Graduation Day 3/5
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One stiff drink had become five, but John had managed to stop there and sleep the rest of the afternoon away. He woke up hungry shortly after 7 and grabbed a burger from the aptly-named Burger Barn-which was actually in an old restored barn on the edge of town-briefly noticing that his muffler sounded a little loud, but not thinking much of it. And then, after a short internal debate, he decided to swing back by the boys’ house just to see what was happening.
He pulled up, seeing a bunch of cars there. Some he recognized. Others he didn't. And one person he recognized was walking up to the front door.
The desk clerk of the hotel, Tricia, knocked twice on the door. A beat, and she knocked twice more.
John's heart clenched. That was their family's coded knock.
The door opened and he saw Sam beam at her, gather her into his arms for a kiss, and guide her inside with a large hand on the small of her back.
John swore quietly. Tricia seemed like a nice girl-and Sam was going to get her killed, he just knew it.
But this meant both his boys... had someone.
Someone besides each other.
Someone besides him.
This was bad. This was very, VERY bad. With what was gunning for Sam...
John slid out of the truck without really thinking. He had to at least check the wards on the house, even if he couldn’t go in.
He found that the grounds were cultivated. Only a hunter would recognize that the plants growing around the house carried strong protective virtues. And the decorative fences? Wrought iron with silver decoration.
His heart eased a little. So far, so good.
The patio that served as a back porch had a familiar emblem in bricks. A masonry devil’s trap. More protective shrubbery lined the backyard fence.
This lightened his heart. His boys hadn’t forgotten, hadn’t gone soft. Didn’t mean they could stay safe here forever, but... it was a damn sight better than most of the motel rooms where they’d stayed.
He was just about to work his way back around to the front of the house when he heard a roar of laughter from inside. Bobby’s voice. Caleb’s. Jim’s. Sam’s. Dean’s. And finally a distant memory supplied the reason for all the cars.
A party. His sons and his best friends were having a party. And John knew damn well he wasn’t invited.
He couldn’t resist, though - he had to see. He crept around. The blinds in the kitchen window hadn’t been closed, though John could see at a glance that it was both locked and salted.
There was Dean, at the stove, making something that took two pots and Sam standing beside him - a whole head taller than his older brother, how the hell - slicing crusty bread and occasionally waving the knife to emphasize a point.
Sammy always did talk with his hands just as much as Dean did. Though John had insisted since they were very young that Sammy use his voice instead of his fingers.
Daphne and Tricia were doing something else that he couldn’t quite see at the kitchen table. Dean turned suddenly and John saw Daphne’s hands dance. Dean’s right hand raised and fingers flew in reply and Daphne nodded, turning back to her task as Dean turned to his.
John swallowed hard. He wasn’t quite sure how he felt about knowing that Dean used ASL with his girl.
Then his heart completely shattered when Sam put down the knife - drew his hands in close, ‘whispering’ - and signed to Dean. Dean’s head threw back as his laugh rang out loud and hearty.
G-d, his boys signed with each other!!!
He couldn’t take any more. He fled back to the motel and got well and truly drunk.
His worst nightmare had come true. Dean no longer spoke aloud. He’d muted himself again.
His boy had crippled himself AGAIN!
When John finally dragged himself out of bed on Saturday, the fact that he couldn’t handle the thought of food had nothing to do with the amount of whisky he’d consumed the night before. His heart was still aching from what he’d seen. But he made his way to Maggie’s anyway; he knew he needed to get out of the room, if only for a short time.
Garnet Petersen smiled as he entered the diner. “Hi, Mr. Winchester. What can I get you?”
“Just... just coffee. Thanks, Garnet.”
She signed a ‘thank you’ back at him, You’re welcome, and headed to get the coffee.
John blinked. She didn't look much over 18... had she learned Sign from Dean?
When she returned and he asked her, she nodded. “Two years of it. Then I had to drop out. Dean’s trying hard to get me to come back to school, but I’m wondering if it’s a little too late for me.”
“Why? What happened?”
“Amber was thrown out of the house and my father left us shortly after. Momma had a nervous collapse and I had to support the family.” She shook her head. “Daddy’s not allowed anywhere near Cazadore. He knows why, too.”
John suddenly felt uneasy. “Did he... do something?”
“He made a deal.” Her voice was cold. Unforgiving. “He made a damned deal - me and Amber as toys for his friends. Amber went along with it - I didn’t. When we started wearing the charms, he couldn’t touch either of us. Momma drew the devil’s trap on the porch one day while he was out and he never came on the porch again. He left that minute. I... I think he might have done more than made a deal with his friends. I think he’s got something riding him and he’s scared to come back ’cause he knows we’ll exorcise the hell out of him. Literally.”
“But if Amber went along with him, why’d he throw her out?”
“After Dean wouldn't give in to her” - there was a story he had to hear someday - “she threw such a fit that he slapped her. She grabbed a knife and threatened to gut him if he touched her again. We went to the meeting that next August - after a long and tense few months - and when she came back with the necklace he took one look at her and told her he was tired of her face and to get out. And he screamed after her until she did.” She shook her head. “And he was the one who suggested she go after Dean in the first place.”
“Where is she now?”
“Don’t know - don’t really care.”
“Have you ever seen her again?” John didn’t know why he kept pressing; it just pained him to hear her speak so coldly of her own sister. Dean might have gone mute, but at least the affection between him and Sam was blindingly obvious whenever John had seen them together.
“No. She’s sent money sometimes, but always from a PO box.”
John nodded. “I’m sorry.”
She shrugged. “I’m glad to see that your sons know what treasures they have in each other.”
“Yes. Yes, so am I. Thanks, Garnet.”
She nodded. “So...” your order?
He shook his head. “Just coffee. Kind of under the weather today.”
She nodded and went to help another patron. This conversation was completely in Sign.
When she returned, she noticed his stricken look. “That’s Amy Sorensen. She’s been deaf from birth.”
John’s face cleared as a few puzzle pieces began to click into place. “I bet she’s glad to have a few people around town who know ASL.”
“Her dad’s head of the school board.”
“So was he the one who hired Dean?”
“Yup.”
John nodded. “Wish I weren’t so rusty; I’d tell her to give him my thanks.”
“I don’t understand.”
“For giving Dean a job. Probably would have been tough for the boys to make ends meet on a mechanic’s salary.”
“No, not really. Mercer pays a decent wage and for two young men, it would have been more than enough. Especially since Sam started work as well.”
John blinked. “He did? Where?”
Garnet grinned. “At the Burger Barn on Redart Drive.”
John felt like an absolute idiot. All this time he’d been trying to catch Sammy alone at the house or the school, when he’d probably just missed seeing him at work more than once!
“Is the coffee that bad? You’ve got an expression like you just swallowed a bag of lemons!”
John chuckled in spite of himself. “No, just... kicking myself for not seeing him there.”
“Well....” she looked out the window and he followed, to see a silver-colored motorcycle pass by. “There he goes.”
“What time does he get off, do you know?”
“He’s got today off. He’s probably gone to get his paycheck.”
John nodded. “Could I get a to-go cup?”
“Certainly.” She returned in record time.
John thanked her, poured his coffee into the cup quickly, and left her a generous tip before hurrying out to his truck.
He found the motorcycle rolling to a stop outside the Burger Barn and the figure that unfolded - by size and build alone - was definitely his Sam. But the boy had gone inside by the time he got parked, and John hesitated-did he go in after Sam or try to catch him when he came back out?
As he tried to make up his mind, Sam came back out and straddled the bike again.
John jumped out of the truck. “SAM! WAIT!”
Sam’s head snapped around. John faltered at the pure fury he saw in his son’s eyes, and Sam took the opportunity to make his escape. He laid the bike on the road with a velocity no motorcycle should have. And John knew Dean had to have had something to do with it.
Before he could recover enough to get back in the truck, Sam had sped around the corner and out of sight.
DAMMIT! John roared internally. He’d successfully hunted some of the most elusive monsters in North America... why couldn’t he catch up to his own son?
