Far Away Part One

[grianchloch]

THEN

Singer’s Salvage Yard

Cate Weston brought her car to a halt in front of a house she’d only seen in dreams. She grumbled to herself that if only her visions had included the sign on the gate, she could have found the place a lot quicker and time really was of the essence.

She got out of the car and ran across to the porch, the torrential rain soaking her. She banged on the door hopping nervously from foot to foot as she waited for someone to open it. But the man in the baseball cap who answered her frantic knocking wasn’t who she was looking for.

“You’re not John Winchester.”

“John who?”

“Tall guy, dark hair, drives a ’67 Impala. A hunter?”

And the word hunter, the man’s expression became even more guarded.

“Never met the guy.” He lied.

Cate sighed. “Look, I need to speak to him, urgently. It’s about ...”

“Uncle Bobby?” A small boy of about four or five peered around the door, and ducked behind Bobby’s legs to stare at the strange woman from a place of safety.

Bobby put a protective hand on his head.

“It’s okay, kiddo, why don’t you go back to bed?” The boy just clung harder to Bobby’s leg, so he bent down to pick him up and settled him on his hip.

“Hey sweetie, you must be Dean.” Cate smiled.

Bobby paled as Dean nodded shyly.

“Look, lady,” Bobby pushed the door half closed. “There’s nothing here that you’re looking for, so if you don’t mind ...”

“I have visions.” Cate blurted out. “Didn’t ask for them, and sure as hell would give them up in a heartbeat, but they’re showing me things that I can’t ignore. For his sake,” She nodded towards Dean. “At least hear me out.”


NOW

Dean sat on the beach, his back against a rock. The sun was warm on his face, but he hardly noticed it. He’d walked past the families playing on the sand nearer the small town, and found a spot he could sit and not have to look at them. He sighed and drew his knees up to his chest and hugged them tight as he listened to the waves breaking on the shore line, the water lapping into little rock pools. He closed his eyes and tried not to think of his father and how disappointed he would be that Dean had disobeyed his orders to stay put in the motel room. John had been gone for three days, and Dean had fed himself and kept the room tidy and waited. And waited.

On the third morning, Dean had woken up, dressed himself and brushed his teeth. What was left of the milk had gone bad and his stomach grumbled, but he was determined to wait until Dad got back so they could go to the diner together and have pancakes. He turned on the TV but couldn’t settle so he went to the window to watch for the Impala.

Dean pushed the faded curtain to one side pressed his nose against the glass. Outside the sun was shining and he could see the entrance to the motel parking lot. People were walking past, people dressed in bright clothes, laughing and smiling, kids holding hands with their parents and Dean’s heart ached from wanting something he could never have.

He looked back into the motel room. It was dark and stifling and Dean suddenly wanted to be outside in the light. He was supposed to stay put, stay safe, but John was supposed to have been back the night before and Dean didn’t want to call Pastor Jim again. Last time he’d had been late getting back, Dean had called Pastor Jim and he’d taken care of Dean but he’d yelled at John for leaving him alone for so long, and Dean didn’t want him getting into trouble again.

Dean sighed and threw himself on the couch, but half an hour later, he picked up the keys, made sure that the emergency money John left him was snug in his pocket, and let himself out of the room. He locked the door, checking it three times even if he was only going to be a few minutes. He didn’t want their stuff to get stolen. He walked away from the motel and towards the smell of hot dogs cooking mixed with salty sea air. There was a small crowd waiting to be served by the tall hot dog vendor, and Dean waited in line. No-one seemed to think it was unusual for a kid to be on his own, there were so many kids running around that Dean blended in.

The vendor piled his hot dog high with onions and chilli sauce and Dean paid for it and a soda, and grabbed a handful of napkins to stuff in his pocket. There was a narrow park next to the beach and Dean found a shady spot to sit cross-legged on the grass and eat his hot dog. It tasted so good he wasted little time finishing it off and popping open the can of soda. Emergency money wasn’t supposed to be for treats but Dean reckoned that his Dad wouldn’t have wanted him to starve, so he tried not to feel too guilty.

As he sipped the icy soda, he watched the other kids in the park and down on the beach. They were laughing and running around, some with friends, some with family. Dean felt a pang of jealousy that other kids got to have friends and other kids got to play out in the sun. He got up and walked down to the beach, wanting to leave behind the normal families and normal kids, but the beach was full of people on vacation enjoying the warmth of the summer sun. He walked faster, heading to the end of the beach where there were less people, and then even further until he found a quiet spot to sit.

Dean bent his legs and laid his forehead on his knees, squeezing his eyes shut tightly, wishing he’d stayed in the dark of the motel.

“Hi.”

Dean looked up sharply to find a kid of around four or five with messy brown hair smiling at him.

“Are you playing hide and seek?” The kid took a step closer and wriggled his small toes in the sand, grinning at Dean. “You’re real good at it, cause no-one would find you here.”

“Er, thanks.” Dean unloosened his death grip on his knees and sat back against the rock again. “Are you lost?”

“Nope. I’m Sammy.”

Dean snorted with laughter and Sammy giggled.

“This is for you.” He held out a smooth stone in his small hand.

"What for?” Dean asked, taking the stone and examining it.

“You look sad.” Sam stated matter of factly. “Aunt Beth says it’s quartz.”

“Yeah?” Dean looked back up at Sam and grinned. “It’s cool. Thanks.”

“Sammy?” A woman’s voice called out.

“That’s Aunt Beth.”

A woman with long brown hair walked towards them. Her long colourful skirt rippled in the breeze and a pair of sandals dangled from her fingers. She had the same eyes as Sammy, eyes that were used to smiling a lot. Dean wondered where the small boy’s Mom was.

