Just Breathe Chap 10/?
Title: Just Breathe Chapter 10/?
Author: JCRGIRL
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Wincest, underage
Word Count: 3,385
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. Just playing in Kripke's sandbox.
Summary: Dad is away and Sam falls ill leaving Dean to deal with a sick brother. John's back and the boys finally get some answers about Casey. Dean has a decision to make.
Author Notes: Title from Faith Hill song. Also, as always completely unbeta-ed.
A/N 2: I know this is another long chapter and it is explanation heavy, but bear with me. Now that we're all on the same page, the chapters will get shorter, more energy packed and most importantly sexier. If anything is too confusing, let me know and I'll try to clarify in the next chapters.
“Hello, John.”
“Wait a minute. You guys know each other,” Dean snarled.
“You can say that,” John growled as he tightened his grip on the gun still pointed at Casey.
“Dean, Casey is a hunter,” Bobby added. He and Caleb moved quietly within arms distance of John, not sure what their friend had in mind.
A hunter? Dean’s mind spun. Casey was a hunter?
“Sam?” Casey’s soft voice seemed out of place among the gruff male ones. As if completely oblivious of the weapon trained on her, her concerned eyes were locked on the youngest Winchester. “Are you okay?”
Dean’s head snapped to Sam. Now that his attention was back on his brother, he could hear his rattling gasps. Sam’s frantic fingers were digging into the sheets as he tried to control his panic. Dean reached down, unclenched the digits from the cloth and curled his hand in his brother’s larger one. “Sam?”
In his peripheral view, he saw Casey take a step toward Sam’s bed before John stopped her. “Stay the fuck away from Sam. I don’t know what you’re playing at with this nurse shit, but I’m not buying it.”
Eyes darting from Sam’s distressed face to John’s steely one, Casey’s jaw tightened causing the muscle to jump. “Never said I was a nurse. I am a combat trained Paramedic though and as such this hospital gives me privileges. Now, please, John. I know that you don’t like me, but your son’s sick. Let me help him. Please.” Dean watched as she searched his father’s face, expression, too honest to be faked, silently begging him to let her move closer.
John met Casey’s desperate voice and pleading eyes with a cold glare that Dean remembered too clearly from his childhood. “I said stay away from him, witch’”
Witch? The word bounced around in Dean’s head for a second before it settled enough for his mind to take it in. He swung his neck around so fast the crack of the vertebrae was audible to the stunned room. It seemed everyone was still reacting to the word, John smug, Bobby and Caleb slack jawed, and Casey, she was frightening.
Her dark eyes, just moments ago looking at Sam with alarm and worry, narrowed and hardened into chocolate diamonds as they bored into John’s hazel ones. Rage seized her pretty features and distorted them into a feral expression, animalistic and savage. It was at this moment that Dean realized so far he’d only seen Casey annoyed because what he was seeing now, this, this was Casey pissed.
“Witch,” she spat.
“If it fits.”
“You know calling me a witch is a lot like calling your boys demons.” Casey appeared to have reigned herself in, voice controlled and devoid of inflection, but Dean could see anger still rolling of her in waves.
Her stare-off with the older man ended abruptly when John’s glance faltered at her words. Casey titled her head slightly to the side and her brows scrunched together, face softening into a confused expression. Her narrowed eyes liquefied and grew distant, drifting down to stare at a point on the floor to John’s right. Unblinking, she remained that way as the second hand on the clock over the door ticked and Sam continued to struggle for a deep breath. When Dean had counted 15 clicks and 6 gasps, her still vacant gaze raised back to John’s face. Blinking furiously, a slight tremor shook her and her eyes focused. Back in the here and now, she turned to Sam and stepped closer.
“I told you to stay away,” John’s voice boomed in the previously quiet room.
“I’m going to help Sam. You’ll have to shoot me if you want to stop me.” Casey walked cautiously but determinedly to Sam’s bedside, ignoring the other men in the room as she concentrated on him. She reached behind the bed and pulled the oxygen mask, that Sam had been so grateful to discard not a few short hours ago, from the hook it hung on and gently placed it back over Sam’s nose and mouth. Slowly, letting all her actions be known, she twisted the knob on the regulator attached to the wall and a soft whooshing sound filled the air. She leaned over the bedrail so Sam could see her clearly.
“Casey?” Zoe’s confused voice floated to Dean’s ears from the open doorway. Taking in the six people, her gaze settled on the gun in John’s hand.