John drove aimlessly, but as he passed a park he saw the Impala and the motorcycle. Once he parked and got out, he could see their tall forms, walking along a path, hands flying in a silent give and take. He wanted desperately to go after them... but he could see how hunched up Sam’s shoulders were. If John showed up now, Sam was more likely to talk with his fists than anything.
John had had enough emotional punches to the gut that week. He didn’t need a physical one.
He was so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn’t hear Bobby till he spoke. “Penny for ’em.”
John jumped. “Dammit, Bobby....”
“Thought I saw you outside the boys’ house last night.”
“Did they see me?”
“Might have when you left. Didn’t say so.”
John sighed.
“You need to get that muffler replaced, John, if you want to go sneakin’ up on anybody in this thing. Hell, the Impala would be more subtle.”
John rubbed the back of his neck. “Know any good parts places?”
Bobby shrugged. “Mercer’s is as good a place as any.”
“Mercer’s - that’s twice that place was mentioned.”
“Best garage in town... with one of the best mechanics in town.”
“Anyone I know?”
“You ought to. You trained ’im.”
John smiled a genuine one. “Dean.”
“Boy’s a mechanical genius. If he weren’t so set on teaching ASL, he’d probably be getting his degree in engineering.”
“He’s really fixed on it, huh?”
“Oh, yeah. Was pretty nervous about it at first, but he’d fallen in love with it by the end of the first six weeks. And he’s got a real gift, John. Hell, he’s even taught me a few basics.”
“He’s grown up signing. I...” He looked over at Dean and Sam, who were still now, still signing to each other. “I wonder if he’ll ever speak again.”
Bobby looked at him oddly. “He speaks all the time.”
“Yeah... signs.”
“That’s a comfort thing, John-a family thing. He’ll converse out loud with most people easily enough. He only really switches to Sign with Sam and the girls.”
John felt his knees start to buckle and he sat right down on the bumper of his truck. “He... talks? He-He-He didn’t mute himself?”
“What in the sam hill is wrong with you, John? Of course he talks, idjit.”
John looked up at him and Bobby saw sheer terror there. He had never seen that expression in those eyes.
“Bobby,” John whispered, “I... I don’t understand.”
Bobby frowned. “What don’t you understand?”
“This! This town, the boys, any of it!!”
Bobby put a hand on John’s shoulder. “Go talk to Mercer. Maybe things’ll make a little more sense.”
John snarled and stormed into his truck.
Bobby followed him to the driver’s door. “John-I sent the boys here. You know I wouldn’t have done that if it weren’t safe.”
“Get out of my way, Singer,” John snapped and peeled out.
He drove aimlessly for a while longer until he found himself approaching Mercer’s Garage, and the reason for Bobby’s advice finally registered. His muffler did sound kind of loud.
Old Man Mercer came out as John drove up. “You need a muffler.”
“Yeah, I do.” John got out and offered his hand. “John Winchester.”
“Tony Mercer.”
“Would it be possible for me to just buy the muffler from you? I... need something to do with my hands this afternoon.”
“I happen to have an empty bay today. You can use Dean’s tools.”
John swallowed hard-he hadn’t expected that. “That’d be great, thanks.”
Dean’s bay was one with a view of the entire shop. John caught sight of something on the ceiling as he pulled in and looked at it more carefully as he got out of the truck. There was a devil’s trap painted right over where a person would have to stand to work under the hood.
John stared at it for a moment. “Huh.”
“This is where it all started,” said another man who was approaching from another part of the shop.
“What started?”
“Everything. This is where Dean met Amy Sorensen, where he tried not to get cornered into taking Amber Petersen to Homecoming, where the boys and their uncles exorcised Josh Robichaux....” The man stopped. “Sorry, forgetting my manners. Name’s Leo.”
“John.”
“Yeah, Dean does a lot of good work here. Most of it’s with cars, but-” Leo pointed up to the devil’s trap-“not always.”
“You speak of him like he’s a hero.”
“Hell, yeah, he’s a hero! So’s Sam! It was their idea to trap Josh here. If they hadn’t caught on so fast, God alone knows what kind of havoc that demon could have wreaked-and poor Josh would have had to live with those memories, if he even survived.”
“You’re really close to them.”
Leo smiled. “Yeah, they’re good boys. It’s been a pleasure to work with Dean all these years.”
“And Sam?”
“Well, he mostly does his homework here, or did until he hit one of those AP classes and said the noise made it too hard to focus on all the reading he had to do. But he’s helped out a time or two, and I think he’s picked up a lot from Dean. Great kid.”
“AP?”
“Advanced Placement-lets you test out of college classes. I think they’ve both got close to a semester’s worth of credits already.”
“Seriously?”
“Yep. Dean was shocked, but he found out that the advanced classes, at least in English and History, were just the challenge he needed. ’Course, Mr. Cooper probably had something to do with that.”
“Cooper. I need to meet him. What did he do?”
Leo shrugged. “Seems he saw something in Dean that most of his teachers hadn’t-turns out the boy’s Gifted. And he encouraged Dean to give his European History class a try. It was hard work, but Dean just... shone.”
John frowned. “What do you mean by ‘gifted’?”
“Gifted and Talented-or as Cooper likes to call ’em, Gifted and Twisted. It’s a certain personality type, usually means they’re bright but not necessarily academically inclined. Kind of the opposite end of the spectrum from what you normally think of as Special Ed, but they do need extra instruction-enrichment, really, something to keep ’em challenged so they don’t get bored and drop out.”
“Huh. I knew Sammy was that way, but... Dean?”
“Yep. Seems he’d just gotten used to hiding it. After he had that talk with Cooper, though, he came to work almost in tears... it was like no one but Sammy’d ever told him he was smart before.”
John wondered briefly if it wouldn’t have hurt less to let Sammy take a swing at him.
Leo just smiled. “Sammy’s always told him that he’s smart and capable. Dean somehow got it into his head that if it wasn’t a car or a spirit, he wasn’t any good at it.”
John sighed. “It’s all his old man’s good at anymore.”
Leo cocked an eyebrow. “Somehow I doubt that.”
Rather than getting into all the good qualities the boys seemed to have inherited solely from their mother, John decided to change the subject. “Say, what is the story about Dean and Amber Petersen?”
“You need to hear that from Dean.”
“But you said it started here-something about trying not to get cornered into taking her to Homecoming?”
“Right. She came here while he was working and demanded that he take her to Homecoming.”
John stared. “Demanded?! Whatever happened to asking?”
“She asked. He said no. Nobody’d ever told her no before-at least, not and gotten away with it.”
John could barely picture Dean turning down any girl, never mind one who probably looked a lot like Garnet. “Did... did he give a reason?”
“Mister Winchester,” Leo said as if he were talking to a very slow child. “Dean is faculty. She was a student.”
Embarrassed, John rubbed the back of his neck. “Right. Still tryin’ to get my head around that.”
“What, that Dean teaches?”
“That he teaches school, yes. I mean, he’s always taught Sammy, and I guess I could see him giving private lessons on the side, but doing it for a living... just never thought he’d be interested, that’s all.”
“I’m startin’ to think there’s a lot about Dean you just don’t know.”
“I’m gettin’ that.” John sighed again. If you think my goals could be so trivial and small, / Then I don’t think you know me at all....
“You wanna learn about him?”
“’Course I do. He’s my son.”
“He’ll be in at 3.”
“He doesn’t want to see me, Leo. His girl even said so.”
“His g-Daphne?”
“Yeah, Daphne, works at the library.”
“Huh.” Leo rubbed the back of his neck. “How about that.”
“What?”
Leo smiled. “Ain’t surprised she told you off.”
“Why? I mean, I can tell she’s a spitfire....”
“Yeah, that’s one opinionated lady.”
“Now that, I did gather. Told me I could kiss her grits, whatever that means.”
Leo gasped and then started laughing. He laughed so hard he leaned against John’s truck, holding his side.
John raised an eyebrow. “Pardon an ignorant Jayhawk, but what the hell is so funny?”
“She said that?”
“Yeah, she said that.”
“That’s about as close to an insult as Southern ladies get. Substitute ‘ass’ for ‘grits’.”
John grumbled something unintelligible. “Can I just replace my damn muffler before my son gets here?”