“Hey honey.” Beth’s fingers ruffled Sammy’s hair and he laughed and shook his head. “Who’s your new friend?”

“I’m Dean.” Dean scrambled to his feet as Sammy threw his arms around Beth’s hips and looked up at her with big eyes.

“Can Dean come with us for ice cream? Please? Can he?” Beth smiled at her nephew fondly and looked back up at Dean.

“Sure he can, if he wants to.”

“I, er ...” Dean stammered out, thinking of the emergency money in his pocket.

Beth watched him with kind yet shrewd eyes.

“It’s my treat.”

Sammy took hold of her hand and grinned at Dean. Dean knew he should say no, that he shouldn’t talk to strangers, that he should get back to the motel, but Sammy took his hand too and tugged on it.

“Peanut butter with chocolate chips is my favourite!”

“Mine too.” Dean smiled shyly at Aunt Beth over Sammy’s head and they walked back up the beach towards the ice cream store.



“Where’s your folks, Dean?” Aunt Beth asked.

“My Dad had to work today.”

She nodded, and Dean was grateful that she didn’t immediately ask where his Mom was.

The three of them ate big bowls of ice cream. Dean’s and Sammy’s were both covered in hot fudge sauce. Aunt Beth tucked into strawberry cheesecake flavor, which Sammy wrinkled his nose at, but then he pinched a spoonful anyway.

Sammy chattered away as they ate, telling Dean about the animals that lived with them. The chickens they kept in the yard at home, and how the rooster chased away the big tabby cat called Ramirez when he got too close to the hens. Dean listened, to stories of Mr Petersen’s horses and the big tree that was good for climbing in, and for once, he didn’t feel jealous of a life so different to his. He felt included, part of it, as if he could see the places Sammy enthused about and he couldn’t shake the odd feeling that he belonged there. It was as if Sammy were talking about places he’d already been even though he knew that was impossible.

He knew he should have got up, thanked them for the ice cream and left, but he didn’t want to go. He pretended, just for a little while, that he was Sammy’s big brother, and that Beth was his Aunt too, so he sat and listened and laughed with them for longer than he should have, but he knew he had to get back before John did, so reluctantly said he had to go.

Sammy pouted and dragged his feet as the three of them walked together towards the motel.

“Will you still be my friend?”

“Course I will.” Dean didn’t know if he would ever see them again, but he liked having a friend.

Before they got to the motel, Beth pulled out a small notepad and wrote her number on a page. She tore it out and pressed it into Dean’s hand, wrapping her fingers round his for a moment.

“If you ever need anything, sweetie, call me. I mean it, Dean.”

“Thank you.” Dean nodded and she let his hand go.

When they rounded the corner of the parking lot, Dean saw the Impala sitting outside the room where he should have been waiting.

“That’s my Dad’s car. I have to go!”

“Take care, Dean.” Beth hugged him and Sammy tugged on his hand.

“Bye Dean.” Sammy’s voice was small and sad so Dean bent down and hugged him.

“Dean!” John shouted, and Dean ran towards him, turning back halfway across the car park.

“Thanks for the ice cream!”

He flung himself at his Dad, and John put his arm around Dean’s shoulder, holding him tight. Dean grinned at the unexpected show of affection and hugged him tighter.

“Where’ve you been, kiddo?”

“Having ice cream.”

John looked over to where the woman and the small boy still stood. She smiled and nodded her head towards him and he gave a small, curt nod in reply. She led the boy away and John looked down at Dean.

“You have to be careful with strangers, son. You know that.”

Dean stood back.

“They aren’t strangers. Sammy’s my friend and Beth is a good person and you weren’t here.” Dean looked up at John defiantly.

“I know, Dean and I’m sorry. C’mon, the car’s packed already and I’ve got to go and see Bobby.”


Given their heritage, Beth Weston knew she shouldn't have been surprised that Sammy's imaginary friend, Dean, had turned out to be real. When he'd insisted that Dean needed them, she’d been curious enough to pack them both in the car and make the two hour drive to the coast.

Sam had always talked about Dean, and Beth had always thought that he was Sammy’s imaginary friend. If he sometimes got caught up in Dean’s life, then Beth had put that down to Sam being more imaginative than most kids his age.

Cate, Sam's mother, had been plagued with premonitions from an early age and Beth wondered if Sammy had inherited her gift. Or her curse, as Cate had always referred to it. Beth had always thought of her own gifts as much less glamorous than her sisters but she wouldn’t have traded places, not seeing what it did to Cate. Beth inherited her mother’s talent for healing. Nothing miraculous, but she had a knack of knowing what ailed a person, and the skills of knowing exactly which plants would help had come easily to her. Her garden flourished, and she never felt more at peace than when she was tending it. Encouraging herbs and flowers to grow or plotting out beds in the vegetable garden which kept her and Sammy and several of her friends in fruit and vegetables most of the year.

Sammy seemed to have inherited a mixture of gifts from his family and Beth also wondered if his enthusiasm for splashing paint onto paper would grow into a love of art as hers had.

She glanced in the rear view mirror at her nephew who was strapped safely into his car seat and singing happily away to himself as they drove towards home.

“The wheels on the bus go round and round, round and round, round and round ...”

Beth smiled. At least some things in his life were normal. But Dean wasn’t one of them. Dean who was a living, breathing kid, not a figment of Sammy’s imagination after all. Beth wondered how much of Dean’s life Sammy had seen, and why Sam had been so convinced that Dean had needed them. Yes, he looked like he carried a lot of weight on his young shoulders, but they hadn’t rescued him from anything, not that Beth had been aware of. They’d taken him out for ice cream.

Beth turned the truck towards home, knowing in her heart that they would see Dean again.


