Fiction WiC23- Frayed

Title: When It Changes
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 although after the last chapter, I think people are getting suspicious…)

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-three

Frayed

“No more listening to him snore all night,” Dean sighed. He and Max were sitting, waiting for their father to return, in another little rundown motel, just outside of Nowheresville, Who-the-hell-cares-anymore. Dean had control of the remote, but reception was spotty at best. But still, idly, he flicked through the channels.

“No more being woken up from a sound sleep when he falls out of bed,” Max replied, just as quietly. She sat on the couch, sideways, her knees drawn up to her chin, her arms wrapped around her legs loosely. Her eyes however were bright and took in everything. They flickered back and forth between the annoyance of the television screen and that of her older brother.

“No more being kicked in the shins while I’m sleeping,” Dean muttered with a half-smile. Flick, he found another channel.

“Now it’s being elbowed in the back by Dad,” Max grinned, remembering Dean complaining of that just that morning. John had just grunted and shaken his head.

“No more fighting over the radio station,” Dean continued, back to morose. Flick, another channel.

“Like you ever let him fight about that anyway,” Max shrugged. “Remember, driver’s rules and all that?”

“No more whining about getting to drive the car,” Dean countered. His thumb paused on the remote, as something seemed to catch his interest, but it wasn’t enough and the screen flickered again.

“At least we’ll all fit in the car and if we have to, in the truck. Even though sitting on that stupid hump hurts like hell,” Max pointed out. “In case of emergency, you know.” Her brother’s eyes flashed towards her, filled with a ‘there’s no way in hell I’ll leave my baby behind and you know it’ glance. The TV changed again.

“No more lame ass pranks to put up with,” he muttered, distractedly leaning his head against the hand whose elbow rested on the arm of the sofa.

“So speaks the genius who believes that Nair was put on this earth simply to gratify his need to see his brother bald,” Max chuckled. At least she got a grin out of him there. But it faded just as quickly as it had come. The television flickered a little more rapidly that time.

“No more geek babble over stupid, meaningless crap!” Dean said decisively, this time. Max quirked an eyebrow at him.

“If you really wanted me to, I could very easily fill in that gap,” she smiled. Dean rolled his eyes and flicked through the channels again. Max was starting to get to the point where she was about to rip the remote out of his hands and throw it through a wall. And with the sly glance he threw her way, it let her know that Dean was fully aware of how annoying he was being. Almost as if he were trying to get a rise out of her, just so that she’d break, start throwing a tantrum, to which he could respond and thereby get his mind off of what was really troubling him. It was that, or go to a bar. And since John would throw a slightly more monumental than tantrum type fit if he left Max alone, that was out of the question.

“You know,” Max pointed out calmly, gesturing to the television. “Since we’re only getting three channels, I think you’ve seen everything that you’re gonna see.”

“Hope springs eternal,” Dean grunted, smirking at her as he casually flicked through the channels again.

Max fought against returning his grin. His goal may have been to break her into distracting him, but hers was about breaking him down so he could get past this, if only in some small measure. Ever since Sam had left, Dean had alternated between long moments of solitude, pulling away from both John and Max and moments of pure unadulterated brashness when he was open to anything, if only to kick through the darkness surrounding them all like a death pall.

“So, no more…?” she prompted.

Dean rolled his head, neck and shoulders, trying to loosen up. It didn’t really work. Finally, he clicked off the television and turned towards his sister. “This game sucks!” he stated emphatically.

“That’s why we call it ‘the sucky game’,” Max reminded him.

“I thought we were calling it ‘the reasons we’re glad that Sam left game’,” Dean countered, his voice going back to snarky.

“And are you really?” Max asked calmly. She already knew the answer, whether Dean would admit to it or not. He blew out an aggrieved sigh, but before he could even reach for it, Max had dodged forward from her position and snagged the remote before he could.

“Hey!” Dean yelped as her hand had landed in a slightly close to precarious place. “Hands off!”