“Sure, I’ll unlock the tools for you.” As he did so, and pulled up the lid of the box, John could clearly see the devil’s trap on the lid.
John smiled in spite of himself. Dean wasn’t taking any chances with his own things, that was for sure.
“There you go. I’ll bring you a replacement while you take that one off.” He rattled off a list of numbers and letters, making sure he had the correct part in mind.
John nodded. “That’s the one. Thanks, Leo.”
Leo nodded and left.
As John looked through the tools-meticulously clean and neatly arranged, unlike the disarray John remembered Dean’s space always being in; maybe Sammy’d been at these-he tried to digest what he’d just learned about his sons. It didn’t surprise him that Dean had found an “opinionated lady” to fall for; she’d have to have some serious substance to attract his attention for long. But it did surprise him a little that Dean would actually take his responsibility as a teacher seriously enough to turn down a girl who... well, honestly, who’d been exactly his type, from what little John had paid attention to Dean’s dating habits before the boys ran away.
“Penny for ’em,” Leo said as he returned with the muffler.
“Oh, just wondering when Dean got to be so responsible.”
“If anything, that boy’s over-responsible.”
“I guess so... two jobs plus his own studies, and looking after Sammy....”
“And hunting.”
John blinked. “They still hunt? When?!”
“One or two weekends a month, they’re on road trips. We thought it was strange until we learned about hunting. Then we realized that’s what the boys were doing.”
“So that’s why almost nothing stays on the radar down here... every month?!”
Leo nodded. “Unless there’s something going on. Homecoming they don’t usually go, and they usually stay home in the winter.”
John nodded absently, trying to recall just how many of the hunts that had caught his eye in the general area had either disappeared before the pattern became clear or gotten him a “Someone’s on it” from Caleb or Bobby (or Jim or Ash). “Little surprised anything still crops up-you’d think the monsters, at least, would clear out.”
Leo’s face darkened. “On the contrary - they seem drawn here. Or we’re just aware of them more.”
John looked at him sharply. “Drawn? What do you mean?”
“You’ll see. I gotta get back to work.”
“Okay. Hey, Leo? Thanks. Really.”
“Anytime.” He smiled and headed back to the back.
As he got back to work on the muffler, John thought back to the demon that had tried to jump him on his drive back from Houston. He’d wanted to hear Leo’s explanation, but he didn’t really need it. He already knew why evil would be drawn to Cazadore.
Sammy.
The muffler went on easily enough, and when he turned the old one over to move it, he saw a jagged crack right down the middle of it. No wonder it was making noise. He wondered what in the world he could have hit that would cause that kind of damage.
Leo came over and whistled. “Dude, who did that to you?”
John shook his head. “It was fine yesterday.”
Leo’s eyes narrowed. “Lemme see that.”
John handed it over. “Ever see anything like it before?”
“Once. This is acid.”
“Acid-like, battery acid?”
“Like demon acid. Dean lost a knife to this once. You didn’t have any close encounters recently, did you?”
“Yeah... yeah, yesterday, on the way back from Houston. Demon was circling the back of the truck, found an open window, hit this pentacle I got at Robichaux’s, and took off like it had been hit with acid.”
“Looks like it left you a welcome-to-Cazadore present.”
“How do you mean?”
Leo sighed. “Sometimes they can be persistent.”
“Persistent how? Dammit, Leo, if my boys are in danger....”
“They’re in no danger here. You, on the other hand... seem to be their target.”
John actually recoiled. “Me? Wha-why me?”
“Maybe whatever’s out there thinks it can use you to get to Cazadore,” Mercer said, walking over.
“You... you mean they can’t get in?!”
“Nope,” they chorused.
Once again, John felt his knees threatening to give way. “Any theories as to why? I mean, I can tell you’re all pretty well prepared, but I’ve never known of a town that a demon literally couldn’t get into.”
Leo snorted. “Would you want to go up against two thousand armed Texans, John?”
John thought, then grinned. “Not in a heartbeat.”
“Apparently, the demons don’t, either.”
Mercer raised an eyebrow. “There might be more to it than that, Leo.”
Leo frowned. “What do you mean?”
“You may not have been able to hear what Josh was screaming when Singer and Turner exorcised him, but the demon tried to ask something... and I’ve often wondered if it wasn’t ‘Why is there an angel here?’”
John frowned. “There’s no such thing.”
Mercer shrugged. “You’re the expert, Mr. Winchester. I only know I’ve sensed a... presence... in the shop on more than one occasion. Powerful, but benevolent. And it seems to be watching over your sons.”
“Huh.”
Leo’s eyes widened. “Do... do you sense it now?”
Mercer thought for a moment. “No... no, not... not particularly. I notice it most when the boys are both here, if they’re having a specially good day or a specially bad one.”
“Bad how?” John asked.
“Leo, do you remember that day with the werewolf?”
Leo shuddered.
Mercer turned to John. “Customer came in from out of town late one afternoon, asked for Dean... almost like he was told to ask for him but didn’t know why. But the second he turned in the drive, there was a feeling in here like a thunderstorm was set to break loose-yet there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.”
“Yeah, everybody’s skin was prickling, hair was standing up...”
“Dean was wary, though. Signed the name of Jesus first, you know, to see if the man was possessed; he wasn’t. Then he had the man stand under the devil’s trap to show him what was wrong and ‘accidentally’ cut him with a silver knife.”
“The man howled. Out and out howled.” Leo shuddered again. “May God forgive me, but that is a sound I never, ever want to hear again.”
“Sam was in the office with me, and he jumped up to run help Dean, but the door wouldn’t open. I wasn’t sure if something was trying to keep Sam from helping Dean or to keep him behind the wards. The banging got the man’s attention, though, and he turned around... well, I’m sure I don’t have to tell you what his face looked like.”
John’s heart raced. “He transformed? In the middle of the day?!”
Mercer nodded. “It was like something wanted us to know exactly what he was. But he didn’t manage to do more than snarl at us before Dean shot him-by some miracle, Dean had loaded his gun with silver rounds that morning. And no sooner was the werewolf dead than the door sprang open and the thunderstorm feeling... just vanished.”
John ran a hand over his nose and mouth. “What... how did the police....”
“Suicide by cop,” Leo and Mercer chorused.
“Frank-that’s the police chief-found out where the man was from,” Leo continued. “Then he called Sammy in to do a little research. Turned out the town had a serial murder problem... and all the victims had had their hearts cut out. Didn’t take much digging for the investigators on both ends to tie the werewolf to the murders, and given his erratic behavior, suicide wasn’t that much of a stretch.”
“Erratic behavior-here, you mean?”
“Not just here. Apparently he’d been acting oddly for a couple of days. And the kicker was-maybe you can make sense of this, John; the boys wouldn’t hazard a guess-the man’s wife said he started acting weird after he got a visit from a man with yellow eyes.”
John’s heart skipped a beat. “Yellow-Eyes,” he breathed.
Mercer frowned. “That means something to you?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m... I’m not sure what it is....” That wasn’t entirely true, but it wasn’t like these men needed to know about John’s quest or the hints he kept getting about Sammy.
“Not a demon, though, right?” Leo pressed. “Demons’ eyes are black, at least the ones we’ve seen.”
John shook his head distractedly. “Crossroads demons are red. When was this?”
Mercer shrugged. “Four, five years ago?”
“Thanks. How much do I owe you?”
Mercer quoted him a price, and John paid hurriedly and rushed to the library.
Daphne blinked when he burst in. “Mr. Winchester?”
“Daphne. The werewolf attack at Mercer’s-when was it?”
“It wasn’t-”
“When?” he barked.
She bristled. “I don’t remember, but you’re welcome to use one of the computers to check the newspaper’s archive. That would be faster than the microfilm.”
“Show me.” When she merely raised an eyebrow at him, he took a deep breath and tried to sound calmer and less demanding. “Please. I-I’m not good with computers.”
“Follow me, then.”
She led him to an available computer and showed him how to log in and get to the Internet. He thanked her, and she left him to work, still quietly disapproving of his attitude.
John shook his head. Opinionated lady, indeed.
