A Case of Do or Die 3/8
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Chapter 3
We’ll Always Have Paris
Both boys were quiet and subdued at breakfast Saturday morning, at least until John suggested going shopping for Easter clothes. Sammy perked up a little at that.
“Can we afford it?” Dean asked.
John shrugged. “Pretty sure there’s a decent resale shop here in town, should have pretty good bargains.”
Dean grimaced. “Don’t really want a suit.”
“So we won’t get you a suit. Slacks and a sweater vest you could wear to school, like for pictures.”
Dean blinked. “But-”
“Dean.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I want a suit!” Sammy piped up. “I’m a big boy!”
John laughed. “You are-almost four! A suit will make you look all grown up.”
Sammy beamed and wiggled happily in his seat.
Jim had overheard plenty of mothers conversing about resale shops and was able to pull together a quick list of recommendations, so after breakfast dishes were done, John and the boys were off. Dean and Sammy were still quieter than usual and stuck closer than usual, Sammy even holding John’s hand without prompting most of the time, but John did eventually get even Dean to pick out a few things he liked that were well within their budget. John found some school clothes that Dean would probably grow into by fall, too, including some new-ish jeans and some T-shirts with logos of bands they both liked, which finally prompted Dean to smile. They picked out a nice grey suit for Sammy that even Mary loved, along with some play clothes that should last the summer. And at Jim’s insistence, John got a couple of new shirts for himself, as well as a tie.
They actually went to church on Sunday, and the roof didn’t cave in. In fact, John managed to both stay awake and pay attention through the entire sermon. The little old ladies all cooed over Sammy, which alternately pleased and terrified him, and a couple of Dean’s school friends succeeded in prodding him into having some fun during the egg hunt after church. Mary slipped her arm through John’s as they stood watching the boys run around, and he could tell she was enjoying it as much as he was.
Monday was mostly a day for bumming around the house and watching TV, except when Sammy decided he wanted ice cream. John did call and talk things over with Bill Harvelle, who agreed to take the boys when the time came, but mostly he spent time just being with his sons. Tuesday John drove Dean to school and then began working with Jim on researching omens from September and October of 1977 that would give him a lead on where to find someone whose deal was about to come due. But when he and Sammy went to pick Dean up from school, he got an unpleasant surprise. Dean came out looking worried and didn’t get in the car.
“My teacher wants to talk to you,” he said when John rolled down the window.
John bit back a curse. “Okay. Take Sammy to the playground; I’ll come get you when we’re done.”
Dean nodded. “Yes, sir. C’mon, Squirt,” he said as he opened the back door.
Sammy wriggled out of the back seat and took Dean’s hand as John drove off to find a parking place. The boys stood on the sidewalk talking until John waved them toward the playground, then reluctantly walked off.
“Mr. Winchester,” said Mrs. Winthrop as he walked into Dean’s classroom. “I’m glad you’re here. I’m worried about Dean.”
John blinked and felt Mary slip a hand around his arm. “Why? Is he in trouble?”
“No, no, but-do sit down.” As John sat, so did Mrs. Winthrop. “Dean’s been acting very depressed all day, and he hardly speaks unless I ask him a direct question. Has he been feeling all right this weekend?”
John sighed. “Well, he’s not sick, if that’s what you mean, but... we got some bad news last week. The boys are taking it pretty hard.”
Mrs. Winthrop frowned. “What sort of bad news? Have you lost your job or something?”
“Worse than that. Look, I... I haven’t come right out and told the boys this, but... I’ve been diagnosed with cancer. And it’s probably terminal.”
Mrs. Winthrop gasped. “Oh, my. I’m so, so sorry.”
“I’m still in the process of making arrangements. My oncologist wants me to head down to MD Anderson in Houston to see if some experimental treatment can knock this thing out, but he said waiting three or four months probably won’t hurt, so... when’s... when’s the earliest I could withdraw Dean and not have it be a problem next year? I’ve got family in Nebraska; the boys will be staying with them.”
“You’re wanting to get an early start on summer vacation?”
John nodded. “If we may. Dean’s brother turns four in a couple weeks, so we’ll stay that long for sure, but....”
Mrs. Winthrop nodded thoughtfully. “I certainly don’t blame you for wanting more time with both boys. Well, we won’t be doing much the last week of school, but let’s go check with the principal to see whether we can let Dean go even sooner. He’s had perfect attendance since you moved here, but I don’t know about before that.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
The principal and guidance counselor were equally shocked and sympathetic, and after some haggling and consultation with the school nearest the Roadhouse, John got permission to withdraw Dean at the end of the school day on May 15. The school even agreed to get Dean’s records sent to Nebraska so John wouldn’t have to worry about that end of things; Ellen would only need to get Dean registered the week before classes started. John had half hoped they could leave even sooner but had known that the 15th was probably most realistic, so he thanked everyone and left satisfied.
Cancer? Mary breathed in his ear as he headed toward the playground. Really?
“What would you have said?” he murmured back, moving his lips as little as possible.
She huffed but didn’t answer.
“What, you never invented sick uncles and dying grandfathers when you were hunting?”
A cold spot developed that matched her icy tone. I hated hunting.
He didn’t know what to say to that, so he just sighed and didn’t say anything.
Dean was half-heartedly trying to teach Sammy how to play foursquare when John reached the playground. Sammy didn’t look very enthusiastic about trying to bounce a ball that was almost as big as he was, either. Both boys abandoned the game and came running as soon as they saw John.
“What happened?” Dean asked as they ran up to him. “Is everything okay?”
John nodded and put a reassuring hand on Dean’s shoulder while Sammy grabbed hold of his other hand. “Yeah, everything’s fine, son. Your teacher was just worried about you.”
“Sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry for. I needed to talk to her anyway, see when we can leave.”
Dean looked oddly hopeful. “And?”
“Looks like we’ll be starting summer vacation two weeks early.”
Dean sighed in relief and hugged John. “Thanks, Dad.”
“What, don’t you like school?”
“No, it’s not that, it’s just-if you need me....”
“Aw, Deano.” John hugged Dean to him a little more tightly. “What I need you to do these next four weeks is keep your studies up. I’ll tell you if that changes. Deal?”
Dean nodded. “Deal.”
“All right. What say we go get a slushie?”
Sammy cheered, and Dean laughed quietly and let go of John. But John kept his arm around Dean’s shoulders as he led the boys out to the parking lot.