“I don’t think so,” Max taunted, holding the small piece of equipment before her. Dean reached for it but she pulled it away from him. His eyes glittered warningly, but in true annoying little sister fashion, she did it again. Knowingly taking the bait again, Dean lunged for the remote and nearly had it. But Max, genetically engineered super soldier that she sort of was, was prepared for it. She was willing to sacrifice her position, especially in the face of helping her big brother get through something that she knew she probably wasn’t handling much better than he was.

True, she’d already dealt with losing family members to them simply being elsewhere, away from her. But that didn’t mean she had to like it happening all over again to her. At least in this case, she had a safety net to fall back into. Now if only she could get Dean and John to see it that way too. To see that just because there was suddenly a gaping hole in their family, didn’t mean that they had to fall through it too.

With that in mind, Max scooted back, pushing herself up onto the arm of her end of the couch. Dean watched with amusement and some disbelief that she was goading him into this. But he also couldn’t resist. Whether he was trying to prove that he was superior to her, able to outsmart her, or just giving into the distraction, he wasn’t sure. And so he gave chase, not at all surprised when she rolled backwards off the couch to crouch on the floor, grinning up at him.

Older brother gave chase after little sister in a romp that took them through the very stifling motel room. He noted that she was wise enough to stay away from the bathroom, since he could corner her in there. She did make the appearance of feinting for it, but he didn’t fall for her ruse. He did manage to catch her on the bed nearest the door, though he had the inkling that she had let him catch her.

He tackled her low, in the knees, bringing her down in her flight across the furniture, but she was already trying to twist out of his grip. Just as he was careful about where he grabbed her, she was also careful that her minute kicks wouldn’t damage him. And then he heard her giggle. It was a refreshing sound. One that he hadn’t really heard in a while. And while he had never been prone to giggling himself, Dean wanted to hear more of it. To that end, instead of manly trying to take the remote from her grasping hands, he set about wiling it away from her by debilitating her.

After a good fifteen minute tickle fight, they finally calmed somewhat, the remote lying forgotten on the floor. Dean’s head was resting on Max’s stomach as she lay stretched out, her head at the foot of the bed while her feet had scattered the pillows. Dean’s feet were resting on the floor where his legs hung over the side. But neither felt inclined to move. Some, not all of their frustration and pain were dissipated and it felt good just to relax and not think about things for a while. Until that annoyed, slightly angry tone caught them by surprise.

“Just what the hell do you two think you’re doing?”

*****              

John paid for the pizzas and drinks that he’d ordered. While waiting for them to bake, he’d sat at a table in the little pizzeria, looking over the file folder of information he’d been putting together. Another day, another hunt. It was the only thing that was keeping him going right now. Knowing that there was someone else out there that he could help, even if it felt like his own life was once again being flushed down the crapper.

His eyes flickered once again over the picture of the damn artifact that he’d finally managed to track down. He still had no clue as to what it really was. Stealthily, tortuously, the thought entered his brain. ‘Sam could figure it out. Get on that newfangled computer of his and-'  No. John knew he had to put the kibosh on those thoughts. Sam had made his choice and he had left. There was no use thinking about what could be, what should be. There was only the reality of the here and now.

And the truth was the reality was worse than what he’d imagined. Not only for himself. But for the kids too. John may not have wanted to acknowledge Sam right now, what this separation from his family could be doing to him, in both supernatural and natural courses, but he did need to face the toll it was taking on Dean and Max. For while Sam had made the choice to leave, they’d made the choice to stay. With John. And the elder Winchester knew that if they didn’t suck it up and pull their heads out of the sand completely, then mistakes would be made. And that was fatal.

It was just, for those first few days after Sam had left, John couldn’t calm down. He couldn’t get past the hurt of Sam’s words, his verbal rant pretty much spitting on his mother’s memory. He thought sometimes that he could get past anything. But not Sammy disrespecting the mother that had died for him. It wasn’t until he was confronted with the physical evidence of Dean’s fears that he knew he had to pull himself together.

Just days after Sam left, John had pulled the kids along with him to a new town. He’d signed them in at a motel, had dumped his bags on the bed that he and Dean would share and then taken off to the local bar.