It took him a few tries to find the right keywords, but eventually “suicide mercer’s garage” got him to the article he wanted. A few more familiar databases, and he had all the information he needed on the werewolf, Charles Duesterman. Then he gathered his printouts and left, barely remembering to thank Daphne on his way out. The next phase of the search was one he didn’t want to conduct in public, even in a town so used to hunters... and he needed an expert’s help.
“Harvelle’s Roadhouse.”
“Ash. Leesville, Louisiana, October ’98. I need omens.”
Ash sniffed. “I need a beer, dude.”
“Ash,” John growled.
“Fine, fine. ... Yeah, here we go.”
John scribbled down notes as fast as Ash rattled off the information-several reported cattle mutilations in the general area a week before Duesterman showed up in Cazadore, as well as an electrical storm that reportedly knocked out radios and had lights flickering all over town.
John cursed under his breath. “That tears it.”
“Demon?”
“Yeah, and not just any demon.” John scrubbed at his eyes. “I should probably ask Singer about this, but-you ever hear of a demon with yellow eyes?”
“Yup.”
When Ash didn’t volunteer anything more, John pressed, “You got a name?”
“Nope. That, you do need Singer for. But yeah, I’ve heard of him.”
“Looks like it tried to commission a werewolf to take out my boys.”
“Well, shit.”
“No kidding.”
“Best call Singer, then.”
“Can’t. He’s here in Cazadore; pretty sure he’s stayin’ with the boys.”
“Okay, gimme a few.” And Ash hung up.
John ran a hand through his hair and started flipping back through his journal. If Yellow-Eyes was a demon... some of the clues he’d collected about its other victims and about Mary started making sense.
Bobby’s phone went off in the middle of dinner. Bobby frowned, swallowed the food that was in his mouth, and excused himself from the table to answer it. “Singer.”
“S’me. Need your intel.”
“Ash? What’s the trouble?”
“Well, not me personal. Papa Bear needs t’pick your brains and is too chickenshit t’do it himself.”
Bobby rolled his eyes and refrained from saying precisely what he thought of John, given the company. “What’s he got now?”
“Needs a name. Demon with yellow eyes.”
“How the hell did he come up with that one?”
“Your werewolf few years back? Thinks he was sent by him. Had me check the omens - they match.”
Bobby sighed. “Lemme talk to the boys. It’s as much their hunt as it is John’s-maybe more.”
“Will do. You know the number.” He sniffed again.
“And Ash? When you call ’im back, remind that idjit that graduation’s tonight.”
“Wish I could be there.”
And Bobby could hear it in his voice. Ash was in pain again and the self-loathing it produced was leaking out in his voice. Sometimes Bobby wondered what the brilliant young man would have become if he hadn’t been attacked and put in the wheelchair the same year Dean and Sam had fled.
“Yeah, we know, buddy. Wish you could be here, too-” Bobby paused while the boys signed something in unison. “Sam and Dean both said to say hello and they miss you.”
Ash laughed softly. “Call me. Sooner we can do this, sooner he can get off my ass and sooner these two silent Joes can graduate, already.”
Bobby chuckled. “Right. Later, Ash.” And he hung up.
“Dad’s asking about Azazel,” Dean guessed when Bobby came back to the table.
“Yep. Something to do with that werewolf.”
Dean nodded. “Yeah, Daphne called while he was still at the library.”
“So he thinks Azazel sent the werewolf after us,” Sam hissed.
“I’ve thought so all along,” Dean replied grimly. “Remember what the wife said about him getting a visit from ‘a man with yellow eyes’?”
“Yeah....”
“Dean’s right,” Bobby nodded. “What little lore I could find on Azazel says his eyes turn yellow.”
“But demons have black eyes,” Rufus put in.
“Not all of them,” Pastor Jim replied. “A crossroads demon generally has red eyes. There’s not been much indication that the yellow-eyed creature that killed Mary was a demon, but the eye color’s the one consistent clue John’s uncovered over the years.”
“So he would be more powerful than a black- or red-eyed one,” Sam pondered.
“We knew that just from the name,” Bobby shrugged. “Azazel’s the demon of the scapegoat, and his name’s usually mentioned in the top ranks of Hell’s hierarchy-up there with Abbadon, Asmodeus, and Lilith.”
Sam’s hands twisted into fists. “And that’s who Dad thinks is after me?”
Dean put a hand on his arm. “Sam, the demon that possessed Josh said Azazel had sent him. If it’s true, we shouldn’t be surprised.”
“I’m not surprised,” Sam said. “I’m pissed.”
“At Dad or at Azazel?”
“Both. That demon tore our childhood away from us. If it hadn’t been for you, I wouldn’t have had what I had! But you... and why in the hell would one of the upper echelons of Hell want me?”
“We can’t be certain, Sam,” Bobby cautioned. “I know they call you the Boy King, but so far that’s about all we’ve gotten... and it’s about all your daddy’s gotten, right, Jim?”
Jim didn’t answer.
“Pastor Jim?” the boys prompted in unison.
“I think your dad wants to protect you as much as he can,” Jim began slowly. “That’s why the need to know and all the secrecy.”
“Protect us from what?!”
“He knows the demon is after you, personally, Sam. He thinks he knows why. He thinks whoever this demon is - that he’s trying to create an heir.”
Sam frowned. “An heir? How the hell... wait, does he think he was possessed when....” He couldn’t make himself finish the question.
Jim didn’t want to say. That was plain. He shook his head, though.
But Dean’s mind was racing. “They’re sayin’ Azazel did something to Sam that night, aren’t they? ’Cause he was exactly six months old.”
“Yahtzee,” Jim whispered.
Dean stormed away from the table, deliberately knocking over his chair.
“The only thing is,” Jim said softly, “we don’t know what.”
“Or if it’s even true,” Bobby added.
Dean spun back to face the table and shouted with both hands and voice, “I don’t care if it’s true or not. They’re NOT GETTING YOU, Sammy. And neither is Dad.”
“Dude,” Sam laughed. Actually laughed. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
Dean blinked, then stalked over to Sam and pulled him into a massive hug. “If God loves you at all,” he added into Sam’s shoulder, “He’ll give us a way to beat this.”
Sam wrapped his arms around Dean. “I know. I’m looking for it and He will provide. One of His Names means God Who Provides.”
“My God will fully supply whatever you need,” Jim quoted, near tears, “in accord with his glorious riches in Christ Jesus.”
Rufus cleared his throat. “In the meantime, what do we tell Ash to tell John? Poor kid’s probably wearing a hole in the floor.”
Sam’s chin rose and he signed something close to his chest to Dean, who nodded. “Give him the name,” Sam said. “See what he can do with it.”
“Hasn’t done us a lot of good,” Dean noted, “but it’ll give him something other than Sammy to chase for a while.”
“I just hate that he seems to have always thought that I’d turn demonic,” Sam growled.
Dean gave the back of his neck a brotherly squeeze. “Like Tricia said-we’ll just have to show ’im, won’t we?”
Sam beamed.
John’s phone finally rang. When he answered it, Ash said one single word before hanging up. “Azazel.”
John blinked at the handset for a moment before calling back. “That’s it?”
“You wanted the name. You got the name.”
“Oh, come on, Ash. Surely Singer gave you more than that.”
“I just asked him for the name, ass. Get off my ride.”
“What is your problem tonight?”
“I don’t know. My best friend’s graduating and I can’t even go see him, for one!”
John’s eyes widened. “Holy-I can’t believe I forgot!”
“I can.” And again, he hung up.
Cursing under his breath, John found the newspaper supplement on his nightstand and ran his finger over the information on the front-the graduation was to take place at the high school football stadium, and it started at 7. A glance at his watch told him he had just enough time to get cleaned up, get a bite to eat at the diner, and get over there.
He didn’t want to go anymore. He couldn’t imagine that anybody in town felt less like celebrating than he did. But there was something about Cazadore and the boys that he was missing still, some key to this whole mystery... and he had yet to find and speak to Mr. Cooper. And seeing Sammy get that diploma was the whole reason he’d made this trip-hell, the whole reason the others had probably let him make this trip. Besides that, the boys were expecting him to be there, to see whatever it was they wanted him to see.
He looked again at his watch, sighed, and reached for his suit. Might as well let the shower steam the wrinkles out, he figured.
