
"You’re always such a crabass, you know that?" Izzy huffs at Dean. She ruffles Luke’s hair and he takes her hand. "Let’s leave these two losers in the dust," she grins and skips ahead, swinging Luke’s arm until he skips too. "Follow the yellow brick road," she sings and Luke laughs.
Dean bumps Sam’s shoulder with his own. "He’s a cool kid, huh?" They keep walking, Andy and Craig behind them discussing the merits of Stephen King. "He reminds me a little of you when you were a kid," Dean says softly.
Sam thinks about all the times Dean took care of him, played with him, helped him with homework. All the times he kept Sam company in the backseat of the Impala or in a dingy motel room when Dad was gone. He can tell Luke is a good kid. A sweet kid. He was nothing of the kind. He was a selfish kid, and then a selfish adult. He can feel regret’s hand on his shoulder; it’s heavy and unforgiving.
"There’s one thing Luke can do that you never did figure out," Dean says with a sidelong glance.
"What’s that?"
"Be quiet for more than two seconds."
"What does that mean?"
"Dude. Once you hit four you didn’t shut up for more than thirty seconds. Why this and why that and blahdy blah blah."
Sam snorts. "Really?" He tries to imagine himself as this tiny inquisitive person, someone with hope and possibility and a future. He can’t.
"Really. And once we grew up you tried to get me to ask questions. To talk about what I thought. And felt."
Sam can feel Dean’s eyes. His throat is dry. "I guess I did."
"So I’m returning the favor, Sam. I’m asking you to talk to me. What’s going on in that head of yours?"
The call of a bird makes Sam look up. A grey heron floats above them like a kite.
Sam shrugs and offers an easy smile. His mouth knows the right position to fool Dean now -- he’s been practicing. "Nothing. I’m okay, Dean, I’m getting better." He figures if he says the words enough, someday they might come true.
ooooo
They take a break around six. There’s plenty of light left, but Luke’s starting to look a little piqued, and Dean wonders if maybe they overdid the walking. The kid is with Craig, and they’re sharing a snack size container of apple sauce. Dean walks over and parks himself next to them.
"How’s your arm feeling?" Craig asks.
Dean pulls up his sleeve and inspects the tattoo. His skin looks a little raw, but not too bad. The tat actually looks pretty good, all things considered. "It’s okay. You did a bang up job, Professor." Dean shows Luke his arm. "You want one too, right?"
Luke’s eyes go wide and he shakes his head back and forth in a hurry.
Dean laughs. "I’m just kidding."
Luke relaxes visibly. He makes a face at Dean.
Craig chuckles and puts an arm around the boy. "This young man doesn’t need a tattoo for protection. Not when he has us. Isn’t that right, Dean?"
"You betcha." Dean nods in approval. He pulls open a bag of chips and offers one to Luke. The boy takes it with a grateful smile.
A few feet away Izzy pokes a microscopic straw into a juice box and takes a sip. "Hello sugar," she says cheerfully. "How I’ve missed you." She makes a face and rubs at her nose. "Aww, man. I think I’m getting a pimple. It hurts."
Andy rolls his eyes. "Maybe that’s because everything you eat consists of either salt or sugar. Besides, I wouldn’t worry about a pimple. You’ve got bigger worries."
She takes another noisy slurp from the juice box before frowning at him. One eyebrow jerks up. "Like what?"
"Like the fact you smell like armpits and feet."
"Yeah, I know," Izzy responds. "I smell like you."
They glare at each other for a beat before breaking into laughter. "That’s a good one," Izzy giggles. "Armpits and feet. Someday I’m going market a perfume and that’s what I’m going call it."
Andy nods earnestly. "It’s gonna be a big seller. I can tell."
Sam sits nearby, listening. He’s not quite part of the group, but he’s not quite out of it. He looks at the bag of soy nuts Dean gave him. Sam knows it was a gesture on Dean’s part, a nonverbal, here’s something vaguely healthy for you, for God’s sake, please eat. Sam balances a nut on his knee, squints, and flicks it off. It lands in the grass beside the road.
"That’s not exactly what I was hoping for when I gave you those."
Sam glances up. Dean’s looking down at him. Sam flushes and pops a nut into his mouth. "Sorry," he mumbles.
"Don’t be sorry," Dean says. "Just eat. If you’re not careful Luke’s gonna have to carry you."
This earns him a brief smile. Sam rests another nut on his knee, and this time he flicks it at Dean. It bounces off Dean’s chest and lands by his foot. He gives Sam a look. "You are gonna be so sorry you did that."
He grabs the bag out of Sam’s hand and tosses a nut at his brother’s head. Sam claps a hand to his good eye and doubles over. "Ah. Dean."
Dean drops the bag and grabs Sam’s arm. "Sammy! I’m sorry. Let me see, okay?" Panic threads through his voice. Sam’s hand pulls away from his eye and he smacks Dean right on the forehead.
Sam grins. "Dude. You are so easy."
Dean is dumbfounded. "You jackass! Don’t you ever do that again!"
Sam shrugs. "Don’t throw things at my head, Dean. You might take an eye out."
"That is so not funny."
"It’s a little funny."
Dean’s face splits into a broad grin. "Okay," he agrees. "It’s a little funny."
"Dean." Something in Craig’s voice pulls the smile off Dean’s face. The professor’s walking toward him, his face grim. Luke has migrated over to Izzy and Andy. "Look over there," Craig says, and gestures toward a Holiday Inn just off the highway. The hotel has a few broken windows, but looks more or less intact.
Dean looks. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just some-Wait. What is that? There’s a figure standing near the entrance. Not just one figure, two. Are they holding guns? Holy shit, how could he have missed that? He backs toward Izzy. "Izzy? Are you getting any demon vibes?"
Izzy doesn’t even look up. She’s in the process of painting Luke’s fingernails black. "Yeah. Because my first response to hearing there are demons in the area is to paint Luke’s fingernails."