“Zoe! I wondered why the bitch was off her leash.” John swiveled his arm so the gun now faced the dark haired girl side stepping into the room until she stopped at Casey’s side. Dean looked over Sam’s still tense body to see Casey’s eyelids close and her shoulders rise and fall with an accompanying sigh.
Zoe’s voice dipped low, obviously for the other girl’s ear only, but Dean was so close he could hear them clearly. “You alright?”
“Better than Sam,” Casey mumbled back, hand raising to the young man’s brow.
“Don’t!” The warning in John’s voice was clear and the gun drifted back to Casey. Casey’s placid gaze never wavered from Sam as her hand continued its path to his face. Her fingertips lightly touched his forehead and began tracing a slow path, smoothing worry lines on each pass. “Sam, you need to calm down and breathe deeply. Nothing has changed from this morning. Everything’s fine. You’re just upset.”
Dean watched as the muscles of Sam’s body relaxed, the words and touch acting as a soothing balm to his tension. As Sam melted back into the pillows, his breathing cleared and slowed. Dean raised his eyes and met Casey’s head on. She smiled, her expression open and peaceful. “Dean, remember that I have never lied to you. We are not the enemy,” she whispered before leaning back. Dean tilted his head down to see the confusion he felt on his brother face.
Standing, Casey moved to the end of Sam’s bed and like a shadow Zoe followed. They stood side by side at Sam’s feet blocking the Winchester brothers from the older men still present. Dean saw Zoe’s hand brush briefly against the small of Casey’s back confirming by touch the bulge there as her other hand slowly wandered to the back of her own scrubs. The lifted hem revealed a back holster, but as her fingers dragged over the black metal Casey’s head shook imperceptibly from side to side. Zoe’s hand dropped to her side and her shoulders squared next to the younger girl’s.
“Did you know that the werewolf Sam killed last week had a mate? A mate that was pissed off, wanting serious payback and had his scent in its nose,” Casey asked, shrewd eyes on the man holding her at gunpoint. Dean’s stomach tightened. It never occurred to him that there was more than one; he’d trusted that his father had covered his bases.
When John’s only response was a slight dip in the muzzle of his gun, Casey continued, “We killed it on Sunday halfway between Sam’s school and the house you rented them.”
“What are you trying to insinuate,” John ground out through gritted teeth. His features screamed fury, but Dean had spent his entire life studying the man’s face. He knew when his father had been caught in a lie and was on the defensive.
“Nothing. Just wondered if you knew.” Casey shifted to the left, blocking Dean from his father’s, and consequently the gun’s, line of sight.
“You helped Sam. Now, get out!”
Casey didn’t flinch at John’s bellowing, but turned her focus to the men standing behind him. “Bobby, something is circling. Pretty far away but getting closer.”
“How soon?” The lines on the older man’s face deepened and Caleb nervously transferred his weight from one leg to the other.
“Depends. It’s hard to tell.”
“For which?” Bobby’s mustache twitched as his mouth fixed into a thin line.
“One definitely, but more than likely both. Just be warned.”
“Enough! Get out,” John nearly screamed.
Casey finally seemed aware of the weapon on her and the manic man holding it. “We’ll leave and I promise to not contact your sons, John.” Turning her back on the gun still trained at her heart, she gave the brothers an apologetic smile. “I’ll have Susan take over my duties with you. If that’s okay with you, Sam?” At Sam’s nod, she smiled again, nodded and left the room guiding Zoe by the elbow.
John lowered and holstered his gun as the other four men stood in dazed silence processing the events of the last fifteen minutes. Bobby broke his reverie first.
“John, what the hell’s the matter with you?”
“Stay out of this Bobby. You’ve always had a soft spot for that little whore just like you did for her mother.” Dean frozen body thawed. He’d never heard his father talk about anyone like this, like he hated them, like he did about the demon. His head hurt with too many revelations revealed in a short amount of time. His shirt pulled tight across the back of his neck and he looked down at hazel orbs round with the same question on his mind. What the hell?
“You were really going to shoot her. Have you lost all sense?” Bobby was dumbstruck, staring at his friend like he didn’t know the man.
“So? What would it matter?”
“So,” Caleb’s voice entered the argument, slightly high-pitched in incredulity. “She’s human! We don’t kill humans.”
“I don’t care.”
