Author: Restive Nature
Genre: Crossover
Type: WiP
Shows: Dark Angel and Supernatural
Disclaimer: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.
Story Rating: PG-13 up to NC-17 for language, violence and sexual situations. (All higher rated material will be contained in its own chapter and clearly marked at the beginning of the chapter. PG versions of these chapters will also be available.)
Chapter Rating: PG-13 for language.
Timeline/ Spoilers: This story takes place predominantly in the Supernatural timeline. This means that the Dark Angel structure of post-pulse America does not fit in. The massive changes will be that Manticore is decades ahead of itself and the characters from DA are born much earlier than portrayed on the show. There is no Pulse occurring. Any other changes to the structures or episodes of the shows will be (hopefully) explained within the story itself.
Pairing: None at this time. (The pairing will become evident as the story progresses, but much further down the road.)
Summary: Change can be a choice and you never know where the road you choose to take will lead you.
When It Changes
Chapter Twenty-one
Overrated
“Sam!”
He heard her voice a distance behind him. Sam spun around, surprised to find that Max wasn’t right behind him. A place that she’d been when he’d checked only moments ago. Cursing slightly under his breath, he hurried back the way they had been coming, his eyes alert and searching for any sign of the demon they were currently hunting. After twenty long-legged strides, he found her; half slumped against the smooth bark of a cottonwood.
“Max?” he questioned quietly, approaching with caution. “Are you hurt? Did it-?” His gun, loaded with regular, though anointed bullets was in his hands. But Max was shaking her head and Sam realized that there was no blood. A small tremor shook through her and her teeth chattered together in the chill of the night.
“S-seizure,” she got out softly and Sam resumed cursing under his breath. He hurried to her side, still trying to be aware of their surroundings. As his eyes flicked around the wooded grove, he mentally cursed his father and Dean as well.
They’d started out this hunt together, wisely backing each other up. But when Max had called Sam’s attention to some unfamiliar spoors on the ground, he’d stepped over to look at them. But John and Dean, so focused on finding the demon, hadn’t noticed them stopping and continued on the trail they were working.
He’d called out after them, quietly, not wanting to bring down the attention of the demon upon them precipitously. But they hadn’t heard and he had no idea if they had noticed yet that their group had become separated. It was the same reason that he didn’t call John on his cell phone.
“Where’s your tryptophan?” Sam demanded softly, kneeling beside his sister; as she slowly sank down to sit on the ground.
“C-car,” she stuttered, wrapping her arms around herself. She took in a deep breath, her eyes also scanning their surroundings.
“Can you walk?” Sam demanded. Before Max could answer, they heard something snap in the foliage. They waited a moment in silence, wondering whether their prey had become predator once more, or if John and Dean had finally noticed the missing duo.
“Sam! Look out!” Max screamed suddenly, pushing Sam to her right as she instinctively rolled left.
Sam rolled once before stopping himself with his heel dug into the ground. The medium sized demon, smart enough to attack weak, helpless individuals, did not seem smart enough to take out the person with the weapon. Well, the weapon that it could see. All that was on its mind was a gnawing space in its belly that demanded to be filled.
The creature lunged at Max, deeming her to be an easy kill. However the demon was deadly wrong in that. Still on her back from where she had rolled to, Max knew that she couldn’t let the beast get in close. She and John had argued extensively about her using a gun to protect herself. In the end, she’d won out and was really now regretting it. She had a pair of daggers that Dean had leant to her, but given that they were currently nesting in her waistband at the small of her back, they weren’t doing her much good. All she knew was that she had to force the creature back so that she could either get to the knives, or set up a clean shot for Sam.
When the creature lunged for her, she brought her feet up, catching it in the chest with a powerful stroke, forcing it back. Sam took the opportunity to shoot, but the creature, sensing the danger from its side, turned and the anointed bullet, meant for the creature’s heart, caught it in the shoulder. The beast howled its pain and fury, for while the bullet didn’t kill at this juncture, it still hurt like hell. The blessed oil would slowly work to disintegrate the flesh it pierced.
Its distraction however, gave Max the chance to retrieve the knives. Her only problem was misinterpreting how deeply affected she’d been by the sudden surprising seizure. The dagger, aimed at the heart, was off course by a wide mark. It did manage to connect, slicing into the beast’s face.
As if sensing the danger of extinction, the creature hunkered down low to the ground, trying to keep both Sam and Max in its eye line, which they made impossible. Sam, his heart pounding loudly in his ears, in that split second moment that he had before he was forced to act, tried to decide if he should take a back shot and hope like hell that he got the heart, or waste time getting around to Max. He only had two of the bullets left. He couldn’t afford to waste them distracting the creature, hoping like hell that his father and brother would show up in the knick of time.
Max however, took the decision from him. She threw the other dagger with as much force as she could muster. Still, it was only a glancing blow, which the creature shook off quickly.
It growled menacingly at Max, seeming to have forgotten all about Sam, who stood poised, ready to take the hell beast down. He lined up his shot with a practiced eye and once the creature had turned fully towards Max, squeezed off the trigger. His shot was clean and the afreet’s back arched as the bullet pierced the organ it was meant to. Its arms extended, pained whimpers torn from its gaping jaw and slowly the beast began to topple forward.
“Max move!” Sam yelled, darting again to the side. But she couldn’t. She was trapped in a full on seizure.
Sam dove for his sister, hoping against hope that the thing’s teeth hadn’t grazed against her. He wasn’t exactly sure if this creature, like the werewolf it had been impersonating, could harm humans posthumously. On his knees beside her, he could hear Max gagging over the foul smell of the beast’s dying breath. It heaved once and with a small sigh, was dead.
“Max!” Sam shouted, even though she was right beside him. “Did it get you?” His heart seized a moment when he saw blood on her hand, but she was already shaking her head as well as she could.