"Huh," Dean says. "You’re not at all a bitch."
Izzy smiles sweetly. "Why thank you."
"Okay, that right there? Was sarcasm."
"You’re messing up my concentration, Dean. It’s not like we’re in a salon, you know." She glances up into the full brunt of Dean’s glare. She doesn’t even flinch. "There aren’t any demons."
"And you really think this is a good time to turn Luke gay?"
Izzy huffs. "I was going for goth, but either’s fine with me." She beams at Luke and touches the tip of his nose with her finger. "You are such a cutie."
Luke’s face turns pink with embarrassment. His mouth doesn’t smile, but his eyes do.
Dean returns to Craig and Sam. The three of them stare at the hotel. The two people at the hotel seem to be staring back.
"I think they’re just regular people," Sam says, his voice low. "They just took over the hotel. Who knows how many are really in there."
"Yeah, well, they have guns," Dean says.
"So do we," Sam points out.
"They might be hunters," Dean says, rubbing a hand through the thick stubble on his chin. "I think we better go before they get curious." He doesn’t move, though. He feels like he should go investigate, see if they can work together -- there’s safety in numbers, after all -- but he can’t take the risk. This new, unimproved world is filled with too many unknowns. Too much death.
"I think you’re right," Sam says.
So they move out, away from the strangers. They don’t look back.
previous chapters here: at my journal
Author: buffyaddict13
Rating: a strong R for language and a lot of violence. some of it's fairly gory. sorry folks. the end of the world isn't a shiny happy place.
Characters/Pairings: sam, dean, andy, OCs. Gen.
Summary: The war is at hand. it’s demon against man and we’re losing the fight. the special children are wreaking havoc across the land, side by side with demons. dean is on a desperate hunt to find and save his brother while leading a small band of survivors to a final showdown.
A/N: i know you're all sick of apocafics, but I’ve had this idea in my head for a while. I think there will be at least 8 or 9 chapters to this story, and each chapter is going to be pretty longish. ginormous hugs to
kroki_refur , the bestest beta who ever betaed. and thank you to everyone who's been reading this. your kind words mean the world to me. feedback tastes better than chocolate, yo. the title comes from a suzanne vega song.
Disclaimer: I own nothing winchestery. sucks to be me.
You ask me why I’m weary, why I can’t speak to you
You blame me for my silence
Say it’s time I changed and grew
But the war’s still going on dear
And there’s no end that I know
And I cant say if we’re ever...
I can’t say if we’re ever gonna to be free.
--Blue Oyster Cult
Chapter 5
"So you’re telling me you actually used a Devil’s Trap and it worked?" Craig is incredulous. "How did you even know how to draw one? I’ve only read about it in passing."
Dean shrugs. "A family friend gave us a copy of the Key of Solomon." He darts a quick look at Sam, then turns his gaze back to Craig. "We’ve used the Trap a couple of times, now."
Craig stops abruptly. "You’re telling me you’ve seen an actual copy of the Key of Solomon?"
Dean’s pretty sure the professor just wet himself. He rolls his eyes, then snags Sam’s arm and pulls him into the conversation. "Sam’s the geek. He’s the one that memorized the whole thing."
"Do you still have it?" Craig asks. "I’d love to look at it-if that’s okay," he adds quickly. "I’ve been making notes on various aspects of fighting demons and I’m hoping to get it published someday." He laughs softly. "And by get it published I mean recopy my notes and pass them around the campfire."
"I vote yes for anything that helps teach people how to fight demons." Dean nods toward Sam. "Not everyone was raised like we were."
"You can say that again," Andy interjects. "It took me a long time to admit I wasn’t fucking crazy." He grimaces at Luke. "Uh, sorry." Luke ignores him.
Dean grins. "Dude, just because you know how the world works doesn’t mean you’re not crazy. I’ve spent enough time with you know you’re a few cards short of a deck."
Craig turns to Sam. "What about blue chalcedony? Do you find it has the same repellent properties as salt?"
Dean stares at Craig. "Repellent properties? What the hell kind of classes did you teach?"
Craig chuckles. "Let’s just say the students liked me more than the faculty did."
Sam shakes his head. "Salt works better. Or I should say, works, period. Chalcedony makes a nice necklace, but that’s about it. It’s more of an old wives’ tale." He regards Craig with curiosity. "What did you teach? You have a pretty good knowledge of folk magic, but I’m guessing you didn’t teach the correlation between that and Christian symbology." He pauses. "Did you?"
Craig snorts. "Not exactly. I did let the kids do an extra credit paper every semester outlining the Christian symbology used in Stephen King’s work. Eventually I had to leave The Stand off the list of permitted books because every kid and his brother picked it. But that was just extra credit stuff. My main classes were early Christian studies, exploration of Middle Eastern religions, and every once in a while I liked to throw in a class on various mythologies."
"That still doesn’t explain how you know about salt or the Key of Solomon," Dean points out.
"Studying folk magic was a hobby of mine," Craig admits. His good humor fades. "I never knew I’d actually use any of it."
"Guys, wait up," Izzy calls, trailing after the group. "I don’t…I don’t feel so good." As if for emphasis, she sways on her feet.
Andy’s instantly at her side. "What’s wrong?"
She grimaces. "I don’t know. I’m cold. Freezing. And my head hurts. I just want to lie down."
Within minutes, Dean steers them beneath an overpass. There’s plenty of room for them to spread out their sleeping bags and light a fire.
Andy unrolls Izzy’s bag and helps her sit. "I thought I was the one who was supposed to get sick," he says wryly.
"I told you you’d be okay," she says, rolling onto her side. She pillows her cheek on one hand.
Andy lowers himself next to her. "You did. And you were right."
Izzy closes her eyes, a line of pain creasing her forehead. Andy covers it with his hand, checking for a temperature. "You must be sick. I just said you were right and you didn’t even do a victory dance." He frowns. "You feel a little warm, but not too bad."