Dean rocked back on his heels reeling and felt Sam’s hand tighten where it was still clasped in his as his muscles went rigid in shock. What the hell was going on? His father hadn’t come when Sam was sick. He knew the werewolf had a mate and didn’t take care of it or warn his children of its presence. And now, after years of saving people, he was willing to shoot a human and for what? Caring for his youngest? Dean’s mind turned these thoughts over and kept coming up with the same conclusions. His father wasn’t worried about keeping them safe and didn’t seem worried about whether Sam lived or died. The only thing that he did seem to care about was keeping Casey away from them. Dean’s whole world tilted sideways and he felt nauseous.
“Dean, get your brother dressed and ready. We’re leaving. When you’re done have him discharged. It’ll be easier to get him out that way.” John’s command voice had Dean’s spine straightening automatically. When he hesitated, a barked “Now” followed in short order.
“No.”
Stunned, John turned to his oldest. The word was Sam’s but the voice was Dean’s, the first time ever. “What did you say?”
“I-,” Dean faltered under the scrutinizing glare of his father. His courage flailed until the reason for his defiance tugged the fabric of his shirt again. He had to keep Sam safe, protect him, nothing else mattered. Right now, he didn’t know who to trust but John was definitely not at the top of his list. “I said no. Sam is still too sick to leave the hospital. You saw what that little bit of stress did to him. We’ll leave when Dr. Trotter feels he’s well enough.”
“Fine. I’ll go have him discharged. I’m still his father.”
Dean stood and rolled his shoulders back. “You can try. Remember those papers you had Bobby draw up in case there was an emergency and you weren’t around? In case something exactly like this happened? The ones showing me as Sam’s legal guardian?” Dean paused, his voice gaining strength as he continued. “According to Angel’s Mercy Hospital, I’m legally responsible for Sam and the only one that can sign him out.”
“You son of a bitch. You can’t keep Sam from me, Dean. He’s still my son no matter what that fucking paper says.” In a flash, John lunged toward his children. Dean moved, arms flung wide, to shield Sam from the attack as Bobby and Caleb reached out and took hold of the senior Winchester.
“Dad,” Dean swallowed past the lump in his throat, “I think it’s time you left.”
“What?” John struggled against his friends’ grip, clearly at a loss.
Dean took a deep breath and looked down when cold fingers entwined with the ones he still had splayed protectively against Sam’s stomach. Sam showing his support, solidifying their front. His whole body exuded love and trust. Where Dean went Sam was willingly going to follow. Just like always, just like their father trained them, Dean and Sam side by side against any foe. Even when the foe was their father. “We want you to leave.”
“The fuck I will.”
Caleb tightened his grip on John’s arm with his left hand as his right slinked under the man’s jacked to relieve John’s holster of the gun he’d placed there. “Yeah, the fuck you will.” Using the muzzle of the gun, he pushed John in the direction of the door.
“Bobby?”
The older man was at the doorway following on the heels of Caleb who was all but frog-marching John out at gun point. Seeing the look on Dean’s face, he stopped. “Yeah?”
“I think we deserve some answers.”
Bobby took in the faces of the boys he’d come to think of as nephews and could see the confusion, pain and anger there. He heaved a deep sigh and lifted his ever present ball cap from his head by the bill to run his palm back and forth over his hair before reseating it. “Where do you want me to start?”
“How about we start with who Casey really is and how you all know her and end with the OK Corral showdown that we almost witnessed?” Dean dropped Sam’s hand and reached behind him to grab the chair, bumping the bed table that still held the breakfast Casey had brought them earlier. Shoving it further out of the way in a show of aggravation, he pulled the chair closer to Sam’s bed with a scraping of the legs on the linoleum. He kicked the empty chair toward Bobby in an obvious invitation for him to sit down as well.
Bobby’s lips tightened into a thin line before he sighed again and took the proffered seat. “Like I said before, Casey, and Zoe for that matter, is a hunter of sorts.”
“What do you mean ‘of sorts’? What does that mean?” Dean looked over at Sam who shrugged an answer.
“Boy! Are you going to let me tell this or you gonna keep interrupting?”
“Sorry.”
“There are two things you need to understand before I start. One, hunting is not a new thing. As long as there has been evil in the world, there have been people that hunt that evil. Two, not all hunters get in the game for the same reason your father and I did, loss of a loved one and a need for revenge, for some it’s a heritage that gets passed down from one generation to another. Whole families passing demon killing traditions from parent to child.”