Dean tried to put a brave face on things for the next two weeks. He did his best at school, although he shrugged off any offer the adults made of “talking about it”-he was doing well to talk at all, thanks. He played with Sammy even when he didn’t feel like doing anything. He helped Pastor Jim with the dishes. He helped Mrs. Pasker when she came to clean the house. He helped Dad with research whenever he could and yardwork when Dad declared it needed doing. He even went to church and sang all the songs and stood up and sat down at all the right times and let the old ladies pinch his cheeks. He was as good as he could possibly be.
But nothing got rid of the horrible truth that nobody wanted to acknowledge.
Dad was going to die.
Dad knew he knew, of course. Dad even tried to tell him he didn’t have to try so hard, that it really truly wasn’t about Dean being good enough or not. But Dean wasn’t sure Dad understood his need to make it better, and... well, he couldn’t make the big things better no matter how he tried, but he could make himself better, or at least try to.
He couldn’t afford to make any mistakes. Not now. If he did... he might just break into more pieces than Humpty Dumpty, and everyone knew how that story ended. And if he was too smashed up to fix, what would happen to Sammy and Dad?
Pastor Jim’s church had a preschool that Sammy had been going to once a week, and Pastor Jim invited all of Sammy’s friends over for his birthday. Dean baked the cake all by himself, and Dad helped him frost it. And everything was great-except some of the parents didn’t understand that “No Presents” meant no presents and bought Sammy all kinds of stuff that they could never take with them.
Dean was just about to lose his cool when Dad put a hand on Dean’s shoulder and said they could send everything to the Harvelles, to be waiting for Sammy when they got there in August. At that, Dean excused himself to the bathroom and did lose it, because Sammy got toys and he didn’t, but toys reminded him too much of Before, and August meant The End, and... well, everything. And then he cried some more because he’d probably ruined Sammy’s birthday. Then he washed his face and practiced smiling a couple of times and finally walked out of the bathroom.
And straight into Dad.
But all Dad did was rub Dean’s shoulder and ask, “You gonna make it, son?”
Dean nodded.
“Okay. Sammy hasn’t missed us yet, but he’s probably about to. Let’s go.”
Dean swallowed hard and squared his shoulders. “Okay.”
“That’s my brave little soldier.” Dad squeezed his shoulder again and ushered him back outside with everyone else.
After the party and all through supper, Sammy couldn’t stop talking loudly about everything that had happened and how it was “the bestest birfday ever.” Dean privately thought Sammy was overdoing it just a little, but it had been a pretty awesome party as fourth birthday parties went, with lots of Star Wars stuff and some okay games. Dad talked during supper about maybe watching a movie and letting Sammy pick-Pastor Jim had a VHS player-but they’d just finished eating when Uncle Bobby called and, after wishing Sammy a happy birthday, wanted to talk to Dad. Dean took his cue and herded Sammy off to get his bath and get ready for bed. Dad was still on the phone when Sammy finished getting his PJs on, so Dean declared it bedtime.
But as Sammy was climbing into bed, he suddenly got serious. “Dean? Can I aks you something?”
Dean sat down on the edge of the bed. “Sure. What?”
“Who’s that lady?”
Dean blinked. “What lady?”
Sammy huffed. “You know-the lady’s been with Dad ever since he came back.”
Dean frowned. “Sammy, what are you talking about?”
“The lady, Dean! The pretty lady! She gots yellow hair and a white dress an’-an’ lookit, she’s right there!” Sammy pointed behind Dean.
Dean turned and didn’t see anything at first. But then it got cold-that had been happening a lot since Dad got back-and then it got colder, and the lights flickered, and then... then he saw....
“Dean?” Sammy squeaked.
“Mom,” Dean breathed.
Mom smiled and mouthed, Hi, boys.
Sammy gasped. “You’re Mom??”
Mom nodded and walked closer to the bed. Happy birthday, Sammy. She bent down and kissed the top of Sammy’s head.
Sammy shivered. “Are-are you a ghost?”
Mom nodded.
“But... where were you? Why couldn’t I see you before?”
Shh. She kissed him again. I’m sorry. Sleep tight, sweetheart. Then she looked at Dean and nodded toward the window, the way she used to do when she wanted to take him outside.
Dean bit his lip and nodded. Mom nodded back and faded away.
“Dean?” Sammy asked as Dean got up. “What’s... what’s goin’ on?”
“I dunno,” Dean confessed quietly. “But stay here, okay? I’ll go find out.”
Sammy caught his arm. “Be careful.”
Dean hugged him. “I will, Squirt. Promise.”
Dad and Pastor Jim were still in the kitchen talking as Dean edged silently toward the front door. A cold hand squeezed his shoulder when he was almost there, which reminded him that he needed to break the salt line. But nobody heard him open the door or close it behind him again once he’d slipped outside.
Dean wasn’t stupid, though. He didn’t go any further than the hood of the car, which he climbed up on and sat down. Then he felt the metal get cold as Mom sat down beside him. He couldn’t see her, but he felt her next to him, shivered as he felt her hand card through his hair.
“Mom?” he whispered.
I’m here, Deanie, he barely heard. And I’m so sorry.
“Why are you sorry? I... I sh-shoulda....”
No, baby boy. You couldn’t have saved me. I... did something I shouldn’t have, and I forgot something I shouldn’t have.
“Mom, don’t....”
I’m not saying I deserved it, Dean. I’m saying it isn’t your fault. And what’s happening with Dad isn’t your fault, either. You’ve been very good and very brave, and I’m so proud of you. But none of this is your fault. This is bigger than us.
Dean’s eyes started to sting. “What’s Dad gonna do?”
He’s going to close the gates of Hell forever.
“Why now?”
If he waits, it’ll be too late to save you and Sammy.
“Save us from what?”
I don’t know, angel. All I know is, it’ll be horrible. Worse than losing Dad and me.
“But why Dad?”
I don’t understand it, either. But I do understand that he loves you very much-so much he’s willing to die for you.
“I don’t want him to die for us! I want him to live for us!”
I know. He wants to live, too. But Deanie, this time there isn’t a choice. Your dad’s a Marine; he knows when a battle’s got to be fought. I don’t want you to lose him, either, but this time I think he’s right.
“S-s-so why are you here?”
Because I don’t want him to fight alone.
Dean couldn’t help it. He burst into tears.
Mom hugged him and rocked him. Oh, Deanie.
“Mom... I’ve missed you so much....”
Shh. It’s okay. I’m here. And then she started humming “Hey Jude,” which only made him cry harder. She rocked and he cried until, just about the time he couldn’t cry anymore, Dad came running outside and he heard,It’s okay, John. He’s okay.