Dean walks over with a bottle of water. "I brought you some fresh water, Iz. You doing okay?" He raises an eyebrow at Andy. How is she?
Andy waggles a hand back and forth. Not bad.
"I feel like crap," Izzy mutters.
"Walking around in the rain probably didn’t help," Dean says. "Sorry about that."
"Go ‘way."
Dean turns his laugh into a cough. "I’m going." He drifts off toward Sam, but hesitates long enough to direct a look back at Andy. Stay with her.
ooooo
"So are you going to tell me what happened back there or do I have to drag it out of you?" Sam and Dean are cleaning weapons by the light of the fire. Correction: Dean is cleaning weapons, Sam’s watching. Dean declared the guns and knives-and even Luke’s bat-off limits.
Sam won’t admit it aloud, but it’s a wise decision on Dean’s part. Sam keeps imagining himself grabbing a gun and putting it in his mouth. He can almost taste the acrid metal, feel the cool barrel (do it). It would take two seconds (just do it). Two seconds and then nothing. His tongue darts over cracked lips, sweat beading on his forehead.
"Well?" Dean prods, breaking Sam’s concentration on the gun. Sam flinches. Stop it. Think about Dean. Dean needs you. You owe him. You owe him your life. It’s all he has to give and it isn’t worth much (now), but Sam will give it as willingly as he can. He avoids Dean’s gaze and concentrates on the fire. "I don’t know what happened," Sam says softly. He moves his hand closer to the fire. What would it feel like? (Jess knows. And Mom.) He swallows hard and pulls it back into his lap.
"First you pulled Yellow Eyes out of Andy’s head," Dean says, his eyes burrowing into Sam, "and now you give some girl-a kid for Christ’s sake-the Jean Grey treatment."
Sam manages a crooked smile. "Dude, that’s two X-men references now. I never knew you were such a fan."
Dean just glares and Sam shifts uncomfortably. "I didn’t have some big plan, Dean. I didn’t even know what I was doing until I was next to her. And then…and then I touched her hand and I just knew what to do." He pulls the cap off his head and bends it back and forth. "I could help her, Dean. That’s all I wanted to do. That’s all I want to do. I want to help as many people as I can."
Dean watches him, a thin smile on his face. "Saving people, hunting things. Is that it?"
Sam’s face shuts down. "No. I’m done hunting." His hands start to tremble and he grinds the palm of his hand into his good eye. "I can’t. I. Dean. No." He has to make Dean understand that he can’t kill any more. There are too many ghosts with him now. There’s no room for more.
Dean has a hand on Sam’s knee. "It’s okay, Sam. Don’t worry about it. I’ll do the hunting, you do the saving, okay? We’re still a team, just like always."
Sam nods woodenly. "Okay."
"I mean it Sam. You don’t have to hunt ever again for all I care."
"Neither do you," Sam says, rubbing his jaw. He knows what happens to hunters (I kill them).
"I think we’re a little busy to be hunting right now. That whole saving the world thing takes up a lot of time, you know?" Dean grins and Sam can’t help smiling back.
"I wish I could have helped those ghosts in Elk City," Sam says. "They just wanted to go…to go home."
Dean sighs. "And I want chocolate air. But nobody’s getting what they want right now, you know? You do the best you can and move on. Besides, you helped that girl."
Sam watches the flames jump and curl. "She was so young."
"I know. What do you think, fourteen? Fifteen?"
Sam shrugs. "I don’t know." His mouth twists into a grimace. "Did you see the way she looked at me? Like I was…" He trails off. She looked at him like he was some kind of savior. The mere thought makes his stomach clench.
"She was just grateful. And maybe a little clingy."
Sam snorts. "That’s one way to put it."
ooooo
Andy’s pretty sure Izzy’s sleeping when he brushes the hair off her forehead. "Are you trying to feel me up?" she asks, eyes still closed.
"You’d know it if I was," Andy grins. He moves her water bottle within reach. "How are you feeling?"
"Like my entire stomach is trying to crawl up my esophagus."
Andy winces. "Do you want me to see if I can scrounge up some medicine?"
"No." Izzy’s voice is small. "Keep me company."
"Okay." Andy settles back onto his sleeping bag and folds his hands behind his head. Izzy falls silent again and Andy wonders if she’s finally drifting off. Sleep is probably the best medicine she can get right about now.
"Andy?"
"Yeah?"
"Have you ever been in love?"
Surprised at the question, he lifts his head to see her expression, but her face is in shadows. He’s not sure how to answer. Eventually, he settles on the truth. "Yeah. I think so."
"What was it like?" she asks, a little wistful.
"It was…it was good." He frowns. Brilliant, Einstein. "I mean…I loved her. Tracy. Her name was Tracy."
"Were you together a long time?"
Not long enough. "About a year."
"What happened?"
I was an asshole. I didn’t know what I had until it was too late. I fucked up the one good thing in my life. I was too busy playing mind games with my super magic powers. "I…I took her for granted and we broke up." He heaves a heavy sigh. "And then my crazy twin brother tried to kill her using his…his ability."
Izzy’s quiet so long Andy thinks she dozed off. Then her voice cuts through the stillness between them. "Oh man. The fucked up thing is, I have a feeling you’re telling me the truth."
Andy musters a weary smile. "Yeah. That’s the truth all right."
"You have a crazy twin?"
Now he’s glad he can’t see her face, because it means she can’t see his. "Not anymore. He died."
"What happened?"
I shot him. A little bit like how Dean shot Sam. See the pattern, there? Brother shooting brother? It’s a fucking trend. "Izzy…I’m sorry. I don’t really want to talk about it." The words feel too big for his throat.
Izzy doesn’t push him. "That’s okay." She wiggles in her sleeping bag, and now Andy can see her eyes on him. Her face looks drawn. "You can tell me some other time." She turns away from him briefly and hisses "shut up!"
Andy pushes himself up on one elbow. "What?"
"Claudia says you’re kind of cute."
He gapes at her. "She…does?"