“Okay,” Dean said slowly , eyebrows raised, “Why haven’t we ever met any of these families?”
Bobby hesitated, carefully studying the young men in front of him before coming to a decision. “You have. Casey and Zoe belong to two of the oldest hunting families there are, going back to biblical times. Hell, their ancestors may very well have been the damn origin of hunting. According to their lore, angels chose a handful baby girls and blessed them with strength, virtue and special abilities to combat the evil on Earth. These traits passed down from mother to daughter over the centuries. Throughout the years, they’ve remained an organized group. The girls go to special schools and training camps. There is a hierarchy of authority that the military could actually learn something from.”
“So you’re telling me that Casey and Zoe are, what, Buffy the Demon Slayers?”
“I wouldn’t let Casey hear you call her that. She always said that Buffy was a no-talent hack.” All three men jumped at the deep voice from the doorway. Dr. Trotter filled the opening, arms crossed over his chest. “Bobby.” He nodded a hello to the older man as he entered the room.
“John.”
“Jesus, you know him too? Which brings me back to one of my original questions, how do you know these people?” Dean’s headache was beginning to throb. He watched warily as Dr. Trotter came over and, using his stethoscope, listened to Sam’s lungs.
“I knew Casey’s mother, Rebecca. When my wife…”Bobby’s eyes flickered to the ground. “Becca was coming to help, but didn’t make it in time. I don’t think she ever forgave herself. She stayed with me, answered my questions. Without her, I don’t think I would have survived the days that followed. When I was ready, I asked her to teach me.”
Dean and Sam had never heard Bobby speak about his dead wife. They’d known that she was his reason for this lifestyle.
Dr. Trotter cleared his throat, “Sam, your lungs still sound good, relatively speaking. I think earlier was caused more from your anxiety than a relapse. If you think you can stay calm, you can take the mask off again. Dean, let Susie know if anything changes. I’ll let you gentlemen finish talking, but then Sam really needs to rest. Bobby, it was good to see you.” With a swish of a white coat, he exited leaving the men alone.
At Dean’s arched eyebrow, “Trotter’s mother was Becca’s partner. He was a baby when I met them.”
“Come on, Bobby. You trying to tell me you buy into this crap. Angels? There’s no such thing. They’re a myth like, like unicorns or Big Foot.” Dean had stopped believing in angels when Sam’s nursery exploded into flames taking his mother.
“I said that was according to the lore. Believe what you want about the angels, but I’ve seen these women in action. They’re legit and damn good hunters. So if you trust anything, trust me on that.”
“If these people are so great then why does Dad hate Casey so much,” Sam’s voice was small, his breathing still a little shallow.
“Growing up, Becca and Mary were close friends. Your mother spent most summers with Becca and her family. When Mary…” Here again Bobby paused. “After, Becca came to your father and offered to take you boys to raise. She could see the obsession he already had for vengeance and was worried about you. She felt that your lives might be in danger from the thing that killed your mother and believed you needed more protection than John could provide, especially with his singular focus on revenge. Your father was seeing evil everywhere and this old friend of Mary’s shows up saying she’s been touched by an angel and wants his sons…your Dad panicked, thought it was a trap. The next day, the three of you had disappeared from Lawrence. She never confronted your Dad again, but did keep an eye on you from a distance.
Becca was the reason your Dad and I met. She contacted me not long after and pointed me in your direction saying he was going to need my help. Over the years, you’ve crossed paths with Casey, but your father always moved you before you actually met her.”
“Bobby? Casey said she wasn’t the enemy. Is that true?” Dean wanted badly to believe her, but the last hour had shaken him and he was unsure whether to trust himself.
“There is nobody better at what she does, even in her own group. But, Dean, you’ve been trained your whole life as a hunter, what do your instincts tell you?”
“That’s a good question,” Dean turned to the darkening window.
“Then I suggest you think really hard about the answer.” Bobby stood with a pat to Dean’s leg and a squeeze to Sam’s ankle, leaving the brothers to digest everything.
“Bobby?” He turned to the younger man lying pale on the bed.
“Yeah Sam?”
“You talk about Casey’s mother like she’s gone. How did Becca die?”
“Killed by a witch that was draining the life outta some kids somewhere in Wisconsin back in eighty-eight.” With that, he walked out the door.