Next
One stiff drink had become five, but John had managed to stop there and sleep the rest of the afternoon away. He woke up hungry shortly after 7 and grabbed a burger from the aptly-named Burger Barn-which was actually in an old restored barn on the edge of town-briefly noticing that his muffler sounded a little loud, but not thinking much of it. And then, after a short internal debate, he decided to swing back by the boys’ house just to see what was happening.
He pulled up, seeing a bunch of cars there. Some he recognized. Others he didn't. And one person he recognized was walking up to the front door.
The desk clerk of the hotel, Tricia, knocked twice on the door. A beat, and she knocked twice more.
John's heart clenched. That was their family's coded knock.
The door opened and he saw Sam beam at her, gather her into his arms for a kiss, and guide her inside with a large hand on the small of her back.
John swore quietly. Tricia seemed like a nice girl-and Sam was going to get her killed, he just knew it.
But this meant both his boys... had someone.
Someone besides each other.
Someone besides him.
This was bad. This was very, VERY bad. With what was gunning for Sam...
John slid out of the truck without really thinking. He had to at least check the wards on the house, even if he couldn’t go in.
He found that the grounds were cultivated. Only a hunter would recognize that the plants growing around the house carried strong protective virtues. And the decorative fences? Wrought iron with silver decoration.
His heart eased a little. So far, so good.
The patio that served as a back porch had a familiar emblem in bricks. A masonry devil’s trap. More protective shrubbery lined the backyard fence.
This lightened his heart. His boys hadn’t forgotten, hadn’t gone soft. Didn’t mean they could stay safe here forever, but... it was a damn sight better than most of the motel rooms where they’d stayed.
He was just about to work his way back around to the front of the house when he heard a roar of laughter from inside. Bobby’s voice. Caleb’s. Jim’s. Sam’s. Dean’s. And finally a distant memory supplied the reason for all the cars.
A party. His sons and his best friends were having a party. And John knew damn well he wasn’t invited.
He couldn’t resist, though - he had to see. He crept around. The blinds in the kitchen window hadn’t been closed, though John could see at a glance that it was both locked and salted.
There was Dean, at the stove, making something that took two pots and Sam standing beside him - a whole head taller than his older brother, how the hell - slicing crusty bread and occasionally waving the knife to emphasize a point.
Sammy always did talk with his hands just as much as Dean did. Though John had insisted since they were very young that Sammy use his voice instead of his fingers.
Daphne and Tricia were doing something else that he couldn’t quite see at the kitchen table. Dean turned suddenly and John saw Daphne’s hands dance. Dean’s right hand raised and fingers flew in reply and Daphne nodded, turning back to her task as Dean turned to his.
John swallowed hard. He wasn’t quite sure how he felt about knowing that Dean used ASL with his girl.
Then his heart completely shattered when Sam put down the knife - drew his hands in close, ‘whispering’ - and signed to Dean. Dean’s head threw back as his laugh rang out loud and hearty.
G-d, his boys signed with each other!!!
He couldn’t take any more. He fled back to the motel and got well and truly drunk.
His worst nightmare had come true. Dean no longer spoke aloud. He’d muted himself again.
His boy had crippled himself AGAIN!
When John finally dragged himself out of bed on Saturday, the fact that he couldn’t handle the thought of food had nothing to do with the amount of whisky he’d consumed the night before. His heart was still aching from what he’d seen. But he made his way to Maggie’s anyway; he knew he needed to get out of the room, if only for a short time.
Garnet Petersen smiled as he entered the diner. “Hi, Mr. Winchester. What can I get you?”
“Just... just coffee. Thanks, Garnet.”
She signed a ‘thank you’ back at him, You’re welcome, and headed to get the coffee.
John blinked. She didn't look much over 18... had she learned Sign from Dean?
When she returned and he asked her, she nodded. “Two years of it. Then I had to drop out. Dean’s trying hard to get me to come back to school, but I’m wondering if it’s a little too late for me.”
“Why? What happened?”
“Amber was thrown out of the house and my father left us shortly after. Momma had a nervous collapse and I had to support the family.” She shook her head. “Daddy’s not allowed anywhere near Cazadore. He knows why, too.”
John suddenly felt uneasy. “Did he... do something?”
“He made a deal.” Her voice was cold. Unforgiving. “He made a damned deal - me and Amber as toys for his friends. Amber went along with it - I didn’t. When we started wearing the charms, he couldn’t touch either of us. Momma drew the devil’s trap on the porch one day while he was out and he never came on the porch again. He left that minute. I... I think he might have done more than made a deal with his friends. I think he’s got something riding him and he’s scared to come back ’cause he knows we’ll exorcise the hell out of him. Literally.”
“But if Amber went along with him, why’d he throw her out?”
“After Dean wouldn't give in to her” - there was a story he had to hear someday - “she threw such a fit that he slapped her. She grabbed a knife and threatened to gut him if he touched her again. We went to the meeting that next August - after a long and tense few months - and when she came back with the necklace he took one look at her and told her he was tired of her face and to get out. And he screamed after her until she did.” She shook her head. “And he was the one who suggested she go after Dean in the first place.”
“Where is she now?”
“Don’t know - don’t really care.”
“Have you ever seen her again?” John didn’t know why he kept pressing; it just pained him to hear her speak so coldly of her own sister. Dean might have gone mute, but at least the affection between him and Sam was blindingly obvious whenever John had seen them together.
“No. She’s sent money sometimes, but always from a PO box.”
John nodded. “I’m sorry.”
She shrugged. “I’m glad to see that your sons know what treasures they have in each other.”
“Yes. Yes, so am I. Thanks, Garnet.”
She nodded. “So...” your order?
He shook his head. “Just coffee. Kind of under the weather today.”
She nodded and went to help another patron. This conversation was completely in Sign.
When she returned, she noticed his stricken look. “That’s Amy Sorensen. She’s been deaf from birth.”
John’s face cleared as a few puzzle pieces began to click into place. “I bet she’s glad to have a few people around town who know ASL.”
“Her dad’s head of the school board.”
“So was he the one who hired Dean?”
“Yup.”
John nodded. “Wish I weren’t so rusty; I’d tell her to give him my thanks.”
“I don’t understand.”
“For giving Dean a job. Probably would have been tough for the boys to make ends meet on a mechanic’s salary.”
“No, not really. Mercer pays a decent wage and for two young men, it would have been more than enough. Especially since Sam started work as well.”
John blinked. “He did? Where?”
Garnet grinned. “At the Burger Barn on Redart Drive.”
John felt like an absolute idiot. All this time he’d been trying to catch Sammy alone at the house or the school, when he’d probably just missed seeing him at work more than once!
“Is the coffee that bad? You’ve got an expression like you just swallowed a bag of lemons!”
John chuckled in spite of himself. “No, just... kicking myself for not seeing him there.”
“Well....” she looked out the window and he followed, to see a silver-colored motorcycle pass by. “There he goes.”
“What time does he get off, do you know?”
“He’s got today off. He’s probably gone to get his paycheck.”
John nodded. “Could I get a to-go cup?”
“Certainly.” She returned in record time.
John thanked her, poured his coffee into the cup quickly, and left her a generous tip before hurrying out to his truck.
He found the motorcycle rolling to a stop outside the Burger Barn and the figure that unfolded - by size and build alone - was definitely his Sam. But the boy had gone inside by the time he got parked, and John hesitated-did he go in after Sam or try to catch him when he came back out?
As he tried to make up his mind, Sam came back out and straddled the bike again.
John jumped out of the truck. “SAM! WAIT!”
Sam’s head snapped around. John faltered at the pure fury he saw in his son’s eyes, and Sam took the opportunity to make his escape. He laid the bike on the road with a velocity no motorcycle should have. And John knew Dean had to have had something to do with it.
Before he could recover enough to get back in the truck, Sam had sped around the corner and out of sight.
DAMMIT! John roared internally. He’d successfully hunted some of the most elusive monsters in North America... why couldn’t he catch up to his own son?
John drove aimlessly, but as he passed a park he saw the Impala and the motorcycle. Once he parked and got out, he could see their tall forms, walking along a path, hands flying in a silent give and take. He wanted desperately to go after them... but he could see how hunched up Sam’s shoulders were. If John showed up now, Sam was more likely to talk with his fists than anything.