Dean didn’t really pay attention to what Dad said and what Mom said after that, but he felt Dad’s warm arms pick him up off the frosty hood of the car and carry him back inside and put him in bed with Sammy. Sammy asked something, and Dad replied something reassuring, but Dean was almost asleep and didn’t really hear what it was.
But he didn’t think the kiss Dad pressed on his temple before Sammy tried to use him for a teddy bear was all his own imagination.
When John finally looked outside to see Dean sobbing on the hood of the Impala, leaning against something that didn’t seem to be there, he raced outside and would have lit into Mary for revealing herself had she not snappedHe’s grieving for both of us! before he could get out half a sentence. Dean was verging on hypothermic when John picked him up but was just awake enough to curl up against John’s chest the way he had done as an infant. And John felt about two feet tall for letting things get to the point where Dean felt more comfortable breaking down in the arms of his mother’s ghost than showing any weakness in front of John or Sammy. He’d known Dean was struggling, especially after the breakdown over Sammy’s presents that Dean had hidden as best he could, but still... it shouldn’t have had to come to this.
Sammy was sitting on the bed, chewing on his thumbnail, and looking toward the window when John carried Dean into the bedroom, but he gasped when he saw them. “Is Dean okay, Dad?”
John nodded. “Just cold and tired.”
“He was gonna go talk to Mom.”
“Yeah. Yeah, they... they talked. I think they needed to. It didn’t hurt him, but....”
“Mom’s just really cold.”
John didn’t ask how Sammy knew that. He just lay Dean carefully on the bed and pulled the covers up over him. “Dean’s gonna need lots of cuddles tonight to help him get warm again. Think you can do that for me, Sport?”
Sammy nodded seriously. “I can do that, Dad.”
John squeezed the back of Sammy’s neck and smiled. “Good boy.” Then he kissed both boys on the head and started to leave.
When he looked back, Sammy was cuddling Dean like his life depended on it, and Dean mumbled something incoherent and hugged Sammy back.
Jim very pointedly did not say I told you so when John came back into the kitchen, sank into a chair, and let his head fall into his hands. What Jim did do was to get John a cup of coffee and say, “You know, John, I had you in mind as I was working on my sermon this week, but I won’t think any less of you if you and Dean skip church tomorrow.”
“And do what?” John groaned. “I’m no good at talking. You know that.”
“Well, that’s between the two of you-the three of you, perhaps I should say,” he added, glancing away briefly as if he knew where Mary was. “But you haven’t planned out an itinerary for your trip yet. Dean might enjoy getting some input into that.”
John nodded slowly.
Jim squeezed his shoulder. “I’ll go run off a copy of my sermon notes for you.” And he left.
John stared blankly at the coffee cup in front of him until he realized that the steam rising from it was more visible than it should have been. Then he sighed deeply. “I’m not mad, Mar. I just... hell.”
There was no point in hiding, she whispered. Sammy can see me.
He looked up in alarm toward where he thought she was sitting.
I don’t know if he’s psychic or what, but he asked Dean about me tonight.
He cursed quietly.
Her hand curled over his arm. Don’t be mad at Dean, either.
“I’m not. Poor kid. I-dammit, I wish you were still alive. That boy tries so hard, and I know I shouldn’t lean on him so much, but-”
Her thumb rubbed his arm a little. He loves you more than he can say.
He stifled a sob. “You should have seen him, the grown man, when he came out of my closet. You should have heard Missouri telling me about him, about the choice he’d have to make. It’s killing me to see Dean like this, but I... Mary, I just can’t.”
I know, honey. I could read between the lines. You’re right. We can’t let it come to that.
He ran his other hand over his mouth shakily as he tried to pull himself together. Then he chuckled. “When’s the last time you told me I was right?”
She laughed. Don’t get used to it.
Then Jim returned with his sermon notes, which he handed to John before bidding him good night. John took one look at the title-“Who Is the Righteous Man?”-and had to fight the fleeting urge to pound the tar out of Jim, a fight that was aided by a swift kick to the shin from Mary. Once he realized that the sermon was actually based on the readings for the day, several of which touched on the topic of righteousness, [1] he settled in to read the thing, and she read over his shoulder. And while it was a good if uncomfortable sermon to read, he concluded that it was probably better not to have to sit through it in public, especially with Dean at his side.
So Jim took Sammy to church while John and Dean stayed home to plan their vacation. They didn’t talk about the previous night for most of the morning, but they did exchange a lot more hugs than usual, and Dean seemed to relish the project and the attention. In fact, he did almost all of the planning himself, with John asking leading questions and explaining what was available to do in most of the places they talked about stopping, and he practically glowed every time John said anything that was even remotely like praise. And when John agreed to Dean’s timid suggestion that they try to catch a game at Dodger Stadium, Dean grinned bigger than he had since... hell, maybe since before the fire.
Shortly before Jim and Sammy were due to return for lunch, however, Dean looked at the clock and sighed.
“What?” John asked.
“Mom told me what the quest is,” Dean confessed quietly.
“Oh.” John didn’t know what else to say to that.
Dean sighed again. “I get it, I guess. I mean, I see why it’s important.”
“You just don’t want it to be me.”
Dean nodded.
John ran a hand through Dean’s hair. “Son, I can’t ask someone else to take this risk. I had to do that too many times in ’Nam-lost too many good men that way, but back then, I didn’t have any choice. I can’t do it again.”
“But you and Sammy are all I have,” Dean pleaded.
John pulled Dean into a tight hug as he cast about for an adequate answer. “I’m no good at bein’ noble,” he finally quoted with a hint of Upper West Side Manhattan slipping into his accent, “but it doesn’t take much to see that the problems of three little people don’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world.”
Dean sniffled a little. “Bogie?”
“Yeah. Casablanca. It’s... it’s when Bogie’s telling the love of his life to go with another man, her husband, a leader in the Underground. He doesn’t want to let her go, but the other guy needs her, and... well, it’s-it’s all mixed up with what’s best for the world, what’s the best way to help bring down the Nazis. And Bogie, he has to love Ilsa enough t-to let her go.”
Dean held tighter to John and whispered, “I’m not sure I can.”
Now it was John’s turn to sniffle, not only for his son’s heartbreak, but also for his own. He didn’t know how readily he would be able to walk away from the Roadhouse without the boys when the time came, how P-Henry could have done it so many years ago. But all he said was, “You don’t have to today, Deano. We’ve got all summer for you to figure it out.”
