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13 August 2010 @ 03:38 pm
Somewhen I was Meant to Be 7/9  




~ Chapter 6 ~

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Misery sure loves company
And nobody's ever who they seem to be
The daily horror of people at their worst
And most selfish, one day, your bubble will burst

~~~
Milow - Darkness Ahead and Behind
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A loud noise woke John the next morning and it took him a few seconds to realize he had slept in the car and the strange ringing wasn't the result of last night's excessive drinking but the ringing of his phone. With a groan he put his left hand on his aching forehead to shield his eyes from the daylight which was happily streaming into the car. With his right he fumbled in his pockets for his cell.

"What?" He bellowed into the device without looking at the caller ID. Who ever it was, the person had definitely deserved his bad mood.

"Good, you're alive then," a grumpy voice greeted him. "I've tried calling for ages. Where the hell are you?"

John groaned again, anger flaring at Bobby's pissed tone. "Who do you think you are? My fucking mother?"

"Did you ever see me wearing an apron and baking cookies for you?"

"Bobby...!" John grumbled with the hint of a warning.

"Thought so. So, where are you?"

"Missouri," John answered.

Bobby huffed questioningly, "You're in Missouri?"

"For fucks sake, don't make me puke, Bobby."

"So you're in Kansas," Bobby reasoned. "Dammit, don't make me worm everything outta your nose. What are you doing in Kansas?"

"Long story."

"Make it short then!"

Finally, John blinked his eyes open and took in his surroundings. The Impala was still parked outside the bar he had gotten wasted in last night. His head hurt like he had shot his brains out by accident and the taste on his tongue was fouler than the stuff he usually put into a hex bag.

"Had to dump someone at Missouri's."

"Who?"

John's stomach clenched and he told himself it was the hunger. Ignoring Bobby's question he asked, "Why are you calling?"

"Business."

John sat up straighter, happy to have something to concentrate on other than little boys and helpless mothers and headaches from the pit. "What've you got?"

"Demonic signs."

"That's not uncommon. What else?"

"Isn't that enough?" Bobby grumbled. "Found a pattern though and I need you two to have a look at it. The signs are increasing dramatically all over the country. Got calls from Oregon, Texas and even New Jersey for heaven's sake. Must have been messy from what I was told. Young people gone missing, at least 23 in the last few weeks." At this point Bobby made a pause. "Men and women, all of them 23 or 24 years old."

John's blood pressure increased. Sam would've been 23 too. Almost 24.

"Half a dozen showed up dead or left behind a bloody trail before vanishing." Bobby cleared his throat.

"What aren't you telling?"

Bobby sighed. "Most of them lost their mother to a fire the day they were six months old."

Shit!

"I'm on my way," John said and turned the ignition. "Give us a few hours."
It was a much nicer environment and much more peaceful and also much later that day when Dee woke up slowly. Her brain was evidently still asleep and she had problems connecting with her wake being while her hands unconsciously combed through the crumpled bed sheet to where her son had been all night. The place was empty and cold and Dee opened her eyes, searching the room for a sign of him.

"Matt?" She called and was quickly at ease when she could hear his laughter from somewhere downstairs. Their host lady's full voice said something and Matt responded with another delighted squeal. A look at the nightstand told Dee that it was already past ten in the morning and she was surprised she had slept more than ten hours straight. It felt good even though she felt like she could have used another twenty-four hours. Yawning, she sat up and stretched her arms over her head, her gaze falling on a bunch of clothes, lined up on the foot of the bed that looked like it would be fitting. A pair of jeans, a tee and a sweater, all of them having seen better days but Dee didn't care. It was like Gucci and Armani all at once if you had no other clothes left at all. Next to them a pair of socks and even a still packed package of white linen underwear. She dressed quickly, and then walked down the stairs, feeling like the stranger that she was in a home of a woman she had only met fourteen hours ago.

"Mom!" She was greeted by her excited son who was standing next to the stove in the kitchen, balancing a pancake on a wooden spoon. "Missouri and I are making pancakes. Are you hungry?"

Her stomach chose this moment to rumble noisily and she was surprised at her sudden appetite. The kitchen smelled delicious like pancakes and coffee. She'd have done anything to get one in this moment.

"There you are, honey," said Missouri and shoved a warm cup in her grip before leading her to the table where Dee sat down on a chair.

