Between Shadow and Light: Part 17-22
Title: Between Shadow and Light
Author: Roselani24
Genre: crossover, friendship, drama, angst
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not mine, just borrowing for a little while.
Spoilers: Anything from White Collar up until 4.10 and Supernatural Seasons 1-7 is fair game.
Warnings: Some violence, gore, and at one point animal abuse. That section will have a specific warning beforehand for readers.
Summary: Sequel to Secrets in Shadow. Haunted by the case in Gettysburg, Detective Peter Burke seeks out one Dean Winchester in hope of finding answers. Peter finds Dean and a whole lot more than he expected. What started out as mutual respect soon evolves into a strong friendship. Over the years, that friendship has a ripple effect on their families, friends, and even opponents. Includes appearances from Sam Winchester, Elizabeth Burke, Neal Caffrey, and a special guest appearance by John Winchester. Story told in 25 parts.
Author Notes: First off, a humongous thank you to my beta and artist, Twisted_Slinky who’s editing, encouragement, and gorgeous art made the completion of this story possible. Be sure to check out her art work here. Thank you so much, Slinky!!!! Laughtersmelody deserves a special shout out too because if it weren’t for her word prompts at christianfanfic, this story would have never even made it off the ground. Thanks girl!
Written for the spn_gen_bigbang moderated by the lovely reapertownusa. Thanks for running the community so smoothly! :)
Story Notes: “Between Shadow and Light” is the direct sequel to “Secrets in Shadow” and picks up two months after the first story ended. This story covers the years of 1995 to 2010, after the Apocalypse is over. In my version, however, the Apocalypse ends differently than according to canon. It doesn’t matter too much for this particular story because it is not addressed until the final chapter, but I wanted to make sure readers are aware. As far as canon goes, everything up to 5.14, bar 5.06 and 5.13 occurs in the SPN verse before it goes AU.
ETA: This story started out as a series of connected drabbles that morphed into something much bigger than originally planned. That is why the story is broken down in different parts and then put together in a few compact posts. Each part is a different character segment at a certain time and place. Some are long, some are short depending on what the drabble was originally about. Hope that helps clear things up a bit.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Part 17: The Winchesters and the Burkes - November 2005
It was just another day: looking for the next hunt, calling his dad and talking to his voicemail for the hundredth time, trying to distract Sam from his brooding thoughts and guilt about Jessica.
He stepped inside the grocery store and was blasted with the splashes of harvest reds, oranges, and yellows and giant cardboard turkeys. Thanksgiving was today. The store was full of last minute shoppers rushing to get those final ingredients and trimmings they’d forgotten.
Instinct told him to turn around and head to the local gas mart. Something made him stay. He needed to do something. For Sam. Maybe some pie? Pie was always good.
________________________________________________________________________________
It was just another holiday.
Elizabeth had sent him out at the last minute to get the whipped cream for the pie. He shook his head fondly. Usually it was him forgetting things! It wasn’t that surprising truthfully. With Elizabeth’s parents, her sister and her husband, and Peter’s father, aunt, and uncle, all visiting, the Burke household was the center of chaos.
Normally a crowd like this would wear on him quickly, but not this time. He was grateful to have the chance to spend a day with them after the past few crazy months. Between the flood of new cases and Caffrey’s trial, he was more than ready for a break. Peter couldn’t remember how many holidays he’d been forced to miss because of a case. Actually being able to spend the whole holiday with his wife and family was a rare blessing. One he intended to enjoy.
________________________________________________________________________________
“What’s all this?”
“Dinner. Thought you might like some KFC for a change,” Dean said, giving his brother a plate full of chicken, potatoes doused in gravy, and two biscuits. “I stopped and got you this too.” He plopped the McDonald’s shake-up salad in front of his brother. Sam loved his greens. “And for desert,” he proudly pulled the most important item out of the bag, “we have pumpkin pie.”
Dean ignored Sam’s suspicious gaze as he set the pie aside. He started filling his own plate with food, acting completely normal. Eventually, Sam grabbed a fork and started to eat.
Satisfied, Dean settled on the bed and flipped on the television and found SyFy’s James Bond movie marathon. Awesome.
Thunderball was ending when Dean dished up the pie. Sam absently poked at his piece, withdrawn and brooding, but at least he was eating. He went to bed an hour later, claiming exhaustion. Sam really was, Dean knew, because the kid was barely sleeping. So he let it go. Cleaning up, Dean paused by his brother’s bedside and let his fingers stroke his baby brother’s hair for a moment.
“I’m sorry, Sam.”
Sorry for Jessica. Sorry that his baby brother was hurting and there was nothing he could do besides be there for him. Dean was not sorry he saved Sam. He could never be sorry for that, even when his heart broke because of the pain Sam was in. If there was one thing he was thankful for, it was that Sam was here with him, safe and alive. With their rough life, he couldn’t ask for more.
________________________________________________________________________________
“Elizabeth, you have outdone yourself.” William Burke toasted Peter’s wife.
A chorus of agreement went up from the rest of the table, glasses full of wine rising in a mutual toast. Elizabeth blushed. “Thank you!”
Peter reached out and took her hand in his, squeezing gently. She beamed and Peter’s heart burst with love for this gorgeous, smart, and kind woman.
“Dad’s right, El. Everything is delicious.”
They kissed. “I’m glad you approve,” she purred in his ear. Peter grinned. “I do.” One more kiss and they resumed eating the meal.
Peter surveyed the table, the smiles and joking expressions, the clink of the silverware on Elizabeth’s favorite china set, the tang of pumpkin spice, turkey, and cranberries thick in the air. Beside him, Elizabeth glowed as she chatted with her sister about who knows what. He settled back against his chair, content to just watch everyone.
There were only two people missing from the gathering. Peter hoped that, wherever the brothers were, they were happy.
~*~
Part 18: Dean and Elizabeth - March 2006
He jumped when his phone started ringing. Blearily he grabbed for it and stumbled out of bed towards the bathroom. Sammy was asleep for once and Dean had no intention of waking him. Kid didn’t get enough sleep, not with nightmares chasing him every night.
“’Lo?”
“Dean Michael Winchester!”
All sleepiness was immediately banished. Elizabeth. Crap! He quickly closed the bathroom door and turned on the faucet.
“Uh, hey, El, listen…”
“Don’t you ‘hey, El’ me, young man.”
Dean winced. Yeah, she was definitely pissed.
“Do you realize what you just put Peter and me through?”
“Elizabeth-“
“The news is saying you’re a murderer, a serial killer! That someone shot you dead!” Her voice cracked.
“I’m sorry, Elizabeth,” Dean said softly, guilt flooding him. “I meant to call, but it was a long drive, and Sammy and I both needed to crash. I didn’t think you’d hear about it in New York so fast.”
