HOME (part 1) chapters 19-22
19.
Two hours later, Dean pushed open the motel room door to find Garth giving him a dirty look as he sat drumming his fingers on the table.
"Dude, you got a watch?" asked Garth.
"Sorry man," replied Dean, "Lisa and I..."
"Say no more," said Garth holding up a hand. "I forgive you. Just one thing though," he continued.
"What?" asked Dean.
"Spill it," said Garth.
"Spill what?" asked Dean irritated, "Look man, I already told you you're not getting any details -"
"Not that," said Garth, cutting him off. "I want to know what's going on with you. I've never seen you like this over a woman before. Usually you're all 'bros before hoes' and crap."
"Watch yourself," said Dean, glowering at Garth.
"I'm not calling Lisa a ho!" Garth defended himself, "You know what I mean...I've just never seen you like this and what did you mean 'we got you to the car' last night? You didn't bring her with you, did you?"
"God no!" Dean's voice rose.
"So spill it," said Garth, patting the chair next to him.
Dean sighed and sat down. He trusted Garth. He did. But he hadn't wanted to bring anyone else in on the most current fucked-up situation he'd gotten himself into...and he hadn't even talked to Sam yet...
"I thought I was coming over here to talk about the hunt. See what you found last night." Dean tried to change the subject.
"We will, just as soon as you spill it." Garth wasn't going to be dissuaded.
No getting around this one. Garth may not be the world's most deadly hunter, but he had nearly as much insight into people as Sam did. He was not going to let Dean off the hook.
"Okay, look," started Dean as Garth leaned closer.
Half an hour later, Dean finished. Lisa. Ben. Crowley. Cas. Sam coming back from the pit. The demon that possessed Lisa and almost killed both her and Ben. Garth stared at him rather slack-jawed.
"You gonna close your mouth or are you trying to catch flies?" asked Dean with more than a little irritation.
Garth swallowed. "Shit, man, how could you DO that???"
Great. Dean had just told Garth about what might be one of the most painful things he'd ever barely lived through and Garth wanted to twist the knife a little?! Dean pushed away from the table and stood up.
"Fuck you, Garth," spat Dean. "I just laid it all out there for you and, well, it was about as fun to fucking re-tell it as it was to live it and I don't get a little fucking sympathy?! I was trying to SAVE them for Christ's sake!" Dean was on a roll and was just getting started, God, bringing it all up again hurt like a bitch. He felt like a bandage had been ripped off and now he was just standing in front of Garth completely exposed and bleeding all over the place. Dean wheeled around to tear into Garth a bit more but stopped when he saw Garth's eyes welling up.
Garth said, in a small voice, "I meant, how could you do that to yourself, Dean? They loved you and you loved them. Why the hell don't you ever think you deserve to have people love you? It's not normal...I mean, humans aren't built to have to make decisions like the one you made." Garth quickly wiped his eyes.
The anger drained out of Dean almost instantaneously. Now it just hurt.
"Sorry," he mumbled, collapsing back down into the chair next to Garth.
Garth continued as if he had never even expected an apology, "You've been walking around with that for seven years?" he asked incredulously.
"Yeah,” sighed Dean. "I told Sam that if he ever mentioned Ben or Lisa again that that I'd break his nose. I had to pretend they were dead. It's the only way I could keep going."
Before Dean knew what the hell was happening, Garth was leaning over behind Dean's chair and had his arms around him giving him a bear hug. Dean rolled his eyes and patted Garth's arm. "Okay, uh, thanks, Garth."
Garth let Dean go and stood up, swallowing hard, trying to get it under control.
"What do we do now?" asked Garth. "You want me to call Sa-"
"NO!" said Dean emphatically. He meant to call Sam a hundred times since the night he met Lisa in the bar and something always got in the way. In fact, he was slightly worried not only about how Sam was doing but about what the hell Sam would say about Dean getting right back into mess that he spent so many years trying to forget. Dean was more than happy to tell most people to fuck off. He didn't give a shit about what 99.99% of the people he met thought of him. But Sam was different. What Sam thought of him mattered. A lot.
Besides, Sam was supposed to be getting his head together up at the cabin. The last thing he needed was to have to deal with Dean's problems.
"Sam's taking a break and he needs one and I'm not going to put any of this shit on him," Dean said firmly.
"But you know he'd want to know," said Garth cautiously.
"I said 'no'," replied Dean. "I'll talk to him, I will, but I have to figure out where this is going and you and I have a case to finish."
"Right, the case," said Garth. He'd almost completely forgotten about the case.
There was a long silence in the room.
"So...." prodded Dean.
"So, what?" asked Garth.
"THE CASE Garth...tell me what you found!" said Dean, his patience just about gone. "I swear to God I'm going to grow ovaries if we sit here talking about my problems any more. Those weren't great memories and I'd really like to think about something else now."
"Sure, right, okay; yeah, you're right," said Garth. "Just want you to know that I'm here if you ever want to talk about anything or need help in any way or - "
"Noted," said Dean curtly, cutting Garth off, though Garth could see that Dean was grateful that he wasn't the only one sitting in this crappy motel room who knew what he'd gone through for the past seven years.
"You didn't deserve any of this, Dean," finished Garth.
"Yeah, well, the universe seems to think otherwise," said Dean, sounding tired. "Now can we PLEASE talk about the case?"
Garth told him about everything that happened after he stepped off Lisa's porch a couple days ago.