John had had enough emotional punches to the gut that week. He didn’t need a physical one.
He was so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn’t hear Bobby till he spoke. “Penny for ’em.”
John jumped. “Dammit, Bobby....”
“Thought I saw you outside the boys’ house last night.”
“Did they see me?”
“Might have when you left. Didn’t say so.”
John sighed.
“You need to get that muffler replaced, John, if you want to go sneakin’ up on anybody in this thing. Hell, the Impala would be more subtle.”
John rubbed the back of his neck. “Know any good parts places?”
Bobby shrugged. “Mercer’s is as good a place as any.”
“Mercer’s - that’s twice that place was mentioned.”
“Best garage in town... with one of the best mechanics in town.”
“Anyone I know?”
“You ought to. You trained ’im.”
John smiled a genuine one. “Dean.”
“Boy’s a mechanical genius. If he weren’t so set on teaching ASL, he’d probably be getting his degree in engineering.”
“He’s really fixed on it, huh?”
“Oh, yeah. Was pretty nervous about it at first, but he’d fallen in love with it by the end of the first six weeks. And he’s got a real gift, John. Hell, he’s even taught me a few basics.”
“He’s grown up signing. I...” He looked over at Dean and Sam, who were still now, still signing to each other. “I wonder if he’ll ever speak again.”
Bobby looked at him oddly. “He speaks all the time.”
“Yeah... signs.”
“That’s a comfort thing, John-a family thing. He’ll converse out loud with most people easily enough. He only really switches to Sign with Sam and the girls.”
John felt his knees start to buckle and he sat right down on the bumper of his truck. “He... talks? He-He-He didn’t mute himself?”
“What in the sam hill is wrong with you, John? Of course he talks, idjit.”
John looked up at him and Bobby saw sheer terror there. He had never seen that expression in those eyes.
“Bobby,” John whispered, “I... I don’t understand.”
Bobby frowned. “What don’t you understand?”
“This! This town, the boys, any of it!!”
Bobby put a hand on John’s shoulder. “Go talk to Mercer. Maybe things’ll make a little more sense.”
John snarled and stormed into his truck.
Bobby followed him to the driver’s door. “John-I sent the boys here. You know I wouldn’t have done that if it weren’t safe.”
“Get out of my way, Singer,” John snapped and peeled out.
He drove aimlessly for a while longer until he found himself approaching Mercer’s Garage, and the reason for Bobby’s advice finally registered. His muffler did sound kind of loud.
Old Man Mercer came out as John drove up. “You need a muffler.”
“Yeah, I do.” John got out and offered his hand. “John Winchester.”
“Tony Mercer.”
“Would it be possible for me to just buy the muffler from you? I... need something to do with my hands this afternoon.”
“I happen to have an empty bay today. You can use Dean’s tools.”
John swallowed hard-he hadn’t expected that. “That’d be great, thanks.”
Dean’s bay was one with a view of the entire shop. John caught sight of something on the ceiling as he pulled in and looked at it more carefully as he got out of the truck. There was a devil’s trap painted right over where a person would have to stand to work under the hood.
John stared at it for a moment. “Huh.”
“This is where it all started,” said another man who was approaching from another part of the shop.
“What started?”
“Everything. This is where Dean met Amy Sorensen, where he tried not to get cornered into taking Amber Petersen to Homecoming, where the boys and their uncles exorcised Josh Robichaux....” The man stopped. “Sorry, forgetting my manners. Name’s Leo.”
“John.”
“Yeah, Dean does a lot of good work here. Most of it’s with cars, but-” Leo pointed up to the devil’s trap-“not always.”
“You speak of him like he’s a hero.”
“Hell, yeah, he’s a hero! So’s Sam! It was their idea to trap Josh here. If they hadn’t caught on so fast, God alone knows what kind of havoc that demon could have wreaked-and poor Josh would have had to live with those memories, if he even survived.”
“You’re really close to them.”
Leo smiled. “Yeah, they’re good boys. It’s been a pleasure to work with Dean all these years.”
“And Sam?”
“Well, he mostly does his homework here, or did until he hit one of those AP classes and said the noise made it too hard to focus on all the reading he had to do. But he’s helped out a time or two, and I think he’s picked up a lot from Dean. Great kid.”
“AP?”
“Advanced Placement-lets you test out of college classes. I think they’ve both got close to a semester’s worth of credits already.”
“Seriously?”
“Yep. Dean was shocked, but he found out that the advanced classes, at least in English and History, were just the challenge he needed. ’Course, Mr. Cooper probably had something to do with that.”
“Cooper. I need to meet him. What did he do?”
Leo shrugged. “Seems he saw something in Dean that most of his teachers hadn’t-turns out the boy’s Gifted. And he encouraged Dean to give his European History class a try. It was hard work, but Dean just... shone.”
John frowned. “What do you mean by ‘gifted’?”
“Gifted and Talented-or as Cooper likes to call ’em, Gifted and Twisted. It’s a certain personality type, usually means they’re bright but not necessarily academically inclined. Kind of the opposite end of the spectrum from what you normally think of as Special Ed, but they do need extra instruction-enrichment, really, something to keep ’em challenged so they don’t get bored and drop out.”
“Huh. I knew Sammy was that way, but... Dean?”
“Yep. Seems he’d just gotten used to hiding it. After he had that talk with Cooper, though, he came to work almost in tears... it was like no one but Sammy’d ever told him he was smart before.”
John wondered briefly if it wouldn’t have hurt less to let Sammy take a swing at him.
Leo just smiled. “Sammy’s always told him that he’s smart and capable. Dean somehow got it into his head that if it wasn’t a car or a spirit, he wasn’t any good at it.”
John sighed. “It’s all his old man’s good at anymore.”
Leo cocked an eyebrow. “Somehow I doubt that.”
Rather than getting into all the good qualities the boys seemed to have inherited solely from their mother, John decided to change the subject. “Say, what is the story about Dean and Amber Petersen?”
“You need to hear that from Dean.”
“But you said it started here-something about trying not to get cornered into taking her to Homecoming?”
“Right. She came here while he was working and demanded that he take her to Homecoming.”
John stared. “Demanded?! Whatever happened to asking?”
“She asked. He said no. Nobody’d ever told her no before-at least, not and gotten away with it.”
John could barely picture Dean turning down any girl, never mind one who probably looked a lot like Garnet. “Did... did he give a reason?”
“Mister Winchester,” Leo said as if he were talking to a very slow child. “Dean is faculty. She was a student.”
Embarrassed, John rubbed the back of his neck. “Right. Still tryin’ to get my head around that.”
“What, that Dean teaches?”
“That he teaches school, yes. I mean, he’s always taught Sammy, and I guess I could see him giving private lessons on the side, but doing it for a living... just never thought he’d be interested, that’s all.”
“I’m startin’ to think there’s a lot about Dean you just don’t know.”
“I’m gettin’ that.” John sighed again. If you think my goals could be so trivial and small, / Then I don’t think you know me at all....
“You wanna learn about him?”
“’Course I do. He’s my son.”
“He’ll be in at 3.”
“He doesn’t want to see me, Leo. His girl even said so.”
“His g-Daphne?”
“Yeah, Daphne, works at the library.”
“Huh.” Leo rubbed the back of his neck. “How about that.”
“What?”
Leo smiled. “Ain’t surprised she told you off.”
“Why? I mean, I can tell she’s a spitfire....”
“Yeah, that’s one opinionated lady.”
“Now that, I did gather. Told me I could kiss her grits, whatever that means.”
Leo gasped and then started laughing. He laughed so hard he leaned against John’s truck, holding his side.
John raised an eyebrow. “Pardon an ignorant Jayhawk, but what the hell is so funny?”
“She said that?”
“Yeah, she said that.”
“That’s about as close to an insult as Southern ladies get. Substitute ‘ass’ for ‘grits’.”
John grumbled something unintelligible. “Can I just replace my damn muffler before my son gets here?”
“Sure, I’ll unlock the tools for you.” As he did so, and pulled up the lid of the box, John could clearly see the devil’s trap on the lid.