Two months later, Sam ran downstairs, tears streaming down his face and flung himself into her arms.

“Dean’s frightened, he’s frightened of his Dad.” Sam wailed.

“Do you know where he is, honey?” Beth hugged him tight.

“By the sea, where the two big rocks are. He was mean to him.” Sam burst into a fresh flood of tears.

“He’s in Twin Rocks?”

Sam nodded and with Sam still in her arms, she grabbed a hankie on the way to pick up her keys and wiped at his tears.

“It’s okay, Sammy, we’ll go get him.”

Before she could pick up the keys from the small table in the hallway, the phone rang and the last voice she expected answered her brusque hello.


Dean had remembered the piece of paper he had kept in the little zipped pocket in his pack.

With shaking fingers, he punched the numbers into the keypad and waited, hoping for an answer.

“Hello?”

“Is ... is that Sammy’s Aunt Beth? It’s Dean, from the beach. You bought me ice cream once and said if I even needed you to call. I ... my Dad ... “

“It’s okay, sweetie, I remember you. Where are you Dean? Do you need me to come and pick you up?”

“I’m in Twin Rocks. He’s ... he’s not my Dad anymore.”

“There’s a diner on the corner of 5th And Main. It should still be open. Ask for Zach and he’ll watch out for you till we get there.”

“Okay.” Dean’s teeth were almost chattering with shock.

“I‘ll see you there in a couple of hours.”

Beth called Zach as she grabbed the keys to the truck and headed outside with Sammy. She didn’t have time to think on how strong the connection between the boys was becoming, not yet. First of all, she had to get to Dean and make sure he was safe, then she could freak out.


When she got there, Zach led her through to the tiny office.

“He put salt lines down across the doorway and window frame. He was so upset, I left them there.”

“Thanks Zach, I owe you one.”

“You don’t owe me anything. It would be good to see more of you, though. Katie misses you.”

“Tell her hi and I’ll call her.” Beth smiled, but the smile fell when she opened the door and found Dean staring at the old TV in the corner, his hands curled around an almost cold mug of hot chocolate. He looked up at her, and she was shocked by the terror in his young eyes. She pulled him to his feet and hugged him tightly.

“Lets get you home.”



Outside, she opened the backdoor of the truck and got him strapped in beside Sammy who was still fast asleep in his car seat.

“You look exhausted. Grab some sleep, it’ll take a couple of hours to get there.”

Dean pulled a couple of the blankets piled on the seat around him and wriggled around until he was facing Sammy and quickly fell asleep.


It was 3am before the truck drove up the track to the house, and Beth yawned as she lifted a sleeping Sammy out of the back of the van and carried him into the house, a hand on Dean’s shoulder as he walked beside her, guiding and reassuring him.

Dean kept glancing around as they walked the few steps up to the porch.

“It’s okay, Dean, nothing can get to you here.”

“But what if it followed me? What if ...?”

“Doesn’t matter. This house is well protected. Nothing bad can come near it.” Beth’s mother had taught her how to set the wards as her mother had before her.

“No?”

“No. I promise.”

She opened the door and shooed Dean into the house ahead of her. Ramirez, the well muscled tabby, took an instant liking to Dean and ran up to him with a mew and purred his way around Dean’s ankles. Dean reached down and picked the big cat up, burying his face in the striped fur. Ramirez purred against Dean’s neck, his whiskers tickling and making Dean smile despite himself.

“Are you more hungry or more tired?” Beth asked and Dean replied without thinking about it.

“Tired.”

“Come on, then, you can sleep in Sammy’s room tonight.” Beth had a feeling that Dean wouldn’t sleep well alone.

Sam’s room was warm, and the bed looked so inviting. Ramirez hopped up on the bottom of it as Dean pulled back the quilt so Beth could slip Sam into bed without waking him. Sam immediately snuggled into the pile of cushions on the far side of the queen bed and hugged a soft toy to his chest, leaving lots of room for Dean.

Dean stood nervously, not sure whether he should get undressed or not. He’d been used to sleeping in his shorts and an old T-shirt for a long time now, but seeing Sammy asleep in his pajamas made him self-conscious that he didn’t have any of his own.

“I’m going to lock up, so why don’t you take off your jeans and shirt and sleep in your underwear tonight? We can sort out some other clothes for you in the morning.”

Dean nodded, and bent down to untie his boots and toe them off.

“And you,” Beth pointed at the large cat, now sprawled on its back on the comforter. “Behave. No shredding Mr Bun this time.”

Dean tickled Ramirez’ stomach which made him purr louder. In his sleep, Sam whimpered a little and pulled the stuffed rabbit closer. Dean noticed that it had rows of stitching all over its soft, worn body, and he glared at Ramirez, even though he didn’t stop petting the cat. “Bad kitty.”

He shucked off his clothes and folded them neatly onto the chair at the bottom of Sam’s bed. Exhausted, yet still not able to relax, he sat on the edge of the bed. He instinctively covered his bruises with his hand, not wanting anyone to see the marks John had left behind. Ramirez head butted him, demanding more love, and Dean snuggled against the cat.

When Beth came back to check on them, Dean looked up at her with a quivering lip.

“My stuff, it’s back there, back with ...” Dean shook as the tears began to fall, and Beth sat down beside him and pulled him into a warm, soft hug.

“It’s okay honey, it’ll be okay.” She murmured to him as he cried it out, all the hurt and the terror, not just of what he’d seen, but of what would become of him if his Dad was gone for good.

“His eyes were black.” Dean whispered as Beth held him and kissed the top of his head. “He told me ... he told me he was going to leave me behind ...”