Garth had been trying to follow the omens. The weather, the lightening, and he also did what he did best; talking to people around town. Garth was so open, they just talked to him like they'd known him for years. He asked about anyone new in town. He asked about anyone who had started acting strangely. He asked about the mysterious death that he had read about online that spurred him to call Dean in the first place and ask if he and Sam were up for a hunt. Garth was used to working alone, but he had honestly kind of missed having anyone else around who understood what it was to be a hunter, so he had called Dean’s other, other cell. (Garth had asked for both of them but only Dean showed up. Still good to have one very capable hunter watching his back when, as Garth would say, "shit got real".)
With all of Garth's questioning, he did get some solid information. The mysterious death two weeks ago centered around a man who was discovered in car, parked down by the river, dead. He looked as if he had been attacked by an animal inside his locked car. The autopsy photos Garth had seen (the body had already been cremated) showed incredibly gruesome injuries; the man's entire front from neck to groin was shredded into ribbons with all internal organs exposed. He bled out quickly, the coroner had noted. 'No shit,' thought Garth.
Also noted in the police report; the man had a semi-automatic pistol on the seat next to him, apparently untouched. That, in addition to a sub-machine gun on the back seat and an automatic rifle on the back seat floorboard. The car was still running when the body was found, but the side passenger window had been broken from the outside. There were no prints of any kind (animal or human). It looked as if the man had been trying to protect himself with all of the firearms around him.
"So, I started thinking," said Garth.
"Hellhounds," finished Dean. "Damn, I hate hellhounds," he said under his breath.
"Correct-o-mundo," confirmed Garth.
"So we might have some guy who made a demon deal 10 years ago," Dean thought out loud, "what can we do about any of that now?"
"There's more," continued Garth. "I asked about anyone in town who had started acting different recently and didn't get any hits until one girl I was talking to at the bar on the edge of town told me that there's one kid who used to be a pretty good guy, but lately he’s gone off the rails; losing his temper with everyone, keeping his distance from his friends..."
Dean was ready to dismiss that as just some guy going through a rough patch when Garth said, "she told me his name was Trevor. Trevor Parker. I tracked him down and at first I thought - "
"He was just the town druggie," finished Dean, looking at Garth.
"Until he showed up on Lisa's porch," Dean and Garth said in unison.
"Wait, how do you know he showed up on Lisa's porch?!" Dean regarded Garth with suspicion.
"I was trailing the kid and I followed him there. I saw you guys talking to him. Dude; your girlfriend was packing!" Garth grinned.
"Yeah, no one was more surprised than I was," chuckled Dean. "But that kid is just some druggie...he was one of Ben's friends but he’s turned into a huge pain in the ass. Lisa thought he was coming around trying to use Ben to get money out of her, but he took off when I strongly suggested he leave."
"The shotgun didn't hurt either," said Garth. "I think Lisa can hold her own but let's go with your story; it was all you; you scared him off." Garth smiled teasingly.
"Shut up," said Dean. "But how do you know he's anything more than a giant loser?"
"As he left he walked past my car and I heard him on the phone saying, 'It's him. Winchester.' "
"And you didn't think you should call me and TELL ME THAT?!" Dean raised his voice.
"You asked for two more days and I was respecting your request," said Garth defiantly. "I had it under control, bro...nothing's happened yet, has it?"
Dean didn't respond.
"You're welcome," said Garth. "Think about it; it's the perfect vessel for a demon; some loser kid who acts weird anyway because he's strung out half the time...hardly anyone’s going to notice if he starts acting different."
"Let's say you're right..." started Dean.
"I am," said Garth with confidence.
Dean rolled his eyes, "Let's say you're right," he started again, "what's he up to and who was he calling and what does he have to do with that hellhound death?"
"I'm still working on that part," said Garth. "But maybe the demon came back to see his payoff on the deal with that dead guy in the car?"
"Maybe," said Dean, "or maybe this Trevor kid, demon, whatever, is tailing me and now he knows that I'm with her and..." Dean started to go a bit pale.
"Whoa man, stay with me," said Garth noticing the blood draining from Dean's face. "It's okay; I'm tracking the dude's cell phone GPS...have been for days. He's nowhere near Lisa's right now."
Dean took a deep breath, "Okay, but I have to do some work on that house," he and Garth exchanged looks of unspoken understanding. There were devil's traps that needed to be laid down.
"That's probably not a bad idea," confirmed Garth. "Want some help?"
"No, I'll wait until Lisa's out and get it done," said Dean, "you try to find out who Trevor was calling and I'll try to dig up more on our hellhound victim; see if there's any connection."
Garth nodded in response.
"So, where's this Trevor kid right now?" asked Dean.
"Uh, hold on, let me check," said Garth, walking around to the nightstand to get his own phone, "he's just outside the city limits...somewhere just a bit west of the cemetery. I think the scrap yard is out there."
"The auto salvage place?" asked Dean with a rising tension in his voice.
Garth looked over at him, "Yeah; what's the big deal about the salvage yard?" asked Garth.
"Ben works there," replied Dean, already halfway to the door.
"Shit!," exclaimed Garth, "I'm coming with you!"
20.
Dean and Garth burst through the door of the office at the salvage yard and practically scared the shit out of the guy behind the counter; same guy Dean had caught surfing porn the day before, wearing the same oil-spattered overalls. He put his hands up instantly saying, "hold on now...the only money here is in the safe and it's on a timer..."
Seeing that the guy was alone in the office, Dean and Garth lowered their guns and flashed their fake badges. After squinting at the badges, the guy behind the counter let out a deep breath, "Okay, then, what I can do for you two? You didn't come busting in here like that because you were upset about that tail light I sold you yesterday, did you?" he said, raising an eyebrow sarcastically at Dean.