Izzy snorts. "No, doofus. I’m kidding." She watches him, her face shiny with sweat. She bites her lower lip and then says in a voice just shy of a whisper, "but I think you’re okay."
Andy grins. "Well, if that’s not a resounding endorsement, I don’t know what is." He puts a hand to his temple. "I can feel my head inflating right now."
Izzy chuckles. There’s movement beside her and they both turn to see Luke. He points to the ground next to Izzy and blinks at her.
Izzy pats the ground and smiles. "You can sit down sweetie, go ahead."
Andy smiles at Luke too, but the asshole part of him wants the kid to take a flying leap. But then he sees Luke reach for Izzy’s hand and his annoyance dissolves. Luke’s just a little kid, and as bad as things are for Andy, they’ve got to be worse for him.
Andy feels Izzy’s hand on his own and he sort of wants to yell out to everyone else that Izzy’s holding his hand, but he just grins instead, settles himself back down. Now it’s the three of them, side by side. Luke offers Andy a shy smile and Andy smiles back. He feels like smiling forever. "Come on," Izzy says. "Tell us a bedtime story." She squeezes Andy’s hand. "And it better be good."
ooooo
Craig is paging through the Key of Solomon. He treats each page as if it’s made of glass. Dean and Sam are next to him, and they’ve spent the past half hour answering his questions. Now Dean elbows Sam gently and nods toward the big circle of salt. "Look at that. Luke just went to lie down by Izzy and Andy. They’re all laid out like sardines in a can."
Craig looks up, nonplussed. "I thought Luke as already asleep." He glances from Luke’s empty sleeping bag to the tousled head tucked between Izzy and Andy. The professor sighs. "I’m such a fool. Of course he wants to be by Izzy."
"He misses his mom," Dean says gently. He glances at Sam. They’ve spent a fair of amount of time identifying with older women over the years-- Missouri, Ellen-- but he doesn’t want to think about them (gone) so he clears his throat. "What happened to Luke, anyway? How did you find him?"
Craig shuts the book carefully and hands it back to Sam. "I was still in Indiana when things started to…go bad. I packed up and caught a plane-one of the last ones-to Nebraska. My folks lived there." Craig’s hand rubs along the side of his face. "When I got there they were gone. Everyone was gone." He shrugs. "No neighbors, no pets, no nothing. Just--gone."
"The Disease." Dean says softly.
Craig nods. "I think so. I didn’t know what else to do, so I drove until the roads became impassible, then went on foot. By the time I got to Lincoln I’d run into some folks who said they were going to New Mexico. A few days later I saw a sign on the side of the road that said Find hope in Truth or Consequences. So I found me a map and kept walking." Craig’s face grows hard. "That’s when I saw my first demon." His jaw clenches. "It looked like a man, but it picked up a car and tossed it right across the road." He shakes his head. "A car. And there were people in it. A woman and a child-- I could see them from where I was hiding. The woman was dead, but the boy was still trapped in the back seat, belted in.
"I didn’t know what to do. I taught kids who yawned their way through St. Augustine and the Confessions, you know? I didn’t know anything about…about this." Craig laughs without humor. "It was like a movie, only it never ended. Everywhere you looked there were buildings on fire. People dead or dying and I couldn’t do anything about it but pray and hide like a…like a coward."
"Hiding doesn’t make you a coward," Sam says. "It makes you alive."
"I started reciting this old exorcism…we talked about it after discussing movies that featured exorcisms. You know…The Exorcist, The Exorcism of Emily Rose. It’s called the Vade retro satana. Do you know it?"
Dean nods. "I’ve heard of it. But it’s, uh…"
"Kind of like saying gesundheit to a demon," Craig continues. "But I thought it worked, because the demon stopped bashing the car." He hesitates, as if he’s going to say more, but goes silent.
Dean waits. Sam taught him patience a long time ago. Sam’s hands shift in his lap, and Dean wonders if Sam’s even aware of the movement.
Craig sighs, and runs the back of one hand over his mouth. "There was another guy there. He had an ax." Craig’s looking at the fire, but Dean knows he’s seeing something else. "He cut the thing’s head right off. And I saw this…smoke come out of the body. I was…freaking out, to say the least, but I managed to get to the car and unbuckle the boy. He was screaming. He pulled away from me and ran to his mother." Craig’s voice is brittle; each syllable is injected with false calm. Dean recognizes the effort the other man’s making; he’s done it himself in the past. "And this other guy is telling me to give him the kid, because he’s worth money. No, not money," Craig says, with a slight shake of the head, "he’s worth credit. With the demons. Or other survivors. He’s telling me how he can trade the kid for food or weapons, or whatever. But I’m not really listening because the kid is holding his mother like he’s never going to let go. He’s not screaming any more, but he’s sobbing into her chest, and his face is smeared with her blood.
"This man--who just saved him from a demon--tries to pull the kid out of the car. The kid doesn’t want to go, and I don’t want him to go either-at least not with that…that bastard. So I shook off a little of my cowardice and was able to show my fellow traveler the error of his ways."
Dean lifts an eyebrow. "You did?"
Craig’s mouth twists. "Well, not me so much as…" he trails off and pats the hammer hanging from his belt. "They make it look so easy to knock someone out on TV." His eyes shift to Dean’s. "I find it to be much harder."
"So you got away?" Sam asks.
Craig glances back at Luke’s sleeping form. "Yes. I pried Luke away from his mother and basically dragged him down the road. We’ve been walking for…I don’t know…a couple of weeks. It’s been slow going. And then we met you." He manages a shaky sigh. "The end."
"And Luke hasn’t spoken in all that time?"
"He was definitely saying words when he was screaming over his mother. But I’m not sure what. It sounded like I could have saved her." Craig’s voice finally cracks. "But he’s just a boy. She was already dead. I tried to get him to talk a thousand times, but he just won’t. I’ve bored him silly with my whole life story, asked him about his parents, where he’s from…and nothing. But since we met you guys, he’s definitely more outgoing. That’s something, at least."