Beth’s stomach flipped over at the mention of blackened eyes. Damned demons. Ugly, nasty creatures that had no right slipping out of hell to do this to a child.

“I don’t wanna be on my own. Mom died in a fire and then we moved and lived in the car and motel rooms and my Dad keeps me safe, but he’s not my Dad anymore and I want him back.”

Dean was sobbing now, his tears soaking Beth’s blouse, but she held him tighter and stroked his hair. She smelled of flowers and sunshine and her long hair brushed his face just like he could remember his Mom’s doing and he wanted so badly to open his eyes and see his Mom smiling down at him. But when he did open his eyes, and it was Beth that was holding him, it was almost as good. She had the same look in her eyes, and he relaxed a little and the flow of tears lessened.

“You won’t be alone Dean, I promise. You’ll get your father back and until then, you can stay here with me and Sammy. I’ll call your friend Bobby in the morning and talk to him.”

“But what if ... what if his eyes are black?” Dean grew fearful again.

“I’ll be very careful and no-one will know where you are until we know it’s safe, okay?”

Dean nodded.

“Come on honey, time to sleep.” Beth got up and helped Dean ease into bed beside Sammy.

“Will you stay? Until I’m asleep? My Mom used to.” Dean whispered.

“Tell you what.” She kicked off her shoes. “Scoot Sammy over a little more and I’ll stay here with you guys tonight.”

Dean rolled Sammy and Mr Bun over and tucked in behind him. Beth lay down behind both of them on top of the covers and draped an arm over them. Ramirez padded around on the quilt until he was comfortable and Dean was soon asleep, cocooned in a family that he wished was his own.

Beth stayed awake a little longer. She hadn’t known Dean long, but she was determined that he wasn’t going to be hurt again, not by his father and not by anyone or anything else. She’d already decided that if the demon had taken his father, and Dean was left alone, she would give him a home with them. There was a bond between him and Sammy, deep and strong in a way she didn’t quite understand but she knew enough to know not to stand in the way of something so powerful.


In the morning, Sammy woke first, and thought it must be his birthday or some other special occasion, because why else would everyone he loved in the whole world be sleeping in his bed?

“Dean! Aunt Beth!” Sammy bounced on the bed as Ramirez stretched. “Wake up, it’s breakfast time!”

Dean groaned and buried his head under a pillow as Beth woke with a start and blinked at Sammy.

“It must be too early for breakfast.” She struggled to sit up and looked down at Dean. “Why don’t we make breakfast and let Dean sleep a little longer?” She slipped off the bed, yawning and stretching.

Sammy nodded seriously, remembering how Dean had come to be there. He crawled down the side of the bed, and Ramirez walked past him, eager for the warm nest like spot Sam had left behind. Sam frowned and leaned over Dean to pick up his stuffed rabbit. He thrust it against Dean’s chest and pulled the pillow up off his head enough to look at his face.

“Take care of Mr Bun. Ramirez doesn’t like him.”

“’kay Sammy.” Dean clutched the rabbit against his chest as if his life depended on keeping him safe and then began to snore again.

Ramirez curled up in Sammy’s spot against Dean’s back and Sam dashed off to help make breakfast.


After breakfast, Sam raced off through the kitchen.

“C’mon, Dean! You have to meet the tree!”

“Sam, you know you’re not supposed to run in the house.” Beth chided.

“Sorry.” Sam slowed to a walk but as soon as his feet touched the path outside the kitchen door, he ran off through the neat vegetable garden towards the gate at the bottom.

“Meet a tree?” Dean asked Beth, sounding sceptical.

“Yes, that tree.” Beth pointed to an oak growing beyond the garden wall. It was taller than any of the trees in the surrounding woods and it’s foliage was lush and green.

Dean got a better look at the scale of the tree when he followed Sam and Beth through the gate and into the field beyond. It was huge, strong limbs spreading out from a massive central trunk. There were two small platforms up in the branches of the tree that seemed to have been cut exactly to fit as he couldn’t see any nails hammered into the wood to keep them in place.

Dean hung back, watching Sam race towards the giant oak. Ramirez trotted along beside him, tail in the air, eyes slitty against the sunshine.

Sam threw his arms around the trunk, or rather against the trunk because no-ones arms were long enough to go around the thing, let alone Sammy’s short ones.

As Dean watched, Sam smiled and scrambled up, using thick branches that curved towards the ground before heading upward again, to haul himself up to the lower of the platforms. Ramirez hopped lightly up onto a branch and stalked his way along it to get to the trunk. He rubbed himself against the rough bark and purred.

“You’ve gotta hug it.”

Sam told him, looking down at Dean from his perch.

“Hug it? I ain’t no hippy.”

“What’s a hippy?”

“Someone who hugs trees and wears sandals and ...”

He looked at Beth who quirked an eyebrow at him and he shut up, clearing his throat nervously. Beth grinned at him and squeezed his shoulder.

“So I’m a hippy?” Sam examined his sandals.

“No.” Dean and Beth said in unison.

“So what am I?”

“You’re ... Sammy.” Dean stated.

Sam grinned down at him.

“Well, you can’t come up here till you’ve hugged it.”

“Fine.” Dean rolled his eyes and grumbled and walked towards the trunk, feeling pretty ridiculous.

He stretched out his arms and pressed himself against the bark. It was warm, and he could feel it’s age, feel it’s roots so deep and strong in the earth, feel the tips of it’s branches reaching up into the sky. He could feel the enormity of it, strong and solid and powerful.

Dean stepped back from the tree, a wide-eyed expression of awe on his face.

“Wow.”

Sam snickered as Dean climbed up onto the platform.

Beth ran her hand along a branch.