“T-tree,” she managed to gasp out. Sam nodded, understanding that she’d only scraped her hand against a natural entity. With a grunt, he began rolling the creature off her, careful to avoid still sharp claws. Then, with an instinct born out of the many frustrating years of information his father had pounded into his brain, he reached for the gun and held it on the creature. He knew the shot had been clean, but with his sister lying prone, so near to the creature, there was no way in hell that he was going to take the chance that he was wrong.
“Can you walk?” he asked again. He wanted to turn his head to look at her when he heard a muffled rhythmic thumping, but there was also the threat that this dijinn hadn’t been alone. As far as his and his father’s research had been able to find, the afreet wouldn’t regenerate the damage they had done to it for at least two hours, maybe even as long as twelve. If they could cut the heart out and destroy it, the dijinn was dead.
“N-no,” she finally managed. Sam swore under his breath, trying to figure out what the hell to do. The tremors in her voice alone were enough to tell him that this was one of her more serious seizures; if not the most serious she’d ever been through. Finally his fears spurned him into action. Sam turned so that his back was presented to her.
“Climb on,” he instructed her, reaching his free hand back for her to grab in case she needed it. It took her a few tries, but finally, he was able to piggyback her out of the clearing they were in. His dad and Dean could deal with the afreet, since he and Max had slightly more pressing issues at the moment.
“D-dean’s kn-knives,” she stammered, drawing Sam’s mind to where the hell his father and brother were. He knew they would have to have heard the gunshots. Had to have known they’d lost Sam and Max. They should have been there moments after that very first report of the gun. Yet they weren’t. This meant one of two things. First, they weren’t sure which direction the sound had come from and so were backtracking their way, watchful of monsters. Or two… and he really didn’t want to go there.
“Dean’ll find them,” he assured her. And his big brother would. Likely, there’d be hell to pay at Sam’s leaving them behind, but Dean would calm down once he knew about Max. She was more important than the knives. “Let’s just get to the car.”
It took an agonizingly long time to make it back to where the Impala and John’s truck were parked. Luckily, they’d encountered nothing else on the way. Tired and slightly worn out, Sam leaned against the Impala’s trunk, so that Max could just slide down his back to a seat. He was sore from trying to stay steady when her tremors were racing through her and by the closeness, into him. It amazed him, the strength that she had developed in controlling those tremors. Holding her on his back had taken all his energy and both hands, making it impossible to call his father.
Once he was sure she’d remain upright, Sam dug his set of car keys out and began a quick search for Max’s bag. The only thing was he couldn’t find it. Shaking his head, he ran to his father’s truck. But the bag wasn’t there either.
“Max?” he called, slightly alarmed. “It’s not here.”
“Wh-what?” she stammered, twisting around to peer at him a few feet away.
“I can’t find your pills,” Sam reiterated. “Are you sure you brought them?”
Max closed her eyes, her jaw clenched as she tried to control her chattering teeth. She remembered putting the pills in her bag, then setting the bag on the chair by the door in their motel room. Dean had set another down on top of it. On the way out the door, Max reminded him about the bags. Had Dean forgotten to grab hers as well?
“I d-don’t know Sam,” she whispered. Sam let out a grieved sigh.
“Well if they’re not here, then they should be back at the motel,” he decided swiftly. “Let’s go.”
“D-dad?” she asked, her trembling causing her to more circumspect with her words than usual.
“They can ride home in the truck,” Sam asserted, moving to open the passenger’s side door before going back to the trunk to assist his sister.
The drive back to the motel was short, but tension filled. Sam kept one hand on the wheel, while his other loosely held their cell phone. He’d tried calling John once, but was informed that his father’s cell was out of service range. Considering the dense forest they’d been moving through, Sam wasn’t surprised. He kept one eye on the road, while the other flickered back and forth between said phone and his sister. The seizure was getting worse and every time he noticed, his foot pressed a little harder on the gas pedal.
“Almost there,” he soothed. He wondered if it would be faster to run into the room, get the pills and bring them back to Max, or try and help her inside. From experience, he knew that it took a little time for the pills to work their way through her system. But the longer she went without them, the more she’d need to take. And with the way they were both feeling, now that some of the adrenalin of facing the afreet had started to fade, Sam didn’t know if they could manage to get her into the motel room quickly enough. Decided, he was bent on getting to their room as quickly as possible.
Pulling in at a haphazard slant, Sam killed the engine of the Impala and had his door open in one smooth move. He clambered from the low seat and dashed to their door, pulling his key out, startled slightly at how smoothly things were going. But just as he pushed the door open, he heard the familiar chirp of the cell phone. He ignored it for a moment, deciding that he’d call whoever it was, probably his Dad, back once he’d taken care of Max. Or, if she was up to it, Max would answer.
Right as he’d thought, the bag containing her tryptophan was sitting on the chair, the bottle at the top of the mound, just under the zipper. Sam whirled back around, not caring that he left the door open. He was unscrewing the cap as he went. He could see Max trying to get her door open and caught it just as she succeeded.
“Ph-phone,” she groaned.
“I know,” Sammy smiled as he shook out four pills. He held his hand out as Max obediently opened her hand. He dumped them in there, even though it would have been quicker for him to just place them in her moth. But she was strangely stubborn about that. Instead of worrying over it, or arguing with her, Sam helped guide her hand to her mouth where she dry-swallowed the pills. “Let me help you inside and then I’ll call whoever it was back.”
Max gave a small nod.
Catching his second wind, Sam simply lifted his sister out of the car and carried her inside. Once he’d deposited her on the bed, he returned to lock up the Impala and take their normal nightly precautions around the room. As he surreptitiously watched his sister’s continued convulsions out of the corner of his eye, he wondered about something he’d read about a few months ago. He turned to pick up the bottle of tryptophan and shook out another pill.
“Hey Max?” he called, gathering her attention. “Have you ever tried taking this under your tongue?”
She looked puzzled at him for a moment, and then understanding dawned. “N-no. I n-never even th-thought about… th-that.”