And they took all summer, the four of them. It took most of the two weeks they had left in Blue Earth for John and Dean to convince Sammy not to talk to Mary in public, but once Dean was finally allowed to leave school, the family settled into the Impala and embarked on the vacation of a lifetime. The trip wasn’t wholly unshadowed-it couldn’t be, knowing what was coming and with one member of the family being a ghost-but even so, it was as close as John knew they’d ever be able to get to the kind of road trip he’d sometimes dreamed of taking them on when Dean was still a babe in arms.
They spent a week in Yellowstone and saw buffalo and bears and swans, took in the splendor of Morning Glory Pool and fed chipmunks by the Firehole River, and John felt sure he caught at least one glimpse of Mary standing between the boys as they watched Old Faithful erupt, her form a phantom grey against the stark white of the geyser’s plume. From there they took their time driving west through the Tetons and south through Idaho and into Utah. They stopped at Arches National Park for a couple of days and hiked some short trails at Bryce Canyon. At Four Corners, Sammy insisted on making Dean chase him through four states at once, and all of them laughed heartily. John had to carry Sammy through Mesa Verde, but Dean found a couple of arrowheads, and that night, Mary appeared long enough to tell them some of the history her family knew that had gotten left out of the official presentation.
How poor Dean managed to get the one donkey at the Grand Canyon with flatulence problems for their trail ride was beyond John, but Sammy couldn’t stop laughing over it.
They got to San Diego at the beginning of July and hit the zoo first, but Sammy got so huffy about “aminals in cages”-probably due to some documentary he shouldn’t have watched, in John’s opinion-that John nixed their planned trip to Sea World in favor of a day to just rest. Then they went up to Camp Pendleton for the Fourth, which gave John a chance to see a few old friends again and remind himself why he hadn’t reenlisted. He couldn’t have stomached the petty politicking at the best of times; now it seemed even more stupid and pointless than ever. But the boys got all kinds of brags and compliments, and Dean got a chance to show off on the rifle range and try out a couple of firearms that he was just now big enough to use, so it was well worth the trip.
The rest of July and first part of August took them up the Pacific Coast-a week at Disneyland, where the boys befriended a little redheaded girl from Topeka whose name was Darla or something; another week in LA that did include a Dodgers-Pirates game (the Dodgers won), along with a trip to the beach and lots of sightseeing around old Hollywood sites; side trips through Yosemite, Tahoe, and Redwood National Forest, where Sammy decided to design a massive treehouse to build in one of the redwoods and John had to sling him over his shoulder to carry him out of the park; and on up to Portland and Seattle, where Dean claimed he wasn’t up to going to see the Space Needle and only later, at Mary’s prompting, confessed that extreme heights made him dizzy and afraid he was going to fall. And from there they took the better part of a week to drive back across Washington, Idaho, Montana, and South Dakota to stop for a few days at Bobby’s.
Sammy was so adamant about not leaving that Bobby had to help John carry the boys down to the car while they were still asleep so John could be well down the road before Sammy could wake up and pitch the walleyed fit John knew would be coming or even disappear into the junkyard or the woods beyond and keep them tied down for as long as he could. Kid should have orchestrated the Great Escape, John thought wryly as he locked and quietly shut the back passenger door. Woe betide the POW commandant who tried to keep him in the cooler!
“Now, I will be seeing you in a few days, right?” Bobby asked pointedly as John headed toward the driver’s door.
“You have my word as a Marine,” John replied seriously. Then he added less seriously, “And you also have my research.”
Bobby snorted and slugged his shoulder. “Get out of here before Houdini wakes up.” Then he blushed suddenly and whispered, “Ma’am.”
John’s eyebrow shot up. “You carryin’ on with my wife, Singer?”
Bobby turned purple, and John barely heard Mary laugh.
John laughed quietly himself, returned the shoulder slug, and got in the car.
You were right about this place, Mary breathed in his ear as they drove away. Bobby’s wonderful, but that’s no place for children, especially now that Sammy’s old enough to get into things. And the dog....
“Oh, Cap’s a pussycat when it comes to the boys,” he whispered back. “Think that dumb Rottweiler thinks they’re his pups-almost took my hand off once when I was trying to stop Sammy from petting him.”
She snickered.
“I know some folks would say the Roadhouse isn’t much better, bar’s no place for young boys, and so on. But I just... I don’t have anyone else. All the other hunters I know are unstable or not good with kids, or else-like Jim, Bobby, and Rufus-they’re single.”
Wish I could trust my family, but... even if they would speak to you, they’d probably raise the boys as hunters first, and that’s the last thing I want.
“Yeah. I know. Bill and Ellen, well... they’re stable. I know they’ll protect the boys, but Ellen wants Jo to go to college. They won’t push anything on the boys.”
Good.
They were an hour or two down the road when Dean finally woke, realized where he was, and sat up with a resigned sigh. The next town was still half an hour away, but John had brought snacks, which Dean spotted and dug into without a word.
“Morning,” John said, looking in the rearview mirror.
“Mmmn,” Dean mumbled flatly around a mouthful of apple, looking out the window.
Well, all right, then. It was going to be one of those days.
John managed to get breakfast at a drive-through in the next town and get past the city limits before the smell of food finally woke Sammy. And as John had expected, Sammy screeched and wailed and bawled and squalled for a good five minutes-until the temperature dropped twenty degrees and Mary appeared, looked sternly over the back seat, and snapped, SAMMY.
Wide-eyed, Sammy gulped and tried to disappear into the seat.
Settle. Down. And Mary pointedly blinked out.
“Sorry,” Sammy replied in a squeaky whisper.
John handed the bag with the boys’ breakfast back to Dean, and they all ate in silence. The cold slowly eased as Sammy continued to behave himself.
Then, in a quavering voice, Sammy asked, “Dean, could you read me a story?”
Dean sighed but dug into his backpack and pulled out a book, and the boys quietly entertained themselves for the rest of the drive. They stayed on their best behavior for the two days John stayed with them at the Roadhouse, too, as if they were both afraid of messing up their last hours with him.
All too soon, John declared it was time for him to go. The boys clung to him and cried, and he would have lied if he said he didn’t shed a few tears himself. And after repeated promises to come back when he could, he finally tore himself away.
When he got back to Bobby’s, all he could do was get drunk and cry himself to sleep in Mary’s arms.
Next
[1] Given my headcanon that Jim preceded David Gideon as pastor of Sacrament Lutheran, the readings for the third Sunday of Easter in the Lutheran lectionary in Year B (which 1987 was) are Acts 3:11-21, Psalm 4, 1 John 3:1-7, and Luke 24:36-49.