“Okay boys, I’ll give you a shout in a couple of hours when lunch is ready. And Sammy? If you take Dean to see the horses, make sure you close the gate after you.”

“Okay.”

Sammy flopped down on his stomach and looked out through the leaves at the pasture beyond the fence.

“The horses get sick if they eat too many acorns.” He told Dean.

Dean nodded.

“So what’s the deal with the tree?” He asked.

“It’s very old, it’s been here forever, and it’s a magic tree.”

Dean snorted.

“Trees aren’t magic, they’re just ... trees.”

“This one is special. Aunt Beth says it has deep roots and it’s very strong.”

“Huh.” Dean still wasn’t convinced.

“You’ll see, when you get to know it better.”

Dean lay down on his back next to Sam, and closed his eyes, letting the dappled sunlight soak into him. He dozed, and Sam watched over him until lunchtime came around.


That afternoon, Beth made the call to Bobby as Dean fretted. Sammy stood in the doorway watching, wishing that Dean wasn’t sad and unhappy and frightened. He snuck up behind the older boy and slipped his hand into Dean’s squeezing it tightly. Dean looked down at him and smiled shakily, holding onto Sammy’s hand like a lifeline. Sam was fine with that and they both waited until Aunt Beth came off the phone.

“I’m going to meet with Bobby tomorrow, Dean. A friend of his called him to say they’d found your father.” Beth hunkered down in front of him and squeezed his shoulder. “He’s okay. He’s hurt, but he’s going to be fine. When your Dad said bad things to you, it wasn’t your dad talking, remember that.”

Dean swallowed nervously and nodded. He was glad John was okay, but was still scared to see him again.

“You have to trust me that it’ll be fine and I won’t let him come here unless I’m absolutely certain he’s himself and won’t hurt you.” Beth picked up the phone again. “Now, I’m going to call Ellen and have her come out and stay with you boys while I’m gone. Why don’t you show Dean around the rest of the place, honey, so he knows where things are?”

Dean followed Sammy back outside, and tried to pay attention to the younger boy as he told Dean all about his home. But Dean’s head was filled with memories of his Dad’s face sneering at him, his big hands holding Dean tight enough to bruise. His fingers unconsciously rubbed at the marks on his right arm and he trembled. What if he hadn’t been prepared, just like John had always taught him to be? What if he hadn’t noticed that the door to their room was open when he’d gotten back from school? Not much, just a crack, but it had been enough to put Dean on alert. His father never left the door open like that. Dean’s heart had hammered in his chest as he pulled the small bottle of holy water from the pocket in his jacket and untwisted the cap.

“Dad?” What if he was hurt? Dean swallowed and tried his best to be brave as he pushed the door open slowly.

“Hey kiddo! How was school?”

“It was okay.” Dean was taken aback at his Dad’s cheerful tone, but apart from that, everything looked normal.

“Okay? That’s all? You need to be doing more than okay, Dean. Got to push yourself, son, or you’ll never be worth anything. Not that you’re worth much now.”

Confused and hurt and thrown off guard, Dean didn’t realise how close John had gotten until a strong hand closed around his arm. He looked up into John’s face, not liking the glint in his brown eyes.

“What, Deano? It’s not like you’re getting the grades in school, and you’re nothing but a pain in my ass. Don’t even know if it’s worth taking you along any more. You’re holding me back, kiddo, there’s so much I could be doing if I didn’t have to drag you everywhere with me.”

Dean stared at John wide eyed, his lip trembling. “I’m sorry, please don’t leave me.”

“Aw, more tears? You’re a miserable little fucker, aren’t you? Still missing Mommy?”

Something clicked inside Dean, and he swung the bottle of holy water out from behind him, throwing the contents at John’s face. In the split second before he took advantage of the loosened hold on his arm and ran for the door, he saw John’s eyes turn black as he clawed at his face.

Dean sprinted away from the motel, faster than he’d ever ran before with no idea of where he was going. He just knew he had to get away from the thing that was wearing his father’s skin.

“Dean?” Sammy tugged on his hand, and Dean looked down at the small, concerned face. “Don’t worry about your Dad. He’s okay now.”

“But what if he’s not?” Dean whispered.

“He is.” Sammy stated with confidence.

“How can you know that?”

“I just know.”

Dean scowled at him, and Sammy rolled his eyes.

“I know just like I knew you’d be okay when you were sick last winter. I was worried because you were so sick, but then you started eating the chicken soup Bobby made for you and I knew you’d be okay.”

“Last winter? But ... that was before I met you on the beach. I didn’t know you then.”

“No,” Sam shrugged. “But I knew you.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did.”

“Didn’t.”

“Did.” Sammy grinned.

“Didn’t!” Dean reached out and ruffled Sammy’s hair.

“Did!” Sammy danced away from Dean’s reach and Dean followed him.

“Didn’t!” Dean grabbed him around the waist and ticked his stomach as Sammy shrieked with laughter.

“Did!!” He managed to stutter out as he squirmed away and ran across the lawn. Dean chased him.

“Didn’t!! Dean tackled him to the ground and tickled him mercilessly until they were both out of breath and howling with laughter.

“Did.” Sam got the final word in as they flopped on the grass, and Dean couldn’t remember what had started it in the first place.



Bobby walked into the diner and spotted the dark haired woman sitting in a booth sipping coffee. He ordered coffee from the counter before he walked over to meet her. There was always a chance, he thought, albeit a small one, that she didn’t remember him from the first time they’d met. He pulled his cap further down over his face before he sat down, but he knew by the way the woman’s eyes narrowed that he’d been busted.

“Bobby Singer?”

Bobby nodded sheepishly.

“I know you. You came to see me after my sister died, said you were an insurance investigator.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. We had to find out if you knew anything.”