Chapter 11
Author: JCRGIRL
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Wincest, underage
Word Count: 3,385
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. Just playing in Kripke's sandbox.
Summary: Dad is away and Sam falls ill leaving Dean to deal with a sick brother. John's back and the boys finally get some answers about Casey. Dean has a decision to make.
Author Notes: Title from Faith Hill song. Also, as always completely unbeta-ed.
A/N 2: I know this is another long chapter and it is explanation heavy, but bear with me. Now that we're all on the same page, the chapters will get shorter, more energy packed and most importantly sexier. If anything is too confusing, let me know and I'll try to clarify in the next chapters.
“Hello, John.”
“Wait a minute. You guys know each other,” Dean snarled.
“You can say that,” John growled as he tightened his grip on the gun still pointed at Casey.
“Dean, Casey is a hunter,” Bobby added. He and Caleb moved quietly within arms distance of John, not sure what their friend had in mind.
A hunter? Dean’s mind spun. Casey was a hunter?
“Sam?” Casey’s soft voice seemed out of place among the gruff male ones. As if completely oblivious of the weapon trained on her, her concerned eyes were locked on the youngest Winchester. “Are you okay?”
Dean’s head snapped to Sam. Now that his attention was back on his brother, he could hear his rattling gasps. Sam’s frantic fingers were digging into the sheets as he tried to control his panic. Dean reached down, unclenched the digits from the cloth and curled his hand in his brother’s larger one. “Sam?”
In his peripheral view, he saw Casey take a step toward Sam’s bed before John stopped her. “Stay the fuck away from Sam. I don’t know what you’re playing at with this nurse shit, but I’m not buying it.”
Eyes darting from Sam’s distressed face to John’s steely one, Casey’s jaw tightened causing the muscle to jump. “Never said I was a nurse. I am a combat trained Paramedic though and as such this hospital gives me privileges. Now, please, John. I know that you don’t like me, but your son’s sick. Let me help him. Please.” Dean watched as she searched his father’s face, expression, too honest to be faked, silently begging him to let her move closer.
John met Casey’s desperate voice and pleading eyes with a cold glare that Dean remembered too clearly from his childhood. “I said stay away from him, witch’”
Witch? The word bounced around in Dean’s head for a second before it settled enough for his mind to take it in. He swung his neck around so fast the crack of the vertebrae was audible to the stunned room. It seemed everyone was still reacting to the word, John smug, Bobby and Caleb slack jawed, and Casey, she was frightening.
Her dark eyes, just moments ago looking at Sam with alarm and worry, narrowed and hardened into chocolate diamonds as they bored into John’s hazel ones. Rage seized her pretty features and distorted them into a feral expression, animalistic and savage. It was at this moment that Dean realized so far he’d only seen Casey annoyed because what he was seeing now, this, this was Casey pissed.
“Witch,” she spat.
“If it fits.”
“You know calling me a witch is a lot like calling your boys demons.” Casey appeared to have reigned herself in, voice controlled and devoid of inflection, but Dean could see anger still rolling of her in waves.
Her stare-off with the older man ended abruptly when John’s glance faltered at her words. Casey titled her head slightly to the side and her brows scrunched together, face softening into a confused expression. Her narrowed eyes liquefied and grew distant, drifting down to stare at a point on the floor to John’s right. Unblinking, she remained that way as the second hand on the clock over the door ticked and Sam continued to struggle for a deep breath. When Dean had counted 15 clicks and 6 gasps, her still vacant gaze raised back to John’s face. Blinking furiously, a slight tremor shook her and her eyes focused. Back in the here and now, she turned to Sam and stepped closer.
“I told you to stay away,” John’s voice boomed in the previously quiet room.
“I’m going to help Sam. You’ll have to shoot me if you want to stop me.” Casey walked cautiously but determinedly to Sam’s bedside, ignoring the other men in the room as she concentrated on him. She reached behind the bed and pulled the oxygen mask, that Sam had been so grateful to discard not a few short hours ago, from the hook it hung on and gently placed it back over Sam’s nose and mouth. Slowly, letting all her actions be known, she twisted the knob on the regulator attached to the wall and a soft whooshing sound filled the air. She leaned over the bedrail so Sam could see her clearly.
“Casey?” Zoe’s confused voice floated to Dean’s ears from the open doorway. Taking in the six people, her gaze settled on the gun in John’s hand.