"Yeah," Dean agrees and his eyes slide to the sleeping boy. "I guess it is."
ooooo
When Izzy opens her eyes there’s an arm pressed against her cheek. It’s not her own. She blinks and takes a moment to figure out the arm is both thinner and smaller than hers. It belongs to Luke; he’s curled beside her, shivering, and that’s when she realizes she feels better. She takes a deep breath and stretches, decides she feels pretty good, in fact. But the sheen on Luke’s forehead and his shivering tells her he doesn’t, as does the fact that his bright yellow aura has paled to the color of unripe bananas.
Feeling guilty, Izzy pulls her sleeping bag over the boy. She shouldn’t have let him sleep next to her. A glance around tells her everyone else is already up. Craig is sitting cross-legged on the ground, and Dean sits next to him, his arm propped on the wheeled carry-on bag. Dean’s light blue aura mixes with Craig’s soft pink one to create a patch of lavender. She rubs a kink out of her neck and gets to her feet. Moving closer, she can see what Craig is doing -- he’s giving Dean a tattoo.
"That’s so cool!" she breathes, impressed. "Can you give me one?"
"He’s not doing butterflies," Dean snarks.
"I don’t want a butterfly," Izzy glares. "I want a heart."
Dean rolls his eyes. "You would."
Craig glances toward Izzy. "My dear, you won’t get anything if you don’t move out of my light."
Izzy takes a step back. "Oh. Sorry."
Craig chuckles. "Not a problem."
Andy comes over and shows her his arm. An angry looking tattoo marks his upper arm, the same shield knot pattern that Craig wears. Izzy beams at him. "I like it!" She falters a little. "Did it hurt?"
Andy shrugs. "A little. But not much. And it’s worth it if it helps protect me."
"Which we don’t know if it will," Dean points out.
"Then why are you getting one?" Izzy demands.
"Because it’s always better to be safe than sorry," Craig replies, his smile warm, eyes bright. "Isn’t that right, Dean?"
Dean scowls, but Izzy can tell it’s mostly for show. "I always thought my first tattoo would be so much cooler than this. And have boobs." He nods to Sam. "You’re next, dude."
Sam’s still sitting in the salt circle. It’s scuffed now, the circle broken, and he’s making a little pile out of the salt. He doesn’t look up, but his answer is loud enough for them to hear. "I’m not getting one."
Claudia wanders over to Izzy and sing-songs, I’m nobody! Who are you? Are you a nobody too?
Izzy flashes Claudia a warning look. "Shhh." Sam’s aura is a deep purple, almost black, and she crosses over to him, kneels beside him.
"Why not?" she asks.
"Why not?" Dean echoes. "Don’t you think we should try whatever we can to protect ourselves? From overzealous hunters and demons?"
"I don’t need a tattoo for protection," Sam says simply.
Dean’s eyebrows rocket upward. "Oh really? And why’s that?" Craig holds the needle steady above Dean’s arm, waiting for him to calm down.
Sam looks up and meets Dean’s hard expression. "Dean. If the Sixers find me, they’re either going to try to get me back, or kill me. And if somebody recognizes me, all the tattoos in the world aren’t going to save me." He looks back down at the little pyramid of salt. "Besides, I don’t think I can be possessed. Not anymore."
"What makes you think that?"
Sam’s finger drifts in the dirt and he draws a circle filled with intricate lines. Izzy doesn’t know what it is, but it looks kind of pretty. "I just feel it," Sam finally says. "Just like when I used to sense things. How I helped Andy and that girl last night. I just know."
"That’s not good enough for me," Dean says. "It’s just not. I need you to be safe."
"I need you to trust me."
Sam’s aura flashes royal blue to dark purple and back to blue.
Dean sighs and nods for Craig to continue with his tattoo. "Sam, I do trust you."
"He has faith he doesn’t need a tattoo," Craig says, concentrating on making the last loop of the shield knot. "Sometimes a little precaution and faith can go hand in hand."
"I don’t have faith," Sam blurts. He gets to his feet so quickly that he stumbles and puts a hand on Izzy’s shoulder for support. "Not anymore."
Craig looks at Sam for a moment, then goes back to the tattoo. "I do."
Dean can’t keep the disbelief from his voice. "You believe in God? After all this?"
Craig dips the needle in the ink, then carefully inserts it into Dean’s arm. "Yes, I do."
Claudia tilts her head. Why? Izzy has a better question. "How do you know God even exists?"
"I see proof every day," Craig says, blotting Dean’s arm with a paper towel.
"What proof?" Dean asks grimly. He glances around. "Where?"
"Right here." Craig smiles and wipes the needle down with a handy-wipe. "He kept me alive." He looks at Dean, his face calm. "And then he led me to you."
ooooo
Dean’s relieved Izzy’s feeling better, but Luke apparently caught her bug, because he’s wrapped in her sleeping bag, still fast asleep. His face is so pale, his skin looks almost translucent.
Izzy is sporting a shield knot of her own-as well as a little heart-and the ink and needle have been put away. Sam is answering more of Craig’s questions and Dean stands over the sick boy, frowning.
"So now what?" he asks. "I guess we could hang around here for today." Except he doesn’t want to hang around here. They have fresh supplies and the weather’s decent. He hates wasting a day like this, but it’s not like he can just drag Luke along. Maybe they should head back to Elk City and look for a wagon.
"I don’t think we should stay here any longer than we have to." Sam strides over to Dean, his own face drawn. "We really need to get going."
"I know that, Sammy, I do. But what about the kid?"
Sam bites at his thumbnail for a minute, then moves over to Luke’s sleeping form. He feels the boy’s forehead. "Feels like a slight temp," he says. "Can you bring me some water?"
Dean pulls a fresh water bottle from his duffel and hands it to Sam. Sam gently shakes Luke awake. The boy’s eyes open slowly, then he burrows deeper into the bag and tries to turn away. Sam smiles faintly at Dean. "It’s like trying to wake you."