"Uhh... thanks." She looked at the black liquid, brown foam on the surface and felt hesitant to ask for milk and sugar. Back in Palo Alto people looked at her with disgust seeing she put two pieces of sugar in her coffee but she didn't mind. She loved the mix of bitter and sweet and the milk took the edge of the nasty aftertaste that was always left in her mouth.

"Oh, I'm sorry. You're right. Milk!" Missouri promptly added, opening the fridge to get a bottle of milk. Seconds later a small bowl filled with sugar appeared in front of her and she opened and closed her mouth, the Thank you somehow stuck on her tongue.

"You're welcome, honey," Missouri replied with a no nonsense voice.

"I'm... Thank you," she finally managed to croak and she cleared her throat. "For taking us in." Looking at Matt she smiled when he balanced another pancake over to a plate where it landed floppily with one half hanging over the rim.

"No need to thank me," Missouri dismissed her with a grumpy shake of her head. "It's the least I can do."

A comfortable silence settled between them and Dee took some small sips of her coffee. "Where is Dean?"

"Dean?" Missouri huffed. "Boy got hauled out of bed at six thirty in the morning by his father. They're long gone."

"What?" Dee put down the cup. How could Dean just leave her here? "Where? Why?"

Missouri shrugged her shoulder. "As if they'd tell me." She made a disgusted sound as she got three plates out of a cupboard putting one in front of Dee, herself and Matt, who had sat down across from his mother, obviously distracted by the promise of pancakes.

"I made them all by myself, see?" He smiled, hopefully waiting for his mother's praise. "And Missouri helped."

"Just a little," The black woman dismissed.

"Great, sweetie!" Dee's smile was strained and he saw it, his face falling. "Are you okay, mom?"

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?"

"Because two days ago a demon wanted to kill you," He replied matter-of-factly, not even looking up from his fork with which he was attacking the pancake. "And now our home is gone."

Blinking, Dee stared at her son. A feeling like ice water trickling slowly along her spine made her sit up straighter and she swallowed convulsively.

"How... how do you know it was a demon, Matt?"

The little boy shrugged, an expression of mild confusion on his face.

"I don't know. I just ... knew it was a demon. Didn't Dean tell you?" His nose wrinkled in a disgusted manner as he tried to remember the details. "I think I've seen him before."

"When?" Matt looked spooked by her demanding tone. "When did you see him?"

"Maybe in a dream?" Missouri jumped in helpfully in and Matt shook his head.

"No, I think I've talked to him... before."

"Before what?" Dee knew she was poking in wounds she had no idea had been there a few days ago. Her son didn't answer to her question but bit his lower lip, staring at her.

"Are you mad at me?" Tears filled Matt's eyes and his little chin wobbled. It took him all he had not to start crying and Dee felt even worse. She hadn't intended to make him cry. She had merely tried to understand the sudden change in her life. The whole universe had decided to play with her perception and her beliefs and now it left her standing alone and a mess with the boy who was her son... and maybe more.

But no one was less responsible than her eight year old son who had gotten the play ball in a bizarre line of events.

"No, sweetie!" She protested, leaning forward to take his shaking left hand in her right one. "No, of course I'm not mad at you."

Matt sniffed, wiggled his nose then rubbed it profusely. "Promise?"

"Cross my heart."

"Okay." He nodded, apparently happy with her answer. Taking a bite of his pancake he carelessly grinned at her and she grinned back, her thoughts racing and wondering, who she had been talking to about the demon. Matt... or Sam?

Missouri threw her an unreadable glance, then pursed her lips and put on a resolved face. "Dee, honey, do you know anything about past life regression?"
Dee wanted to know... but also she didn't. Torn between taking her son to run away from here as fast as she could and sitting on this chair for the rest of her life to let it float past by her, she concentrated on taking deep breaths. It didn't help but made her even more lightheaded so she just held her breath for a few seconds, then puffed it out in one long even stream.

"Are you okay?" She opened her eyes to find Missouri staring at her. "We don't have to do this."