"No man, we're looking for someone," explained Dean. "Someone in town said he was headed out here...Trevor Parker?"
"That stoner? Yeah, he was here," confirmed overall guy. "He was looking for Ben, but Ben called in sick today; said he had a rough night.
Dean felt a small pang of guilt knowing that he was entirely responsible for Ben's rough night.
"You lookin' for that kid because of the drugs?" asked overall guy.
"Uh, yeah," said Dean. "So the fact that he's a dealer is no secret?"
"Dealer?" asked overall guy, "Naw; he's just a screwed up kid. He asked where Ben was, but Ben doesn't need that kind of shit so I told him Ben went to Mac's salvage yard about two towns over to pick up some parts for me. Ben sounded like death warmed over when he called this morning; he needs to sleep it off today and didn't need that asshole bothering him."
Dean smiled. He couldn't be more grateful that people in this town cared about Lisa and Ben and looked out for them.
This guy was okay.
"Ben's a good kid," said overall guy. "He's not in any trouble, is he?"
"No," said Dean, "not unless Trevor's bringing the trouble to him."
"I hope you can get your hands on that little shit then," said overall guy. "Ben's a hard worker and doesn't need trash like that following him around."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When they got back to the Impala, they checked Garth's GPS and, sure enough, Trevor was at least half an hour away, on the way to Mac's. Garth supposed they should have checked it as they drove, but Dean was so out of his mind to get out to the salvage yard, Garth had gotten swept up in the intensity.
"Keep and eye on him, will ya?" Dean asked Garth. "He's going to be pissed when he finds out that Ben's not where he thinks he is. What the fuck does he want with Ben anyway?" he wondered aloud.
"I won't let the GPS out of my sight," said Garth. "So back to plan A? You dig up info on our hellhound victim and I'll see if I can find out who Trevor's in contact with?"
"Sounds like a plan," confirmed Dean.
21.
On the way back to Lisa's Dean pulled off, parked the Impala under the canopy of an abandoned gas station, and took out his phone. He dialed a number stored in his phone's address book marked "Char CDC".
A voice picked up on the other end. "How's my favorite boy wonder?" the voice said.
"How's my favorite girl genius?" Dean replied. "Hi Charlie."
Ever since she had helped him and Sam defeat Dick Roman, Dean had stayed in touch with Charlie. She was like a sister to him. When he needed a friendly voice at the other end of the line, she was always there for him. She was smarter than anyone he knew. Anyone aside from Sam anyway. And she was a Goddamn miracle worker with anything electronic.
"Hi Dean, I'm hunky dory," replied Charlie. "Long time, no call. How the hell are you?"
"I'm good Charlie. I'm really good," said Dean.
"I'm no mindreader, but you sound different. You sound...I don't know, happy? I'm glad to hear it.” said Charlie.
"Not as glad as I am to live it, believe me." he responded. "How's Dora...and Scarlett?" Dean inquired.
"They're good," said Charlie, smiling. "Scarlett's reading everything she can get her little hands on and Dora's a total whore for me, so it couldn't be better."
Dean laughed. Charlie had married Dorothy soon after they re-appeared in the bunker when they unexpectedly fell through a door and into the kitchen while Sam and Dean were getting dinner ready one night. Seems their time away together only brought them closer. They were crazy about each other and anyone could see it. The four of them; Charlie, Dora, Dean, and Sam had gone down to the courthouse two weeks later; the day after Dora proposed. Dean endured the teasing from Dora that he was Charlie's maid of honor. Sam stood up for Dora. None of them had any family left except for each other.
After the short ceremony, they celebrated back at the bunker with some of the Scotch from the Men of Letters alcoholic stockpile (stuff was probably worth a shitload of money if they had wanted to sell it, but Sam and Dean had never been much for hoarding anything, including money) and some great steaks and even a slightly drunk, probably ill-advised, shooting competition at the range between Dean and Dora. Sam kept score. Dora won but Dean would blame that on Sam's scorekeeping until the day he died. Then Dean spent the rest of the night glad that the bunker walls were so thick while Dora kept Charlie up all night in what Sam had dubbed the "honeymoon suite".
Dora was a bit of an acquired taste; she often rubbed people the wrong way but when Dean had pointed out Dora's sometimes-abrasive personality to Charlie early on, Charlie had cheerfully informed him that he would have to man up and get used to it because Dora actually rubbed her in all the right ways. Dean had blushed and never mentioned it again. He realized that Charlie and Dora were a package deal and he did not want to lose Charlie. Besides, Dean had grown a lot more comfortable with the banter between himsef and Dora over the years.
Then there was Scarlett, though Dean refused to call her anything but scar-face from the beginning.
Scarlett was 6 now, but as an infant she had been the only surviving member of her family after a wendigo killed her mother and father. Sam had come walking out of the bedroom of that cabin covered in red with this tiny blood-spattered baby crying in his arms. The baby looked impossibly small in Sam's huge hands. Dean had never seen such a pleading look on his brother's face. The family they had raced to save lived in the middle of nowhere. In fact, they were basically a self-sufficient homestead and it had been damn near impossible for Sam and Dean to find the place after they received a very faint satellite phone call in the middle of the night. The call had come from one more family of off-the-grid people that had known Bobby and called out of desperation when they realized they were being stalked.