“Knew anything about what?” Beth eyed him.

“About why your sister came to see me the night she died.”

“Cate went to see you?” The color drained from Beth’s face. “Why?”

“How much did you know about your sister?” He questioned back.

“Know? We were sisters, friends ...” She paused. “But if you mean did I know she had visions? Prophetic dreams? Yes I knew. She’d crawl into my bed after nightmares when we were kids and I saw how much the visions hurt her. There were more than a few times that no matter what she did, the vision came true and that would cut her up inside.”

“But she didn’t tell you about the last one?”

“Two weeks before she died, she told me she’d seen a family torn apart by evil so dark and vile it made her sick to think about it, but she said it had already happened and she didn’t know what that meant. Then I came home one night and Sammy was screaming, but Cate was adamant that she had to go, that she knew what it meant now and she had to warn ‘them’. She drove off and Sammy needed me so I did what I always did when she took off. I waited for her to come home, only she never did.”

Beth picked up her mug and sipped on strong coffee as Bobby sat back, unsure of what to say.

“I think I deserve to know why she went to you. What was so important that she had to leave her son behind like that?”

Bobby nodded. John might not agree, but John was a stubborn ass who’d put himself in danger one time too many and almost gotten Dean killed.

“Dean.”

“Dean?”

“She said that he was in danger, but she couldn’t pinpoint when or where, and she said that wasn’t how the visions usually worked. She wanted to warn John to keep Dean safe, that there was something with yellow eyes out to get them and it had infinite patience. I asked her to stay the night, to stay and meet John when he got back, but she said she had a boy of her own to get back to. She promised to be in touch when she had more information, but then ...”

“But then she died in a flash flood before she even left the state.” Beth filled in.

“We ... don’t think it was an accident. John’s convinced it was the same demon that killed Dean’s mother. And he can be a paranoid son of a bitch, but I’m inclined to agree with him on that one.”

“She died because of what she knew?” Beth’s heart pounded and grief that had been slowly pushed away over the five years since her sister died came welling back to the surface.

“She died because of what she would have come to know.”

They sat in silence for a time while Beth tried to process the new information about her sister’s death.

“John. How is he?”

“He’ll live, but he can’t travel for another few days. He wants to see Dean.”

“Dean was pretty shaken up by what the demon said to him. He wants to see him, but he’s scared.”

“If it’s okay with you, I’ll bring John to your place myself. Say Saturday?”

Beth nodded and then rummaged in her bag for something. She pulled out a small plastic bottle half full of water and handed it to Bobby.

“I almost forgot. Dean told me to get you to drink this.”

Bobby quirked an eyebrow.

“Holy water?” He unscrewed the cap and threw it back in one. He gave the bottle back to Beth with a fond smile on his face. “Kid’s a hunter, alright.”

“He’s a kid. With bruises on his arm and fear in his heart. He shouldn’t know the things he does, not yet.” She said sadly.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Bobby had always had a soft spot for Dean. He’d wormed his way into the old hunter’s heart, and he felt as protective towards him as a real uncle would. “But that’s not gonna change things.”

Beth nodded and finished her coffee. It had been a long trip to make for one cup, but she felt better about letting John see Dean again now she’d met Bobby.

“I have to get going.” She gave Bobby her number. “Call me, let me know when you’re on your way.”

Bobby nodded. “Tell Dean ... tell Dean I’ll see him Saturday.”

Beth smiled and left, leaving Bobby to finish his coffee.


It was the middle of the night when she got back and Ellen was fast asleep in the guest room. Beth looked in on the sleeping boys. She kissed Sam’s head and smoothed the hair back from Dean’s face.

Sam opened his eyes sleepily and smiled at her.

“Go back to sleep, honey.”

He snuggled against Dean’s chest and Beth waited until his eyes closed again before wearily heading to bed herself.


Saturday came, and with it Bobby and Dean’s father. Beth eyed the two men standing in her living room. John she’d only seen from a distance, and now she could see the resemblance between him and Dean, and noted that Dean must have gotten his green eyes and finer features from his Mom.

“The boys are off helping with Mr Petersen’s horses, they’ll be back soon. Please, sit down. I just made them some lemonade for when they get back and I bet you two are thirsty.” She smiled and handed them each a glass.

Bobby gulped his down gratefully. “Thank you, that was welcome.” Bobby smiled with a wink, knowing fine well that the cool drink was laced with holy water.

John downed his and nodded his thanks, but his words were harsher than she’d expected.

“So you’re a witch like your sister was?” John at least gave her the courtesy of not spitting out the word.

“I guess that’s as good a label as any.” Beth smiled.

Bobby rolled his eyes at John’s bluntness, and wished that he’d left that part out when he’d told John about Cate’s visit.

John nodded in acknowledgement, but frowned and then gasped and for a moment, Beth thought that there may well be a demon lurking inside him after all, but then he clutched his side and shuddered with pain.

“Bobby?” John rasped out.

“Is there somewhere he could lie down so I could take another look at his wound? The bastard left him, but not before it cut him up pretty bad.”

“Let’s get him upstairs.” Beth got on one side and with Bobby on the other, they lugged John upstairs.

They laid him down on the bed in the spare room.

“Get his clothes off.” It sounded more like an order than a request, so Bobby did as he was told and pulled off John’s jacket and unfastened his shirt.

Beth walked closer, but John growled out a “No, no witches.”

Beth glared at him, her hands on her hips.

“Your son has been living with me for a week. If I really mean to do either of you harm, I’ve had plenty of opportunities. Dean will be back soon and I for one would rather he not find his father bleeding when he gets here.”

John visibly sagged in Bobby’s grip.

“Fine.”