Actually, he hadn’t thought about calling at all. Not really. There were too many other, more pressing problems on his mind. His dad disappearing off the grid, the murder of Sam’s girlfriend in the exact same way as Mom…it was too much of a coincidence. Dean had instinctively fallen back on his training and gone off the grid too. Peter was an FBI agent, and Dean would have loved to have access to his resources, but Peter was a straight shooter. Always was. He wasn’t going to ask Peter to lie and risk losing his job to help Dean track down his dad. Besides, the feds hadn’t been able to pin his dad down in twenty years; he doubted that would change. So he’d dropped contact with the Burkes.
“No, you didn’t intend to call.”
Dean silently cursed Elizabeth’s perceptiveness. It was impossible to keep a secret from the woman!
“It’s complicated,” Dean replied, scrubbing his face. He should explain at least some of it so they knew why Dean had gone radio silent, but the fatigue was catching up with him again. Stupid shapeshifter!
A beat of silence.
Then, “What really happened in St. Louis?”
A soft sigh escaped his lips. “Hold on a minute.”
He turned off the water and slipped out of the bathroom. Grabbing his jacket, Dean headed towards the motel door. He checked on Sam first. His baby brother was still asleep. Good. He stepped outside and closed the door quietly.
“Elizabeth?”
“Still here,” was the soft reply. She sounded less upset than earlier. Dean counted that as a win. He definitely wanted her calm for his explanation.
“It was a shapeshifter.”
“Shapeshifter? Like a skinwalker?”
“Close enough. Both can shed their skin and take on a new form. Shapeshifters strictly imitate humans though. The one in St. Louis decided to go on a little murder spree and was framing the boyfriends for it.”
“So it took on your form, used your face to kill.”
“Almost killed,” Dean corrected. “It didn’t kill the last victim. The police arrived and interrupted it. That’s why my face wound up plastered on the news. But I got the SOB in the end. The police just assumed it was me who killed the other women.”
He didn’t add that the monster used his face to beat the crap out of his baby brother and that it died far too fast for what it had done.
“And you let them.”
Dean shrugged even though she couldn’t see him. “Well, yeah. They blamed me-the shifter that looked like me, and the other poor shmucks it framed are off the hook.”
Elizabeth was quiet for a while.
“Okay, I understand.”
Dean waited.
“Will you please tell me why you haven’t returned our calls?”
The hurt and worry was plain. But she didn’t sound demanding or even pleading. She was simply asking and would accept whatever answer or non-answer he gave. Dean closed his eyes, feeling the familiar bite of guilt gnawing at him once more. She deserved better from him. So did Peter.
With a soft exhale, he gave her the Reader’s Digest version of Dad’s disappearance and then the murder of Sam’s girlfriend, Jessica Moore. Elizabeth was a smart woman. She’d know he wasn’t telling her everything and respect that. It was one of the many reasons he adored her and was thrilled that Peter had married her.
His story finished, Dean fell silent and waited for Elizabeth’s response.
“Is there anything Peter and I can do?”
Dean couldn’t believe his ears. Who in their right mind would offer to get involved in the chaos that was the Winchester life? Peter and Elizabeth. He shook his head. Dean was not one to believe in miracles, he’d seen too much evil in the world, but if there ever was anything that came close to a miracle in his life, it was the friendship he had with Peter and Elizabeth Burke.
“No, no, but uh, thanks.”
“All right.” Elizabeth sounded reluctant. Then in a stronger voice, “Will you try to let us know you and your brother are okay? Just…don’t leave us in the dark.”
“I can do that.”
~*~
Part 19: Sam - June 2006
“Hey, Dean, where have you been?”
“Aw, you worried about me, Samantha? That’s sweet.”
“Whatever.” Sam rolled his eyes. Despite the attempt at humor, he could tell Dean’s heart wasn’t in it. His smile was brittle and his eyes shadowed. Thank God it wasn’t even close to the same shadow from a couple weeks ago when Dean was telling him what happened with the shtriga years ago.
“Come on, man!” he cajoled. “Where did you go?”
Dean just shrugged. “Nowhere exciting, Sammy. You have a good time with Sarah yesterday?”
He tossed Sam one of his best horn dog smiles.
“Not what I asked, Dean.” Dean just shrugged and ignored him. After a minute of just watching his brother pack his clothes, Sam huffed and threw up his arms. “Seriously? You’re not going to tell me?”
“Tell you what? There’s nothing to tell, man! I enjoyed a day off while you spent a day getting busy with the lovely Sarah.”
“Dean, you always disappear for a day when we’re near New York. Always! I don’t get it, man. You hate cities. You’re always complaining about all the cars and the idiots driving them.”
“Of course I hate cities. Have you seen how those morons drive? They make the little ol’ lady from Pasadena look like a soapbox racer on a Nascar track.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “My point is, whenever we’re on a job in or around New York, you take a detour and run off somewhere. Alone.”
“Whatever. Finish packing. I want to get on the road by ten.” Dean zipped his duffel.
Deflection. The Winchester specialty. Well, not this time.
“You visit the professor and his wife, don’t you? That’s where you were yesterday.”
Sam tried not to wince as Dean’s iron defenses slammed into place. Crap.
“If you already know, why are you asking me?”
“Because, man, I want you to tell me! I mean, you were the one who told me we can’t have any connections outside hunting! And here you are, going to visit the professor every chance you get.”
“Sam,” Dean sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It isn’t the same, alright.”
“Really? How?”
“Because Peter knows about our job, what we do. He’s not some ignorant civilian or another idiot cop. It’s not like I’m lying my butt off every other sentence because I’m trying to keep him in the dark.” The older Winchester threw his duffel over his shoulder and headed toward the door. A clear sign Dean considered the subject was closed. But Sam wasn’t going to give up.
“What about his wife?”
“What about her?”
“She doesn’t know.”
Dean gave him an ‘are you kidding me’ look.
“She knows? Since when?” Sam asked, incredulous. The sweet, motherly woman he remembered meeting when they dropped off the rescued puppy couldn’t possibly know about what the Winchester family did for a living. Could she?
His big brother's hand was on the doorknob. “What does it matter?”
Too late, Sam recognized the emotional sand trap he'd stepped in. Stupid!
“It doesn’t," he quickly said. "I just-Dean, I didn’t mean it’s a bad thing. I’m glad you’re friends with them.” Dean paused and glanced back, skepticism plain. Sam repeated earnestly, “I am. Promise! Guess I just wasn’t expecting it, you know. I mean, you and dad are such lone wolves…and…” Crap, how could explain this and not send Dean into lockdown for the next month?
Dean’s eyebrows drew together.
“This is because of Sarah and Jessica, isn’t it?”
Sam looked away, shifting his weight from one foot to another. It really sucked having a brother who knew him so well sometimes. He saw and knew stuff about him before Sam even knew. It bugged the crap out of him. Sam’s one consolation was he could do the same thing with his brother. Most of the time.
“It is.” Dean sighed, dropping his duffel back on the bed. “Sam, when I told you we can’t have connections outside the job, I meant we can’t with civilians, with people who don’t know. If we do…”
“But what about Dad’s rule: we do what we do and we shut up about it?”