Sam and Dean had gotten there too late and they hated themselves for it for months, but there was this baby and what the hell were they going to do with a baby? Dean called Charlie for any advice at all that she could give and, to Charlie, it seemed like a miracle. No one knew about this baby. No one was going to miss this baby. And she and Dora were ready. Scarlett was the only name she could possibly have. Sam winced a bit when Charlie named her...he remembered all the blood that had surrounded the day Scarlett entered their lives, and he tried as hard as he could to break that association over the years. To Charlie it was no more than a tribute to Scarlett Johansson and Dora thought the name was bad-ass so she was on board with it. Dean had given Charlie so much. Her entire family, really. She loved him for it.
"Hey, are you still working for the CDC?" Dean asked.
"All day every day" she confirmed. "You have no idea the level of corporate espionage in the biotech industry. Our government wants to keep on top of all of it. That's why I'll never be out of a job. What can I do you for?"
"I'm going to send you some samples. I need you to run DNA on them," Dean continued.
"Do I get to know whose they are?" Charlie asked.
"Sorry, that's need-to-know only," deflected Dean.
"What if I need to know?" asked Charlie.
Dean ignored her comment, "Can you do this for me?" he asked.
"Of course. You know I can't say 'no' to you," she smiled into the phone.
"Thanks Charlie," Dean replied, "Who do I address this to? What's your name this month?"
"Jaymie Bond," replied Charlie with no hint of irony in her voice.
"Jaymie Bond...James Bond, are you fucking kidding me?" asked Dean, eyebrows raised.
"Put that eyebrow down and shut up 'Robert Plant'," teased Charlie. Sometimes Dean was sure she knew him too well. "Hey Dean?" Charlie tried to get his attention before the line went dead.
"Yeah?" Dean responded.
"You know if we were Batman and Robin, I'd still be Batman." It sounded like she was smiling.
"Shut up." Dean teased as he ended the call.
22.
Dean got back to Lisa's and found her note...she had gone to get some household stuff:
Back around 8:00.
Food in the fridge,
Love you,
Lis
Dean stared at that. "Love you". It had only been a few days. He'd loved her for decades, but could she really love him...HIM...it had only been a few days...
Dean tried to put that aside for the moment, even though those words had a pesky way of stabbing him in the brain when he least expected it... he had work to do.
Once the devil's traps were in place (covered by carpet and furniture), he settled into a large chair with the laptop to check into their hellhound victim.
Dean easily hacked into the police database and read as much as he could about the guy in the case history. James McElroy....52...successful in business at the time of his death but had been unemployed for awhile after losing his wife 13 years ago in a car accident. He went to some doctor-mandated psychological counseling after he tried to kill himself back then...police received a frantic 911 call from a neighbor who found McElroy unresponsive after ingesting an ungodly number of sleeping pills. The hospital pumped his stomach; saved his life, and mandated counseling. He ended up seeing a psychologist; C. Ramsey, the case file said; for about two years and then his life turned around....until he was found shredded inside his locked car.
No connection to Trevor. 'What the fuck?' wondered Dean.
Dean heard a noise just behind the couch where he was camped out, working on the computer. He grabbed his gun from where it had been sitting next to him and, lightening fast, whirled around to fire at whoever was behind him. He found himself pointing the gun as Cas' chest.
"Jesus Christ, Cas!" he exclaimed. "You do NOT want to keep sneaking up on me like that!"
"I was not sneaking," stated Cas. "Why would I be sneaking?" Cas looked confused. Not at all phased that he had a gun against his chest. "I assume that the other hunter is fine?"
"Yeah, Cas, Garth is fine," said Dean, lowering the pistol.
"Good. I am glad to hear it,” responded Cas.
"Thanks. He was in rough shape when we found him," said Dean sincerely. "No offense Cas, but why are you here?"
"I am not offended," confirmed Cas. "I am here to see if you and Ben were able to work things out."
‘How uncharacteristically thoughtful of Cas,’ thought Dean. Well, this was as good a time as any...
"Cas, is he mine?" Dean asked.
"Is who yours?" asked Cas, confused.
"Ben," specified Dean. "Is he my son?"
Cas gave him a sympathetic look. "Dean, I'm an angel, not a scientist."
"What are you talking about?" Dean asked. "I thought angels knew every truth there was to know."
"We don't know everything Dean. We know what we are told," Cas replied. "But if Ben is your son, everything else would make sense."
"What do you mean, 'everything else'?" Dean asked with growing suspicion.
"The demons who are pursuing Ben. They haven't done anything truly harmful yet, so I've just been watching over him. I have not interfered. I've been trying to figure out what they have planned."
Dean was stunned. "You KNEW demons were tailing Ben and you didn't TELL ME?!?!" he shouted.
"You don't have to yell," Cas replied impassively. "I never let any harm come to him."
"Well, that's a fine fuckin' piece of information I would have liked to have known," snapped Dean.
Cas looked confused.
"THE DEMONS, Cas, tell me what they're doing with Ben!" Dean said forcefully.
"I have been trying to figure that out," confirmed Cas. "Since Ben is Lisa's son, and I could not figure out what they want with Ben, I thought I might try to find out if their real interest is in Lisa."
Cas finished and stood silently.
"AND??!?!?!?" asked Dean with some desperation.
"And what?" asked Cas.
"Cas, so help me God, I'm going to throttle you if you don't get on with it. TELL ME WHAT YOU FOUND FOR GOD'S SAKE!" continued Dean, with decidedly more desperation.
"I don't think you could 'throttle' me if you tried, Dean, I'm an angel." Cas looked at Dean with what Dean thought might be smugness. He'd never seen Cas look at all smug before. Then Cas sighed, "You're not going to like this Dean," he said and he raised his hand to touch Dean's forehead.