"Ha ha. Very funny." But Dean grins back, careful not to let on how good it feels to have Sam mock him. It’s these glimpses of the real Sam that keep him going.
Luke finally turns back to Sam, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He blinks at Sam, his face pinched. Sam offers the bottle to the boy and instructs him to drink, and Luke’s expression softens a little. He takes a long swallow and hands the bottle back, rubs his head and makes a face.
"Not feeling too good?"
Luke shakes his head. No.
"I’m sorry about that. But we were hoping we could keep walking today."
Luke looks crestfallen, but Sam hurries on. "Would it be okay if I carried you?"
Luke regards him with a clearly doubtful look, and Sam’s mouth twitches into a smile. "You have a choice, okay? I can carry you like this-" Sam holds his arms like he’s carrying an invisible bride over the threshold, "-or I can give you a piggyback ride, if you feel up to it."
Luke leans forward and taps Sam’s back. He offers up a tentative smile to match Sam’s.
Sam nods and looks to Dean. "Okay. It’s settled. We keep going."
Dean’s grin almost breaks his face. Not only are they hitting the road, but Sam actually interacted with someone else. Of his own accord. He starts whistling as he packs his gear.
ooooo
His good mood takes exactly three hours to die. By two in the afternoon he’s already tired and his left foot has a blister roughly the size of the moon. He’s sick of walking, the endless monotony. Although, at least monotony roughly translates into safe.
Andy and Izzy are walking shoulder to shoulder, and Dean thinks something must have happened between them, because they’ve gone from being chummy to looking at each other with heart-shaped goony eyes. Dean can barely keep from rolling his eyes right out of his head every time Izzy giggles at some (apparent) witticism from Andy.
Quit being such a dick, he tells himself grimly. He’s glad for them. He loves them both. It’s just that letting yourself fall in love now, during the end of the world, seems a little dangerous. A little careless. He shrugs and scratches the back of his head. What does he know? He’s no expert on love.
The sound of laughter pulls Dean’s thoughts away from the Wonder Twins. Luke is grinning on Sam’s shoulders, his laughter like bells. He’s got two loose handfuls of Sam’s shaggy hair and Sam is veering back and forth across the road as if the kid’s steering him. Dean’s mouth drops open in amazement.
Sam’s laughing too until he veers too close to an abandoned mini-van and clips his shoulder. Sam pivots wildly, trying to keep his balance, his arms flailing to keep Luke aloft. Sam goes down anyway, but he manages to pull Luke forward over his head and against his chest in a sort of frenzied somersault so the kid is cushioned from the impact.
It takes Dean ten steps to reach Sam. Luke’s eyes are wide and he looks rattled, but he’s not hurt. Dean scoops Luke off Sam and deposits him next to the van. "Sam?"
Sam’s on his back, his face red, eye closed.
Craig puts an arm around Luke. "You okay, son?" Luke nods.
Sam’s eye cracks open and he stares up at Dean.
Dean offers Sam a hand and his brother takes it. "What happened?"
Sam looks away. "I just…forgot."
Izzy and Andy crowd into the group. They’re asking about Sam, but Dean doesn’t have time for them right now. He looks expectantly at Sam. "Forgot what?"
"That my peripheral vision is shot to hell. I shouldn’t have been running with Luke. It was stupid. And irresponsible." He turns to Luke, adam’s apple bobbing. "I’m sorry, buddy. I’m really sorry. Did I…are you hurt?"
Luke shakes his head. He gives Sam a thumbs up and Sam’s face goes blank. "Good. I’m glad." He takes a sudden step back from Luke, as if the kid’s gone radioactive. "I’m sorry," he repeats. His eye shifts to Dean, to Luke, and to the road ahead.
Dean knows that look by now. It’s Sam’s panic look -- he’s a spooked horse, ready to bolt. Dean puts a firm hand on Sam’s arm. "Sam. It was an accident. It’s no big deal."
Sam shakes his head, and Dean can tell his brother’s already tuning him out.
Dean drops to one knee in front of Luke. "Are you sure you’re all right?"
Luke gives him the A-OK sign and nods.
"Good. Can you walk for a little bit on your own?"
Luke gives Dean a look that seems to say, I don’t feel good, but I’m not dying, and Dean almost laughs. "Okay. Can you excuse us for a second? You guys keep going, we’ll catch up."
There’s a general shuffling of feet and an exchange of uneasy glances, but Craig, Luke, Andy and Izzy head down the road after Dean makes a get going, already! motion with his hand.
Sam’s head is down and he’s doing the hunched thing. Dean is torn between hugging him and punching him. He doesn’t know which response would help more.
"Sammy?" He raps on Sam’s head lightly. "Are you in there? You listening to me?"
Sam turns his head toward Dean but doesn’t look at him. It’s better than nothing.
"What’s going on?" Dean demands. "It was an accident, pure and simple. Next time don’t run around with a kid on your shoulders." He pats Sam’s shoulder. "There, problem solved."
Now Sam does look at Dean. "Problem solved? Are you high? I’ll never solve this!"
Dean sighs. "What did I tell you about the melodrama, Sam?"
Sam’s hand shoots out and fists into Dean’s shirt collar. One minute Dean’s an arm’s length away, the next he’s yanked nose-to-chin with Sam’s glowering face. "Don’t patronize me," Sam chokes out.
Dean’s hands go up, palms out. "I’m not. You just seem like you’re, you know, over-reacting. You act like you mortally wounded the kid, but nobody got hurt, Sam. Everything’s okay. Even Luke said so. I mean, he didn’t say so, but you know what I mean."
Sam abruptly lets go of Dean, and his hands plow into his hair, pulling it into spikes. "I thought if I took care of him, if I…if I helped him, I could make up for something. Like when I tried to help that girl last night. But I can’t. I can’t make up for anything."