Dean shook his head and exhaled. “Do you know why Dad made that rule?”
“Uh, to keep us from blabbing and getting into trouble?”
“Yeah, and to keep Social Services off our backs. One time Social Services got ahold of us while Dad was on a hunting trip. They separated us and were going to put us in separate homes. Dad managed to get us out in time, but it scared him pretty bad I think.”
Sam’s mouth opened and closed. “I-I don’t remember that.”
“Well, you were pretty little at the time,” Dean excused. Sam frowned. How little, he wondered, because Dean seemed to remember quite well. Even mentioning it seemed to agitate his big brother. “Anyway, after that, Dad established the rule that we don’t talk about the job, ever. It was primarily for me until you read Dad’s journal and found out everything.”
That made sense. It was only after he learned about his dad’s real job that his dad laid down the rule, among others, and began training both brothers hard.
“What’s your point, man?”
“The point is the rule was to protect us while we were kids. Now, whether or not we tell is our decision.”
“Like when you told Cassie.”
Dean grimaced, tipping his head forward in acknowledgement. “Yeah.”
“You think I should have told Jessica.”
“Eventually, yeah. I mean, lying about your past, your life, isn’t exactly good for a relationship.”
Sam flinched.
“I didn’t tell her, and she-” he broke off, unable to finish.
“Sam, whether or not she knew doesn’t necessarily mean the demon could have been stopped,” Dean said gently. “It wanted to kill her, and it did. Just like it killed Mom. I mean, even with your weird psychic dreams there was no way you could have stopped it.”
The words were familiar now. Dean had told him time and time again Jessica’s death was not his fault. But Sam knew otherwise.
“Sarah knows about the supernatural,” Sam said, swallowing back the burn of guilt over Jessica’s death and focusing on the matter at hand.
“She didn’t run screaming the other way, did she?” A small, crooked grin formed on his brother’s face. “She actually spent an entire day with you after she learned the truth, Geekboy. Seems to me, she still likes you. You could come back.”
Earlier, Sam had dismissed his brother’s suggestion that they come back to see Sarah. Now he wasn’t so sure it was a bad idea. He still didn’t think it was safe to be around him, but after the demon was dead maybe the curse would finally end.
“Maybe. After it’s over.”
Dean clicked his tongue, reaching down to pick up his bag again. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go. If I have to stay in Discoland any longer, I’ll go nuts.”
Laughing, Sam quickly finished packing and followed his brother out to the Impala. It wasn’t until later that he realized Dean had never answered his original question, and he had never found out why his big brother had been upset.
~*~
Part 20: Peter - July 2006
He abhorred politics, especially at times like this.
They were essential in the work place, helped maintain order, but at the moment Peter could care less about order. What he needed was to go to Blue Earth to attend the funeral of Pastor Jim Murphy. But to get the leave of absence, he had to play the game right so as not to upset the higher-ups. The head of his division and former mentor, Reese Hughes, had been surprised by his request but agreeable. The only tricky part was the upcoming trial Peter was supposed to testify at.
Peter had solemnly promised to be back in time to testify. But he had to visit Blue Earth for at least a day.
Now it was a waiting game while Hughes spoke with the officers, lawyers, and judge involved in the case. But Peter had never been one to be idle. Instead, he started making some calls to Blue Earth, digging for details.
The pastor’s death had been sudden and, from the little information the police had shared with him, very quick and brutal. Further probing yielded another clue. Something had happened to the man who found the body in the church. What exactly, he could only guess. But Peter was fairly certain that the man was probably dead as well. The police were determined to keep things under wraps as they investigated. He couldn’t blame them.
His stomach hurt as dread took root.
There was no evidence, none he was directly told about anyway, but Peter was certain the pastor’s murder was tied to the supernatural world. Pastor Jim was a hunter, after all, despite no longer being as active in the field. The pastor was still quite experienced and offered-had offered safe haven for other hunters when they had needed it.
He tried calling Caleb, another hunter whose number Dean gave him in case of emergencies. It kept going to voicemail.
Frustrated, Peter hit the end call button before the voicemail could start again. He had limited options.
Calling Dean was a huge risk. Officially, Dean Winchester was dead. There’d been a public service and coffin buried in St. Louis, after all. No one else but the almost-victim, Rebecca Warren, knew the truth about the thing that went on a killing spree and met its end wearing Dean Winchester’s face. A shapeshifter! It gave Peter the willies just thinking about it. He was glad the creature had been stopped, he was, but the price was high.
If Peter was caught talking with a dead man…it would be both their butts.
Peter checked his phone. Still no word from Hughes. He wished his wife was there to talk him down. But Elizabeth was busy with a big wedding event downtown and had been gone since early that morning.
He closed his eyes, pressing his fingers to his temples.
There was no going back if he did this. Peter still remembered his shock at finding the hunter in his living room playing with Satchmo when he came home at noon for lunch one day about a month ago. At first Peter had been ecstatic to see him until he remembered that Dean was supposed to be a dead serial killer. The afternoon was spent in serious discussion about what was going to happen next.
Dean had reluctantly explained this would be the last time he came to the Burke home. Because of Peter. It was like a punch to the face and a pat on the back at the same time. He loved his job, loved helping people and bringing criminals to justice for their crimes. Dean was a criminal, an accused serial killer, and Peter should have reported he was alive. As an officer of the law, it was his duty. As a friend and someone who knew the truth, he couldn’t do it. Not without finding a way to prove Dean’s innocence. And Dean knew all that. That had led him to his decision to cut off contact, to no longer see the Burkes. But he wasn’t going to just go completely radio silent like he had that past fall, for which Peter was relieved.
His postcards with a line or two written on it that started coming after the fiasco in St. Louis kept coming at sporadic intervals. Dean had also given Peter three numbers to call if there was ever any trouble and Peter or Elizabeth seriously needed help. One was for a salvage yard in South Dakota and the others were emergency cell phones Dean and Sam had.
At the time, Peter had thought the likelihood of him actually calling was zilch. Why would he need those numbers when he already had Pastor Jim’s? Wrong. Now he was grateful for Dean's foresight.
He looked at the paper and the scrawled numbers. No going back.
Peter started dialing.
A sharp exhale escaped him as he listened to the phone ring and ring and ring. It rolled over to voicemail.
Peter swallowed, trying to wet his suddenly dry throat and tried again.
Then again.
Nothing.
Desperate, he tried Sam’s number. The result was the same.
He tried the last number, praying someone would answer.
“Singer Salvage,” a rusty voice said. “What can I do for ya?”
“Bobby Singer.”
“Yeah?” Wary. Good. That meant Singer was probably a hunter. Suspicious seemed to be the hunter default setting.
“I’m Peter Burke, a friend of Dean Winchester’s. I’ve been trying to reach him since I heard about Pastor Jim’s death,” Peter explained. No point in beating around the bush. “I can’t get him or his brother though. He gave me your number in case neither of them could be reached.”