Next - chapters 23 - 27
Two hours later, Dean pushed open the motel room door to find Garth giving him a dirty look as he sat drumming his fingers on the table.
"Dude, you got a watch?" asked Garth.
"Sorry man," replied Dean, "Lisa and I..."
"Say no more," said Garth holding up a hand. "I forgive you. Just one thing though," he continued.
"What?" asked Dean.
"Spill it," said Garth.
"Spill what?" asked Dean irritated, "Look man, I already told you you're not getting any details -"
"Not that," said Garth, cutting him off. "I want to know what's going on with you. I've never seen you like this over a woman before. Usually you're all 'bros before hoes' and crap."
"Watch yourself," said Dean, glowering at Garth.
"I'm not calling Lisa a ho!" Garth defended himself, "You know what I mean...I've just never seen you like this and what did you mean 'we got you to the car' last night? You didn't bring her with you, did you?"
"God no!" Dean's voice rose.
"So spill it," said Garth, patting the chair next to him.
Dean sighed and sat down. He trusted Garth. He did. But he hadn't wanted to bring anyone else in on the most current fucked-up situation he'd gotten himself into...and he hadn't even talked to Sam yet...
"I thought I was coming over here to talk about the hunt. See what you found last night." Dean tried to change the subject.
"We will, just as soon as you spill it." Garth wasn't going to be dissuaded.
No getting around this one. Garth may not be the world's most deadly hunter, but he had nearly as much insight into people as Sam did. He was not going to let Dean off the hook.
"Okay, look," started Dean as Garth leaned closer.
Half an hour later, Dean finished. Lisa. Ben. Crowley. Cas. Sam coming back from the pit. The demon that possessed Lisa and almost killed both her and Ben. Garth stared at him rather slack-jawed.
"You gonna close your mouth or are you trying to catch flies?" asked Dean with more than a little irritation.
Garth swallowed. "Shit, man, how could you DO that???"
Great. Dean had just told Garth about what might be one of the most painful things he'd ever barely lived through and Garth wanted to twist the knife a little?! Dean pushed away from the table and stood up.
"Fuck you, Garth," spat Dean. "I just laid it all out there for you and, well, it was about as fun to fucking re-tell it as it was to live it and I don't get a little fucking sympathy?! I was trying to SAVE them for Christ's sake!" Dean was on a roll and was just getting started, God, bringing it all up again hurt like a bitch. He felt like a bandage had been ripped off and now he was just standing in front of Garth completely exposed and bleeding all over the place. Dean wheeled around to tear into Garth a bit more but stopped when he saw Garth's eyes welling up.
Garth said, in a small voice, "I meant, how could you do that to yourself, Dean? They loved you and you loved them. Why the hell don't you ever think you deserve to have people love you? It's not normal...I mean, humans aren't built to have to make decisions like the one you made." Garth quickly wiped his eyes.
The anger drained out of Dean almost instantaneously. Now it just hurt.
"Sorry," he mumbled, collapsing back down into the chair next to Garth.
Garth continued as if he had never even expected an apology, "You've been walking around with that for seven years?" he asked incredulously.
"Yeah,” sighed Dean. "I told Sam that if he ever mentioned Ben or Lisa again that that I'd break his nose. I had to pretend they were dead. It's the only way I could keep going."
Before Dean knew what the hell was happening, Garth was leaning over behind Dean's chair and had his arms around him giving him a bear hug. Dean rolled his eyes and patted Garth's arm. "Okay, uh, thanks, Garth."
Garth let Dean go and stood up, swallowing hard, trying to get it under control.
"What do we do now?" asked Garth. "You want me to call Sa-"
"NO!" said Dean emphatically. He meant to call Sam a hundred times since the night he met Lisa in the bar and something always got in the way. In fact, he was slightly worried not only about how Sam was doing but about what the hell Sam would say about Dean getting right back into mess that he spent so many years trying to forget. Dean was more than happy to tell most people to fuck off. He didn't give a shit about what 99.99% of the people he met thought of him. But Sam was different. What Sam thought of him mattered. A lot.
Besides, Sam was supposed to be getting his head together up at the cabin. The last thing he needed was to have to deal with Dean's problems.
"Sam's taking a break and he needs one and I'm not going to put any of this shit on him," Dean said firmly.
"But you know he'd want to know," said Garth cautiously.
"I said 'no'," replied Dean. "I'll talk to him, I will, but I have to figure out where this is going and you and I have a case to finish."
"Right, the case," said Garth. He'd almost completely forgotten about the case.
There was a long silence in the room.
"So...." prodded Dean.
"So, what?" asked Garth.
"THE CASE Garth...tell me what you found!" said Dean, his patience just about gone. "I swear to God I'm going to grow ovaries if we sit here talking about my problems any more. Those weren't great memories and I'd really like to think about something else now."
"Sure, right, okay; yeah, you're right," said Garth. "Just want you to know that I'm here if you ever want to talk about anything or need help in any way or - "
"Noted," said Dean curtly, cutting Garth off, though Garth could see that Dean was grateful that he wasn't the only one sitting in this crappy motel room who knew what he'd gone through for the past seven years.
"You didn't deserve any of this, Dean," finished Garth.
"Yeah, well, the universe seems to think otherwise," said Dean, sounding tired. "Now can we PLEASE talk about the case?"
Garth told him about everything that happened after he stepped off Lisa's porch a couple days ago.