John smiled in spite of himself. Dean wasn’t taking any chances with his own things, that was for sure.
“There you go. I’ll bring you a replacement while you take that one off.” He rattled off a list of numbers and letters, making sure he had the correct part in mind.
John nodded. “That’s the one. Thanks, Leo.”
Leo nodded and left.
As John looked through the tools-meticulously clean and neatly arranged, unlike the disarray John remembered Dean’s space always being in; maybe Sammy’d been at these-he tried to digest what he’d just learned about his sons. It didn’t surprise him that Dean had found an “opinionated lady” to fall for; she’d have to have some serious substance to attract his attention for long. But it did surprise him a little that Dean would actually take his responsibility as a teacher seriously enough to turn down a girl who... well, honestly, who’d been exactly his type, from what little John had paid attention to Dean’s dating habits before the boys ran away.
“Penny for ’em,” Leo said as he returned with the muffler.
“Oh, just wondering when Dean got to be so responsible.”
“If anything, that boy’s over-responsible.”
“I guess so... two jobs plus his own studies, and looking after Sammy....”
“And hunting.”
John blinked. “They still hunt? When?!”
“One or two weekends a month, they’re on road trips. We thought it was strange until we learned about hunting. Then we realized that’s what the boys were doing.”
“So that’s why almost nothing stays on the radar down here... every month?!”
Leo nodded. “Unless there’s something going on. Homecoming they don’t usually go, and they usually stay home in the winter.”
John nodded absently, trying to recall just how many of the hunts that had caught his eye in the general area had either disappeared before the pattern became clear or gotten him a “Someone’s on it” from Caleb or Bobby (or Jim or Ash). “Little surprised anything still crops up-you’d think the monsters, at least, would clear out.”
Leo’s face darkened. “On the contrary - they seem drawn here. Or we’re just aware of them more.”
John looked at him sharply. “Drawn? What do you mean?”
“You’ll see. I gotta get back to work.”
“Okay. Hey, Leo? Thanks. Really.”
“Anytime.” He smiled and headed back to the back.
As he got back to work on the muffler, John thought back to the demon that had tried to jump him on his drive back from Houston. He’d wanted to hear Leo’s explanation, but he didn’t really need it. He already knew why evil would be drawn to Cazadore.
Sammy.
The muffler went on easily enough, and when he turned the old one over to move it, he saw a jagged crack right down the middle of it. No wonder it was making noise. He wondered what in the world he could have hit that would cause that kind of damage.
Leo came over and whistled. “Dude, who did that to you?”
John shook his head. “It was fine yesterday.”
Leo’s eyes narrowed. “Lemme see that.”
John handed it over. “Ever see anything like it before?”
“Once. This is acid.”
“Acid-like, battery acid?”
“Like demon acid. Dean lost a knife to this once. You didn’t have any close encounters recently, did you?”
“Yeah... yeah, yesterday, on the way back from Houston. Demon was circling the back of the truck, found an open window, hit this pentacle I got at Robichaux’s, and took off like it had been hit with acid.”
“Looks like it left you a welcome-to-Cazadore present.”
“How do you mean?”
Leo sighed. “Sometimes they can be persistent.”
“Persistent how? Dammit, Leo, if my boys are in danger....”
“They’re in no danger here. You, on the other hand... seem to be their target.”
John actually recoiled. “Me? Wha-why me?”
“Maybe whatever’s out there thinks it can use you to get to Cazadore,” Mercer said, walking over.
“You... you mean they can’t get in?!”
“Nope,” they chorused.
Once again, John felt his knees threatening to give way. “Any theories as to why? I mean, I can tell you’re all pretty well prepared, but I’ve never known of a town that a demon literally couldn’t get into.”
Leo snorted. “Would you want to go up against two thousand armed Texans, John?”
John thought, then grinned. “Not in a heartbeat.”
“Apparently, the demons don’t, either.”
Mercer raised an eyebrow. “There might be more to it than that, Leo.”
Leo frowned. “What do you mean?”
“You may not have been able to hear what Josh was screaming when Singer and Turner exorcised him, but the demon tried to ask something... and I’ve often wondered if it wasn’t ‘Why is there an angel here?’”
John frowned. “There’s no such thing.”
Mercer shrugged. “You’re the expert, Mr. Winchester. I only know I’ve sensed a... presence... in the shop on more than one occasion. Powerful, but benevolent. And it seems to be watching over your sons.”
“Huh.”
Leo’s eyes widened. “Do... do you sense it now?”
Mercer thought for a moment. “No... no, not... not particularly. I notice it most when the boys are both here, if they’re having a specially good day or a specially bad one.”
“Bad how?” John asked.
“Leo, do you remember that day with the werewolf?”
Leo shuddered.
Mercer turned to John. “Customer came in from out of town late one afternoon, asked for Dean... almost like he was told to ask for him but didn’t know why. But the second he turned in the drive, there was a feeling in here like a thunderstorm was set to break loose-yet there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.”
“Yeah, everybody’s skin was prickling, hair was standing up...”
“Dean was wary, though. Signed the name of Jesus first, you know, to see if the man was possessed; he wasn’t. Then he had the man stand under the devil’s trap to show him what was wrong and ‘accidentally’ cut him with a silver knife.”
“The man howled. Out and out howled.” Leo shuddered again. “May God forgive me, but that is a sound I never, ever want to hear again.”
“Sam was in the office with me, and he jumped up to run help Dean, but the door wouldn’t open. I wasn’t sure if something was trying to keep Sam from helping Dean or to keep him behind the wards. The banging got the man’s attention, though, and he turned around... well, I’m sure I don’t have to tell you what his face looked like.”
John’s heart raced. “He transformed? In the middle of the day?!”
Mercer nodded. “It was like something wanted us to know exactly what he was. But he didn’t manage to do more than snarl at us before Dean shot him-by some miracle, Dean had loaded his gun with silver rounds that morning. And no sooner was the werewolf dead than the door sprang open and the thunderstorm feeling... just vanished.”
John ran a hand over his nose and mouth. “What... how did the police....”
“Suicide by cop,” Leo and Mercer chorused.
“Frank-that’s the police chief-found out where the man was from,” Leo continued. “Then he called Sammy in to do a little research. Turned out the town had a serial murder problem... and all the victims had had their hearts cut out. Didn’t take much digging for the investigators on both ends to tie the werewolf to the murders, and given his erratic behavior, suicide wasn’t that much of a stretch.”
“Erratic behavior-here, you mean?”
“Not just here. Apparently he’d been acting oddly for a couple of days. And the kicker was-maybe you can make sense of this, John; the boys wouldn’t hazard a guess-the man’s wife said he started acting weird after he got a visit from a man with yellow eyes.”
John’s heart skipped a beat. “Yellow-Eyes,” he breathed.
Mercer frowned. “That means something to you?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m... I’m not sure what it is....” That wasn’t entirely true, but it wasn’t like these men needed to know about John’s quest or the hints he kept getting about Sammy.
“Not a demon, though, right?” Leo pressed. “Demons’ eyes are black, at least the ones we’ve seen.”
John shook his head distractedly. “Crossroads demons are red. When was this?”
Mercer shrugged. “Four, five years ago?”
“Thanks. How much do I owe you?”
Mercer quoted him a price, and John paid hurriedly and rushed to the library.
Daphne blinked when he burst in. “Mr. Winchester?”
“Daphne. The werewolf attack at Mercer’s-when was it?”
“It wasn’t-”
“When?” he barked.
She bristled. “I don’t remember, but you’re welcome to use one of the computers to check the newspaper’s archive. That would be faster than the microfilm.”
“Show me.” When she merely raised an eyebrow at him, he took a deep breath and tried to sound calmer and less demanding. “Please. I-I’m not good with computers.”
“Follow me, then.”
She led him to an available computer and showed him how to log in and get to the Internet. He thanked her, and she left him to work, still quietly disapproving of his attitude.
John shook his head. Opinionated lady, indeed.