Beth rolled her eyes and got Bobby to lay John down on the bed so she could get a better look.

“Nasty, and there’s still the chance of infection. I’ll wash it out and dress it again.”

Bobby followed Beth downstairs and into a room that she kept locked.

“Sammy’s not old enough yet. As soon as he is, I’ll train him in the family business, like my Mom did for me.”

Bobby looked around the bookshelves in awe as Beth picked out a selection of dried herbs and an ointment.

“Did Dean tell you how he met us?” Bobby shook his head. “Me and Sammy took a trip to the coast a couple of years back and we found him sitting on the beach on his own. We took him for ice cream, and the boys hit it off. I was worried about him so I gave him my number just in case he ever needed it.”

Bobby nodded.

“But there was a reason we were there in the first place.” Beth turned and gazed out of the window to where Dean and Sammy were playing tag in the field on their way back from the Petersen’s, running around and whooping and hollering.

Bobby followed her gaze and smiled. He’d never seen Dean look so happy.

“Sammy insisted that we go. He said his brother needed us and when we got there, he searched the beach until we found Dean. He was four and Sammy doesn’t have a brother.”

Bobby turned away from the window and back to Beth.

“John told me that Dean had been missing when he got back to the motel ... he was late, and when he got there, the door was standing open and the place was wrecked. There were traces of sulphur on the windowsill. He thought that Dean had been taken, then he saw him saying goodbye to you and your boy.”

Bobby hesitated before telling her the rest.

“A demon killed Dean’s Mom when he was four. It burned her up on the ceiling.”

“Dean said she’d died in a fire, but I had no idea that there was a demon involved.”

“It has to be what your sister wanted to warn John about. John’s kept them on the road and under the radar, and it hasn’t found them for years.”

“So the demon that possessed John this time? Was it the same one?”

“No, it was more of a foot soldier, or a random demon looking to have some fun with a hunter. You’ll know the one that’s hunting them if you ever see it. It’s eyes are yellow, not black.”

Beth heard the creak of the gate as the boys reached the garden, and motioned to Bobby that they should go and say hi.

“Bobby!!” Dean raced across the garden to where Bobby stood and Bobby bent down so he could throw his arms around his neck. Dean pulled back and looked at Bobby. “Is my Dad okay? Is he here?”

“He’s okay. He’s hurt, but Beth’s gonna clean his wounds and patch him up. Do you want to see him?”

Dean bit his lip and after a long moment, nodded apprehensively.

Bobby held out his hand and Dean took it and they walked up the stairs together. Dean slowed as they reached the spare room, and clung onto Bobby’s hand.

John looked over at the doorway and saw his son standing there, fear in his eyes, and his hear almost broke in two.

“Hey kiddo.” His voice was rough with unshed tears as Dean took a step towards him.

“Daddy?”

“Yes, son, it’s me. The bad thing is gone.”

“The demon?”

“Yes, the demon, and I’m so sorry, Dean, for not being more careful. You know I’d never hurt you.”

Dean’s fingers fluttered to where the bruises on his arm were covered by his shirt, but he walked closer to the bed, letting go of Bobby’s hand. John reached out for him, and Dean ran the last few steps and threw himself into John’s arms.

“It’s okay Dean, it’s okay.” John held his son as the boy clung to him, hating himself for almost losing him.


Downstairs, Beth led Sammy into the kitchen.

“You can help me decide what we’re going to eat later.

“Pie.”

“What kind of pie?”

“Apple with black raspberries in it. Apple is Dean’s favourite and I like raspberries.”

Beth couldn’t help laughing.

“Okay, that takes care of dessert for you two, but don’t you think we should have something before that?”

Sammy considered the question.

“Ummmm ... no.”

Beth picked him up and tickled him until he squealed.

“Well, I think we should have beef stew first, with carrots and broccoli and ...”

“Mashed potato!!” Sammy said with glee.

She set him down on his feet again, and went to check the freezer for black raspberries.

“Is Dean’s Dad gonna be okay?” Beth could hear the concern in his voice.

“He’ll be fine, sweetie.”

“He’s very sad.”

“I know. He misses Dean’s mom very much.”

“So does Dean.”

“Yes he does.”

After a few minutes silence, Beth glanced over at Sammy who was standing in the middle of the kitchen, deep in thought and chewing on his bottom lip.

“What are you thinking about sweetie?” She asked, and hunkered down in front of him.

“Could Dean stay here? He doesn’t have a house to live in and he likes it here, he’s told me.”

“It’s not up to me, Sammy. His father will be okay now, and he might have plans for them.”

“But we could play together all summer and he won’t be lonely. He gets lonely when his Dad’s busy and he hates being lonely.” Sam’s voice was rising, and Beth wished that he wasn’t so damned sensitive.

“Sammy ...”

“Please!” Sam’s voice rose again and Beth could hear the note of near hysteria in her nephew’s voice and she wondered just how much of Dean’s life he’d seen.

“I think that might be for the best.” The unexpected sound of Bobby’s agreement from where he stood in the doorway, shocked Sam into silence. Bobby’s hands rested protectively on Dean’s shoulders and he gave them a little squeeze. “Why don’t you and Sammy go play outside while I help Beth with dinner?”

Dean stayed where he was, eyeing Sam and his aunt almost warily until Bobby gave him a small push towards the younger boy.

Sam grinned, his eyes bright, and suddenly raced forwards and grabbed Dean’s hand, pulling him into the garden with a triumphant whoop.

“Do you think John will agree to Dean staying?”

“I’ll talk to him. The boy needs a break, a chance to be a kid for a while. And seeing John like that really threw him.”

“And Sam could do with the company, and I think he needs the reassurance of seeing that Dean’s okay. He was so upset ... There’s a connection between them, Bobby, something deep.”