Sam nodded. It hadn’t occurred to him either until just now. “I don’t know if it would work,” he shrugged. “You’d probably have to grind it up, but maybe it would get into your system quicker that way.”
“D-doesn’t h-hurt to tr-try,” she agreed. Sam nodded once, and then ducked his head, looking for something to grind the pill into powder with. Finally deciding on the butt end of the gun, he checked to make sure it was clean of debris, gun oil or powder. Once it was, he carefully ground up as much of the pill as he could. Grabbing a clean sheet of paper, he scooped the powder onto it and brought it to his sister.
“Open up,” he grinned shakily. Max rolled her eyes but obediently opened her mouth again. This time though, she’d lifted her tongue to the roof of her mouth. She kind of looked silly doing it, but Sammy didn’t care. Knowing that some drugs were taken this way to be more quickly absorbed into the bloodstream made it worthwhile. After he deposited the last of the powder, he put the paper aside and used one finger to push at her jaw. She closed her mouth, her nose wrinkling over the taste of the raw pill.
“Wha nah?” she mumbled and Sam actually did feel a chuckle rumble up out of his chest. He couldn’t help it, she sounded so silly.
“I don’t know,” he shrugged, after deciphering her words. “Just let it sit there until it dissolves I guess.”
She shuddered once more, though Sam couldn’t tell if it was the seizure or something else. “Tess goes.”
Sam furrowed his eyebrows together, trying to decipher that one too. “Yeah, I suppose they would taste gross.”
He couldn’t laugh over it though, since another bout of trembling started shaking her body again. Knowing that she needed the reassurance of physical contact, Sam plunked himself beside her on the bed and wrapped his arms around her slighter form. He held her that way for a good many minutes before it finally eased off and he felt her head loll on his shoulder.
“Better?” he asked softly. She nodded slightly as the cell phone began to ring again.
“I better get that,” he sighed. He steadied her before removing himself and hurried to pick up the phone before it went to voicemail. As expected, it was his father’s number on the view screen. He turned the phone on and answered quietly. “Yeah?”
“Where the hell are you?” his father’s raspy voice demanded heatedly.
“At the motel sir,” Sam bit out. John hadn’t even asked if they were okay.
“What the hell happened?” John demanded, his voice surly.
“Dad,” Sam began, intent on explaining, but was interrupted by an irate father.
“Is Max there with you?”
“Yeah,” Sam answered, turning once to check on her. She’d scooted down lower on the bed. “She’s here.”
“That was damned irresponsible of you Sammy,” John barked out. “Why the hell didn’t you two keep up? What the hell were you thinking?”
“Max had a-!” But John cut him off again.
“And what the hell were you thinking, leaving us behind?” John continued his rant. “Why didn’t you answer your phone earlier? You didn’t even bother to cut the damn thing’s heart out!”
“I’m trying to tell you Dad!” Sam yelled into the phone, his eyes growing hard. “Max had a seizure and she didn’t have her medication with her.”
“What?”
Sam knew by the sudden quietness of his father’s voice that he’d finally penetrated the rant that seemed long overdue from his father. Quickly Sam went over the story, back from the moment when they’d gotten separated. As he had expected, they hadn’t heard him originally call when Max had found the spoors and by the time they realized that they’d lost Max and Sam, Dean had unknowingly tripped a humane trap.
John had just been pulling his eldest son’s leg free when they’d heard the first gunshot. And again, as Sam surmised, they’d been unable to automatically pinpoint the location and had decided to make their way back along the trail they’d been on. It had been slow going because they didn’t know what Sam had been firing at, if it had been the afreet or something else. So they’d been cautious and Dean had been contending with his slight injury. They’d found the demon and now it seemed that upon discovering that Sam and Max were well, it was business as usual.
“…so we’ll bury it and then head back,” John concluded.
“Yes sir,” Sammy offered reluctantly. Sometimes, more often than usual now, Sam wondered at his father’s insistent drive at this vendetta. Max was lying on the bed behind him, having seized so badly that her brain could have swollen and killed her and now John was nonchalantly discussing what to do with the remains of the thing that had nearly killed her. He wanted to shout at his father that maybe Max should have come first in his mind. Shouldn’t he come home and make sure that the next time he saw his daughter; it wouldn’t be as some nameless, faceless coroner was zipping her up in a body bag?
Sam’s shoulders sagged.
It was useless. Utterly useless to even bother trying to approach this with John. Just like everything else in his crazy messed up life. He hung up the phone and debated setting it back down on the table. Finally he decided that he didn’t feel like getting up to retrieve it if someone else called. Like an automaton, he made his way back to the bed to check on his little sister, wondering if in all the years that Dean had been looking after him, taking care of his needs, his older brother had resented their Dad like he did now.
Knowing Dean, probably not.
“What’s wrong?” Max asked quietly from her spot on the bed. Sam remained where he was for the moment. He knew that she had enough to think about without him adding his worries to the mix. But, also knowing her, he knew that she wouldn’t let this alone. He just needed a moment to frame his answer. Slowly he turned to face her. Chewing at the corner of his lip, he regarded his little sister.
Finally he threw the phone onto the other bed and took a seat at the foot of the bed she rested on. “Doesn’t this ever bug you?” he asked quietly, contemplatively.
Max stared at him a moment, trying to discern his meaning. “The seizures?” she asked, a frown marring her forehead. “Of course they bother me. B-but there isn’t much I can do about them.”
“No,” Sam clarified, waving his hand around the motel room. “I mean this. Hunting, always being on the road, the way Dad…” He trailed off, not knowing how she would react to his only somewhat irrational anger. He knew he couldn’t kid himself that Max and Dean had been oblivious to the tensions that arose between his father and himself. Most of the time, they were right in the thick of things, trying to get Sam and John to cool it before blows were exchanged. Not that they were truly worried that it would ever come to that. It was a certain law in their family that John just didn’t hit his kids, not ever in anger. He might cuff them upside the head to get their attention back to where it should be, but that was it.