Chapter 3
We’ll Always Have Paris
Both boys were quiet and subdued at breakfast Saturday morning, at least until John suggested going shopping for Easter clothes. Sammy perked up a little at that.
“Can we afford it?” Dean asked.
John shrugged. “Pretty sure there’s a decent resale shop here in town, should have pretty good bargains.”
Dean grimaced. “Don’t really want a suit.”
“So we won’t get you a suit. Slacks and a sweater vest you could wear to school, like for pictures.”
Dean blinked. “But-”
“Dean.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I want a suit!” Sammy piped up. “I’m a big boy!”
John laughed. “You are-almost four! A suit will make you look all grown up.”
Sammy beamed and wiggled happily in his seat.
Jim had overheard plenty of mothers conversing about resale shops and was able to pull together a quick list of recommendations, so after breakfast dishes were done, John and the boys were off. Dean and Sammy were still quieter than usual and stuck closer than usual, Sammy even holding John’s hand without prompting most of the time, but John did eventually get even Dean to pick out a few things he liked that were well within their budget. John found some school clothes that Dean would probably grow into by fall, too, including some new-ish jeans and some T-shirts with logos of bands they both liked, which finally prompted Dean to smile. They picked out a nice grey suit for Sammy that even Mary loved, along with some play clothes that should last the summer. And at Jim’s insistence, John got a couple of new shirts for himself, as well as a tie.
They actually went to church on Sunday, and the roof didn’t cave in. In fact, John managed to both stay awake and pay attention through the entire sermon. The little old ladies all cooed over Sammy, which alternately pleased and terrified him, and a couple of Dean’s school friends succeeded in prodding him into having some fun during the egg hunt after church. Mary slipped her arm through John’s as they stood watching the boys run around, and he could tell she was enjoying it as much as he was.
Monday was mostly a day for bumming around the house and watching TV, except when Sammy decided he wanted ice cream. John did call and talk things over with Bill Harvelle, who agreed to take the boys when the time came, but mostly he spent time just being with his sons. Tuesday John drove Dean to school and then began working with Jim on researching omens from September and October of 1977 that would give him a lead on where to find someone whose deal was about to come due. But when he and Sammy went to pick Dean up from school, he got an unpleasant surprise. Dean came out looking worried and didn’t get in the car.
“My teacher wants to talk to you,” he said when John rolled down the window.
John bit back a curse. “Okay. Take Sammy to the playground; I’ll come get you when we’re done.”
Dean nodded. “Yes, sir. C’mon, Squirt,” he said as he opened the back door.
Sammy wriggled out of the back seat and took Dean’s hand as John drove off to find a parking place. The boys stood on the sidewalk talking until John waved them toward the playground, then reluctantly walked off.
“Mr. Winchester,” said Mrs. Winthrop as he walked into Dean’s classroom. “I’m glad you’re here. I’m worried about Dean.”
John blinked and felt Mary slip a hand around his arm. “Why? Is he in trouble?”
“No, no, but-do sit down.” As John sat, so did Mrs. Winthrop. “Dean’s been acting very depressed all day, and he hardly speaks unless I ask him a direct question. Has he been feeling all right this weekend?”
John sighed. “Well, he’s not sick, if that’s what you mean, but... we got some bad news last week. The boys are taking it pretty hard.”
Mrs. Winthrop frowned. “What sort of bad news? Have you lost your job or something?”
“Worse than that. Look, I... I haven’t come right out and told the boys this, but... I’ve been diagnosed with cancer. And it’s probably terminal.”
Mrs. Winthrop gasped. “Oh, my. I’m so, so sorry.”
“I’m still in the process of making arrangements. My oncologist wants me to head down to MD Anderson in Houston to see if some experimental treatment can knock this thing out, but he said waiting three or four months probably won’t hurt, so... when’s... when’s the earliest I could withdraw Dean and not have it be a problem next year? I’ve got family in Nebraska; the boys will be staying with them.”
“You’re wanting to get an early start on summer vacation?”
John nodded. “If we may. Dean’s brother turns four in a couple weeks, so we’ll stay that long for sure, but....”
Mrs. Winthrop nodded thoughtfully. “I certainly don’t blame you for wanting more time with both boys. Well, we won’t be doing much the last week of school, but let’s go check with the principal to see whether we can let Dean go even sooner. He’s had perfect attendance since you moved here, but I don’t know about before that.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
The principal and guidance counselor were equally shocked and sympathetic, and after some haggling and consultation with the school nearest the Roadhouse, John got permission to withdraw Dean at the end of the school day on May 15. The school even agreed to get Dean’s records sent to Nebraska so John wouldn’t have to worry about that end of things; Ellen would only need to get Dean registered the week before classes started. John had half hoped they could leave even sooner but had known that the 15th was probably most realistic, so he thanked everyone and left satisfied.
Cancer? Mary breathed in his ear as he headed toward the playground. Really?
“What would you have said?” he murmured back, moving his lips as little as possible.
She huffed but didn’t answer.
“What, you never invented sick uncles and dying grandfathers when you were hunting?”
A cold spot developed that matched her icy tone. I hated hunting.
He didn’t know what to say to that, so he just sighed and didn’t say anything.
Dean was half-heartedly trying to teach Sammy how to play foursquare when John reached the playground. Sammy didn’t look very enthusiastic about trying to bounce a ball that was almost as big as he was, either. Both boys abandoned the game and came running as soon as they saw John.
“What happened?” Dean asked as they ran up to him. “Is everything okay?”
John nodded and put a reassuring hand on Dean’s shoulder while Sammy grabbed hold of his other hand. “Yeah, everything’s fine, son. Your teacher was just worried about you.”
“Sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry for. I needed to talk to her anyway, see when we can leave.”
Dean looked oddly hopeful. “And?”
“Looks like we’ll be starting summer vacation two weeks early.”
Dean sighed in relief and hugged John. “Thanks, Dad.”
“What, don’t you like school?”
“No, it’s not that, it’s just-if you need me....”
“Aw, Deano.” John hugged Dean to him a little more tightly. “What I need you to do these next four weeks is keep your studies up. I’ll tell you if that changes. Deal?”
Dean nodded. “Deal.”
“All right. What say we go get a slushie?”
Sammy cheered, and Dean laughed quietly and let go of John. But John kept his arm around Dean’s shoulders as he led the boys out to the parking lot.