“That’s plain to see.”

“Did you know that there’s a theory that in every lifetime, soul mates find each other? In this lifetime, they might be friends, in another, they might be family, in another, lovers.” She paused. “Sometimes, when I look into Sammy’s eyes, it’s an older, wiser soul I see staring back at me and I wonder.”

She shook her head and smiled.

“Listen to me, rambling on. Would you mind peeling the potatoes for dinner while I go and see to the patient?”

“Sure.” Bobby took the knife and got to work, occasionally glancing out into the garden where the two boys were playing, oblivious to the perils of the world around them.


Two days later, John was up to sitting in the garden while Bobby checked out Beth’s van, trying to find out why the engine was rattling. Dean was helping. Up until now, Sam had only seen John Winchester from a distance. He’d peeked around the door frame and seen Dean talking to John this morning when he’d taken breakfast up to him, and now the man was sitting in the sun in the yard on the seat Sam liked to sit on with Aunt Beth when she read to him.

Sam cautiously walked towards the large man, his curiosity getting the better of him.

John heard the small footsteps and turned to see who it was.

“Hey there. You must be Sammy.”

“Yes sir.” Sam took a step closer. He’d heard Dean call his Dad “sir” when he’d been listening from the hallway.

“Pleased to meet you. I’m John Winchester.” John smiled and held his hand out to the boy.

Sam reached forward and took it without hesitation. He knew this was how grownups said hello sometimes and he was pleased that John would want to do that. Sam’s hand disappeared into John’s as he closed his fingers around it. What Sam had felt radiating off John intensified and he swallowed almost nervously.

John wasn’t a bad man, but Sam could feel the darkness that hung around him almost as if it was lying in wait. Beneath that was a deep and overwhelming sadness. Sammy pushed through all that and saw the small, but bright kernel of light in John Winchester’s soul that was his love for Dean and he smiled at John as he let go of his hand.

John looked down at the book in Sam’s had.

“What have you got there?”

“The Little Prince. It’s my favourite. We sit here and Aunt Beth reads to me.” There was a hopeful look in Sam’s eyes and John smiled and took the hint.

“Well, since your Aunt Beth is busy with Bobby and Dean, I could read to you instead?”

“Okay.” Sam smiled and joined John on the seat, sitting close and handing him the book.

John thumbed open the well-worn pages to the point marked by a bookmark.

“This was Dean’s favourite book too when he was your age.”

“It still is. He doesn’t like anyone to know, though, because he’s bigger now and has more important things to do than read kids books.”

The shock of hearing his own words come out of Sam’s mouth hit John like a punch in the gut.

Sam pointed at the top of the page. “That’s where we got up to last time.”

John nodded, composing himself before beginning to read.

Oh, little prince! Bit by bit I came to understand the secrets of your sad little life... For a long time you had found your only entertainment in the quiet pleasure of looking at the sunset. I learned that new detail on the morning of the fourth day, when you said to me:

"I am very fond of sunsets. Come, let us go look at a sunset now."

"But we must wait," I said.

"Wait? For what?"

"For the sunset. We must wait until it is time."

They were so engrossed in the story that they didn’t notice Dean and the other two adults coming into the garden. Dean stopped in his tracks, staring at his father reading to Sam. John hadn’t done that for him since before they’d hit the road, and a pang of jealousy twisted in Dean’s gut. John looked up, and the guilt on his face was plain.

“Dean, I ...”

But before he could say anymore, Sam launched himself off the seat towards his friend.

“Dean!! I asked your Dad to read to me. It’s The Little Prince! C’mon, I want to hear more.”

He grabbed Dean’s hand and pulled him over to the seat, sitting back down where he’d been sitting. Dean sat down awkwardly on the other side of his father, perching on the edge of the seat as if he were about to take flight at any second. It wasn’t them, not any more. John didn’t read to him, he studied musty old books and did “research”. He didn’t read stories to Dean. He taught him useful skills, but they never sat in the sun anymore and pretended they were normal people.

John cleared his throat and picked up the story where he’d left off, his deep, rich voice making it a pleasure to listen to him.

At first you seemed to be very much surprised. And then you laughed to yourself. You said to me:

"I am always thinking that I am at home!"

Just so. Everybody knows that when it is noon in the United States the sun is setting over France. If you could fly to France in one minute, you could go straight into the sunset, right from noon. Unfortunately, France is too far away for that. But on your tiny planet, my little prince, all you need do is move your chair a few steps. You can see the day end and the twilight falling whenever you like...

As John read, he could feel Dean relax next to him, and John stole a quick glance at his son. Dean was entranced by the story, but John knew it was more than that. As he continued, he put his arm round Dean’s shoulder and pulled him closer.

"One day," you said to me, "I saw the sunset forty-four times!"

And a little later you added:

"You know — one loves the sunset, when one is so sad..."

"Were you so sad, then?" I asked, "on the day of the forty-four sunsets?"

But the little prince made no reply.

Bobby and Beth wandered round the herb garden, occasionally looking over at Dean and John and Sam.

“I’ve never seen either of them like that before.” There was a lump in Bobby’s throat, and Beth squeezed his arm as she moved past him to get to the boneset. “Your boy is something special, Beth.”

“He does have a way of getting to the heart of things.” Beth agreed and led Bobby into the kitchen.

Twenty minutes later, Sam zoomed through happily on his way to put his book back in the shelf and Beth glanced out of the window. John and Dean were still sitting on the seat, John’s arm wrapped around Dean and Dean was hugging him back. Neither of them were talking, it seemed that being able to sit quietly together was enough, and Beth swore she could see unshed tears glinting in John’s eyes.

Chapter Two