And Sam just wasn’t one to go in for overt physical displays of anger. He usually tended to bottle it up and then explode over little things that paved the way to the airing of the bigger things that were the true heart of the problem. Usually their fights involved a lot of yelling before John walked away and Sam retreated to his books or a computer or something to divert his focus so that he could calm down.
“Don’t you just get tired of it?” he asked again, hearing the weariness in his own voice.
Max smiled shakily, shrugging her shoulder. “The first ten years of my life were completely the same Sam,” she offered. “Every single day it was the same old thing. Honestly, I like the change. We always get to see someplace new. I’ve learned about stuff I never imagined I would. I’m actually good at something that was never in my scope of possibility before. And we’re helping people. Saving their lives. That counts for a lot, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah, it does,” Sam bit out grudgingly. “But Max, that was before.”
“Before what?” she asked gently.
Sam drew in a deep breath before replying. “Before Dad got caught up in this obsession again.” He eyed his sister, wondering if this conversation would remain private. It wasn’t so much that he was worried that she would run tattling to their father, just that he needed the chance to get some things off his chest. Things that his father and brother refused to listen to.
Max leaned forward, resting shaky arms on her knees. She waited for him to continue and Sam felt chagrined. Of them all, Max knew best how to keep her silence on anything you needed her to. “Now that we’re out of school, out of the program, it’s like Dad doesn’t have to be so distracted anymore. He doesn’t have to worry anymore that people are going to interfere in our lives. Now he can get back to going after that demon that killed Mom and the best part of all is he’s got three little soldiers backing him up, ready to jump in the line of fire, all in the name of vengeance.”
He hadn’t noticed her flinch at his soldier reference, but probably would have written it off as a part of her subsiding seizures. “Do you really think that Dad thinks of us that way Sam?” she demanded softly.
Sam glanced away, shaking his head, the mop of unruly hair falling into his eyes. Impatiently, he shoved it away, standing up as he did so. “No!” he denied, even though deep down he felt that there was some justification in what he was saying. “But honestly Max, as soon as he found out you were okay, it was right back to business.”
“Well what was he going to do?” Max chuckled derisively. “Run back here to hold my hand and sing me lullabies?” Even Sam had to chuckle at that thought. He quickly sobered up again though.
“I don’t know Max,” he sighed. “I just… I really wish that this were all over.”
“Okay,” she spoke simply, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with him. She just accepted.
“It just really pisses me off that Dad will do almost anything to get this demon,” Sam went on. “He’d sacrifice anything.”
“Would he Sam?” Max pressed, staring intently at him. Sam flushed and glanced away again. No, he knew that wasn’t true. There were certain things that he wouldn’t sacrifice, namely three things, Max, Dean and himself.
“I just don’t know how he does it Max,” he muttered. He looked fully at his sister, taking a seat on the bed opposite her. “How does he keep on going? After everything that’s happened? When I was a baby, when we were growing up, when you…” He trailed off suddenly, realizing that he’d almost strayed into the unspoken, forbidden territory of Max’s disappearance.
“When I what?” Max asked tartly, seeming to already know what Sam was referring to.
“When you disappeared,” Sam covered hastily, unable to meet her eyes.
“Why would that be a factor in Dad being strong?” she asked wryly.
“Because of what happened to you Max,” Sam answered softly. “Dad- we, couldn’t be there to help you, to keep you safe from that bastard…”
“It was no big deal Sam,” Max shivered, glancing away now herself.
Suddenly Sam saw red. He was so tired of his family always trying to downplay all that was horrible in the world. “It wasn’t nothing Max!” he exploded. “The bastard ra-!’” But suddenly he caught himself again. Biting his lower lip, Sam clenched his jaw. It wasn’t right for him to push those horrible things back to the front of his baby sister’s mind because he didn’t like the way his father conducted himself.
Max stared at her brother, seeing the tension nearly radiate off him. “The bastard what?” she questioned pointedly. But her brother stubbornly refused to answer. The words played over in her mind and suddenly, the tense behavior from all the males, from John on down to Bobby suddenly became crystal clear in her mind. Now she knew why they had stepped so lightly around her, why they hadn’t questioned her story. And the knowledge of how close they were to the actual reality of that sordid day lodged like a lump in her throat. But for them to have gone all this time believeing…
“You thought Marv…?” Max managed to get out. Her eyes fluttered shut a moment as she took in the implications of what was weighing so heavily on her family. She had to stop this, to convince them that she was all right. Otherwise it was something, stoic men that they were, that would gnaw in their livers for the rest of their lives. “Sam?” she waited until he slowly raised his gaze to her face. “Sam,” she repeated, her words clear and strong. “I wasn’t raped Sam.”
He stared, unconvinced. Max scooted herself to the edge of the bed and reached out to grasp his hand. Sam’s gaze dropped to stare miserably at their entwined fingers.
“I guess I can see why you’d think that,” Max went on, a little shakier now. “But that, thank God, never happened.”
“Then why…” Sam began, unable to meet her face. “Why were you so quiet? So withdrawn? Why did you let Dad take you to the doctor?”
“I went to the doctor,” Max began, deciding that this would answer all his queries. “Because even though nothing horrible happened to me, I couldn’t shake it off.” She saw that she most definitely had his attention now. “Even though I was back home with you guys, I was still tense, nervous, shaky. My heart… it was pounding so bad, hurting.” She laughed softly, averting her eyes as she lied once more. “I thought I was having a heart attack.”
“Oh my God,” Sam groaned in sympathy. His fingers tightened on hers.
“What happened to me in that motel room,” Max continued, her voice so quiet that Sam had to lean forward to hear. “It was as if… as if someone else had come into my mind and just… pushed aside everything that I was, you know? I couldn't act… just react, to everything that was happening to me.”