Dean tried to put a brave face on things for the next two weeks. He did his best at school, although he shrugged off any offer the adults made of “talking about it”-he was doing well to talk at all, thanks. He played with Sammy even when he didn’t feel like doing anything. He helped Pastor Jim with the dishes. He helped Mrs. Pasker when she came to clean the house. He helped Dad with research whenever he could and yardwork when Dad declared it needed doing. He even went to church and sang all the songs and stood up and sat down at all the right times and let the old ladies pinch his cheeks. He was as good as he could possibly be.
But nothing got rid of the horrible truth that nobody wanted to acknowledge.
Dad was going to die.
Dad knew he knew, of course. Dad even tried to tell him he didn’t have to try so hard, that it really truly wasn’t about Dean being good enough or not. But Dean wasn’t sure Dad understood his need to make it better, and... well, he couldn’t make the big things better no matter how he tried, but he could make himself better, or at least try to.
He couldn’t afford to make any mistakes. Not now. If he did... he might just break into more pieces than Humpty Dumpty, and everyone knew how that story ended. And if he was too smashed up to fix, what would happen to Sammy and Dad?
Pastor Jim’s church had a preschool that Sammy had been going to once a week, and Pastor Jim invited all of Sammy’s friends over for his birthday. Dean baked the cake all by himself, and Dad helped him frost it. And everything was great-except some of the parents didn’t understand that “No Presents” meant no presents and bought Sammy all kinds of stuff that they could never take with them.
Dean was just about to lose his cool when Dad put a hand on Dean’s shoulder and said they could send everything to the Harvelles, to be waiting for Sammy when they got there in August. At that, Dean excused himself to the bathroom and did lose it, because Sammy got toys and he didn’t, but toys reminded him too much of Before, and August meant The End, and... well, everything. And then he cried some more because he’d probably ruined Sammy’s birthday. Then he washed his face and practiced smiling a couple of times and finally walked out of the bathroom.
And straight into Dad.
But all Dad did was rub Dean’s shoulder and ask, “You gonna make it, son?”
Dean nodded.
“Okay. Sammy hasn’t missed us yet, but he’s probably about to. Let’s go.”
Dean swallowed hard and squared his shoulders. “Okay.”
“That’s my brave little soldier.” Dad squeezed his shoulder again and ushered him back outside with everyone else.
After the party and all through supper, Sammy couldn’t stop talking loudly about everything that had happened and how it was “the bestest birfday ever.” Dean privately thought Sammy was overdoing it just a little, but it had been a pretty awesome party as fourth birthday parties went, with lots of Star Wars stuff and some okay games. Dad talked during supper about maybe watching a movie and letting Sammy pick-Pastor Jim had a VHS player-but they’d just finished eating when Uncle Bobby called and, after wishing Sammy a happy birthday, wanted to talk to Dad. Dean took his cue and herded Sammy off to get his bath and get ready for bed. Dad was still on the phone when Sammy finished getting his PJs on, so Dean declared it bedtime.
But as Sammy was climbing into bed, he suddenly got serious. “Dean? Can I aks you something?”
Dean sat down on the edge of the bed. “Sure. What?”
“Who’s that lady?”
Dean blinked. “What lady?”
Sammy huffed. “You know-the lady’s been with Dad ever since he came back.”
Dean frowned. “Sammy, what are you talking about?”
“The lady, Dean! The pretty lady! She gots yellow hair and a white dress an’-an’ lookit, she’s right there!” Sammy pointed behind Dean.
Dean turned and didn’t see anything at first. But then it got cold-that had been happening a lot since Dad got back-and then it got colder, and the lights flickered, and then... then he saw....
“Dean?” Sammy squeaked.
“Mom,” Dean breathed.
Mom smiled and mouthed, Hi, boys.
Sammy gasped. “You’re Mom??”
Mom nodded and walked closer to the bed. Happy birthday, Sammy. She bent down and kissed the top of Sammy’s head.
Sammy shivered. “Are-are you a ghost?”
Mom nodded.
“But... where were you? Why couldn’t I see you before?”
Shh. She kissed him again. I’m sorry. Sleep tight, sweetheart. Then she looked at Dean and nodded toward the window, the way she used to do when she wanted to take him outside.
Dean bit his lip and nodded. Mom nodded back and faded away.
“Dean?” Sammy asked as Dean got up. “What’s... what’s goin’ on?”
“I dunno,” Dean confessed quietly. “But stay here, okay? I’ll go find out.”
Sammy caught his arm. “Be careful.”
Dean hugged him. “I will, Squirt. Promise.”
Dad and Pastor Jim were still in the kitchen talking as Dean edged silently toward the front door. A cold hand squeezed his shoulder when he was almost there, which reminded him that he needed to break the salt line. But nobody heard him open the door or close it behind him again once he’d slipped outside.
Dean wasn’t stupid, though. He didn’t go any further than the hood of the car, which he climbed up on and sat down. Then he felt the metal get cold as Mom sat down beside him. He couldn’t see her, but he felt her next to him, shivered as he felt her hand card through his hair.
“Mom?” he whispered.
I’m here, Deanie, he barely heard. And I’m so sorry.
“Why are you sorry? I... I sh-shoulda....”
No, baby boy. You couldn’t have saved me. I... did something I shouldn’t have, and I forgot something I shouldn’t have.
“Mom, don’t....”
I’m not saying I deserved it, Dean. I’m saying it isn’t your fault. And what’s happening with Dad isn’t your fault, either. You’ve been very good and very brave, and I’m so proud of you. But none of this is your fault. This is bigger than us.
Dean’s eyes started to sting. “What’s Dad gonna do?”
He’s going to close the gates of Hell forever.
“Why now?”
If he waits, it’ll be too late to save you and Sammy.
“Save us from what?”
I don’t know, angel. All I know is, it’ll be horrible. Worse than losing Dad and me.
“But why Dad?”
I don’t understand it, either. But I do understand that he loves you very much-so much he’s willing to die for you.
“I don’t want him to die for us! I want him to live for us!”
I know. He wants to live, too. But Deanie, this time there isn’t a choice. Your dad’s a Marine; he knows when a battle’s got to be fought. I don’t want you to lose him, either, but this time I think he’s right.
“S-s-so why are you here?”
Because I don’t want him to fight alone.
Dean couldn’t help it. He burst into tears.
Mom hugged him and rocked him. Oh, Deanie.
“Mom... I’ve missed you so much....”
Shh. It’s okay. I’m here. And then she started humming “Hey Jude,” which only made him cry harder. She rocked and he cried until, just about the time he couldn’t cry anymore, Dad came running outside and he heard,It’s okay, John. He’s okay.