Garth had been trying to follow the omens. The weather, the lightening, and he also did what he did best; talking to people around town. Garth was so open, they just talked to him like they'd known him for years. He asked about anyone new in town. He asked about anyone who had started acting strangely. He asked about the mysterious death that he had read about online that spurred him to call Dean in the first place and ask if he and Sam were up for a hunt. Garth was used to working alone, but he had honestly kind of missed having anyone else around who understood what it was to be a hunter, so he had called Dean’s other, other cell. (Garth had asked for both of them but only Dean showed up. Still good to have one very capable hunter watching his back when, as Garth would say, "shit got real".)
With all of Garth's questioning, he did get some solid information. The mysterious death two weeks ago centered around a man who was discovered in car, parked down by the river, dead. He looked as if he had been attacked by an animal inside his locked car. The autopsy photos Garth had seen (the body had already been cremated) showed incredibly gruesome injuries; the man's entire front from neck to groin was shredded into ribbons with all internal organs exposed. He bled out quickly, the coroner had noted. 'No shit,' thought Garth.
Also noted in the police report; the man had a semi-automatic pistol on the seat next to him, apparently untouched. That, in addition to a sub-machine gun on the back seat and an automatic rifle on the back seat floorboard. The car was still running when the body was found, but the side passenger window had been broken from the outside. There were no prints of any kind (animal or human). It looked as if the man had been trying to protect himself with all of the firearms around him.
"So, I started thinking," said Garth.
"Hellhounds," finished Dean. "Damn, I hate hellhounds," he said under his breath.
"Correct-o-mundo," confirmed Garth.
"So we might have some guy who made a demon deal 10 years ago," Dean thought out loud, "what can we do about any of that now?"
"There's more," continued Garth. "I asked about anyone in town who had started acting different recently and didn't get any hits until one girl I was talking to at the bar on the edge of town told me that there's one kid who used to be a pretty good guy, but lately he’s gone off the rails; losing his temper with everyone, keeping his distance from his friends..."
Dean was ready to dismiss that as just some guy going through a rough patch when Garth said, "she told me his name was Trevor. Trevor Parker. I tracked him down and at first I thought - "
"He was just the town druggie," finished Dean, looking at Garth.
"Until he showed up on Lisa's porch," Dean and Garth said in unison.
"Wait, how do you know he showed up on Lisa's porch?!" Dean regarded Garth with suspicion.
"I was trailing the kid and I followed him there. I saw you guys talking to him. Dude; your girlfriend was packing!" Garth grinned.
"Yeah, no one was more surprised than I was," chuckled Dean. "But that kid is just some druggie...he was one of Ben's friends but he’s turned into a huge pain in the ass. Lisa thought he was coming around trying to use Ben to get money out of her, but he took off when I strongly suggested he leave."
"The shotgun didn't hurt either," said Garth. "I think Lisa can hold her own but let's go with your story; it was all you; you scared him off." Garth smiled teasingly.
"Shut up," said Dean. "But how do you know he's anything more than a giant loser?"
"As he left he walked past my car and I heard him on the phone saying, 'It's him. Winchester.' "
"And you didn't think you should call me and TELL ME THAT?!" Dean raised his voice.
"You asked for two more days and I was respecting your request," said Garth defiantly. "I had it under control, bro...nothing's happened yet, has it?"
Dean didn't respond.
"You're welcome," said Garth. "Think about it; it's the perfect vessel for a demon; some loser kid who acts weird anyway because he's strung out half the time...hardly anyone’s going to notice if he starts acting different."
"Let's say you're right..." started Dean.
"I am," said Garth with confidence.
Dean rolled his eyes, "Let's say you're right," he started again, "what's he up to and who was he calling and what does he have to do with that hellhound death?"
"I'm still working on that part," said Garth. "But maybe the demon came back to see his payoff on the deal with that dead guy in the car?"
"Maybe," said Dean, "or maybe this Trevor kid, demon, whatever, is tailing me and now he knows that I'm with her and..." Dean started to go a bit pale.
"Whoa man, stay with me," said Garth noticing the blood draining from Dean's face. "It's okay; I'm tracking the dude's cell phone GPS...have been for days. He's nowhere near Lisa's right now."
Dean took a deep breath, "Okay, but I have to do some work on that house," he and Garth exchanged looks of unspoken understanding. There were devil's traps that needed to be laid down.
"That's probably not a bad idea," confirmed Garth. "Want some help?"
"No, I'll wait until Lisa's out and get it done," said Dean, "you try to find out who Trevor was calling and I'll try to dig up more on our hellhound victim; see if there's any connection."
Garth nodded in response.
"So, where's this Trevor kid right now?" asked Dean.
"Uh, hold on, let me check," said Garth, walking around to the nightstand to get his own phone, "he's just outside the city limits...somewhere just a bit west of the cemetery. I think the scrap yard is out there."
"The auto salvage place?" asked Dean with a rising tension in his voice.
Garth looked over at him, "Yeah; what's the big deal about the salvage yard?" asked Garth.
"Ben works there," replied Dean, already halfway to the door.
"Shit!," exclaimed Garth, "I'm coming with you!"
20.
Dean and Garth burst through the door of the office at the salvage yard and practically scared the shit out of the guy behind the counter; same guy Dean had caught surfing porn the day before, wearing the same oil-spattered overalls. He put his hands up instantly saying, "hold on now...the only money here is in the safe and it's on a timer..."
Seeing that the guy was alone in the office, Dean and Garth lowered their guns and flashed their fake badges. After squinting at the badges, the guy behind the counter let out a deep breath, "Okay, then, what I can do for you two? You didn't come busting in here like that because you were upset about that tail light I sold you yesterday, did you?" he said, raising an eyebrow sarcastically at Dean.