Sam, knowing that she once again needed physical comfort, for more profound reasons than her seizures, shifted himself and her so that they were once again sitting side by side, without ever having let go of her hand.
“I wasn’t in control anymore,” Max admitted. “He… he had a power over me. He did those things to me… said things to me. And I let him.” Finally with that admission, tears came. Sam let her cry, not knowing what to say. “I gave him that power and I lost myself. That’s never happened to me before Sam.” Her voice was imploring, begging him to understand. In a weird way, he did. “I lost myself.”
Silence reigned until Max finally rubbed at her eyes with her free hand and shifted slightly away from him.
“So what did the doctor say?” he asked carefully. To his surprise, Max laughed, although it was a rather deprecating sound.
“According to her,” she began grandly. “I was still in the throes of the trauma I had suffered.”
“Like post traumatic stress disorder?” Sam questioned, aware from previous media hype what a serious condition it was.
“Not that bad,” Max shook her head. “It was just a plain, old-fashioned panic attack.”
Sam nodded. He could certainly understand that. “And after? Was that why you were so withdrawn while we were at Bobby’s?”
“Partly,” she shrugged. “Some of it was trying to work through what happened. Some of it was… “
“Was what?”
Max exhaled loudly, pursing her lips. She turned her head to look at her brother. “Don’t take this the wrong way Sammy,” she frowned. Sam shook his head, indicating that he wouldn’t, or at least would try not to. “Some of it was you guys. You were all trying so hard to make me feel like everything was okay. It just kind of, I don’t know, pointed it out even more harshly that things weren’t okay.”
That made a certain amount of sense to Sam. “So what changed then?”
“Uh, well,” she ducked her head, grinning even as she blushed. “It was, uh… Dean.”
“Dean?” Sam scoffed. Max glanced up at the teasing tone in which he spoke.
“Yeah, him, that guy,” she giggled. “I’m sorry, but there he was in a bar, getting drunk, probably surrounded by honeys, but he was so worried about me that he left it all behind.”
“Yeah, I guess that is pretty flattering,” Sam conceded. Max giggled again.
“Well I just figured, if he was going to make that much effort, maybe it was time I reciprocated,” Max explained. “I thought that if I made some effort to get back to normal, it might make things better. And it did.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Sam sighed. He glanced down at his sister. “We were really worried. I guess it wasn’t the right thing in the end to be worried about, but still.”
“I know,” Max sniffed back her tears. “I worry about you guys too,” she admitted quietly. Sam smiled. Even though the subject had been disturbing, it felt good to get things out in the open, to clear the air. “Oh hey,” she exclaimed, pushing herself upright again. “If you’re interested, that doctor gave me some pamphlets about the panic attacks, stress relievers, those sorts of things.”
“Why?” Sam smirked. “Do I look like I’m having a panic attack?”
“You’re not quite there yet,” Max giggled. “But sometimes I wonder.”
“Where are they?”
“In my bag, side zipper,” Max told him. With easy and deceptive grace, Sam extricated himself from his sister’s side. It amused him that she could switch gears so easily. But unlike his older brother, who also rapidly switched gears, it wasn’t to avoid touchy feely moments. Max genuinely was interested in the subjects that her lightening fast mind moved to. And if talking about literature that a doctor had given her would distract her from the lingering tremors, then Sam was all for it.
He moved back to her pack and checked the first zippered pocket, but those were her toiletries. He zipped it back up quickly and reached across to check the other one. As expected, there were a small handful of colorful brochures. Smiling, Sam flipped through them. But the smile quickly faded as his roaming eyes landed on a particularly unexpected notion.
Sam slowly turned, extricating the damning evidence of something he really didn’t want to think about. “You’re on birth control?” he asked, disbelieving. And even as her head snapped up and her eyes flashed to his and then back down to her lap guiltily, he still didn’t want to believe it. All the previous suspicions came rushing back to him.
“God!” Max snorted, her fingers picking nervously at the accumulated balls of lint on the comforter surrounding her. “Is nothing private in this family?”
“Does Dad know about this?” Sam demanded, shaking the pamphlet in his hand.
“Well duh!” Max retorted scathingly. “He’s the one that signed the papers for it.”
Sam exhaled loudly. His father knew, had approved. He realized just after Max, why now John had actually allowed it.
“I don’t see what the big deal is,” Max huffed. “Dad’s always making sure that you guys have condoms.”
“It’s different,” Sam snapped, still dazed. But then he realized how harshly he was speaking and tried to soften his tone. “And I don’t use them.” He realized the message he was sending when he heard the muffled gurgle in the back of her throat. “No. I didn’t mean that. I meant that I haven’t really had the chance to put them to use much. Um... That didn’t sound any better, did it?”
“It’s okay Sammy,” she giggled again. “I’m kind of in the same boat.” At his puzzled look, she gestured to the pamphlet. “Read the paragraph about the side effects.”
Grimacing slightly, Sam did as directed. He knew of course what female birth control was, what it was for, but in his health classes that he’d taken, they’d never gone into the other medical aspects of what the hormone based pills did. He read through quickly and blushing, glanced back up at his sister.
“So, you uh… aren’t um, taking these for…?” he stammered.
“Sam, you saw what a mess I was around that time of the month,” she teased. Sam ducked his head, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. He didn’t know which would get him into more trouble with her. “It just wasn’t worth the hassle.”
Sam nodded, kind of seeing her point, though he knew he’d never truly understand, thankfully not ever having to be in her shoes on that point. And it was kind of a relief to know that if the pills worked the way they should, bitchy Max would be a thing of the past. At least bitchy at that time of the month Max. She could be awfully bitchy when she felt it was warranted.
“Could you do me a favor Sam?” Max asked him softly. He looked at her, seeing the uncertainty in her face. “I mean, I know it won’t be comfortable.”
“What do you need?” he asked without hesitation. Whatever it was, he could endure a little discomfort if it made her feel better.