“Zoe! I wondered why the bitch was off her leash.” John swiveled his arm so the gun now faced the dark haired girl side stepping into the room until she stopped at Casey’s side. Dean looked over Sam’s still tense body to see Casey’s eyelids close and her shoulders rise and fall with an accompanying sigh.
Zoe’s voice dipped low, obviously for the other girl’s ear only, but Dean was so close he could hear them clearly. “You alright?”
“Better than Sam,” Casey mumbled back, hand raising to the young man’s brow.
“Don’t!” The warning in John’s voice was clear and the gun drifted back to Casey. Casey’s placid gaze never wavered from Sam as her hand continued its path to his face. Her fingertips lightly touched his forehead and began tracing a slow path, smoothing worry lines on each pass. “Sam, you need to calm down and breathe deeply. Nothing has changed from this morning. Everything’s fine. You’re just upset.”
Dean watched as the muscles of Sam’s body relaxed, the words and touch acting as a soothing balm to his tension. As Sam melted back into the pillows, his breathing cleared and slowed. Dean raised his eyes and met Casey’s head on. She smiled, her expression open and peaceful. “Dean, remember that I have never lied to you. We are not the enemy,” she whispered before leaning back. Dean tilted his head down to see the confusion he felt on his brother face.
Standing, Casey moved to the end of Sam’s bed and like a shadow Zoe followed. They stood side by side at Sam’s feet blocking the Winchester brothers from the older men still present. Dean saw Zoe’s hand brush briefly against the small of Casey’s back confirming by touch the bulge there as her other hand slowly wandered to the back of her own scrubs. The lifted hem revealed a back holster, but as her fingers dragged over the black metal Casey’s head shook imperceptibly from side to side. Zoe’s hand dropped to her side and her shoulders squared next to the younger girl’s.
“Did you know that the werewolf Sam killed last week had a mate? A mate that was pissed off, wanting serious payback and had his scent in its nose,” Casey asked, shrewd eyes on the man holding her at gunpoint. Dean’s stomach tightened. It never occurred to him that there was more than one; he’d trusted that his father had covered his bases.
When John’s only response was a slight dip in the muzzle of his gun, Casey continued, “We killed it on Sunday halfway between Sam’s school and the house you rented them.”
“What are you trying to insinuate,” John ground out through gritted teeth. His features screamed fury, but Dean had spent his entire life studying the man’s face. He knew when his father had been caught in a lie and was on the defensive.
“Nothing. Just wondered if you knew.” Casey shifted to the left, blocking Dean from his father’s, and consequently the gun’s, line of sight.
“You helped Sam. Now, get out!”
Casey didn’t flinch at John’s bellowing, but turned her focus to the men standing behind him. “Bobby, something is circling. Pretty far away but getting closer.”
“How soon?” The lines on the older man’s face deepened and Caleb nervously transferred his weight from one leg to the other.
“Depends. It’s hard to tell.”
“For which?” Bobby’s mustache twitched as his mouth fixed into a thin line.
“One definitely, but more than likely both. Just be warned.”
“Enough! Get out,” John nearly screamed.
Casey finally seemed aware of the weapon on her and the manic man holding it. “We’ll leave and I promise to not contact your sons, John.” Turning her back on the gun still trained at her heart, she gave the brothers an apologetic smile. “I’ll have Susan take over my duties with you. If that’s okay with you, Sam?” At Sam’s nod, she smiled again, nodded and left the room guiding Zoe by the elbow.
John lowered and holstered his gun as the other four men stood in dazed silence processing the events of the last fifteen minutes. Bobby broke his reverie first.
“John, what the hell’s the matter with you?”
“Stay out of this Bobby. You’ve always had a soft spot for that little whore just like you did for her mother.” Dean frozen body thawed. He’d never heard his father talk about anyone like this, like he hated them, like he did about the demon. His head hurt with too many revelations revealed in a short amount of time. His shirt pulled tight across the back of his neck and he looked down at hazel orbs round with the same question on his mind. What the hell?
“You were really going to shoot her. Have you lost all sense?” Bobby was dumbstruck, staring at his friend like he didn’t know the man.
“So? What would it matter?”
“So,” Caleb’s voice entered the argument, slightly high-pitched in incredulity. “She’s human! We don’t kill humans.”
“I don’t care.”