He’d returned, not drunk, but not entirely sober, to find his bed with no cover, flat sheets and only one pillow. Quick glance told him precisely where his son was. Curled around his little sister, back to the door, protecting her from whatever the hell might be coming their way.

There was nothing lewd about the scene, though at first description as he’d just put it, some people might have thought so. But upon closer inspection, John had seen what must have happened. Max, in her bed, Dean in his. Dean had probably waited until Max was asleep, then pulled the comforter from his bed and pillows and joined his sister. It was obvious once you took in the fact that Max was completely under her sheets and bedspread and Dean’s was half laying on the floor and John could see his feet sticking out, on top of the primary covers.

He began to watch them after that, on the sly, though he had the notion that Max knew. For the longest time, when they were younger, before Max had come into their lives, Dean was all about protecting his younger brother. When Max came along, the attention was split. Not completely in half, it seemed to depend more on what was happening around them. Some of Dean’s drive to protect was instinctive, in putting family first. Some of it was instinctive in protecting the fragile female, though Max was anything but. Still, his son wouldn’t see it that way. It was just Dean’s basic response to different threats. If something threatened Sam, he protected Sam. If something threatened Max, he protected Max. John had the humorous thought that if both Sam and Max were in imminent danger, Dean would find some way to tear himself in half if he had to, to protect them both.

And now it seemed, with Sammy gone, all of Dean’s intense big brother ways had settled on Max. But instead of protesting or bucking the mantle of the youngest, need to be protected status, Max was allowing it. Like she sensed that Dean needed to do this in order to keep functioning. But only at first. After a few days of enduring Dean’s mother henning ways, she began what seemed to John a very carefully designed course of protest. It was always over little things, stuff that she normally wouldn’t put up with. Things that John knew that Dean was also well aware of. To him, it was like Dean and Max were restructuring their boundaries, filling in the empty hole where Sammy used to be.

And if he was honest with himself, he was jealous.

He wanted in. He wanted to be part of that protective circle they set up with each other, instead of being the one that circled around on high alert. But he knew that wouldn’t happen. Whether it was because he never gave any sign of it, or because they harbored some anger at him for forcing Sammy away… Well, he knew they didn’t actively think like that. Dean had made enough comments to know that his son’s anger was placed mostly at the heels of the one who’d left. But he was a smart enough man to know that Dean wasn’t happy with his old man either

But at least for now, they were dealing, if in their own way. And he was dealing in his. Another day, another hunt. Just keep working, just keep moving and things would eventually work themselves out. Of course, that didn’t stop him from calling a few old friends in the Palo Alto area, which weren’t many, and having them keep a discreet eye on his youngest son.

With all this in mind, when John arrived back at the motel with supper and file folder in hand, he was pleasantly surprised to hear the giggling, shrieking and gasping of his daughter. Usually only one thing brought that on. A tickle fight. A small smile graced his face, he didn’t know if he could manage more.

Stepping into the room, he took in the scene before him. Dean had subdued Max, who was still softly laughing in bursts. She was lying backwards on the bed; Dean was almost sliding off the bed, though his head was resting on her stomach. The sensation in her stomach, as he talked softly probably was accounting for Max’s continued humors. And he just couldn’t resist.

Injecting as much sternness as he could into his voice, he caught them both by surprise. “Just what the hell do you two think you’re doing?”

The response was instantaneous. Both kids jumped to their feet, fight ready, only to relax slightly at the sight of their father. There was confusion, wondering what they were going to be lectured about. John stared at them a moment longer before he relaxed.

“I’ve been standing here with pizza for the last few minutes and you two yahoos haven’t even come to get any,” John lectured, hoisting the pizza boxes slightly.  “Not to mention that these damn cans of pop are about to cut off my circulation and this damn file folder-!”

It was too late. The folder slipped from his numb fingers. Sharing a glance, Dean and Max darted forward to help their father, now that they understood he wasn’t mad, just chiding them.