He listened to the other man breath into the phone, considering what Peter had said. A heavy sigh followed.
“You the Professor?”
“Yes, Dean tends to call me that.”
Singer grunted. “Reckon you should know then.”
Peter’s stomach dropped to his toes. “Know what?”
An hour later, when Hughes finally called to tell him he had permission to take a few days, he was already packed.
Singer’s words kept circling around in his mind in a chaotic jumble. Demon attack. A crash with a semi. Hospital. Coma. John Winchester dead. Sam and Dean injured, but alive. He needed to get out there as soon as possible.
Peter scarcely acknowledged Hughes strict orders to be back in two days or his honor, Judge Eldredge, would have his badge. His focus was entirely on reaching the airport as quickly as possible. He thanked Hughes and hung up.
Quickly, he put Satchmo out back and dialed Elizabeth as he headed out the door.
He was catching the next flight out to Sioux Falls.
~*~
Part 21: Dean - April 2007
Dean threw back the covers and reached down to grab his boots. Screw this! He’d been tossing and turning for hours. Might as well do something productive.
Fully dressed, he headed out the motel door.
The night was surprisingly warm for April this far north. Dean paused at the Impala, debating where to go. He could always drive around for a while, he supposed. No, he’d just walk. This way Sam would know he hadn’t gone far if he woke up to find his brother missing. He doubted it. Sam was just as exhausted as he was.
Dean patted the Impala’s hood gently and started walking.
His mind churned.
Stupid djinn!
Sam's earlier attempt at comfort echoed in his mind quietly. But people are alive because of you. It’s worth it, Dean. It is.
Was it really? There were so many people dead, family members they’d been forced to bury. It was like an aching chasm had been ripped through his heart. No, the chasm had been there for some time, ever since Dad died, maybe since Mom. He’d just ignored it, buried it as much as possible.
He sighed and turned down the next street.
The psychobabble really wasn’t his thing. Elizabeth was the expert. Fresh guilt ripped through him. Elizabeth Burke, the beautiful and kind wife of ‘Professor’ Peter Burke. He wished he could call them. Not that he wanted to really talk, but they always made him feel welcome, accepted. They were the only people left outside Bobby, and recently Ellen Harvelle, that he trusted.
But after the murders of Pastor Jim and Caleb, and then his dad sacrificing himself and the Colt for Dean, he knew he would have to cut ties completely. Not just backing off like he had after his supposed death in St. Louis. This was full-stop no contact. Nothing could ever link him to the Burkes. If the supernatural monsters ever found out about them, if that yellow-eyed SOB demon ever found them...
Dean would never forgive himself.
Peter had come out to South Dakota after he learned about Pastor Jim’s death. He was there the day after Dean was released from the hospital, the day after John Winchester died. Elizabeth had arrived soon after. They had not said much, but their presence had helped. All too soon, the couple had to leave, and Dean had become fully immersed in his mission to ignore the pain as anger built up inside him at the sheer wrongness he felt.
His mind strayed once more to the dream world the djinn had trapped him in while he used him as a blood bag. Every one of the people he, his brother, and his father had saved over the years was dead, including Peter Burke. That loss hit him the hardest. Combined with Dream Sam and him not being on good terms, it had turned the semi pleasantness of the dream into a full on nightmare.
It was like that saying about some people coming into your life and leaving footprints, or some lame thing like that, on the heart and forever changing a person. The Burkes had done that to him, as sappy as it sounded.
He had to protect Peter and Elizabeth, but he didn’t know how beyond no longer contacting them. Just like he didn’t know how to protect Sam from whatever plans the yellow-eyed demon had. He was doing his best, keeping Sam close and keeping a sharp eye out, but there was little else he could do.
The helplessness was killing him. It was like what he’d said to Sam months ago by that lake, when he finally broke down and told his brother their father’s final words. Everything was spinning out of control. John had said he might have to kill Sam, Sammy, his baby brother; the baby he’d protected and cared for his whole life.
It didn’t bear thinking about. Dean wasn’t going to let it happen. He was going to save his brother. Destiny could go screw itself.
Dean spotted the river ahead of him, marking the edge of town. He startled. Had he really walked that far?
Crap, not good. Dean mentally kicked himself. Pay attention, soldier! Anything could have jumped him. Stupid, stupid, stupid!
Grimly, Dean turned back. Every sense was on alert as he made his way back to the motel and his sleeping brother.
~*~
Part 22: Peter - February 2008
The phone rang, cutting through his concentration. Annoyed, Peter picked it up without checking the ID and answered curtly. “Burke.”
“Boss, turn on the news. Channel 7. There’s something you need to see.”
A seed of foreboding sprouted in his stomach.
“What’s going on, Diana?” Diana Berrigan, his probie of two years, didn’t call him like this on a whim. Something was up.
“Police station in Monument, Colorado, exploded last night. Agent Hendrickson was there holding the Winchesters.”
Peter nearly dropped the phone in surprise. He hastily clicked on the television. As the report played, Peter sank down onto the couch, unconsciously hanging up.
Elizabeth found him there, two hours later, staring numbly ahead.
“Peter?”
“He’s dead, El. They both are.”
Elizabeth glanced at the replaying footage and immediately sat down beside him, wrapping her arms around him.
“Peter, you can’t know that. Maybe they faked it like before.”
Peter shook his head, not looking at her. “Not this time,” he choked out.
“Honey…”
“Do you remember when he called out of the blue couple weeks ago?” Peter asked gruffly, finally turning to face her.
“Yes. You said he sounded off, like he was…” Elizabeth paused, horror washing across her features. “He was saying goodbye,” she finished in a whisper, tears filling her eyes.
Peter bowed his head.
“Do you-do you think he knew?” Elizabeth’s fingers wrapped tightly around his hand.
Peter jerked his head. “He must have suspected at least.”
Though how Dean could have known eluded him. Perhaps something supernatural, demonic maybe, had been after them? It was possible. The reporter had not said much, except that the Fire Department speculated the cause was a ruptured gas line. Ha! That was typically code for ‘we don’t have a clue’.
Peter could feel Elizabeth’s frame trembling. Abruptly she grabbed for Peter’s cell phone, but he caught her hand.
“I already tried.” He hated to destroy the last shred of hope his wife had, but it would be worse for her to hear what he had. “All I got was voicemail or that the number was out of order.”
“What about that number for South Dakota?” Elizabeth demanded.
Peter could see the same desperation in her eyes that he had felt. He tried to swallow around the cotton wad in his mouth. “I spoke with Bobby. He-they’re gone, El. They’re gone.”
Dean and Sam Winchester were dead.
“No.”
Peter pulled Elizabeth close as the first sob wracked her frame. He buried his face in her hair as the tears he’d been fighting since he saw the report finally fell.
**End Note: The quote Dean is thinking of in Part 21 is this one-“Some people come into our lives and quickly go. Some stay for a while, leave footprints on our hearts, and we are never, ever the same” ~ Flavia Weeden
Next
Previous
Author: Roselani24
Genre: crossover, friendship, drama, angst
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not mine, just borrowing for a little while.