“Could you tell Dad?” she asked plaintively. “I mean,” she hastened to say, “you don’t have to give him specifics or anything, just, you know, let him know what we talked about?”
It was an easy decision to make. “Of course,” Sam half-smiled. It might be an uncomfortable topic to broach, but it was something that would lift a huge weight off of their minds. “But what about Dean?”
“Oh, um,” Max actually blushed. Sam was stuck suddenly by how girly Max could actually get over some things. “Well, I don’t think he needs to know about the birth control.”
“Yeah,” Sam spoke derisively, “he’d pretty much blow a gasket over that wouldn’t he?” He laughed, imagining his brother’s Neanderthal attitude trying to adjust to the fact that his little sister was growing up. Even if the prompting behind her decision had been for health reasons and not the obvious ones, Dean would still be opinionated over it. “Don’t worry,” he chuckled, leaning over to rub her shoulder. “I’ll take care of it.” The look of appreciation that crossed her face was almost startling. Sam could see her whole body relaxing as another small tremor passed through her. It was then that they heard the subdued roar of their father’s truck.
“Speak of the… well, not devil,” Max smiled.
“Okay, why don’t you try and get some sleep,” Sam instructed. He hid the birth control pamphlet back into her bag, carefully zipping it up before gesturing to the door. “I’ll go head them off at the pass.” He got another grin in return and just as the truck pulled into the lot, Sam was waiting, standing closer to the passenger’s side as it turned out. He gestured at his brother before Dean could open the door, and seeing this, John cut the engine and leaned forward so that he could see past his eldest son.
“Is she okay?” Dean asked immediately, even before he’d gotten the window rolled down. Sam nodded quickly.
“She’s still having a few tremors, but I think the worst has passed,” Sam informed them, leaning against the door, with one hand hooked over the frame.
“So then let me out,” Dean grumped.
“Just hang on a sec,” Sam huffed, leaning his full weight against the door.
“What’s the matter?” John asked quietly. He could see the papers Sammy was holding, wondering about them.
“Max and I got to talking,” Sam began quietly, leaning his head in so any chance passerby wouldn’t overhear him. Not that it was likely that late at night, but you never knew. Quickly and with only some embarrassment over the topic, Sam managed to relate what Max had told him about her abduction and the resulting stresses. Both older Winchester’s seemed immensely relieved, though John still looked a little suspicious. Dean simply gestured for his brother to open the door and let him out. Sam did so, holding the door open while Dean snagged his duffel bag from the floor of the truck cab.
“You coming?” he grunted as he hefted the bag over his shoulder.
“In a minute,” Sam shrugged. “There’s something else I need to talk to Dad about.” John, hearing that, stayed put. Dean’s glance darted back and forth between their faces; both stoic and a small frown line appeared in his forehead. “We’re not gonna fight,” Sam assured his brother in put upon, annoyed tones.
“All right,” Dean shrugged, either too tired to worry about it, or maybe actually believing him. Sam waited until his brother had entered the motel room, teasingly chiding Max over leaving his daggers behind and deciding that she’d have to clean them herself, before he climbed into the seat that his brother had just vacated. He pulled the door shut and awkwardly shifted his legs around so that his body was turned toward his father.
“What else did she say?” John demanded as soon as Sam was settled. He knew that there had to have been more.
“She didn’t want Dean to hear, ‘cause he’d lose it,” Sam smirked. John frowned. “Uh, about the birth control Dad…”
“She told you about that?”
“Um, well no,” Sam hedged. “I kind of found out on accident.” John didn’t bother to ask how. If his son said it was an accident, then it was. “Anyways, after we talked about the other stuff, she and I realized that you probably let her get it, um ‘cause, well, you know.”
John nodded.
“But apparently, she didn’t.”
“Didn’t what?” John demanded irritably, unsure what Sam was trying to tell him. “She didn’t get it?”
“No,” Sammy hastened to explain. “She got it because it’s supposed to help her with, um… thattimeofthemonth,” he finished in a rush.”
“With what?” John squinted at his son, leaning towards him. “That time of the month?” he clarified after taking a moment to decipher his son’s impromptu babble. Sammy nodded gratefully, glad that he didn’t have to repeat himself. John’s gaze focused towards the motel room, his eyes half-lidded as he mulled this new information over. He turned back towards his son. “You sure?”
“That’s what she told me,” Sammy shrugged. “And I read the pamphlet that the doctor gave to her about it. If it works the way it’s supposed to…”
There was a little pause before John chuckled wryly. “Okay son, good to know.”
*****
Everything was back to normal, at last, Max mused. Well, as close to normal as their strange little family could get. She shrugged on her leather coat as she moved through the motel room, with kitchenette this time as she mulled over the changes the last few weeks seemed to have brought. John, Dean and Sam had relaxed quite a bit with her and more hunts came their way. Right now, they’d crossed the border into Kansas, as far as the males had wanted to go. John was out, not having bothered to tell them what he was going to be doing. Sam was taking a shower and Dean was flipping through the channels on the television.
Max moved over to the table in between the refrigerator and the beds. Casually picking up Dean’s coat and rifled through the pockets. Once she’d found what she wanted, she laid the coat back down and crossed over to the bathroom door. She knocked and waited until she heard Sam’s muffled “what?”
“I’m heading over to Lawrence to pick up the mail,” she informed him loudly, partly to be heard through the door and partly over the volume of the television. “Do you want me to pick you up anything?”
“Nah, I’m good,” came his reply. Max nodded once and headed out. Dean hadn’t said anything, so she simply assumed he either wasn’t paying attention, or didn’t need anything. She had her hand on the knob when the volume abruptly quit.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” her older brother demanded. She turned and fixed him with an amused stare.
“Out to get the mail,” she spoke slowly, “oh aged deaf one.”
Dean rolled his eyes as he swung his legs off the bed and stood. “I know that brat,” he growled at her. He crossed over to her and grabbed the hand that held his car keys. “I meant where do you think you’re going with these?” He shook her hand, making the keys jangle against one another.