Dean sighs. "It’s not a scale and balance thing. It’s not how many people you save or you don’t. It’s what you do right now. And yeah, you did help that girl, and you were helping Luke. I know you want to make up for what you did, Sammy. I know you want that more than anything." He grasps Sam’s arms and shakes him a little. "But you can’t. You can just go on. Keep going. Do the best you can. That’s what you can do. Hell, that’s what I do. Just. Keep. Going."
Sam shakes his head. "I can’t."
"You can. Even if I have to kick your ass all the way to New Mexico."
Sam trembles beneath Dean’s grip. "I stabbed a kid his age, Dean," Sam chokes out. His voice is broken glass, the words bleeding from his mouth, his eye wide and desperate. "In the face. I look at Luke and I see that kid. I look at Luke and I think, I can fix it." A single tear spills down his face. "But I can’t. I get that. I just want to. I want to so badly."
Dean’s stomach drops like a stone at the words I stabbed a kid, and it takes everything he has to keep his face neutral. He’ll think about that later. Not now. "I know you do," he says, voice gentle. "I know."
He slings an arm around Sam’s shoulder and propels him forward.
"I just don’t know what to do sometimes," Sam says. He sounds lost, and Dean’s chest aches, actually aches for his brother.
"That’s okay, man. I’m smart enough for the both of us."
It doesn’t earn him a smile, but at least Sam meets his gaze. "You couldn’t kick my ass all the way to New Mexico anyway."
Dean snorts. "What? You think I’d get tired out? I doubt it, Sammy. I’m in pretty good shape."
Sam’s lip twitches ever so slightly. "I don’t think you’d be able to reach."
Dean blinks at Sam in surprise. Then a startled laugh bursts out of him and he shakes his head. "I have to say, that was a pretty good one, Sam. Of course, it also proves that you’re a gigantic bitch."
Sam shrugs, but now a smile ghosts across his face. "And you’re a jerk."
It’s the closest they get to saying I love you.
ooooo
It doesn’t take them long to catch up with the others. As soon as they’re in view, Luke runs over to Sam and grabs his arm. He points to Sam’s shoulders, then to himself.
Sam doesn’t know what to do. Doesn’t Luke realize he’s dangerous? Not to mention half blind. "I don’t think that’s a good idea," Sam starts, but Luke just pulls on Sam’s arm like he’s ringing a bell.
Izzy leans in and whispers in Sam’s ear, "Do it. He likes you. Just don’t fall on your ass this time."
Sam doesn’t understand why Luke likes him. He’s afraid to pick the boy up, but he’s also afraid to say no. He’s paralyzed with indecision until Dean winks at him. "I used to carry you around like that. It was like lugging a bag of wild cats on my back."
Sam remembers riding high on Dean’s shoulders. All these years later, and Dean’s still carrying his weight. Sam nods and bends low for Luke to get on. "Are you sure about this?"
Luke grins, eager. He looks so young, so happy. The fever is gone and his eyes shine. He looks the way a kid should look-carefree, excited -- and Sam has the power to put that smile on Luke’s face just by picking him up. He’ll do anything to keep that look there. And Sam realizes, right there, standing in the middle of nowhere, that that’s the exact reason Dean has given up so much for him.
ooooo
"You know," Dean tells Luke, "our Mom was killed by a demon when Sam and me were little. Sam was just a baby."
Luke regards Dean with wide eyes from Sam’s shoulders.
"Craig says a demon killed your Mom too."
Luke nods and his face contracts. He looks away from Dean, his lips pressed together.
"I’m just trying to say we know what it’s like to feel alone. Not to have a family. But you’re not alone, Luke. You have us. We’re all your family now. Is that okay with you?"
Luke nods again, still not looking at Dean. Before Dean has a chance to say something else, the boy taps Sam’s arm. He points to the ground and Sam lowers himself carefully to let the boy off. Luke stands in front of the brothers looking nervous, his eyes suspiciously bright. "Are you okay, buddy?" Sam asks. In reply the boy throws his arms around Sam’s waist and hugs him.
Sam goes perfectly still. He doesn’t move. He can’t. This boy, this boy who’s lost his whole world, is hugging him. Why? He doesn’t deserve it. But even if he doesn’t deserve it, the boy does, so Sam slides his arms around Luke for a long moment. Then he gently pushes Luke back and steers him toward Dean.
Dean waves Luke off with an uneasy smile. "That’s okay. I don’t need a hug. I’m good. Really."
Luke grins and practically launches himself at Dean. "Hey, I want a hug too!" Izzy proclaims, and throws her arms around Luke so the boy is trapped between her and Dean.
"Get off me," Dean growls, but he’s trying hard not to laugh.
"You’re always such a crabass, you know that?" Izzy huffs at Dean. She ruffles Luke’s hair and he takes her hand. "Let’s leave these two losers in the dust," she grins and skips ahead, swinging Luke’s arm until he skips too. "Follow the yellow brick road," she sings and Luke laughs.
Dean bumps Sam’s shoulder with his own. "He’s a cool kid, huh?" They keep walking, Andy and Craig behind them discussing the merits of Stephen King. "He reminds me a little of you when you were a kid," Dean says softly.
Sam thinks about all the times Dean took care of him, played with him, helped him with homework. All the times he kept Sam company in the backseat of the Impala or in a dingy motel room when Dad was gone. He can tell Luke is a good kid. A sweet kid. He was nothing of the kind. He was a selfish kid, and then a selfish adult. He can feel regret’s hand on his shoulder; it’s heavy and unforgiving.
"There’s one thing Luke can do that you never did figure out," Dean says with a sidelong glance.
"What’s that?"
"Be quiet for more than two seconds."
"What does that mean?"
"Dude. Once you hit four you didn’t shut up for more than thirty seconds. Why this and why that and blahdy blah blah."
Sam snorts. "Really?" He tries to imagine himself as this tiny inquisitive person, someone with hope and possibility and a future. He can’t.