Spoilers: Anything from White Collar up until 4.10 and Supernatural Seasons 1-7 is fair game.
Warnings: Some violence, gore, and at one point animal abuse. That section will have a specific warning beforehand for readers.
Summary: Sequel to Secrets in Shadow. Haunted by the case in Gettysburg, Detective Peter Burke seeks out one Dean Winchester in hope of finding answers. Peter finds Dean and a whole lot more than he expected. What started out as mutual respect soon evolves into a strong friendship. Over the years, that friendship has a ripple effect on their families, friends, and even opponents. Includes appearances from Sam Winchester, Elizabeth Burke, Neal Caffrey, and a special guest appearance by John Winchester. Story told in 25 parts.
Author Notes: First off, a humongous thank you to my beta and artist, Twisted_Slinky who’s editing, encouragement, and gorgeous art made the completion of this story possible. Be sure to check out her art work here. Thank you so much, Slinky!!!! Laughtersmelody deserves a special shout out too because if it weren’t for her word prompts at christianfanfic, this story would have never even made it off the ground. Thanks girl!
Written for the spn_gen_bigbang moderated by the lovely reapertownusa. Thanks for running the community so smoothly! :)
Story Notes: “Between Shadow and Light” is the direct sequel to “Secrets in Shadow” and picks up two months after the first story ended. This story covers the years of 1995 to 2010, after the Apocalypse is over. In my version, however, the Apocalypse ends differently than according to canon. It doesn’t matter too much for this particular story because it is not addressed until the final chapter, but I wanted to make sure readers are aware. As far as canon goes, everything up to 5.14, bar 5.06 and 5.13 occurs in the SPN verse before it goes AU.
ETA: This story started out as a series of connected drabbles that morphed into something much bigger than originally planned. That is why the story is broken down in different parts and then put together in a few compact posts. Each part is a different character segment at a certain time and place. Some are long, some are short depending on what the drabble was originally about. Hope that helps clear things up a bit.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Part 17: The Winchesters and the Burkes - November 2005
It was just another day: looking for the next hunt, calling his dad and talking to his voicemail for the hundredth time, trying to distract Sam from his brooding thoughts and guilt about Jessica.
He stepped inside the grocery store and was blasted with the splashes of harvest reds, oranges, and yellows and giant cardboard turkeys. Thanksgiving was today. The store was full of last minute shoppers rushing to get those final ingredients and trimmings they’d forgotten.
Instinct told him to turn around and head to the local gas mart. Something made him stay. He needed to do something. For Sam. Maybe some pie? Pie was always good.
________________________________________________________________________________
It was just another holiday.
Elizabeth had sent him out at the last minute to get the whipped cream for the pie. He shook his head fondly. Usually it was him forgetting things! It wasn’t that surprising truthfully. With Elizabeth’s parents, her sister and her husband, and Peter’s father, aunt, and uncle, all visiting, the Burke household was the center of chaos.
Normally a crowd like this would wear on him quickly, but not this time. He was grateful to have the chance to spend a day with them after the past few crazy months. Between the flood of new cases and Caffrey’s trial, he was more than ready for a break. Peter couldn’t remember how many holidays he’d been forced to miss because of a case. Actually being able to spend the whole holiday with his wife and family was a rare blessing. One he intended to enjoy.
________________________________________________________________________________
“What’s all this?”
“Dinner. Thought you might like some KFC for a change,” Dean said, giving his brother a plate full of chicken, potatoes doused in gravy, and two biscuits. “I stopped and got you this too.” He plopped the McDonald’s shake-up salad in front of his brother. Sam loved his greens. “And for desert,” he proudly pulled the most important item out of the bag, “we have pumpkin pie.”
Dean ignored Sam’s suspicious gaze as he set the pie aside. He started filling his own plate with food, acting completely normal. Eventually, Sam grabbed a fork and started to eat.
Satisfied, Dean settled on the bed and flipped on the television and found SyFy’s James Bond movie marathon. Awesome.
Thunderball was ending when Dean dished up the pie. Sam absently poked at his piece, withdrawn and brooding, but at least he was eating. He went to bed an hour later, claiming exhaustion. Sam really was, Dean knew, because the kid was barely sleeping. So he let it go. Cleaning up, Dean paused by his brother’s bedside and let his fingers stroke his baby brother’s hair for a moment.
“I’m sorry, Sam.”
Sorry for Jessica. Sorry that his baby brother was hurting and there was nothing he could do besides be there for him. Dean was not sorry he saved Sam. He could never be sorry for that, even when his heart broke because of the pain Sam was in. If there was one thing he was thankful for, it was that Sam was here with him, safe and alive. With their rough life, he couldn’t ask for more.
________________________________________________________________________________
“Elizabeth, you have outdone yourself.” William Burke toasted Peter’s wife.
A chorus of agreement went up from the rest of the table, glasses full of wine rising in a mutual toast. Elizabeth blushed. “Thank you!”
Peter reached out and took her hand in his, squeezing gently. She beamed and Peter’s heart burst with love for this gorgeous, smart, and kind woman.
“Dad’s right, El. Everything is delicious.”
They kissed. “I’m glad you approve,” she purred in his ear. Peter grinned. “I do.” One more kiss and they resumed eating the meal.
Peter surveyed the table, the smiles and joking expressions, the clink of the silverware on Elizabeth’s favorite china set, the tang of pumpkin spice, turkey, and cranberries thick in the air. Beside him, Elizabeth glowed as she chatted with her sister about who knows what. He settled back against his chair, content to just watch everyone.
There were only two people missing from the gathering. Peter hoped that, wherever the brothers were, they were happy.
~*~
Part 18: Dean and Elizabeth - March 2006
He jumped when his phone started ringing. Blearily he grabbed for it and stumbled out of bed towards the bathroom. Sammy was asleep for once and Dean had no intention of waking him. Kid didn’t get enough sleep, not with nightmares chasing him every night.
“’Lo?”
“Dean Michael Winchester!”
All sleepiness was immediately banished. Elizabeth. Crap! He quickly closed the bathroom door and turned on the faucet.
“Uh, hey, El, listen…”
“Don’t you ‘hey, El’ me, young man.”
Dean winced. Yeah, she was definitely pissed.
“Do you realize what you just put Peter and me through?”
“Elizabeth-“
“The news is saying you’re a murderer, a serial killer! That someone shot you dead!” Her voice cracked.
“I’m sorry, Elizabeth,” Dean said softly, guilt flooding him. “I meant to call, but it was a long drive, and Sammy and I both needed to crash. I didn’t think you’d hear about it in New York so fast.”