“Dad took the truck and he’s having another one of his twitchy vibes about my baby,” Max explained with a smirk. Dean sighed heavily. Max pulled her hand loose and crossed her arms. “So it’s either take the Impala, or you come with me.”
An agonized grimace settled onto his face as Dean mulled over his options. He knew that letting Max go off on her bike when their father was against it would only bring down his wrath on all their heads. But again, going back into Lawrence was something he’d sworn never to do. Every single time their father had returned, for whatever reason, Dean had found some way out of it. But still there had to be a way out of this.
“Yeah, something else,” he finally said, distinctly. “Now give me my keys.”
“Huh?”
“If Dad asks,” Dean grinned, still holding his hand out, “you asked if you could take your bike. You heard yeah, but I said something else.”
Max’s sudden grin matched his. “That way I can blame you, you can blame me and he hopefully won’t yell so much.”
“That or we can tell him Sammy took off in the car,” Dean smirked. “Then Dad will yell at him and I get an excuse to kick his scrawny little butt.”
“I heard that!” Sam yelled, obviously finished with his shower. Dean waggled his eyebrows at his sister as she giggled.
“Better scram then imp!”
Max stepped forward to press a quick peck on his cheek while depositing his keys in his hand. Dean stood still for her sibling affection, and then reached out with his free hand to tickle her ribs.
“And pick me up some chips and pop,” he instructed as he turned to head back to the bed.
“Whatever,” she scoffed happily.
As she got on her bike, Max checked her inside jacket pocket to check that the letter she wanted to mail to Molly Gallagher was secure. It was, and she began her trek to retrieve the mail.
It only took Max a few hours from the motel before she was pulling into Lawrence. She’d come with John before on these trips, so she knew exactly where to go. She’d once asked about their old house and John had clammed up for the next day, so she’d never asked again, even though she was still curious about it. On this occasion, she didn’t bother. She didn’t want to have to lie about what she’d done. It was better to just grab the mail and head back.
She entered the post office and headed for the Winchester box. As she expected, the mail accumulated didn’t fit into the small cubicle assigned to the family. All that was there were two notes. One stating that their mail was behind the counter and they could pick it up during regular hours. And the other stating that there was a registered letter waiting for Samuel Winchester. Judging by the date of the card, it had just arrived yesterday. Intrigued, Max shut the small door and turned the key to lock it.
She rounded the corner into the actual office, pulling her own letter to Molly as she did so. Se waited for her turn to quickly come and was greeted by an unfamiliar man. Given that it had been a while since she’d been there last, Max figured he must be new. She laid down all three items in her hand.
“I’m here to collect our mail,” she informed the man. “Box 268 and I need a stamp for this letter.”
The guy smiled and nodded, picking up the two cards. “Did you want the registered letter?”
“I can sign for it?” Max asked.
“I’ll need to see id, but yeah,” he informed her. Max quickly pulled out her proper driver’s license and waited for the man to return. He laid a grocery bag on the counter and then a letter clipped to a clipboard. Max showed him her license and he efficiently extricated the letter, turning the clipboard to face her. He indicated where she should sign, handed her a pen and turned to retrieve a stamp for her letter. Max handed him the correct change and he rang it up, bidding her a good day, while he affixed the stamp to the letter and turned to put it in the sorting pile.
Max gathered the bag and letter and moved out of the way for the customer behind her. The usual ritual was to quickly discard all the junk mail that they ended up getting, put aside the credit card offers and check to see if there were any vital missives from friends or other hunters. But Max was drawn to the fact that Sammy had an honest to goodness registered letter. As she used her back to push open the glass door, she flipped it over and checked out the return address.
Leland J. Stanford University.
She paused in the doorway, puzzled. What on earth did they want with Sam? There was only one likely explanation. Sam had been applying to colleges. And one of them had replied. Now, all those times that she’d seen him hunched over that thick manila envelope, hiding it from her and Dean and their father, suddenly made sense. He must have had brochures and whatnot in there.
Sighing, Max stuffed the letter into the grocery bag. She was sure that she’d find out soon enough what it said, though, judging by the thickness, she imagined she knew the answer already. Deciding to head over and find some coffee while she went through the mail, Max headed back to her bike.
The whole ride home, she wondered about the letter Sam had received. She knew Stanford was a pretty prestigious university. She also wondered why Sam hadn’t said anything about applying for school there. Maybe he had just wanted to see if he could get in. But Sam wasn’t the type to go for possible accolades. If he’d applied, then he was serious about attending if accepted. And because he hadn’t said anything, Max was quite sure that she shouldn’t say anything either. She wondered briefly how she could give the letter to Sam without John and Dean realizing what was going on. Dean was nosy enough to horn in on anything that Max gave Sam, with a few exceptions. And even as she thought it, Max realized that there was a way to be sneaky in her family.
With that in mind, Max pulled into a moderately sized convenience store. She headed over to snag the snacks that her brother had asked for, though it was beyond her why. It would have just been easier and quicker for him to go after the stuff himself. But typically, Dean chose to let her do the work instead. She snorted to herself, deliberately picking out the whole grain snacks that he despised and a large bottle of orange juice. That would teach him. She grabbed a drink for herself, John and Sam, and then headed over to check out the magazine rack. She quickly found what she wanted, paid the clerk and was back on her bike.
She stowed the purchases with the mail, then reached for the cell phone she’d easily convinced John that she needed. She dialed her brother, not knowing if John was back from his impromptu day trip.
“Yeah?” came her older brother’s bored voice.
“It’s me,” she answered pertly. “Just wanted to let you know I’m almost back.”
“Okay,” Dean acknowledged. She heard Sam in the background and then John’s voice. “Hang on.” Max waited, figuring that Dean was going to relay a message from one or both of them. “Max?”
“Yeah?”
“Sam asked if you could pick him up something to drink,” Dean relayed. Max smiled to herself. “And Dad wants to know how long you’ll be.”
