Finding Home (19/21)
Title: Finding Home ( Main Post and Chapter List)
Rating: PG-13/R for language, mostly
Disclaimer: Nothing you recognize is mine. I gain nothing of materialistic value from this.
Pairings: Gen.
Chapter 18
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“These people out there, these psychics. Are they dangerous?”
“No. Not all of them.”
“But some of them are. Some are very dangerous.”
(“Simon Said”)
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“We have to stop me,” Sam said, sounding dazed, “before I become like them... You have to stop me.”
Dean was so tired. “Sam.” Sam made a small movement, like a flinch. “You’re thinking about this way too hard. No one’s saying you'll become anything. We know you-we don’t think that.” He hardened his voice. “Do we, Dad?”
John was silent for too long. Then, he slowly, almost reluctantly, “Even the Nephilim...some saw them as giants. Heroes.” His tone said clearly that he himself wasn’t convinced by the argument.
“That explains your freakish height,” Dean said, forcibly pasting a smirk on his face.
Sam snorted humorlessly. “Giants, right. And others called them ‘Terrors’ or...or ‘Devastators.’ ”
Never. It won’t happen. I won’t let it.
“No,” Dean said firmly. “Uh uh. Lots of people go Dark side without a fucking drop of demon blood in them. You’re not any more special than anyone else. Got me?”
“Dean, what if I can’t help it? What if I turn into something...evil, and I can’t tell?”
It wasn’t even a matter of soothing his brother’s frazzled nerves. Dean knew, with more certainty than he had in anything else, that his Sammy would never become one of the things he hunted. He didn’t have a fucking clue what was going on, but it wouldn’t be that. “I’ll be here,” he said simply. “I’ll look out for you.” For once, he let all the confidence he felt show on his face. Sam looked taken aback, then flushed red and looked away.
Sam swallowed and asked, his voice a whisper, “What if that’s not enough?”
“It’ll be enough,” Dean said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “It’s been enough our whole lives. Nothing’s going to change now.”
Sam met his gaze, swallowed hard again, and nodded, taking a long breath. Dean could see him relax, just slightly, and couldn’t suppress a welling of satisfaction that he’d done that. He could see the moment when, bolstered by the exchange, Sam’s mind turned back to the case-to the Grigori. Speaking to their father now, he said, “This demon, then. What now? How do we kill it?”
Because they would. Anything else wasn’t an option.
Rubbing his face with his hands, John sighed. Dean wanted to either shrink away or lash out, because this...this wasn’t like his father. The ferocity that had always spurred him-spurred all of them-forward was dulled. He was starting to wonder whether anything would be left if that fire left the man completely.
But, whatever had happened that night, he was still John Winchester. Finally, he said, “Okay. Okay, Sam, do you remember anything else from your...dreams that might be important? What its plans are?”
Sam’s eyes unfocused slightly in that way they did when he was trying to remember something. It was becoming an all-too-familiar occurrence these days. Tentatively, he said, “The yellow-eyed man-I mean, demon...it’s been encouraging me to practice using my abilities. He said I need to be ready.”
“Ready?”
“Because...” Trepidation flickered in Sam’s eyes. “Because there’s a war coming.”
Dean caught his breath. This had always been a sort of war for them, one they’d been fighting their whole lives. But this was different. If one of the fucking Grigori was preparing for a war-this was big.
John sat back. “A war.” He shook his head. “He’s trying to use you and the other children?”
Sam hesitated, frowning. “I’m not sure. I think...he only wants one of us.”
“What does that mean? Which one?”
Exhaling hard, he answered, “Whichever one of us survives.”
Dean’s eyes narrowed. “Josh thought the demon was testing them. Testing you. That’s why so many of the others went off the deep end.” The others. Not Sam.
Sam nodded. “That’s what it sounded like. Weeding out the ones who couldn’t make it.”
John drummed his fingers against the arms of the chair. “How many are left?” he wondered.
“He mentioned that there’s one other,” Sam remembered. “But not a name.”
“Could he have meant Andy?” Dean asked suddenly.
John furrowed his brow. “Andy? You mentioned that name before.”
“Andy Gallagher, another psychic. We met him earlier this year-he was fine. Not homicidal or...or suicidal or anything.”
John grunted. “Maybe not yet,” he said darkly. “We’ll have to keep an eye on him in case.” Sam twitched at that. Dean cursed inwardly at his father’s careless choice of words.
“We’ll call him in the morning,” Dean decided. “Sam, you still have his number?”
“Uh, yeah I should,” Sam said. “Dean, you don’t think the demon was talking about Andy? It’s not like him.”
It was John who answered, “He could still be dangerous. He might have changed, or been changed since then.”
Dean turned his scowl onto the older man. Nice, Dad. Good going. Dean had run through conversations like this with Sam more than once in the past year, since the visions had started. He’d been able to calm his brother’s worries, but now, with everything they knew...and their dad was only making things worse.
Sam was chewing on his lower lip in thought or anxiety. “Well, it might be Andy or it might not. Either way, there’s still someone else out there, and if he’s been dreaming about this Grigori demon, he might not realize anything’s wrong, like...” ‘Like I didn’t notice,’ Dean heard in the unfinished sentence.
John was nodding. “In the morning, we’ll go through records of all the psychics we know of and see if we can find someone missing from the pattern.” A spark reappeared in his eyes. “Maybe we can find this sonuvabitch after all.”
Their father rose from the chair, but Dean was watching Sam, who looked more scared than ever. But when his brother turned to the man, his expression was determined. “Yes, sir,” Sam said, his voice hard and full of steel and suppressed emotion. Dean wondered how it was possible to be so proud of his little brother at the same time that he mourned so deeply the child Sam would never be again.