"No man, we're looking for someone," explained Dean. "Someone in town said he was headed out here...Trevor Parker?"
"That stoner? Yeah, he was here," confirmed overall guy. "He was looking for Ben, but Ben called in sick today; said he had a rough night.
Dean felt a small pang of guilt knowing that he was entirely responsible for Ben's rough night.
"You lookin' for that kid because of the drugs?" asked overall guy.
"Uh, yeah," said Dean. "So the fact that he's a dealer is no secret?"
"Dealer?" asked overall guy, "Naw; he's just a screwed up kid. He asked where Ben was, but Ben doesn't need that kind of shit so I told him Ben went to Mac's salvage yard about two towns over to pick up some parts for me. Ben sounded like death warmed over when he called this morning; he needs to sleep it off today and didn't need that asshole bothering him."
Dean smiled. He couldn't be more grateful that people in this town cared about Lisa and Ben and looked out for them.
This guy was okay.
"Ben's a good kid," said overall guy. "He's not in any trouble, is he?"
"No," said Dean, "not unless Trevor's bringing the trouble to him."
"I hope you can get your hands on that little shit then," said overall guy. "Ben's a hard worker and doesn't need trash like that following him around."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When they got back to the Impala, they checked Garth's GPS and, sure enough, Trevor was at least half an hour away, on the way to Mac's. Garth supposed they should have checked it as they drove, but Dean was so out of his mind to get out to the salvage yard, Garth had gotten swept up in the intensity.
"Keep and eye on him, will ya?" Dean asked Garth. "He's going to be pissed when he finds out that Ben's not where he thinks he is. What the fuck does he want with Ben anyway?" he wondered aloud.
"I won't let the GPS out of my sight," said Garth. "So back to plan A? You dig up info on our hellhound victim and I'll see if I can find out who Trevor's in contact with?"
"Sounds like a plan," confirmed Dean.
21.
On the way back to Lisa's Dean pulled off, parked the Impala under the canopy of an abandoned gas station, and took out his phone. He dialed a number stored in his phone's address book marked "Char CDC".
A voice picked up on the other end. "How's my favorite boy wonder?" the voice said.
"How's my favorite girl genius?" Dean replied. "Hi Charlie."
Ever since she had helped him and Sam defeat Dick Roman, Dean had stayed in touch with Charlie. She was like a sister to him. When he needed a friendly voice at the other end of the line, she was always there for him. She was smarter than anyone he knew. Anyone aside from Sam anyway. And she was a Goddamn miracle worker with anything electronic.
"Hi Dean, I'm hunky dory," replied Charlie. "Long time, no call. How the hell are you?"
"I'm good Charlie. I'm really good," said Dean.
"I'm no mindreader, but you sound different. You sound...I don't know, happy? I'm glad to hear it.” said Charlie.
"Not as glad as I am to live it, believe me." he responded. "How's Dora...and Scarlett?" Dean inquired.
"They're good," said Charlie, smiling. "Scarlett's reading everything she can get her little hands on and Dora's a total whore for me, so it couldn't be better."
Dean laughed. Charlie had married Dorothy soon after they re-appeared in the bunker when they unexpectedly fell through a door and into the kitchen while Sam and Dean were getting dinner ready one night. Seems their time away together only brought them closer. They were crazy about each other and anyone could see it. The four of them; Charlie, Dora, Dean, and Sam had gone down to the courthouse two weeks later; the day after Dora proposed. Dean endured the teasing from Dora that he was Charlie's maid of honor. Sam stood up for Dora. None of them had any family left except for each other.
After the short ceremony, they celebrated back at the bunker with some of the Scotch from the Men of Letters alcoholic stockpile (stuff was probably worth a shitload of money if they had wanted to sell it, but Sam and Dean had never been much for hoarding anything, including money) and some great steaks and even a slightly drunk, probably ill-advised, shooting competition at the range between Dean and Dora. Sam kept score. Dora won but Dean would blame that on Sam's scorekeeping until the day he died. Then Dean spent the rest of the night glad that the bunker walls were so thick while Dora kept Charlie up all night in what Sam had dubbed the "honeymoon suite".
Dora was a bit of an acquired taste; she often rubbed people the wrong way but when Dean had pointed out Dora's sometimes-abrasive personality to Charlie early on, Charlie had cheerfully informed him that he would have to man up and get used to it because Dora actually rubbed her in all the right ways. Dean had blushed and never mentioned it again. He realized that Charlie and Dora were a package deal and he did not want to lose Charlie. Besides, Dean had grown a lot more comfortable with the banter between himsef and Dora over the years.
Then there was Scarlett, though Dean refused to call her anything but scar-face from the beginning.
Scarlett was 6 now, but as an infant she had been the only surviving member of her family after a wendigo killed her mother and father. Sam had come walking out of the bedroom of that cabin covered in red with this tiny blood-spattered baby crying in his arms. The baby looked impossibly small in Sam's huge hands. Dean had never seen such a pleading look on his brother's face. The family they had raced to save lived in the middle of nowhere. In fact, they were basically a self-sufficient homestead and it had been damn near impossible for Sam and Dean to find the place after they received a very faint satellite phone call in the middle of the night. The call had come from one more family of off-the-grid people that had known Bobby and called out of desperation when they realized they were being stalked.