“About twenty minutes and I already got something for Sam,” Max informed him. “And no, I didn’t forget you either.”
“Yeah, that’s my girl,” Dean chuckled. “See you in twenty then.”
Max didn’t bother replying as she hung up her phone and stuffed it back in her jacket, eager to get on her way.
Once she pulled up to the motel, she could see faint shadows through the curtained window, of her family moving about in the room. Knowing that she had to act quickly, or else they’d converge on her to make sure she was all right, Max quickly slipped Sam’s letter into the magazine she’d bought. She slipped it back into the bag of groceries, collected the rest of the mail and headed to their room. Before she could even knock, Sam had yanked the door open, his eyes bright and welcoming.
“Finally,” he sighed, reaching to take a bag from her, but Max elbowed him away. “I was about to die of thirst. The water here is gross.”
“If you were that thirsty, why didn’t you find a pop machine or something?” Max chuckled.
“I tried, but they were out of anything decent,” Sam sighed, following Max to the little table in the kitchenette. “And then Dean said you’d already bought me something.”
“I did,” she confirmed, smiling at her eldest brother and father. “Just a second,” she muttered, pushing his hands away from the bags. She opened the grocery bag and pulled out the pop she had chosen for him. He opened it gratefully and took a large swallow. Then she pulled out the magazine. “I also got you this.”
Sam continued drinking, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. He looked comical as he tried to slant his eyes to see what was in her hands, still trying to slake his thirst. He held out his hand as he finished one last gulp. “Oh,” he muttered, realizing what it was. His eyes darted back up to Max. “I already read this issue.”
“You did?” Max tried to sound surprised, even though she already knew that. “Oh shoot.”
“That’s okay,” Sam chuckled, setting the pop down to flip through the magazine once more. “You didn’t know. I can always read through it again.”
“Sure thing,” she smiled back. “Actually, there’s an article on some new computer graphics that I wanted to look at, if you don’t mind.” At least that way she could ensure that he wouldn’t throw the magazine away unread, with his letter still inside. Sam just nodded and Max turned to her waiting family.
“Did you get my stuff?” Dean demanded, holding out his hands.
“Dean, we’re going for lunch right away,” John chided, a fond grin gracing his face.
“Which I will eat,” Dean retorted cheekily. “But I’m about ready to pass out with hunger, thanks to waiting for miss slow poke here.”
Max said nothing, simply tossing the chips and juice in her brother’s lap. He stared at them incredulously, then back up at his sister.
“You are such a brat,” he grimaced, pushing the food aside. “Now where’re my chips?”
“You didn’t specify what kind of chips Dean,” she taunted sweetly.
Sam, who had been slowly flipping through the pages of the familiar computer magazine, felt something slip. He caught it automatically, figuring it was probably an insert for subscriptions. But oddly, it felt too thick and his eyes strayed down to take in the cream colored envelope. Flipping open to the page where it was inserted, he drew in a sharp breath as he realized what it was. His eyes darted to his family, who weren’t paying any notice of him. Max and John were now arguing over her applying for a credit card and Dean was digging through the grocery bag, looking for anything he could munch on. Max distracted him with a candy bar and his eldest brother started shuffling through the rest of the mail.
He knew that Max had done this for him, somehow figuring out his secret. Taken aback by the unexpected arrival of this letter, Sam wasn’t sure what to do. But since Max had gone to some lengths to keep it hidden, Sam decided that that was the best course of action. He slid the envelope back into the magazine and as casually as possible inserted it into his duffle. At least Max had the sense to choose something to hide it in that John and Dean wouldn’t rifle through. After zipping up the bag, Sam straightened up.
“So, who’s ready to go eat?” he asked brightly, clapping his hands together. He ignored his brother’s mumbled ‘finally!’ and grabbed Max’s sleeve as she brushed by him. She paused and glanced up at him. “Thanks,” he muttered quietly. “For the magazine.”
Max held his eyes for a moment, understanding passing between them. “You’re welcome.”
*****
It was so much later, finally that night, when Max had a chance to talk to her brother. He’d taken off back to the motel as soon as he’d finished his meal. The rest of the family had followed along desultorily, since there was no hunt in the town they were in. They were just taking a short break from traveling. When they entered the motel room, it was to find him watching television. But Max could see the thoughtful apprehension in his eyes, not really taking in what was before him.
Dean had decided early in the evening, since there was nothing good on TV, that he was going to head out to a bar down the road. John had simply sighed and told him to be careful, everyone in the family knowing exactly what he’d meant.
Eventually, their father had fallen asleep on the boy’s bed. Max had waited until she was sure he was asleep, and then motioned Sam to join her in the bathroom. She turned the shower on and then turned to her brother.
“What’s up?” Sam asked, slightly uncomfortable as he leaned against the bathroom sink. Max sank onto the closed toilet seat.
“Did you get in?” she asked quickly and quietly. The air seemed to deflate out of her brother.
“Yeah,” he sighed, not bothering with the denial that would have been on his lips with anyone else. He waited to hear the accusation in her words, her tone, to see it in her face, but when he chanced a glance at her, all he could see was a luminous smile.
Max hopped up and wrapped her arms around her brother. “That’s so great Sammy. That’s wonderful.”
Sam wrapped his arms around her in return, not even caring that she called him by his hated nickname. “I guess,” he mumbled. Max let him loose and stepped back.
“How many schools did you apply to?” she asked softly.
“Four,” Sam answered with a shrug. “This was the first reply I got back. I uh, really wasn’t expecting it so soon.”
“So?” Max prompted, trying to figure out what was really bothering her brother.
“So?” Sam mimicked. Max stared piercingly at him, suddenly understanding.
“Dad’s going to freak, isn’t he?” she demanded, voicing his fears for him.
“In more ways than one I’m afraid,” Sam agreed.
And there wasn’t anything Max could say to refute that.
Chapter Twenty-two
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