Maybe they didn't, Dee pondered. Maybe she could just stick her head in the sand and ignore everything. Live her life just like before. Work, school, homework, raising a little son who was just a little peculiar. Every little boy was peculiar, right? Maybe it was normal for boys in his age to have that kind of imagination. Matt was just a little boy after all. He still loved his teddy bear. He loved to fall asleep with his mom singing lullabies. He loved to run around in the sunlight and pretend he's Superman, jumping of curbs and benches and steps of a staircase. He was just a little boy with his head full of stories and fantasies. And yes, he was a little bit more perceptive than others but... did it give her the right to poke in secrets that were better left buried? Heck, other boys his age had imaginative friends or dogs. Why not an imaginative former life?

The problem was, too much had happened already to turn around. She remembered her burning home, the feeling of helplessness as she slid across the wall towards the ceiling. Remembered the evil yellow eyes that were watching her with cold malice. Her life had changed already and it would never be the same again. Fate had shaken the Magic-8 ball and Dee was getting the one answer she couldn't do anything with. Ask again later.

"Yes, we do," She finally answered and nodded. Matt was lying on the couch, his little feet bouncing enthusiastically on the cushions. His eyes were wide open, observing his mother like he wanted to read her mind. Maybe he was because he cocked his head slightly, squinting his eyes.

"It's okay, mom," He told her, his voice carefree and excited. "Missouri is taking care of us. She'll make sure nothing's going to happen to us." His words made their host lower her head and if the woman hadn't been black Dee was sure she'd have seen a faint blush on her cheeks.

"I'll do my very best," Missouri promised with just a hint of embarassment, nodded at Dee, then turned back to Matt who returned her gaze with curious expectation.

"Matt, darling," Missouri said, her voice lower and quieter than usually. "I want you to close your eyes now and take a really deep breath. Then let it out slowly."

He did as he was told, his face a strained mask of determination. She could hear his breath streaming out of his nostrils, like he had run around too much and now was trying to get his breath under control.

"You're trying too hard, Matt," Missouri smiled. "Just relax. I'm going to do all the work. You just lie there, keep your eyes closed and listen to me."

He nodded slowly, then his face relaxed and Dee could see him melt into the soft cushions beneath him.

"Okay, Matt. I want you to imagine you're in a dark room, okay? It's not entirely dark. You can see many doors around you. And there's one door, it's green - like grass - and I always want you to keep an eye on that door because you can walk through this door if you want to come back to us. Okay?"

She didn't get an answer and Dee wondered if maybe her son had just fallen asleep. They waited a few second which felt like hours for Dee. Matt's chest went up and down in even movements, his breathing now deep and calm.

"I think..." She whispered but Missouri threw her a look that made her shut up.

"Matt, are you in that room?"

This time, Matt nodded and mumbled, sending shivers across Dee's naked arms. "Yeah. It's empty and there're so many doors."

"Can you see the green door?"

He nodded again and Dee felt her heart rate speed up.

"That's great. Just remember that if you want to leave you can just walk through that door and come back to us. You're safe. But we're just looking into some other doors first. They cannot hurt you. You're just an observer and nothing that you see can hurt you. I promise that."

Truths can hurt so much more than physical blows, Dee thought but kept silent.

Missouri waited another moment until Matt mumbled, a little subdued, "Okay."

"I want you to walk towards the very first door that you see. Just walk towards it and open it slowly. Maybe you can have a peek inside. Can you do that?"

With another nod, Matt reached out his hand slowly, as if seeing a real door knob.

"It's open," Matt whispered.

"You're doing great, Matt. Tell us what you see."

Sweat was breaking out on Dee's hairline and she didn't want to what her son was saying next but at the same time she was holding her breath in order not to miss anything.

"It's a little dark in here." His forehead wrinkled, his eyebrows almost touching over his nose. "But... I can see a window."

"Is it night?"

"Yes. I think it's really late." Turning his head first to the right, then to left Dee watched her son take a look around in the room that was only in his head. "I'm not alone."

"Do you feel safe?"

Matt smiled. "Yes. It's Dean." His smile widened and Dee tried to convince herself that it was just last night he was talking about. Or maybe the night in the motel. Maybe Dean had come in at some point to look if they were alright. Yes, it made sense. It really could have happened and now Matt's subconscious was remembering.

"What about your mom? Is she there too?"

Something like pain or confusion flickered over his face for a moment before he answered, "My mom? No, my mom's dead."

Dee tried to swallow the large lump in her throat but instead a sob escaped her lips. She pressed a hand against her mouth, holding the scream of denial inside. She was here. She was right here. She was Matt's mom and she was right here. Missouri threw her another look, asking without words to stay quiet and not to interfere.