It took him a few tries to find the right keywords, but eventually “suicide mercer’s garage” got him to the article he wanted. A few more familiar databases, and he had all the information he needed on the werewolf, Charles Duesterman. Then he gathered his printouts and left, barely remembering to thank Daphne on his way out. The next phase of the search was one he didn’t want to conduct in public, even in a town so used to hunters... and he needed an expert’s help.
“Harvelle’s Roadhouse.”
“Ash. Leesville, Louisiana, October ’98. I need omens.”
Ash sniffed. “I need a beer, dude.”
“Ash,” John growled.
“Fine, fine. ... Yeah, here we go.”
John scribbled down notes as fast as Ash rattled off the information-several reported cattle mutilations in the general area a week before Duesterman showed up in Cazadore, as well as an electrical storm that reportedly knocked out radios and had lights flickering all over town.
John cursed under his breath. “That tears it.”
“Demon?”
“Yeah, and not just any demon.” John scrubbed at his eyes. “I should probably ask Singer about this, but-you ever hear of a demon with yellow eyes?”
“Yup.”
When Ash didn’t volunteer anything more, John pressed, “You got a name?”
“Nope. That, you do need Singer for. But yeah, I’ve heard of him.”
“Looks like it tried to commission a werewolf to take out my boys.”
“Well, shit.”
“No kidding.”
“Best call Singer, then.”
“Can’t. He’s here in Cazadore; pretty sure he’s stayin’ with the boys.”
“Okay, gimme a few.” And Ash hung up.
John ran a hand through his hair and started flipping back through his journal. If Yellow-Eyes was a demon... some of the clues he’d collected about its other victims and about Mary started making sense.
Bobby’s phone went off in the middle of dinner. Bobby frowned, swallowed the food that was in his mouth, and excused himself from the table to answer it. “Singer.”
“S’me. Need your intel.”
“Ash? What’s the trouble?”
“Well, not me personal. Papa Bear needs t’pick your brains and is too chickenshit t’do it himself.”
Bobby rolled his eyes and refrained from saying precisely what he thought of John, given the company. “What’s he got now?”
“Needs a name. Demon with yellow eyes.”
“How the hell did he come up with that one?”
“Your werewolf few years back? Thinks he was sent by him. Had me check the omens - they match.”
Bobby sighed. “Lemme talk to the boys. It’s as much their hunt as it is John’s-maybe more.”
“Will do. You know the number.” He sniffed again.
“And Ash? When you call ’im back, remind that idjit that graduation’s tonight.”
“Wish I could be there.”
And Bobby could hear it in his voice. Ash was in pain again and the self-loathing it produced was leaking out in his voice. Sometimes Bobby wondered what the brilliant young man would have become if he hadn’t been attacked and put in the wheelchair the same year Dean and Sam had fled.
“Yeah, we know, buddy. Wish you could be here, too-” Bobby paused while the boys signed something in unison. “Sam and Dean both said to say hello and they miss you.”
Ash laughed softly. “Call me. Sooner we can do this, sooner he can get off my ass and sooner these two silent Joes can graduate, already.”
Bobby chuckled. “Right. Later, Ash.” And he hung up.
“Dad’s asking about Azazel,” Dean guessed when Bobby came back to the table.
“Yep. Something to do with that werewolf.”
Dean nodded. “Yeah, Daphne called while he was still at the library.”
“So he thinks Azazel sent the werewolf after us,” Sam hissed.
“I’ve thought so all along,” Dean replied grimly. “Remember what the wife said about him getting a visit from ‘a man with yellow eyes’?”
“Yeah....”
“Dean’s right,” Bobby nodded. “What little lore I could find on Azazel says his eyes turn yellow.”
“But demons have black eyes,” Rufus put in.
“Not all of them,” Pastor Jim replied. “A crossroads demon generally has red eyes. There’s not been much indication that the yellow-eyed creature that killed Mary was a demon, but the eye color’s the one consistent clue John’s uncovered over the years.”
“So he would be more powerful than a black- or red-eyed one,” Sam pondered.
“We knew that just from the name,” Bobby shrugged. “Azazel’s the demon of the scapegoat, and his name’s usually mentioned in the top ranks of Hell’s hierarchy-up there with Abbadon, Asmodeus, and Lilith.”
Sam’s hands twisted into fists. “And that’s who Dad thinks is after me?”
Dean put a hand on his arm. “Sam, the demon that possessed Josh said Azazel had sent him. If it’s true, we shouldn’t be surprised.”
“I’m not surprised,” Sam said. “I’m pissed.”
“At Dad or at Azazel?”
“Both. That demon tore our childhood away from us. If it hadn’t been for you, I wouldn’t have had what I had! But you... and why in the hell would one of the upper echelons of Hell want me?”
“We can’t be certain, Sam,” Bobby cautioned. “I know they call you the Boy King, but so far that’s about all we’ve gotten... and it’s about all your daddy’s gotten, right, Jim?”
Jim didn’t answer.
“Pastor Jim?” the boys prompted in unison.
“I think your dad wants to protect you as much as he can,” Jim began slowly. “That’s why the need to know and all the secrecy.”
“Protect us from what?!”
“He knows the demon is after you, personally, Sam. He thinks he knows why. He thinks whoever this demon is - that he’s trying to create an heir.”
Sam frowned. “An heir? How the hell... wait, does he think he was possessed when....” He couldn’t make himself finish the question.
Jim didn’t want to say. That was plain. He shook his head, though.
But Dean’s mind was racing. “They’re sayin’ Azazel did something to Sam that night, aren’t they? ’Cause he was exactly six months old.”
“Yahtzee,” Jim whispered.
Dean stormed away from the table, deliberately knocking over his chair.
“The only thing is,” Jim said softly, “we don’t know what.”
“Or if it’s even true,” Bobby added.
Dean spun back to face the table and shouted with both hands and voice, “I don’t care if it’s true or not. They’re NOT GETTING YOU, Sammy. And neither is Dad.”
“Dude,” Sam laughed. Actually laughed. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
Dean blinked, then stalked over to Sam and pulled him into a massive hug. “If God loves you at all,” he added into Sam’s shoulder, “He’ll give us a way to beat this.”
Sam wrapped his arms around Dean. “I know. I’m looking for it and He will provide. One of His Names means God Who Provides.”
“My God will fully supply whatever you need,” Jim quoted, near tears, “in accord with his glorious riches in Christ Jesus.”
Rufus cleared his throat. “In the meantime, what do we tell Ash to tell John? Poor kid’s probably wearing a hole in the floor.”
Sam’s chin rose and he signed something close to his chest to Dean, who nodded. “Give him the name,” Sam said. “See what he can do with it.”
“Hasn’t done us a lot of good,” Dean noted, “but it’ll give him something other than Sammy to chase for a while.”
“I just hate that he seems to have always thought that I’d turn demonic,” Sam growled.
Dean gave the back of his neck a brotherly squeeze. “Like Tricia said-we’ll just have to show ’im, won’t we?”
Sam beamed.
John’s phone finally rang. When he answered it, Ash said one single word before hanging up. “Azazel.”
John blinked at the handset for a moment before calling back. “That’s it?”
“You wanted the name. You got the name.”
“Oh, come on, Ash. Surely Singer gave you more than that.”
“I just asked him for the name, ass. Get off my ride.”
“What is your problem tonight?”
“I don’t know. My best friend’s graduating and I can’t even go see him, for one!”
John’s eyes widened. “Holy-I can’t believe I forgot!”
“I can.” And again, he hung up.
Cursing under his breath, John found the newspaper supplement on his nightstand and ran his finger over the information on the front-the graduation was to take place at the high school football stadium, and it started at 7. A glance at his watch told him he had just enough time to get cleaned up, get a bite to eat at the diner, and get over there.
He didn’t want to go anymore. He couldn’t imagine that anybody in town felt less like celebrating than he did. But there was something about Cazadore and the boys that he was missing still, some key to this whole mystery... and he had yet to find and speak to Mr. Cooper. And seeing Sammy get that diploma was the whole reason he’d made this trip-hell, the whole reason the others had probably let him make this trip. Besides that, the boys were expecting him to be there, to see whatever it was they wanted him to see.
He looked again at his watch, sighed, and reached for his suit. Might as well let the shower steam the wrinkles out, he figured.
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