Dean didn’t really pay attention to what Dad said and what Mom said after that, but he felt Dad’s warm arms pick him up off the frosty hood of the car and carry him back inside and put him in bed with Sammy. Sammy asked something, and Dad replied something reassuring, but Dean was almost asleep and didn’t really hear what it was.
But he didn’t think the kiss Dad pressed on his temple before Sammy tried to use him for a teddy bear was all his own imagination.
When John finally looked outside to see Dean sobbing on the hood of the Impala, leaning against something that didn’t seem to be there, he raced outside and would have lit into Mary for revealing herself had she not snappedHe’s grieving for both of us! before he could get out half a sentence. Dean was verging on hypothermic when John picked him up but was just awake enough to curl up against John’s chest the way he had done as an infant. And John felt about two feet tall for letting things get to the point where Dean felt more comfortable breaking down in the arms of his mother’s ghost than showing any weakness in front of John or Sammy. He’d known Dean was struggling, especially after the breakdown over Sammy’s presents that Dean had hidden as best he could, but still... it shouldn’t have had to come to this.
Sammy was sitting on the bed, chewing on his thumbnail, and looking toward the window when John carried Dean into the bedroom, but he gasped when he saw them. “Is Dean okay, Dad?”
John nodded. “Just cold and tired.”
“He was gonna go talk to Mom.”
“Yeah. Yeah, they... they talked. I think they needed to. It didn’t hurt him, but....”
“Mom’s just really cold.”
John didn’t ask how Sammy knew that. He just lay Dean carefully on the bed and pulled the covers up over him. “Dean’s gonna need lots of cuddles tonight to help him get warm again. Think you can do that for me, Sport?”
Sammy nodded seriously. “I can do that, Dad.”
John squeezed the back of Sammy’s neck and smiled. “Good boy.” Then he kissed both boys on the head and started to leave.
When he looked back, Sammy was cuddling Dean like his life depended on it, and Dean mumbled something incoherent and hugged Sammy back.
Jim very pointedly did not say I told you so when John came back into the kitchen, sank into a chair, and let his head fall into his hands. What Jim did do was to get John a cup of coffee and say, “You know, John, I had you in mind as I was working on my sermon this week, but I won’t think any less of you if you and Dean skip church tomorrow.”
“And do what?” John groaned. “I’m no good at talking. You know that.”
“Well, that’s between the two of you-the three of you, perhaps I should say,” he added, glancing away briefly as if he knew where Mary was. “But you haven’t planned out an itinerary for your trip yet. Dean might enjoy getting some input into that.”
John nodded slowly.
Jim squeezed his shoulder. “I’ll go run off a copy of my sermon notes for you.” And he left.
John stared blankly at the coffee cup in front of him until he realized that the steam rising from it was more visible than it should have been. Then he sighed deeply. “I’m not mad, Mar. I just... hell.”
There was no point in hiding, she whispered. Sammy can see me.
He looked up in alarm toward where he thought she was sitting.
I don’t know if he’s psychic or what, but he asked Dean about me tonight.
He cursed quietly.
Her hand curled over his arm. Don’t be mad at Dean, either.
“I’m not. Poor kid. I-dammit, I wish you were still alive. That boy tries so hard, and I know I shouldn’t lean on him so much, but-”
Her thumb rubbed his arm a little. He loves you more than he can say.
He stifled a sob. “You should have seen him, the grown man, when he came out of my closet. You should have heard Missouri telling me about him, about the choice he’d have to make. It’s killing me to see Dean like this, but I... Mary, I just can’t.”
I know, honey. I could read between the lines. You’re right. We can’t let it come to that.
He ran his other hand over his mouth shakily as he tried to pull himself together. Then he chuckled. “When’s the last time you told me I was right?”
She laughed. Don’t get used to it.
Then Jim returned with his sermon notes, which he handed to John before bidding him good night. John took one look at the title-“Who Is the Righteous Man?”-and had to fight the fleeting urge to pound the tar out of Jim, a fight that was aided by a swift kick to the shin from Mary. Once he realized that the sermon was actually based on the readings for the day, several of which touched on the topic of righteousness, [1] he settled in to read the thing, and she read over his shoulder. And while it was a good if uncomfortable sermon to read, he concluded that it was probably better not to have to sit through it in public, especially with Dean at his side.
So Jim took Sammy to church while John and Dean stayed home to plan their vacation. They didn’t talk about the previous night for most of the morning, but they did exchange a lot more hugs than usual, and Dean seemed to relish the project and the attention. In fact, he did almost all of the planning himself, with John asking leading questions and explaining what was available to do in most of the places they talked about stopping, and he practically glowed every time John said anything that was even remotely like praise. And when John agreed to Dean’s timid suggestion that they try to catch a game at Dodger Stadium, Dean grinned bigger than he had since... hell, maybe since before the fire.
Shortly before Jim and Sammy were due to return for lunch, however, Dean looked at the clock and sighed.
“What?” John asked.
“Mom told me what the quest is,” Dean confessed quietly.
“Oh.” John didn’t know what else to say to that.
Dean sighed again. “I get it, I guess. I mean, I see why it’s important.”
“You just don’t want it to be me.”
Dean nodded.
John ran a hand through Dean’s hair. “Son, I can’t ask someone else to take this risk. I had to do that too many times in ’Nam-lost too many good men that way, but back then, I didn’t have any choice. I can’t do it again.”
“But you and Sammy are all I have,” Dean pleaded.
John pulled Dean into a tight hug as he cast about for an adequate answer. “I’m no good at bein’ noble,” he finally quoted with a hint of Upper West Side Manhattan slipping into his accent, “but it doesn’t take much to see that the problems of three little people don’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world.”
Dean sniffled a little. “Bogie?”
“Yeah. Casablanca. It’s... it’s when Bogie’s telling the love of his life to go with another man, her husband, a leader in the Underground. He doesn’t want to let her go, but the other guy needs her, and... well, it’s-it’s all mixed up with what’s best for the world, what’s the best way to help bring down the Nazis. And Bogie, he has to love Ilsa enough t-to let her go.”
Dean held tighter to John and whispered, “I’m not sure I can.”
Now it was John’s turn to sniffle, not only for his son’s heartbreak, but also for his own. He didn’t know how readily he would be able to walk away from the Roadhouse without the boys when the time came, how P-Henry could have done it so many years ago. But all he said was, “You don’t have to today, Deano. We’ve got all summer for you to figure it out.”