"What about your daddy?"

"I don't think he's here. He left earlier because he had a job to do." His lips parted and he smiled. "Dean read a story to me before he fell asleep." He giggled. "He drooled on the book."

"Okay, Matt. Remember that you're safe and you're only watching. Now I want you to close the first door and come back into the empty room."

Even though he didn't seem happy about it Matt complied and after a few seconds he informed them, "Okay, I'm back in the room." Dee could see him shiver slightly, his eyes moving restlessly under his closed lids.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Dee wanted to know but Matt didn't hear her until Missouri repeated the question.

"Matt? Is everything alright?"

Matt's head swiveled around like he was searching the room. "I think there's someone watching me."

"Can you see someone?"

"Uhm... no. But it's cold here. Can... can I open another door?" Again, a little smile played around his lips.

"Sure, Matt," Missouri said and Dee worried about the irritated undertone in the woman's voice. "Go to another door and open it. But be careful! Are you sure you don't see anyone where you are?"

This time, Matt nodded and answered with a sharp "Positive!" The word disturbed Dee more than she would've thought possible but Missouri kept talking without a break.

"Okay, do you still see the green door?"

"Mmhm!"

"Okay, great. Remember to go there if you don't feel safe anymore. This way you can come back to us."

"Mmhm." For the second time Matt reached out with his fingers and opened an invisible door.

"What do you see?"

For a second Matt was quiet, then his face lightened up and he was grinning "The Impala. I can see the Impala. I'm sitting inside of it... and I'm driving!"

"What day is it?"

"Today?" Matt pondered for a few moments. "It's... Sunday and Dean and I we have the whole week for us. Dad is gone on a hunting trip in St. Louis with Joshua and some other hunters."

"What are you going to do?"

Matt grinned mischievously. "We're just coming back from the video store. We got... Lethal Weapon I to IV and more popcorn than even Dean can eat." He was laughing, almost giddy with joy and Dee couldn't help but ask another question, which Missouri had to repeat.

"Why are you so happy?"

"It's my birthday and Dean let me drive the car to the store." Matt beamed, excited.

"Your birthday?" Missouri asked. "What birthday?"

"I'm turning sixteen today."

"So the year is 1999?"

Sixteen! Her own son had been sixteen years old and his name had been Sam Winchester. It was too much to take in and Dee felt her mind starting to drift off, failing to concentrate on the scene in front of her. Too much to think about. Could it be it this whole thing was a hoax? Maybe Dean had implanted these memories... somehow? Maybe Dean had hoped so hard to find his dead little brother in her son that...that what? His wishes had transferred to Matt? That was the most stupid thing she ever thought of and it produced a hysterical bubble somewhere in the back of her mouth.

"Yes Ma'am," Matt dutifully affirmed Missouri's calculation which helped enough to get a grip on her sanity. She needed to hear this.

"Sorry," She mumbled and the black woman next to her threw her an understanding smile.

"Okay, Matt. You're doing great. I know you're happy where you are but can you come back into the empty room again?" A tension had crept into Missouri's words and she looked at Dee, as if asking for a permission to go on. Dee suddenly knew why.

"His name was Sam... He died when he was sixteen."

When Dean had told her about his little brother it had been a sad story, a grievous tale of love and loss and fate's cruelty of taking such a young life. She hadn't asked what happened. At that point she hadn't wanted to know. Now, though, she'd given anything to be prepared for the truth unfolding in front of her. Fate wasn't just cruel. It had a sick sense of humour too.

She nodded slowly, her brain not even registering the movement until Missouri nodded back and concentrated on Matt.

"Are you back in the empty room?"

Matt nodded gravely, obviously unhappy to have left the happy time from his past. "There're still so many doors," He said, awed. Again, his eyes began searching for something. "I don't think I'm alone."

"Of course you're not, Matt. We're here. We're taking care of you."

"No..." Matt whispered. "Here, in the room. I don't think I'm alone in that room."

Missouri wanted to say something but a loud crash interrupted her. A vase including a bouquet of daffodils had fallen from the windowsill. A sudden cold wind swept through the adjoining window and hastily Missouri got up to close it. Dee could see the sky had darkened even though it was merely early afternoon. It looked like a storm was coming up.