Actually, he hadn’t thought about calling at all. Not really. There were too many other, more pressing problems on his mind. His dad disappearing off the grid, the murder of Sam’s girlfriend in the exact same way as Mom…it was too much of a coincidence. Dean had instinctively fallen back on his training and gone off the grid too. Peter was an FBI agent, and Dean would have loved to have access to his resources, but Peter was a straight shooter. Always was. He wasn’t going to ask Peter to lie and risk losing his job to help Dean track down his dad. Besides, the feds hadn’t been able to pin his dad down in twenty years; he doubted that would change. So he’d dropped contact with the Burkes.
“No, you didn’t intend to call.”
Dean silently cursed Elizabeth’s perceptiveness. It was impossible to keep a secret from the woman!
“It’s complicated,” Dean replied, scrubbing his face. He should explain at least some of it so they knew why Dean had gone radio silent, but the fatigue was catching up with him again. Stupid shapeshifter!
A beat of silence.
Then, “What really happened in St. Louis?”
A soft sigh escaped his lips. “Hold on a minute.”
He turned off the water and slipped out of the bathroom. Grabbing his jacket, Dean headed towards the motel door. He checked on Sam first. His baby brother was still asleep. Good. He stepped outside and closed the door quietly.
“Elizabeth?”
“Still here,” was the soft reply. She sounded less upset than earlier. Dean counted that as a win. He definitely wanted her calm for his explanation.
“It was a shapeshifter.”
“Shapeshifter? Like a skinwalker?”
“Close enough. Both can shed their skin and take on a new form. Shapeshifters strictly imitate humans though. The one in St. Louis decided to go on a little murder spree and was framing the boyfriends for it.”
“So it took on your form, used your face to kill.”
“Almost killed,” Dean corrected. “It didn’t kill the last victim. The police arrived and interrupted it. That’s why my face wound up plastered on the news. But I got the SOB in the end. The police just assumed it was me who killed the other women.”
He didn’t add that the monster used his face to beat the crap out of his baby brother and that it died far too fast for what it had done.
“And you let them.”
Dean shrugged even though she couldn’t see him. “Well, yeah. They blamed me-the shifter that looked like me, and the other poor shmucks it framed are off the hook.”
Elizabeth was quiet for a while.
“Okay, I understand.”
Dean waited.
“Will you please tell me why you haven’t returned our calls?”
The hurt and worry was plain. But she didn’t sound demanding or even pleading. She was simply asking and would accept whatever answer or non-answer he gave. Dean closed his eyes, feeling the familiar bite of guilt gnawing at him once more. She deserved better from him. So did Peter.
With a soft exhale, he gave her the Reader’s Digest version of Dad’s disappearance and then the murder of Sam’s girlfriend, Jessica Moore. Elizabeth was a smart woman. She’d know he wasn’t telling her everything and respect that. It was one of the many reasons he adored her and was thrilled that Peter had married her.
His story finished, Dean fell silent and waited for Elizabeth’s response.
“Is there anything Peter and I can do?”
Dean couldn’t believe his ears. Who in their right mind would offer to get involved in the chaos that was the Winchester life? Peter and Elizabeth. He shook his head. Dean was not one to believe in miracles, he’d seen too much evil in the world, but if there ever was anything that came close to a miracle in his life, it was the friendship he had with Peter and Elizabeth Burke.
“No, no, but uh, thanks.”
“All right.” Elizabeth sounded reluctant. Then in a stronger voice, “Will you try to let us know you and your brother are okay? Just…don’t leave us in the dark.”
“I can do that.”
~*~
Part 19: Sam - June 2006
“Hey, Dean, where have you been?”
“Aw, you worried about me, Samantha? That’s sweet.”
“Whatever.” Sam rolled his eyes. Despite the attempt at humor, he could tell Dean’s heart wasn’t in it. His smile was brittle and his eyes shadowed. Thank God it wasn’t even close to the same shadow from a couple weeks ago when Dean was telling him what happened with the shtriga years ago.
“Come on, man!” he cajoled. “Where did you go?”
Dean just shrugged. “Nowhere exciting, Sammy. You have a good time with Sarah yesterday?”
He tossed Sam one of his best horn dog smiles.
“Not what I asked, Dean.” Dean just shrugged and ignored him. After a minute of just watching his brother pack his clothes, Sam huffed and threw up his arms. “Seriously? You’re not going to tell me?”
“Tell you what? There’s nothing to tell, man! I enjoyed a day off while you spent a day getting busy with the lovely Sarah.”
“Dean, you always disappear for a day when we’re near New York. Always! I don’t get it, man. You hate cities. You’re always complaining about all the cars and the idiots driving them.”
“Of course I hate cities. Have you seen how those morons drive? They make the little ol’ lady from Pasadena look like a soapbox racer on a Nascar track.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “My point is, whenever we’re on a job in or around New York, you take a detour and run off somewhere. Alone.”
“Whatever. Finish packing. I want to get on the road by ten.” Dean zipped his duffel.
Deflection. The Winchester specialty. Well, not this time.
“You visit the professor and his wife, don’t you? That’s where you were yesterday.”
Sam tried not to wince as Dean’s iron defenses slammed into place. Crap.
“If you already know, why are you asking me?”
“Because, man, I want you to tell me! I mean, you were the one who told me we can’t have any connections outside hunting! And here you are, going to visit the professor every chance you get.”
“Sam,” Dean sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It isn’t the same, alright.”
“Really? How?”
“Because Peter knows about our job, what we do. He’s not some ignorant civilian or another idiot cop. It’s not like I’m lying my butt off every other sentence because I’m trying to keep him in the dark.” The older Winchester threw his duffel over his shoulder and headed toward the door. A clear sign Dean considered the subject was closed. But Sam wasn’t going to give up.
“What about his wife?”
“What about her?”
“She doesn’t know.”
Dean gave him an ‘are you kidding me’ look.
“She knows? Since when?” Sam asked, incredulous. The sweet, motherly woman he remembered meeting when they dropped off the rescued puppy couldn’t possibly know about what the Winchester family did for a living. Could she?
His big brother's hand was on the doorknob. “What does it matter?”
Too late, Sam recognized the emotional sand trap he'd stepped in. Stupid!
“It doesn’t," he quickly said. "I just-Dean, I didn’t mean it’s a bad thing. I’m glad you’re friends with them.” Dean paused and glanced back, skepticism plain. Sam repeated earnestly, “I am. Promise! Guess I just wasn’t expecting it, you know. I mean, you and dad are such lone wolves…and…” Crap, how could explain this and not send Dean into lockdown for the next month?
Dean’s eyebrows drew together.
“This is because of Sarah and Jessica, isn’t it?”
Sam looked away, shifting his weight from one foot to another. It really sucked having a brother who knew him so well sometimes. He saw and knew stuff about him before Sam even knew. It bugged the crap out of him. Sam’s one consolation was he could do the same thing with his brother. Most of the time.
“It is.” Dean sighed, dropping his duffel back on the bed. “Sam, when I told you we can’t have connections outside the job, I meant we can’t with civilians, with people who don’t know. If we do…”
“But what about Dad’s rule: we do what we do and we shut up about it?”