As they sat and ate, John shared the recovered information with them on the next hunt that he had planned. They still weren’t sure what the artifact was that he’d found a picture of. Not one of them could identify it by the picture alone. And the fact that it was being kept in a guarded museum didn’t help. As they discussed the possible ways they could get in to the museum to have a closer look at it, Max suddenly cut off conversation with a wave of her hand and a short hiss. Both Dean and John stared at her, puzzled until she leapt up from her chair and dived towards the beds. A quick search underneath and she came up triumphantly with her phone.

Dean turned to his father. “I didn’t even hear the damn thing ring,” he smirked. John just shook his head, for he hadn’t heard it either.

Max stared at her phone in consternation, not recognizing the number scrolled across the screen. But she figured she should answer before it went to voicemail. Warily she answered. “Hello?”

“Hi, is Max Winchester there?” an unfamiliar deep, male voice asked. Max arched an eyebrow towards her family.

“May I ask who’s calling?” she asked politely, if somewhat coolly.

“Yes, this is Andrew McFadden,” the voice continued, though he sounded amused to Max. “Are you Sam Winchester’s sister?”

At the mention of her brother’s name, all thoughts of discretion flew from Max’s mind as she let a mild panic seep into her eyes. Seeing it, John and Dean drew themselves up, tensing until they had a better handle on the situation.

“Yeah,” Max confirmed distractedly. “Is he okay?”

Andrew chuckled. “Oh, I’m sure he is. I’m sorry. I should have told you why I was calling.”

“That would be nice,” Max scolded gently, still not entirely reassured by this unfamiliar person.

“I’m the manager of Kow Loon Garden,” Andrew continued. “A restaurant,” he added for further clarification. “Your brother dropped off a resume and you were listed as one of his references.”

That cleared it up entirely for Max and her face brightened. She gave a relieved laugh and relaxed, allowing John and Dean to relax as well, though they still shared puzzled glances.

“Okay,” Max grinned. “I’m sorry about that, but when people I don’t know call me, they’re usually trying to sell me something.” Max noticed then that Dean was trying to get her attention to figure out what was going on, but Max waved him away. And knowing that he wouldn’t stop, she headed out of the motel room for a little privacy.

As the door shut softly behind her, Dean glared at his father. “What the hell was that?”

“Don’t ask me,” John grunted, choosing another slice of pizza. “Do I look psychic?”

“Damn near sometimes,” Dean grinned. They both fell quiet, straining to overhear, if they could any of Max’s conversation. By the statements and panic she had endured, they surmised, fairly correctly, that it was about Sam. But when she relaxed, they knew that he was well.

They continued looking over the material, silently forming ideas about this next hunt, though nothing concrete, until Max returned to the room, several minutes later. But again, as she returned, she waved off their questions, instead dialing another number on her phone.

As soon as whoever was on the other end picked up, she gave a small laugh. “Hey dumb ass!” John and Dean shared another look. It could only be Sam she was talking to. Naturally, they weren’t privy to Sam’s side of the conversation, but they could follow along pretty well.

“Yeah, I got your message after he called me,” Max chided. She paused to listen. “Well where else did you apply?” Whatever he said got a huge laugh out of her.

“You know, that’s worth a trip to Palo Alto, just for that,” she giggled. “Dean’ll be ecstatic over the endless possibilities.” She paused and now the other males could hear the tone, if not the words as Sam threatened his little sister. Dean half-smirked. Whatever Sammy was getting himself into had to be something pretty cringe worthy. Male stripper maybe?

“Well really Sam, McDonald’s?” she scoffed. “You can do better than that!” She listened again. “Oh, well, I didn’t think about that.” Her face softened and her voice dropped.

“So how come you haven’t called before now?”

“That’s no excuse!” she scolded. “Just a five second, hey I’m still alive would have been better than nothing!”

John and Dean stilled again as they heard more than just chiding in her voice. She really had been hurt and more worried than they assumed. Maybe it was just her easy going, water off a duck’s back manner that struck them to thinking that she wasn’t as worried as they were. But it turned out, they were wrong. Though apparently, by Max’s crinkling eyes and small smile, Sammy managed to come up with a decent enough excuse the second time around.