Walking around the room Missouri inspected every corner to look at every safety measure, probably making sure they were still intact. Then she let her plump body fall back into her chair with a groan.

"I made sure no one is here but I want you to walk though that open door if you don't feel safe, do you understand? Can you see the green door?"

When he nodded she asked, "Do you want to leave?" and Matt shook his head.

"No, I feel safe. And I can see no one."

"Okay, wonderful. But before you go through the next door I want you to make sure you are alone. Take a look around and listen closely. Is anyone with you?"

His face contorted with the concentration as if trying to see or hear anyone. "I'm alone. I'm sure." He paused. "I'm going through the next door now."

Dee and Missouri looked at each other, finding a strange comfort in their presence and Dee knew she had to face this, no matter what. If her son was facing it... or had faced it once already, so could she. She just wasn't sure what price she'd have to pay for it.

"I'm in the forest." Matt's voice was strangely uninflected as he recited what he was seeing. "I think Dean is close by. I can hear him mumbling... and... and I think he's mad at me." As if he was shrinking he ducked his head lower, trying to hide it between his shoulders. Then a sudden jolt went through his body and his breathing got harsher, his chest heaving with exertion.

"What's happening?"

"There was a shot. Must've been dad's... Dean is running but...I...I can't keep up. I keep falling over the roots and--ouch!" He yelped, holding his hand as if was hurt. "I scratched my hand. It's so dark. Now... I-I-I can't see Dean anymore."

This is torture, Dee thought with tears in her eyes as she listened to her son's distress.

"He's gone!" Matt yelled, close to panic and Missouri put a calming hand on his shin. "He's gone and left me alone!" Even though his eyes were closed his eyebrows were arched high, unbelieving and hurt.

"Remember, Matt. You're only watching. You're the observer. No one can hurt you," Missouri tried to soothe him again but she looked alarmed herself. "If it's too much for you, I want you to leave instantly. Do you hear me?"

Matt didn't answer for a minute, then whispered, "There's a man with yellow eyes."

Dee could see by the way Missouri gulped convulsively that she, too, was familiar with the phenomena. "What's he saying?" She inquired with a flat voice, her earlier persistence of him leaving the memory forgotten.

"I... He says I'm going to be a bad boy." There were tears collecting at the corners of Matt's eyes now, rolling down his flushed skin and vanishing into his hairline.

"Wake him up!" Dee said but Missouri didn't hear her. Or maybe she just ignored her, Dee couldn't tell.

"Matt, this is not happening right now. It's just a memory and memories can't hurt you." Bullshit, Dee thought, but kept silent while Missouri tried to calm Matt down. "You're safe. But you have to tell us what the man is telling you."

Matt hiccoughed, his voice high-pitched and breaking at the next words. "He says they're not coming."

"Who? Who's not coming?"

"Dean's not coming and Dad isn't coming. I'm alone. I don't want to die alone..." His whole body jolted as if under an electrical charge and then he sat up, eyes open but unseeing.

He screamed.

"Wake him up! Now!" Dee ordered, rushing at her son's side and embracing him. The floor was hard under her knees and she felt a stabbing in it which she ignored. She could feel her son tremble, his limbs shaking so much that he probably would have fallen of the couch if she hadn't her arms wrapped around his skinny shoulders. "WAKE HIM!" She screamed again and could hear Missouri counting backwards until she reached zero. And just like that, Matt's rigid body slumped in her tight embrace. His tear drenched cheek landed on her shoulder and his thin voice was muffled by her clothes. His breathing slowed almost instantly and he sniffed a little. She could feel his eyelashes flutter against her skin when he opened his eyes. His hiccoughing fading he fiddled in her embrace until she leaned back a bit to take a look at him.

"Are you okay?" She asked, her own voice still too high.

"I think so." Matt looked down on himself and his expression implied how surprised he was to find himself back in his eight year old body. "I... remember."

"I know you do, Matt." Sam. She felt her face contort, as if in pain and Matt understood why.

"Do you still love me, mommy?" he said, sounding so much like the eight year old he was supposed to be and with fresh tears falling down his cheeks. Dee's heart twisted and turned as if it was a snake in a rabbit burrow.

"Of course I do, why wouldn't I?" Her thumb wiped away the wetness on his cheek. "You're my son and nothing will ever change that."