Sam and Dean had gotten there too late and they hated themselves for it for months, but there was this baby and what the hell were they going to do with a baby? Dean called Charlie for any advice at all that she could give and, to Charlie, it seemed like a miracle. No one knew about this baby. No one was going to miss this baby. And she and Dora were ready. Scarlett was the only name she could possibly have. Sam winced a bit when Charlie named her...he remembered all the blood that had surrounded the day Scarlett entered their lives, and he tried as hard as he could to break that association over the years. To Charlie it was no more than a tribute to Scarlett Johansson and Dora thought the name was bad-ass so she was on board with it. Dean had given Charlie so much. Her entire family, really. She loved him for it.
"Hey, are you still working for the CDC?" Dean asked.
"All day every day" she confirmed. "You have no idea the level of corporate espionage in the biotech industry. Our government wants to keep on top of all of it. That's why I'll never be out of a job. What can I do you for?"
"I'm going to send you some samples. I need you to run DNA on them," Dean continued.
"Do I get to know whose they are?" Charlie asked.
"Sorry, that's need-to-know only," deflected Dean.
"What if I need to know?" asked Charlie.
Dean ignored her comment, "Can you do this for me?" he asked.
"Of course. You know I can't say 'no' to you," she smiled into the phone.
"Thanks Charlie," Dean replied, "Who do I address this to? What's your name this month?"
"Jaymie Bond," replied Charlie with no hint of irony in her voice.
"Jaymie Bond...James Bond, are you fucking kidding me?" asked Dean, eyebrows raised.
"Put that eyebrow down and shut up 'Robert Plant'," teased Charlie. Sometimes Dean was sure she knew him too well. "Hey Dean?" Charlie tried to get his attention before the line went dead.
"Yeah?" Dean responded.
"You know if we were Batman and Robin, I'd still be Batman." It sounded like she was smiling.
"Shut up." Dean teased as he ended the call.
22.
Dean got back to Lisa's and found her note...she had gone to get some household stuff:
Back around 8:00.
Food in the fridge,
Love you,
Lis
Dean stared at that. "Love you". It had only been a few days. He'd loved her for decades, but could she really love him...HIM...it had only been a few days...
Dean tried to put that aside for the moment, even though those words had a pesky way of stabbing him in the brain when he least expected it... he had work to do.
Once the devil's traps were in place (covered by carpet and furniture), he settled into a large chair with the laptop to check into their hellhound victim.
Dean easily hacked into the police database and read as much as he could about the guy in the case history. James McElroy....52...successful in business at the time of his death but had been unemployed for awhile after losing his wife 13 years ago in a car accident. He went to some doctor-mandated psychological counseling after he tried to kill himself back then...police received a frantic 911 call from a neighbor who found McElroy unresponsive after ingesting an ungodly number of sleeping pills. The hospital pumped his stomach; saved his life, and mandated counseling. He ended up seeing a psychologist; C. Ramsey, the case file said; for about two years and then his life turned around....until he was found shredded inside his locked car.
No connection to Trevor. 'What the fuck?' wondered Dean.
Dean heard a noise just behind the couch where he was camped out, working on the computer. He grabbed his gun from where it had been sitting next to him and, lightening fast, whirled around to fire at whoever was behind him. He found himself pointing the gun as Cas' chest.
"Jesus Christ, Cas!" he exclaimed. "You do NOT want to keep sneaking up on me like that!"
"I was not sneaking," stated Cas. "Why would I be sneaking?" Cas looked confused. Not at all phased that he had a gun against his chest. "I assume that the other hunter is fine?"
"Yeah, Cas, Garth is fine," said Dean, lowering the pistol.
"Good. I am glad to hear it,” responded Cas.
"Thanks. He was in rough shape when we found him," said Dean sincerely. "No offense Cas, but why are you here?"
"I am not offended," confirmed Cas. "I am here to see if you and Ben were able to work things out."
‘How uncharacteristically thoughtful of Cas,’ thought Dean. Well, this was as good a time as any...
"Cas, is he mine?" Dean asked.
"Is who yours?" asked Cas, confused.
"Ben," specified Dean. "Is he my son?"
Cas gave him a sympathetic look. "Dean, I'm an angel, not a scientist."
"What are you talking about?" Dean asked. "I thought angels knew every truth there was to know."
"We don't know everything Dean. We know what we are told," Cas replied. "But if Ben is your son, everything else would make sense."
"What do you mean, 'everything else'?" Dean asked with growing suspicion.
"The demons who are pursuing Ben. They haven't done anything truly harmful yet, so I've just been watching over him. I have not interfered. I've been trying to figure out what they have planned."
Dean was stunned. "You KNEW demons were tailing Ben and you didn't TELL ME?!?!" he shouted.
"You don't have to yell," Cas replied impassively. "I never let any harm come to him."
"Well, that's a fine fuckin' piece of information I would have liked to have known," snapped Dean.
Cas looked confused.
"THE DEMONS, Cas, tell me what they're doing with Ben!" Dean said forcefully.
"I have been trying to figure that out," confirmed Cas. "Since Ben is Lisa's son, and I could not figure out what they want with Ben, I thought I might try to find out if their real interest is in Lisa."
Cas finished and stood silently.
"AND??!?!?!?" asked Dean with some desperation.
"And what?" asked Cas.
"Cas, so help me God, I'm going to throttle you if you don't get on with it. TELL ME WHAT YOU FOUND FOR GOD'S SAKE!" continued Dean, with decidedly more desperation.
"I don't think you could 'throttle' me if you tried, Dean, I'm an angel." Cas looked at Dean with what Dean thought might be smugness. He'd never seen Cas look at all smug before. Then Cas sighed, "You're not going to like this Dean," he said and he raised his hand to touch Dean's forehead.
Next - chapters 23 - 27