“Yeah, that’s true,” she admitted. “That’s fine. If I worry, then I will call you. Whenever and wherever I happen to be. I will feel completely justified in calling and checking up on my big brother and I won’t be satisfied with voicemail. I’ll just keep calling and calling-!”

“Oh, you finally caught on, did you?” she giggled. She listened again, her eyes twinkling as she caught Dean’s eye and winked. “Oh all right!” she grumbled. “No four in the morning phone calls.” With another wink, she held up three fingers and Dean snorted. Man, she could be a brat when she wanted to be.

Sam said something else that had Max glancing at their father. “No, we’re just eating. Dad’s got another hunt for us. It looks pretty interesting. We just need to-oh!” She paused, turning her face away slightly, but neither man sitting with her missed the slightly crestfallen features. “Okay, I understand. Yeah, let me know when you get moved in. Yeah, love you too. Bye.”

Max shut her phone off a gently set it on the table. “He had to go,” she said slowly, but distinctly.

There was silence until John cleared his throat and began rifling through the papers before him once more. “So I figure we’ll head out in the morning. We should make the trip in two days.”

Dean glanced at Max, who had turned her attention back to the food before her, studiously avoiding her families’ gaze. “That’s fine. We can probably get more information once we’re actually in town. They’ve probably got tours and stuff set up at the museum.”

“I just don’t know how we’re going to manage to get in and take care of this damn thing without a crap load of security bearing down on us,” John sighed, rubbing a tense finger over his eyebrow.

“We’ll think of something,” Dean assured his father with a slick grin. “We always do.”

John smirked. Dean was right. Over the years, their family had become very resourceful. “Yeah. Just think on it. I’m sure an idea or two will form.” He glanced at his daughter, wondering how long it would take her to come out of her Sammy induced funk. But from the way her eyes were glittering, he knew it wouldn’t be that long at all. If not completely out of it, she would at least be able to shunt it to the side. He didn’t know if he was entirely happy about that, but there was nothing he could do at this late stage to teach her otherwise. More, he didn’t know what alternative to give her, since he himself had never managed to entertain different ways of coping. The job, this life, couldn’t allow for anything else.

“We’ll also need to find the cleansing ritual,” Max murmured.

“What d’you mean?” Dean demanded through a mouth full of pizza. He rubbed his slightly greasy fingers on the paper napkins the restaurant had provided and leaned back in his chair. “Dads got that ritual in his book that Pastor Jim gave him.”

“But will a Latin recitation work on an artifact that looks to be non European?” Max wondered aloud. “I mean, things always seem to respond better if you speak to it in its own language.” She looked slightly abashed that she wasn’t making much sense. But the men understood.

“It’s a good basic ritual,” John said. “I don’t think the language matters so much in certain cases. More likely it’s the intent.”

Those words touched of a small debate between the trio. Trying to decide whether it was worth the risk to break into a museum and go with the Latin ritual and risk having to come back with a different ritual if that didn’t work. Or should they spend the extra few days trying to garner more information about the artifact that was wreaking havoc.

In the end, John decided that Max could look up the information in her spare time and if she found a ritual that would be great. If not, they would go on what they had and hope like hell it worked. If not, like Dean had said, they would think of something.

*****                

“I still can’t believe you paid that guy to grab your ass!” Dean grumbled as he climbed into the Impala and pulled the door shut behind him. Max, already buckling up on the passenger’s side just shot her brother an aggrieved look.

“I didn’t pay him for that!” she snorted. “I just slipped him a twenty to provide a distraction. You’re the perverted idiot who made such a big deal out of it.”

“Well maybe if you’d let me in on your little plan, I wouldn’t have reacted so badly,” Dean groused as he started up the engine, following after his father’s truck. “I mean, it’s not every day that some random homeless guy starts coppin’ a feel on your sister’s ass!”

“I don’t know why you’re acting like this,” Max grumbled, staring at her brother in consternation. “It’s not like he was doing anything on purpose. He wasn’t a perverted sicko. I paid him!”