Dean shook his head and exhaled. “Do you know why Dad made that rule?”
“Uh, to keep us from blabbing and getting into trouble?”
“Yeah, and to keep Social Services off our backs. One time Social Services got ahold of us while Dad was on a hunting trip. They separated us and were going to put us in separate homes. Dad managed to get us out in time, but it scared him pretty bad I think.”
Sam’s mouth opened and closed. “I-I don’t remember that.”
“Well, you were pretty little at the time,” Dean excused. Sam frowned. How little, he wondered, because Dean seemed to remember quite well. Even mentioning it seemed to agitate his big brother. “Anyway, after that, Dad established the rule that we don’t talk about the job, ever. It was primarily for me until you read Dad’s journal and found out everything.”
That made sense. It was only after he learned about his dad’s real job that his dad laid down the rule, among others, and began training both brothers hard.
“What’s your point, man?”
“The point is the rule was to protect us while we were kids. Now, whether or not we tell is our decision.”
“Like when you told Cassie.”
Dean grimaced, tipping his head forward in acknowledgement. “Yeah.”
“You think I should have told Jessica.”
“Eventually, yeah. I mean, lying about your past, your life, isn’t exactly good for a relationship.”
Sam flinched.
“I didn’t tell her, and she-” he broke off, unable to finish.
“Sam, whether or not she knew doesn’t necessarily mean the demon could have been stopped,” Dean said gently. “It wanted to kill her, and it did. Just like it killed Mom. I mean, even with your weird psychic dreams there was no way you could have stopped it.”
The words were familiar now. Dean had told him time and time again Jessica’s death was not his fault. But Sam knew otherwise.
“Sarah knows about the supernatural,” Sam said, swallowing back the burn of guilt over Jessica’s death and focusing on the matter at hand.
“She didn’t run screaming the other way, did she?” A small, crooked grin formed on his brother’s face. “She actually spent an entire day with you after she learned the truth, Geekboy. Seems to me, she still likes you. You could come back.”
Earlier, Sam had dismissed his brother’s suggestion that they come back to see Sarah. Now he wasn’t so sure it was a bad idea. He still didn’t think it was safe to be around him, but after the demon was dead maybe the curse would finally end.
“Maybe. After it’s over.”
Dean clicked his tongue, reaching down to pick up his bag again. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go. If I have to stay in Discoland any longer, I’ll go nuts.”
Laughing, Sam quickly finished packing and followed his brother out to the Impala. It wasn’t until later that he realized Dean had never answered his original question, and he had never found out why his big brother had been upset.
~*~
Part 20: Peter - July 2006
He abhorred politics, especially at times like this.
They were essential in the work place, helped maintain order, but at the moment Peter could care less about order. What he needed was to go to Blue Earth to attend the funeral of Pastor Jim Murphy. But to get the leave of absence, he had to play the game right so as not to upset the higher-ups. The head of his division and former mentor, Reese Hughes, had been surprised by his request but agreeable. The only tricky part was the upcoming trial Peter was supposed to testify at.
Peter had solemnly promised to be back in time to testify. But he had to visit Blue Earth for at least a day.
Now it was a waiting game while Hughes spoke with the officers, lawyers, and judge involved in the case. But Peter had never been one to be idle. Instead, he started making some calls to Blue Earth, digging for details.
The pastor’s death had been sudden and, from the little information the police had shared with him, very quick and brutal. Further probing yielded another clue. Something had happened to the man who found the body in the church. What exactly, he could only guess. But Peter was fairly certain that the man was probably dead as well. The police were determined to keep things under wraps as they investigated. He couldn’t blame them.
His stomach hurt as dread took root.
There was no evidence, none he was directly told about anyway, but Peter was certain the pastor’s murder was tied to the supernatural world. Pastor Jim was a hunter, after all, despite no longer being as active in the field. The pastor was still quite experienced and offered-had offered safe haven for other hunters when they had needed it.
He tried calling Caleb, another hunter whose number Dean gave him in case of emergencies. It kept going to voicemail.
Frustrated, Peter hit the end call button before the voicemail could start again. He had limited options.
Calling Dean was a huge risk. Officially, Dean Winchester was dead. There’d been a public service and coffin buried in St. Louis, after all. No one else but the almost-victim, Rebecca Warren, knew the truth about the thing that went on a killing spree and met its end wearing Dean Winchester’s face. A shapeshifter! It gave Peter the willies just thinking about it. He was glad the creature had been stopped, he was, but the price was high.
If Peter was caught talking with a dead man…it would be both their butts.
Peter checked his phone. Still no word from Hughes. He wished his wife was there to talk him down. But Elizabeth was busy with a big wedding event downtown and had been gone since early that morning.
He closed his eyes, pressing his fingers to his temples.
There was no going back if he did this. Peter still remembered his shock at finding the hunter in his living room playing with Satchmo when he came home at noon for lunch one day about a month ago. At first Peter had been ecstatic to see him until he remembered that Dean was supposed to be a dead serial killer. The afternoon was spent in serious discussion about what was going to happen next.
Dean had reluctantly explained this would be the last time he came to the Burke home. Because of Peter. It was like a punch to the face and a pat on the back at the same time. He loved his job, loved helping people and bringing criminals to justice for their crimes. Dean was a criminal, an accused serial killer, and Peter should have reported he was alive. As an officer of the law, it was his duty. As a friend and someone who knew the truth, he couldn’t do it. Not without finding a way to prove Dean’s innocence. And Dean knew all that. That had led him to his decision to cut off contact, to no longer see the Burkes. But he wasn’t going to just go completely radio silent like he had that past fall, for which Peter was relieved.
His postcards with a line or two written on it that started coming after the fiasco in St. Louis kept coming at sporadic intervals. Dean had also given Peter three numbers to call if there was ever any trouble and Peter or Elizabeth seriously needed help. One was for a salvage yard in South Dakota and the others were emergency cell phones Dean and Sam had.
At the time, Peter had thought the likelihood of him actually calling was zilch. Why would he need those numbers when he already had Pastor Jim’s? Wrong. Now he was grateful for Dean's foresight.
He looked at the paper and the scrawled numbers. No going back.
Peter started dialing.
A sharp exhale escaped him as he listened to the phone ring and ring and ring. It rolled over to voicemail.
Peter swallowed, trying to wet his suddenly dry throat and tried again.
Then again.
Nothing.
Desperate, he tried Sam’s number. The result was the same.
He tried the last number, praying someone would answer.
“Singer Salvage,” a rusty voice said. “What can I do for ya?”
“Bobby Singer.”
“Yeah?” Wary. Good. That meant Singer was probably a hunter. Suspicious seemed to be the hunter default setting.
“I’m Peter Burke, a friend of Dean Winchester’s. I’ve been trying to reach him since I heard about Pastor Jim’s death,” Peter explained. No point in beating around the bush. “I can’t get him or his brother though. He gave me your number in case neither of them could be reached.”