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Dad wasn’t avoiding looking at Sam anymore. He had been before-Dean could admit that to himself even if he wouldn’t to his brother.
Not anymore, though. Now it was...just different. Each look was long and appraising, as if he were wondering, wondering...
Dean turned away from the looks Dad sent Sam that Sam pretended not to notice. “Give me your phone again, Sam,” he said.
“No use,” Sam said.
“Come again?”
His brother rubbed tiredly at his eyes and turned the open laptop to face him. “Andy’s not going to pick up.”
Dean bent closer to read the news article, and his jaw tightened. “He was murdered.” Scanning down further, “They don’t know who yet.” They hadn’t known Andy well, but...he’d been a good guy.
Sam made a disgusted sound. “You have to wonder?” And then, “I can’t believe I didn’t see this beforehand, in a vision or something.”
We don’t know for sure who it was, he wanted to say. But he’d been saying it all year, or a variation on it, and there was no reason to deny it anymore. “This other guy, then. Whoever Yellow-Eyes was talking about.”
“That or the demon itself, or something working with it. And we don’t even know if the other person’s a guy or a girl.”
John stood. “And it could be either. Of the psychics I’ve been able to track, there are two left besides you. One is Jake Talley-a soldier.”
A fighter, then-and with who knew what psychic ability. “Could he have killed Andy?” Dean asked.
“He’s overseas in Afghanistan.”
Dean lifted his eyebrows. “Yeah, that’d make it harder. Who else?”
“Ava Wilson. Her fiancé was found murdered in their bed, and she’s been missing for months.”
“That’s sounds pretty condemning.”
Sam closed the laptop and leaned on it. “Then we have to find her, see if she’s gone over to the demon.”
“And do what, from there?” Dean said.
“Stop her,” Sam said, as if it were obvious, surprising Dean.
"Stop her, as in, stop her?" he asked.
“If she's killing people," Sam said defensively. "And anyway, she’s our best lead-the only lead we have on the demon.”
Trying to read the expression on his brother’s face, but knowing he was right, Dean nodded. “Okay. So where was she last seen?”
Closing his notebook and tucking away various papers, John said, “ Peoria. We’re going to Illinois.”
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It didn’t take long for them to realize that they wouldn’t learn much in Peoria. Ava Wilson had vanished weeks ago and hadn’t left a clue behind. All of them were on edge and getting irritated.
“We’re getting nowhere,” Sam said in frustration. Dean looked up at the sound of a newspaper being thrown hard onto the bed. “She’s just disappeared.”
“Well, we do know something. There was sulfur at her house-it was definitely a demon.”
“Because that’s news,” Sam grouched.
Dean was about to snap back when a buzzing sound cut him off. John reached for his cell phone and barked, “What!”
A moment later, he repeated, “What?” He turned back to the table and sifted through his charts and notes until he’d pulled out a map. “Where?”
Dean moved closer to watch his father hastily uncap a pen and outlined a section of the map. His brother’s footsteps followed him and they both peered curiously at it. Finally, John straightened and said, “Thanks, Bobby. Call us if you hear anything else.” He stopped, listening, and glanced at Dean and Sam. “Yeah, they’re both...they’re good. We’re good. Be careful, Bobby.”
“What’d Bobby say?” Sam asked as soon as the phone was closed, pointing at the map. “And what’s that?”
“Joshua called him; Caleb, too.”
“Caleb Reeve?” Dean asked. “Is he okay?”
“Yeah. Same story-a minor demon paid him a visit, looking...for us, but he’d already been warned by Joshua.”
“And?” Sam pressed impatiently.
“Bobby’s been hearing of demonic omens in Wyoming, on a scale even he’s never seen before. If there was any doubt before... This is huge, boys. Bigger than we could have imagined.”
Sam shifted. “ ‘Bind them fast for seventy generations in the valleys of the earth, till the day of their judgment.’ Maybe the Grigori are rising...maybe they’re getting ready.”
Dean stared at him incredulously. “Dude. Did you memorize the whole fucking Bible?” Not for the first time, he wondered just how much religion had meant to his brother.
Sam shrugged. “I looked up everything I could about the Grigori after last night, and I found that passage.”
He snorted. “Yeah, and memorized it, you geek.” It was only after he said it that he realized Sam had probably read those parts over and over until the words had been burned into his brain. Obsessing as usual, except that it was even more personal this time. “And ‘seventy generations?’ You can’t tell me it’s exactly seventy generations.”
Sam gaped at him. “Seriously? If Judgment Day comes, you’re going to nitpick about proper timing?”
“Judgment Day,” Dean scoffed, disbelieving. “You’re kidding me, right?”
John interrupted them. “You’re being too literal, Sam. I don’t give a damn if the demon's just making trouble or if it thinks the apocalypse is coming. But whatever the reason is, if demons are gathering, this is going to be war.”
“But what are they doing?” Dean asked. “Why are they gathering there?”
“Here”-John pointed to the area he’d circled in Southern Wyoming-“is the exception. It’s completely quiet in here, almost like they can’t get in. We don’t have a clue why not.”
It wasn’t ringing any bells for Dean, and he could tell by the look on Sam’s face that his brother was coming up empty as well. “We have to figure out what’s so special about that place. What’s keeping them out.”
“And why they want to get in,” Sam added. He checked his watch and grimaced. “The library’s closed now.”
“Go first thing tomorrow,” John said. “I’ll contact people who might have some ideas.”
That night, Dean woke briefly when Sam crawled out of bed and heard the laptop booting up. Shaking his head into his pillow, he sighed and fell asleep again.
The next time he woke, it was to his father shaking his shoulder, saying, “Sam’s gone.”
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Chapter 20