Dean rocked back on his heels reeling and felt Sam’s hand tighten where it was still clasped in his as his muscles went rigid in shock. What the hell was going on? His father hadn’t come when Sam was sick. He knew the werewolf had a mate and didn’t take care of it or warn his children of its presence. And now, after years of saving people, he was willing to shoot a human and for what? Caring for his youngest? Dean’s mind turned these thoughts over and kept coming up with the same conclusions. His father wasn’t worried about keeping them safe and didn’t seem worried about whether Sam lived or died. The only thing that he did seem to care about was keeping Casey away from them. Dean’s whole world tilted sideways and he felt nauseous.
“Dean, get your brother dressed and ready. We’re leaving. When you’re done have him discharged. It’ll be easier to get him out that way.” John’s command voice had Dean’s spine straightening automatically. When he hesitated, a barked “Now” followed in short order.
“No.”
Stunned, John turned to his oldest. The word was Sam’s but the voice was Dean’s, the first time ever. “What did you say?”
“I-,” Dean faltered under the scrutinizing glare of his father. His courage flailed until the reason for his defiance tugged the fabric of his shirt again. He had to keep Sam safe, protect him, nothing else mattered. Right now, he didn’t know who to trust but John was definitely not at the top of his list. “I said no. Sam is still too sick to leave the hospital. You saw what that little bit of stress did to him. We’ll leave when Dr. Trotter feels he’s well enough.”
“Fine. I’ll go have him discharged. I’m still his father.”
Dean stood and rolled his shoulders back. “You can try. Remember those papers you had Bobby draw up in case there was an emergency and you weren’t around? In case something exactly like this happened? The ones showing me as Sam’s legal guardian?” Dean paused, his voice gaining strength as he continued. “According to Angel’s Mercy Hospital, I’m legally responsible for Sam and the only one that can sign him out.”
“You son of a bitch. You can’t keep Sam from me, Dean. He’s still my son no matter what that fucking paper says.” In a flash, John lunged toward his children. Dean moved, arms flung wide, to shield Sam from the attack as Bobby and Caleb reached out and took hold of the senior Winchester.
“Dad,” Dean swallowed past the lump in his throat, “I think it’s time you left.”
“What?” John struggled against his friends’ grip, clearly at a loss.
Dean took a deep breath and looked down when cold fingers entwined with the ones he still had splayed protectively against Sam’s stomach. Sam showing his support, solidifying their front. His whole body exuded love and trust. Where Dean went Sam was willingly going to follow. Just like always, just like their father trained them, Dean and Sam side by side against any foe. Even when the foe was their father. “We want you to leave.”
“The fuck I will.”
Caleb tightened his grip on John’s arm with his left hand as his right slinked under the man’s jacked to relieve John’s holster of the gun he’d placed there. “Yeah, the fuck you will.” Using the muzzle of the gun, he pushed John in the direction of the door.
“Bobby?”
The older man was at the doorway following on the heels of Caleb who was all but frog-marching John out at gun point. Seeing the look on Dean’s face, he stopped. “Yeah?”
“I think we deserve some answers.”
Bobby took in the faces of the boys he’d come to think of as nephews and could see the confusion, pain and anger there. He heaved a deep sigh and lifted his ever present ball cap from his head by the bill to run his palm back and forth over his hair before reseating it. “Where do you want me to start?”
“How about we start with who Casey really is and how you all know her and end with the OK Corral showdown that we almost witnessed?” Dean dropped Sam’s hand and reached behind him to grab the chair, bumping the bed table that still held the breakfast Casey had brought them earlier. Shoving it further out of the way in a show of aggravation, he pulled the chair closer to Sam’s bed with a scraping of the legs on the linoleum. He kicked the empty chair toward Bobby in an obvious invitation for him to sit down as well.
Bobby’s lips tightened into a thin line before he sighed again and took the proffered seat. “Like I said before, Casey, and Zoe for that matter, is a hunter of sorts.”
“What do you mean ‘of sorts’? What does that mean?” Dean looked over at Sam who shrugged an answer.
“Boy! Are you going to let me tell this or you gonna keep interrupting?”
“Sorry.”
“There are two things you need to understand before I start. One, hunting is not a new thing. As long as there has been evil in the world, there have been people that hunt that evil. Two, not all hunters get in the game for the same reason your father and I did, loss of a loved one and a need for revenge, for some it’s a heritage that gets passed down from one generation to another. Whole families passing demon killing traditions from parent to child.”