"This is the end of the world!" Bobby yelled and Dean wasn't so sure it was meant as a joke as the older man closed the door of the fridge. "Where's the beer?" Bobby hollered unhappily and looked at Dean sharply who - rather self-conscious - swallowed the last sip he had taken from the now empty bottle.

"Don't know?" Dean shrugged innocently and stared back at the map in front of him. "So, you're saying there's something that keeps the demonic activities out of this area." The map was bigger than the surface of the table it was lying on and showed the whole north-western territory of the states. Colourful dates and notes and numbers were scattered all over the area but for an unshaped blob in the middle of Wyoming.

"Apparently," Bobby grumbled and came back to the table, where Dean and his father both stood together. They had arrived at Bobby a few hours ago after a drive filled with unasked questions and unsaid answers. Dean had known they were driving to Bobby's after his father had revealed with a few short grunts about the phone call. Their relationship hadn't been the best before Palo Alto but ever since they had met Destiny - in the truest sense of words - and Matt, Dean felt like he didn't know his father anymore.

Leaving Dee and Matt behind had been tough for Dean but he hadn't even understood why. They were just two random people, right? Nothing more but two innocents in their war who they managed to save. They weren't the first people they would save and definitely not the last. Then why did it feel like he had left behind a large piece of himself? Dean shook his head, trying to concentrate at the matter at hand. They had a case to solve and even though Dean wasn't okay nor intrigued about their current plan he knew he'd have to live with it. Maybe when this whole ordeal was over he'd have a chance to give Dee a call and ask about...

"Dean! Concentrate!" his father barked grimly and Dean looked guiltily at his father, whose eyes were pinched so close that Dean wondered how he could see anything at all.

"I know that town," John said to Bobby, his right index finger pointed at the name on the map. "Lionville. We had a case of possessions there a few months back."

Dean remembered that one too well. A whole family had been possessed. A mother, father and two teenage sons aged thirteen and sixteen. Like the demons had used them to go on a Sunday picnic. The curious thing about the case was that the demons had blended in as if nothing had happened, their hosts acting as normal as they could as if they didn't want to be tracked down. A coincidence had revealed their true identity, giving John and Dean every indication they needed to do the exorcism. The parents had died in the process. The younger son, too. The older one had lived long enough to explain that the demons had been guarding something. Had expected something to happen. Not today but soon and they'd had every intention of holding out in their hosts as long as it took for the day to come. Cryptic enough for John and Dean to have a really bad feeling about it.

"Yeah, I remember, too," Dean replied and listened to his father explaining Bobby about it.

"So, you think they were guarding something?"

"Looks like it," John said. "Or waiting for something."

"There has to be some kind of barrier the demons can't cross," Bobby murmured and walked over to a large atlas heavy enough to slay someone with it.

"But what for?" Dean sunk back on a chair, rubbing his slighty stubby chin. "There must be something inside that area. And what kind of a barrier is big enough to protect such a large area?"

"I might have some answers," Bobby said and heaved the monster book back to the table. Opening it at a particular side Dean could see that the map was old. Really old. As in probably old enough to be drawn by hand.

"From when is it dated?" Dean wanted to know and leaned over the map, trying to read the quirky writings on it.

"Middle of the 19th century," Bobby said and pointed at five towns on it, arranged in a circle with a diameter of a few miles at least. "Look at those towns and compare them with the map."

For a few seconds there was silence until John Winchester gave a surprised sound. With a pencil he added the long forgotten towns to the new map, connecting them with long, straight lines until a sigil was drawn on the map so obvious that Dean gasped, "A devil's trap!"

"Yeah." Bobby nodded and John looked up.

"How? How does it keep the demons outside?"

Dean leaned closer to the map, his nose almost touching the paper. "Rails," he said. "Iron rails. Leading from one town to another."

John nodded affirmatively. "Possible. But we still need to know what it's guarding."

"I'm not sure how this is connected," Bobby answered, "but there's an old cemetery right there." With an oil-covered finger he pointed right in the middle of the pentagram.

"I don't like this," John muttered and Dean chuckled with any humour in it. His father threw him a sharp look. "We need to know why it's keeping demons outside."

"Or," Dean said sulkily. "...what it's keeping inside."

His father shot him another look and Dean wished his old man would stop doing that. It kept giving him the impression that he wanted to say something without actually wanting it.