“And there is just all kinds of wrong in that Max,” Dean growled. He glared at Max, even as she frowned at him. “Don’t you see that? Fine, you pay a guy to help you out and maybe it works out okay. But what happens when Dad and I aren’t there? And suddenly that guy wants more than your money?”

“Than I kick his skanky ass,” Max retorted scornfully. “Besides, you guys were there, he didn’t try anything else. You know, Dad doesn’t have a problem with this.”

“Oh hell yeah he does,” Dean spat out. “Just because he isn’t chewing your ass right now, doesn’t mean he won’t.”

He was saved from her angry recriminations when her cell phone chirped. With a heavy sigh and roll of her eyes, Max checked the screen. Her eyes lit up and she quickly answered. “Sammy!”

Dean rolled his eyes in imitation of his sister. How come little brother was always the one to make her face light up like that? The tiniest pang of jealousy that rolled through Dean’s stomach was so familiar after these many years that he hardly paid it any attention any more. Sure, he was jealous of Sammy. Always had been in some way or another. Whether it was from Sam getting the last cookie, or getting better grades, it didn’t matter. Dean supposed that it was a natural feeling that all older siblings endured. Just like it would have been natural for Sam to be jealous of Dean, since he was older and got to do things first and be allowed more freedom.

But this little fissure of pain was different. Sam had left. There was no use getting around the point. He and Max had stayed. So why was Max happier talking to Sam than she was to Dean or their father? What was it about little brother that made her world so much better? Logically he knew the answer. Max and Sammy loved each other as only family could. They’d built a bond, different from the ones that the Winchester’s had forged for themselves. Just as John and Max and Dean and Max had created. Even knowing that there was nothing he could do about it, Dean still gave in to that momentary jealousy.

“That’s so awesome!” Max crowed. “So which one are you gonna take?”

Dean wondered what they could be talking about. She had quickly and quietly filled him in on Sam’s job search, while their father was out of earshot. So that was probably it.

“Oh really,” she sounded disappointed. She paused to listen to her brother. “Well Sam, that sounds fine in theory. But have you really considered… I mean, all that grease? And if you worked at Kow Loon, wouldn’t there be tips?”

Yeah, definitely the job thing. Which was strange to Dean. Aside from doing yard work back in Geraldine, or helping Bobby and his father tune up cars, he couldn’t fathom holding down a nine to five. But apparently, that was part of Sam’s little fantasy world he was creating for himself. When he heard his name though, Dean shook his head and listened again.

“Oh he’s just pissed off because I’m right and he’s wrong,” Max chuckled, eying her eldest brother with a defiant gleam in her eyes.

“You are not!” Dean protested indignantly. “You tell Sam what you did and then we’ll see!”

Max laughed again, whether in response to him or something Sam said, Dean wasn’t sure. But he also noticed that she wasn’t telling Sam about her little ploy for distraction at the museum.

“All I can say is that it worked,” Max announced grandly. “Just like all my ideas.”

“You’re getting a little big for your britches there kid,” Dean growled playfully. He noticed that his father had taken a turn, headed for the Interstate. He slowed the car to take the same turn, relieved that soon they’d be out of the city, back to the open road. Then he could really open up the engine and release some of the tension and frustration building up in his lean frame.

“No, I don’t,” Max was saying now. “Just give it to me. I’ll remember.” Dean listened as Max recited an address under her breath. Sounded like an apartment complex. When she went on to ask about rooms, Dean realized that Sam must have finally moved into the place he’d be accommodating through school. Probably campus housing or something. For some reason, he just couldn’t see his baby brother joining a fraternity. No, that would have been Dean’s thing. If he’d ever gone to college. Not that he really wanted to.

But finally, Max was saying her goodbyes. With an admonition to call any time, not just about school related things, she finally hung up.

“So?” Dean began, somewhat awkwardly. “He’s okay?” he asked softly. Almost like he didn’t want to hear that Sam was making it on his own. Some part of Dean, deep down, hoped that he wasn’t. That Sam would realize what a huge mistake he’d made in leaving his family behind and come running back to them. Or better yet, Dean and John could swoop in and save him and once again, be heroes in Sammy’s eyes, instead of the misunderstood disappointment.