“Okay,” Dean said slowly , eyebrows raised, “Why haven’t we ever met any of these families?”
Bobby hesitated, carefully studying the young men in front of him before coming to a decision. “You have. Casey and Zoe belong to two of the oldest hunting families there are, going back to biblical times. Hell, their ancestors may very well have been the damn origin of hunting. According to their lore, angels chose a handful baby girls and blessed them with strength, virtue and special abilities to combat the evil on Earth. These traits passed down from mother to daughter over the centuries. Throughout the years, they’ve remained an organized group. The girls go to special schools and training camps. There is a hierarchy of authority that the military could actually learn something from.”
“So you’re telling me that Casey and Zoe are, what, Buffy the Demon Slayers?”
“I wouldn’t let Casey hear you call her that. She always said that Buffy was a no-talent hack.” All three men jumped at the deep voice from the doorway. Dr. Trotter filled the opening, arms crossed over his chest. “Bobby.” He nodded a hello to the older man as he entered the room.
“John.”
“Jesus, you know him too? Which brings me back to one of my original questions, how do you know these people?” Dean’s headache was beginning to throb. He watched warily as Dr. Trotter came over and, using his stethoscope, listened to Sam’s lungs.
“I knew Casey’s mother, Rebecca. When my wife…”Bobby’s eyes flickered to the ground. “Becca was coming to help, but didn’t make it in time. I don’t think she ever forgave herself. She stayed with me, answered my questions. Without her, I don’t think I would have survived the days that followed. When I was ready, I asked her to teach me.”
Dean and Sam had never heard Bobby speak about his dead wife. They’d known that she was his reason for this lifestyle.
Dr. Trotter cleared his throat, “Sam, your lungs still sound good, relatively speaking. I think earlier was caused more from your anxiety than a relapse. If you think you can stay calm, you can take the mask off again. Dean, let Susie know if anything changes. I’ll let you gentlemen finish talking, but then Sam really needs to rest. Bobby, it was good to see you.” With a swish of a white coat, he exited leaving the men alone.
At Dean’s arched eyebrow, “Trotter’s mother was Becca’s partner. He was a baby when I met them.”
“Come on, Bobby. You trying to tell me you buy into this crap. Angels? There’s no such thing. They’re a myth like, like unicorns or Big Foot.” Dean had stopped believing in angels when Sam’s nursery exploded into flames taking his mother.
“I said that was according to the lore. Believe what you want about the angels, but I’ve seen these women in action. They’re legit and damn good hunters. So if you trust anything, trust me on that.”
“If these people are so great then why does Dad hate Casey so much,” Sam’s voice was small, his breathing still a little shallow.
“Growing up, Becca and Mary were close friends. Your mother spent most summers with Becca and her family. When Mary…” Here again Bobby paused. “After, Becca came to your father and offered to take you boys to raise. She could see the obsession he already had for vengeance and was worried about you. She felt that your lives might be in danger from the thing that killed your mother and believed you needed more protection than John could provide, especially with his singular focus on revenge. Your father was seeing evil everywhere and this old friend of Mary’s shows up saying she’s been touched by an angel and wants his sons…your Dad panicked, thought it was a trap. The next day, the three of you had disappeared from Lawrence. She never confronted your Dad again, but did keep an eye on you from a distance.
Becca was the reason your Dad and I met. She contacted me not long after and pointed me in your direction saying he was going to need my help. Over the years, you’ve crossed paths with Casey, but your father always moved you before you actually met her.”
“Bobby? Casey said she wasn’t the enemy. Is that true?” Dean wanted badly to believe her, but the last hour had shaken him and he was unsure whether to trust himself.
“There is nobody better at what she does, even in her own group. But, Dean, you’ve been trained your whole life as a hunter, what do your instincts tell you?”
“That’s a good question,” Dean turned to the darkening window.
“Then I suggest you think really hard about the answer.” Bobby stood with a pat to Dean’s leg and a squeeze to Sam’s ankle, leaving the brothers to digest everything.
“Bobby?” He turned to the younger man lying pale on the bed.
“Yeah Sam?”
“You talk about Casey’s mother like she’s gone. How did Becca die?”
“Killed by a witch that was draining the life outta some kids somewhere in Wisconsin back in eighty-eight.” With that, he walked out the door.
Chapter 11