"Really. And once we grew up you tried to get me to ask questions. To talk about what I thought. And felt."
Sam can feel Dean’s eyes. His throat is dry. "I guess I did."
"So I’m returning the favor, Sam. I’m asking you to talk to me. What’s going on in that head of yours?"
The call of a bird makes Sam look up. A grey heron floats above them like a kite.
Sam shrugs and offers an easy smile. His mouth knows the right position to fool Dean now -- he’s been practicing. "Nothing. I’m okay, Dean, I’m getting better." He figures if he says the words enough, someday they might come true.
ooooo
They take a break around six. There’s plenty of light left, but Luke’s starting to look a little piqued, and Dean wonders if maybe they overdid the walking. The kid is with Craig, and they’re sharing a snack size container of apple sauce. Dean walks over and parks himself next to them.
"How’s your arm feeling?" Craig asks.
Dean pulls up his sleeve and inspects the tattoo. His skin looks a little raw, but not too bad. The tat actually looks pretty good, all things considered. "It’s okay. You did a bang up job, Professor." Dean shows Luke his arm. "You want one too, right?"
Luke’s eyes go wide and he shakes his head back and forth in a hurry.
Dean laughs. "I’m just kidding."
Luke relaxes visibly. He makes a face at Dean.
Craig chuckles and puts an arm around the boy. "This young man doesn’t need a tattoo for protection. Not when he has us. Isn’t that right, Dean?"
"You betcha." Dean nods in approval. He pulls open a bag of chips and offers one to Luke. The boy takes it with a grateful smile.
A few feet away Izzy pokes a microscopic straw into a juice box and takes a sip. "Hello sugar," she says cheerfully. "How I’ve missed you." She makes a face and rubs at her nose. "Aww, man. I think I’m getting a pimple. It hurts."
Andy rolls his eyes. "Maybe that’s because everything you eat consists of either salt or sugar. Besides, I wouldn’t worry about a pimple. You’ve got bigger worries."
She takes another noisy slurp from the juice box before frowning at him. One eyebrow jerks up. "Like what?"
"Like the fact you smell like armpits and feet."
"Yeah, I know," Izzy responds. "I smell like you."
They glare at each other for a beat before breaking into laughter. "That’s a good one," Izzy giggles. "Armpits and feet. Someday I’m going market a perfume and that’s what I’m going call it."
Andy nods earnestly. "It’s gonna be a big seller. I can tell."
Sam sits nearby, listening. He’s not quite part of the group, but he’s not quite out of it. He looks at the bag of soy nuts Dean gave him. Sam knows it was a gesture on Dean’s part, a nonverbal, here’s something vaguely healthy for you, for God’s sake, please eat. Sam balances a nut on his knee, squints, and flicks it off. It lands in the grass beside the road.
"That’s not exactly what I was hoping for when I gave you those."
Sam glances up. Dean’s looking down at him. Sam flushes and pops a nut into his mouth. "Sorry," he mumbles.
"Don’t be sorry," Dean says. "Just eat. If you’re not careful Luke’s gonna have to carry you."
This earns him a brief smile. Sam rests another nut on his knee, and this time he flicks it at Dean. It bounces off Dean’s chest and lands by his foot. He gives Sam a look. "You are gonna be so sorry you did that."
He grabs the bag out of Sam’s hand and tosses a nut at his brother’s head. Sam claps a hand to his good eye and doubles over. "Ah. Dean."
Dean drops the bag and grabs Sam’s arm. "Sammy! I’m sorry. Let me see, okay?" Panic threads through his voice. Sam’s hand pulls away from his eye and he smacks Dean right on the forehead.
Sam grins. "Dude. You are so easy."
Dean is dumbfounded. "You jackass! Don’t you ever do that again!"
Sam shrugs. "Don’t throw things at my head, Dean. You might take an eye out."
"That is so not funny."
"It’s a little funny."
Dean’s face splits into a broad grin. "Okay," he agrees. "It’s a little funny."
"Dean." Something in Craig’s voice pulls the smile off Dean’s face. The professor’s walking toward him, his face grim. Luke has migrated over to Izzy and Andy. "Look over there," Craig says, and gestures toward a Holiday Inn just off the highway. The hotel has a few broken windows, but looks more or less intact.
Dean looks. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just some-Wait. What is that? There’s a figure standing near the entrance. Not just one figure, two. Are they holding guns? Holy shit, how could he have missed that? He backs toward Izzy. "Izzy? Are you getting any demon vibes?"
Izzy doesn’t even look up. She’s in the process of painting Luke’s fingernails black. "Yeah. Because my first response to hearing there are demons in the area is to paint Luke’s fingernails."
"Huh," Dean says. "You’re not at all a bitch."
Izzy smiles sweetly. "Why thank you."
"Okay, that right there? Was sarcasm."
"You’re messing up my concentration, Dean. It’s not like we’re in a salon, you know." She glances up into the full brunt of Dean’s glare. She doesn’t even flinch. "There aren’t any demons."
"And you really think this is a good time to turn Luke gay?"
Izzy huffs. "I was going for goth, but either’s fine with me." She beams at Luke and touches the tip of his nose with her finger. "You are such a cutie."
Luke’s face turns pink with embarrassment. His mouth doesn’t smile, but his eyes do.
Dean returns to Craig and Sam. The three of them stare at the hotel. The two people at the hotel seem to be staring back.
"I think they’re just regular people," Sam says, his voice low. "They just took over the hotel. Who knows how many are really in there."
"Yeah, well, they have guns," Dean says.
"So do we," Sam points out.
"They might be hunters," Dean says, rubbing a hand through the thick stubble on his chin. "I think we better go before they get curious." He doesn’t move, though. He feels like he should go investigate, see if they can work together -- there’s safety in numbers, after all -- but he can’t take the risk. This new, unimproved world is filled with too many unknowns. Too much death.
"I think you’re right," Sam says.
So they move out, away from the strangers. They don’t look back.
previous chapters here: at my journal