The day had been exhausting. Physically as much as mentally. But still, Dee was sure she would have a lot of trouble falling asleep.

A fire was dancing merrily in the fireplace and she stared into the flames, all the while stroking through Matt's tangled hair. His forehead felt hot to her touch and his cheeks were still wet with tears after hours of crying. His hair was wet against his skull and small tremors were working their ways through his body. A tiny hiccough escaped his lips and Dee looked up to see Missouri coming closer, putting a thick woolen blanket over his small frame.

"Thanks," she said grateful for the presence of the older woman, who sat down opposite of them in a chair and got back to knitting.

After their session they had spent the day in the living room trying to get Matt to talk about what he could remember but the little boy had just shut down.

"What a day, huh?" Missouri sighed and Dee wanted to laugh about it. No, actually she wanted to cry but her body decided to make it a laugh. Hastily, she put a hand on her mouth to press down the hysterical laughter that was bubbling inside of her like an overdose of coke. "No shit," she whispered after making sure her son didn't hear her cursing.

"Tsk!" Missouri made a disgruntled sound and threw her a disapproving look. "No reason to cuss, young lady."

Dee smiled and leaned back down into the pillows, willing her thoughts to rest but failing. Until one particular train of thought made her look up and stare at her hostess again.

"Missouri," she asked and the older woman looked up, eyebrows knitted together in the same angle as her knitting needles. "You knew about Matt... and about Sam."

"I didn't know... exactly."

"But you knew it was possible."

Missouri nodded slowly, waiting patiently for Dee's actual question.

"Then, why didn't you tell Dean about it when he asked you last night?" Dee swallowed down her horror at the memory of Dean's desperation as he had fled the room. "He... if I had lost..." Her arm curled around Matt's chest and he leaned into the warming touch. "If he knew that..." She looked down at her own son who was obviously not just hers.

Something like resentment blossomed in her chest and a scary idea crossed her mind.

Does this mean I have to share my son with strangers?

But was Dean a stranger? He had saved her life. Saved her sons life and it hurt her to see him suffer no matter how much of a stranger he was. She had felt the affection and compassion roll off him in strong waves whenever the topic of Sam had come up. And she had seen him look at her son with enough love to last for a whole kindergarten full of little brothers.

Missouri sighed again and put her hands down, not looking surprised at all at the question.

"Oh honey," she began and let the knitting needles sink into her lap. "Dean Winchester is an emotional sponge. You can't see his feelings on the outside but squeeze him once..." Her fingers curled in the air. "... and he leaks like a bursting dam."

Dee's clueless face made her snicker throatily but her face got serious a moment later. "How do you imagine he'd have reacted if I told him his dead brother was probably somewhere alive deep inside this little man?" She nodded at Matt and when Dee didn't answer she added, "No, there's things you can't be told. You have to learn them on your own."

She was about to go back to her knitting when a muffled noise could be heard from somewhere outside. A creaking sound like footsteps on the rotten veranda.

"Don't worry, honey," Missouri tried to calm her while she put her knitting tools aside. "This is an old house. Old houses complain once in a while but it's safer than the Winchester's car. That I can promise. And I'm not even talking about the reckless driving."

"What about demons?" Dee asked, her voice thin and shaky.

"No demons, no ghosts, no other supernatural beings in the book." While Missouri sounded confident and unconcerned Dee's worry grew as Matt started fidgeting under her hands. "We're as safe as we can be and no one can come inside these walls."

"Mom?" Matt whispered and rubbed his eyes.

"It's okay, Matt. Sleep on."

But Matt had already sat up and stared at Missouri, then into the darkness behind the window where the night was covering all living traces. "Humans can," he murmured.

"Can what?" the older woman asked confused.

Matt sat up straighter, completely awake now. "Come in."

Both woman stared at each other, adrenaline whooshing through their veins as a tall, black man appeared in the door to the kitchen. His dark eyes searching the room and resting on Matt.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice deep and rumbling yet almost sympathetic "I need you to come with me."

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( 2 comments — Leave a comment )
Dancing Phalangesofsoapsuds on August 13th, 2010 09:10 pm (UTC)
Oh no!! It's Jake coming to take Sammy, I mean Matt! WOW this story is intense!
annj_g80annj_g80 on August 19th, 2010 04:48 pm (UTC)
Hehe, that was kinda my intention :-D.
( 2 comments — Leave a comment )