And they took all summer, the four of them. It took most of the two weeks they had left in Blue Earth for John and Dean to convince Sammy not to talk to Mary in public, but once Dean was finally allowed to leave school, the family settled into the Impala and embarked on the vacation of a lifetime. The trip wasn’t wholly unshadowed-it couldn’t be, knowing what was coming and with one member of the family being a ghost-but even so, it was as close as John knew they’d ever be able to get to the kind of road trip he’d sometimes dreamed of taking them on when Dean was still a babe in arms.
They spent a week in Yellowstone and saw buffalo and bears and swans, took in the splendor of Morning Glory Pool and fed chipmunks by the Firehole River, and John felt sure he caught at least one glimpse of Mary standing between the boys as they watched Old Faithful erupt, her form a phantom grey against the stark white of the geyser’s plume. From there they took their time driving west through the Tetons and south through Idaho and into Utah. They stopped at Arches National Park for a couple of days and hiked some short trails at Bryce Canyon. At Four Corners, Sammy insisted on making Dean chase him through four states at once, and all of them laughed heartily. John had to carry Sammy through Mesa Verde, but Dean found a couple of arrowheads, and that night, Mary appeared long enough to tell them some of the history her family knew that had gotten left out of the official presentation.
How poor Dean managed to get the one donkey at the Grand Canyon with flatulence problems for their trail ride was beyond John, but Sammy couldn’t stop laughing over it.
They got to San Diego at the beginning of July and hit the zoo first, but Sammy got so huffy about “aminals in cages”-probably due to some documentary he shouldn’t have watched, in John’s opinion-that John nixed their planned trip to Sea World in favor of a day to just rest. Then they went up to Camp Pendleton for the Fourth, which gave John a chance to see a few old friends again and remind himself why he hadn’t reenlisted. He couldn’t have stomached the petty politicking at the best of times; now it seemed even more stupid and pointless than ever. But the boys got all kinds of brags and compliments, and Dean got a chance to show off on the rifle range and try out a couple of firearms that he was just now big enough to use, so it was well worth the trip.
The rest of July and first part of August took them up the Pacific Coast-a week at Disneyland, where the boys befriended a little redheaded girl from Topeka whose name was Darla or something; another week in LA that did include a Dodgers-Pirates game (the Dodgers won), along with a trip to the beach and lots of sightseeing around old Hollywood sites; side trips through Yosemite, Tahoe, and Redwood National Forest, where Sammy decided to design a massive treehouse to build in one of the redwoods and John had to sling him over his shoulder to carry him out of the park; and on up to Portland and Seattle, where Dean claimed he wasn’t up to going to see the Space Needle and only later, at Mary’s prompting, confessed that extreme heights made him dizzy and afraid he was going to fall. And from there they took the better part of a week to drive back across Washington, Idaho, Montana, and South Dakota to stop for a few days at Bobby’s.
Sammy was so adamant about not leaving that Bobby had to help John carry the boys down to the car while they were still asleep so John could be well down the road before Sammy could wake up and pitch the walleyed fit John knew would be coming or even disappear into the junkyard or the woods beyond and keep them tied down for as long as he could. Kid should have orchestrated the Great Escape, John thought wryly as he locked and quietly shut the back passenger door. Woe betide the POW commandant who tried to keep him in the cooler!
“Now, I will be seeing you in a few days, right?” Bobby asked pointedly as John headed toward the driver’s door.
“You have my word as a Marine,” John replied seriously. Then he added less seriously, “And you also have my research.”
Bobby snorted and slugged his shoulder. “Get out of here before Houdini wakes up.” Then he blushed suddenly and whispered, “Ma’am.”
John’s eyebrow shot up. “You carryin’ on with my wife, Singer?”
Bobby turned purple, and John barely heard Mary laugh.
John laughed quietly himself, returned the shoulder slug, and got in the car.
You were right about this place, Mary breathed in his ear as they drove away. Bobby’s wonderful, but that’s no place for children, especially now that Sammy’s old enough to get into things. And the dog....
“Oh, Cap’s a pussycat when it comes to the boys,” he whispered back. “Think that dumb Rottweiler thinks they’re his pups-almost took my hand off once when I was trying to stop Sammy from petting him.”
She snickered.
“I know some folks would say the Roadhouse isn’t much better, bar’s no place for young boys, and so on. But I just... I don’t have anyone else. All the other hunters I know are unstable or not good with kids, or else-like Jim, Bobby, and Rufus-they’re single.”
Wish I could trust my family, but... even if they would speak to you, they’d probably raise the boys as hunters first, and that’s the last thing I want.
“Yeah. I know. Bill and Ellen, well... they’re stable. I know they’ll protect the boys, but Ellen wants Jo to go to college. They won’t push anything on the boys.”
Good.
They were an hour or two down the road when Dean finally woke, realized where he was, and sat up with a resigned sigh. The next town was still half an hour away, but John had brought snacks, which Dean spotted and dug into without a word.
“Morning,” John said, looking in the rearview mirror.
“Mmmn,” Dean mumbled flatly around a mouthful of apple, looking out the window.
Well, all right, then. It was going to be one of those days.
John managed to get breakfast at a drive-through in the next town and get past the city limits before the smell of food finally woke Sammy. And as John had expected, Sammy screeched and wailed and bawled and squalled for a good five minutes-until the temperature dropped twenty degrees and Mary appeared, looked sternly over the back seat, and snapped, SAMMY.
Wide-eyed, Sammy gulped and tried to disappear into the seat.
Settle. Down. And Mary pointedly blinked out.
“Sorry,” Sammy replied in a squeaky whisper.
John handed the bag with the boys’ breakfast back to Dean, and they all ate in silence. The cold slowly eased as Sammy continued to behave himself.
Then, in a quavering voice, Sammy asked, “Dean, could you read me a story?”
Dean sighed but dug into his backpack and pulled out a book, and the boys quietly entertained themselves for the rest of the drive. They stayed on their best behavior for the two days John stayed with them at the Roadhouse, too, as if they were both afraid of messing up their last hours with him.
All too soon, John declared it was time for him to go. The boys clung to him and cried, and he would have lied if he said he didn’t shed a few tears himself. And after repeated promises to come back when he could, he finally tore himself away.
When he got back to Bobby’s, all he could do was get drunk and cry himself to sleep in Mary’s arms.
Next
[1] Given my headcanon that Jim preceded David Gideon as pastor of Sacrament Lutheran, the readings for the third Sunday of Easter in the Lutheran lectionary in Year B (which 1987 was) are Acts 3:11-21, Psalm 4, 1 John 3:1-7, and Luke 24:36-49.