He listened to the other man breath into the phone, considering what Peter had said. A heavy sigh followed.
“You the Professor?”
“Yes, Dean tends to call me that.”
Singer grunted. “Reckon you should know then.”
Peter’s stomach dropped to his toes. “Know what?”
An hour later, when Hughes finally called to tell him he had permission to take a few days, he was already packed.
Singer’s words kept circling around in his mind in a chaotic jumble. Demon attack. A crash with a semi. Hospital. Coma. John Winchester dead. Sam and Dean injured, but alive. He needed to get out there as soon as possible.
Peter scarcely acknowledged Hughes strict orders to be back in two days or his honor, Judge Eldredge, would have his badge. His focus was entirely on reaching the airport as quickly as possible. He thanked Hughes and hung up.
Quickly, he put Satchmo out back and dialed Elizabeth as he headed out the door.
He was catching the next flight out to Sioux Falls.
~*~
Part 21: Dean - April 2007
Dean threw back the covers and reached down to grab his boots. Screw this! He’d been tossing and turning for hours. Might as well do something productive.
Fully dressed, he headed out the motel door.
The night was surprisingly warm for April this far north. Dean paused at the Impala, debating where to go. He could always drive around for a while, he supposed. No, he’d just walk. This way Sam would know he hadn’t gone far if he woke up to find his brother missing. He doubted it. Sam was just as exhausted as he was.
Dean patted the Impala’s hood gently and started walking.
His mind churned.
Stupid djinn!
Sam's earlier attempt at comfort echoed in his mind quietly. But people are alive because of you. It’s worth it, Dean. It is.
Was it really? There were so many people dead, family members they’d been forced to bury. It was like an aching chasm had been ripped through his heart. No, the chasm had been there for some time, ever since Dad died, maybe since Mom. He’d just ignored it, buried it as much as possible.
He sighed and turned down the next street.
The psychobabble really wasn’t his thing. Elizabeth was the expert. Fresh guilt ripped through him. Elizabeth Burke, the beautiful and kind wife of ‘Professor’ Peter Burke. He wished he could call them. Not that he wanted to really talk, but they always made him feel welcome, accepted. They were the only people left outside Bobby, and recently Ellen Harvelle, that he trusted.
But after the murders of Pastor Jim and Caleb, and then his dad sacrificing himself and the Colt for Dean, he knew he would have to cut ties completely. Not just backing off like he had after his supposed death in St. Louis. This was full-stop no contact. Nothing could ever link him to the Burkes. If the supernatural monsters ever found out about them, if that yellow-eyed SOB demon ever found them...
Dean would never forgive himself.
Peter had come out to South Dakota after he learned about Pastor Jim’s death. He was there the day after Dean was released from the hospital, the day after John Winchester died. Elizabeth had arrived soon after. They had not said much, but their presence had helped. All too soon, the couple had to leave, and Dean had become fully immersed in his mission to ignore the pain as anger built up inside him at the sheer wrongness he felt.
His mind strayed once more to the dream world the djinn had trapped him in while he used him as a blood bag. Every one of the people he, his brother, and his father had saved over the years was dead, including Peter Burke. That loss hit him the hardest. Combined with Dream Sam and him not being on good terms, it had turned the semi pleasantness of the dream into a full on nightmare.
It was like that saying about some people coming into your life and leaving footprints, or some lame thing like that, on the heart and forever changing a person. The Burkes had done that to him, as sappy as it sounded.
He had to protect Peter and Elizabeth, but he didn’t know how beyond no longer contacting them. Just like he didn’t know how to protect Sam from whatever plans the yellow-eyed demon had. He was doing his best, keeping Sam close and keeping a sharp eye out, but there was little else he could do.
The helplessness was killing him. It was like what he’d said to Sam months ago by that lake, when he finally broke down and told his brother their father’s final words. Everything was spinning out of control. John had said he might have to kill Sam, Sammy, his baby brother; the baby he’d protected and cared for his whole life.
It didn’t bear thinking about. Dean wasn’t going to let it happen. He was going to save his brother. Destiny could go screw itself.
Dean spotted the river ahead of him, marking the edge of town. He startled. Had he really walked that far?
Crap, not good. Dean mentally kicked himself. Pay attention, soldier! Anything could have jumped him. Stupid, stupid, stupid!
Grimly, Dean turned back. Every sense was on alert as he made his way back to the motel and his sleeping brother.
~*~
Part 22: Peter - February 2008
The phone rang, cutting through his concentration. Annoyed, Peter picked it up without checking the ID and answered curtly. “Burke.”
“Boss, turn on the news. Channel 7. There’s something you need to see.”
A seed of foreboding sprouted in his stomach.
“What’s going on, Diana?” Diana Berrigan, his probie of two years, didn’t call him like this on a whim. Something was up.
“Police station in Monument, Colorado, exploded last night. Agent Hendrickson was there holding the Winchesters.”
Peter nearly dropped the phone in surprise. He hastily clicked on the television. As the report played, Peter sank down onto the couch, unconsciously hanging up.
Elizabeth found him there, two hours later, staring numbly ahead.
“Peter?”
“He’s dead, El. They both are.”
Elizabeth glanced at the replaying footage and immediately sat down beside him, wrapping her arms around him.
“Peter, you can’t know that. Maybe they faked it like before.”
Peter shook his head, not looking at her. “Not this time,” he choked out.
“Honey…”
“Do you remember when he called out of the blue couple weeks ago?” Peter asked gruffly, finally turning to face her.
“Yes. You said he sounded off, like he was…” Elizabeth paused, horror washing across her features. “He was saying goodbye,” she finished in a whisper, tears filling her eyes.
Peter bowed his head.
“Do you-do you think he knew?” Elizabeth’s fingers wrapped tightly around his hand.
Peter jerked his head. “He must have suspected at least.”
Though how Dean could have known eluded him. Perhaps something supernatural, demonic maybe, had been after them? It was possible. The reporter had not said much, except that the Fire Department speculated the cause was a ruptured gas line. Ha! That was typically code for ‘we don’t have a clue’.
Peter could feel Elizabeth’s frame trembling. Abruptly she grabbed for Peter’s cell phone, but he caught her hand.
“I already tried.” He hated to destroy the last shred of hope his wife had, but it would be worse for her to hear what he had. “All I got was voicemail or that the number was out of order.”
“What about that number for South Dakota?” Elizabeth demanded.
Peter could see the same desperation in her eyes that he had felt. He tried to swallow around the cotton wad in his mouth. “I spoke with Bobby. He-they’re gone, El. They’re gone.”
Dean and Sam Winchester were dead.
“No.”
Peter pulled Elizabeth close as the first sob wracked her frame. He buried his face in her hair as the tears he’d been fighting since he saw the report finally fell.
**End Note: The quote Dean is thinking of in Part 21 is this one-“Some people come into our lives and quickly go. Some stay for a while, leave footprints on our hearts, and we are never, ever the same” ~ Flavia Weeden
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