“I guess,” Max shrugged. “”He’s doing okay for money right now. But that scholarship is only covering tuition, books and housing. He needs a job so that he’ll be able to afford luxuries, you know, like clothes, soap, things like that.” She grinned and glanced out the window. The sign leading to the Interstate was coming up. But she knew that Dean had already seen it, since the car was slowing minutely once again to take the off ramp.

“So what’s up with the jobs?” Dean muttered as his eyes followed the black truck that was gaining speed.

“Well, he’s debating between the Chinese restaurant and fast food,” Max explained. “He’d be either flipping burgers or bussing tables. He likes the Garden, but they only want him on weekends, occasional nights and when they’ve got big parties. McDonald’s, on the other hand, wants him weekends and two to three days a week and they can be really flexible with his classes.”

“Doesn’t he have a full course load this semester?” Dean wondered. Max nodded. “Then he shouldn’t spend all his time at work. When’s he going to study?” He may not have wanted his brother to be off at some school, but that didn’t mean that Dean didn’t want Sam to succeed at what he was doing.

“That was part of the consideration,” Max sighed. “Sam will make up his own mind. I mean, if he chooses one and it doesn’t work out, he can find something different.”

“That’s true,” Dean shrugged philosophically. He glanced at his sister and grinned. “If it were up to me, I know what I would choose.”

“Neither,” Max chuckled, right on the money.

“You know it!” Dean laughed as well, his fingers reaching for the volume dial on the radio. He turned it up, rolled down his window and let himself be taken over by the feel of his baby around him, eating up the road beneath her.

*****               

“This has got to stop,” Max muttered under her breath. Months had gone by. She, Dean and John had been hunting continuously. Not that she minded. It was good to keep busy. No, what she was tired of was playing messenger. The little go between for Sam and Dean. Neither one was talking directly to the other. Every time she mentioned it, they always came up with an excuse to be doing something else. But she could see the yearning in Dean’s eyes and she could hear it in Sammy’s voice. There was just too much of that damn male pride going on.

John on the other hand... Max didn’t even dare suggest that John talk to Sam. And yet, at the same time, she had noticed that any time she got a phone call from Sam, John would lose interest in whatever he was doing and eavesdrop on her conversations relating back to Dean about what their brother was up to. And then, as soon as the conversation moved on to something else, he quit listening. So he cared, he just couldn’t bring himself to confront things head on. Which was very strange in and of itself.

“What was that?” Dean asked, distracted as he flipped through a magazine, lounging on one of the beds. Max eyed her brother dispassionately. She needed some ploy, some way of breaking through this barrier the boys were erecting. Nagging, begging and pleading hadn’t worked. There was one thing that Max knew she could try, but it was just so… female, that she wasn’t sure she could pull it off. It didn’t matter to her that it was manipulative. When it came to family, she was willing to do almost anything. And if that meant she had to shed a few tears, then the kitty inside was just going to have to suffer.

“Nothing,” Max finally answered her brother. But it didn’t matter; he’d already lost interest and was checking through the magazine again. At least he nodded absently at her voice. His hand dove back into the bag of chips at his side and he continued to munch away on his snacks.

Max checked the time, wondering how long it would be before John made his way back to the motel room. He was out and about, digging up another hunt. His hints that Dean and Max could be doing the same had fallen on deaf ears. At least in Dean’s case. Dean’s stance was that he was the brawn of their group. Why flex his mental muscles when everyone else was ready, willing and chomping at the bit to do so. That had amused John, but Max was pretty sure that John was going to put his foot down about it soon.

Knowing that she should have at least an hour before John returned, since he was usually good for two when he went out, Max retrieved her cell phone and punched in the most familiar number she’d been using for the last few months. Sam picked up after a few rings, his voice pleased and welcoming.

“Hey Sammy,” Max greeted, ignoring Dean’s sudden interest from where he was sitting. “What’s up?”

“I don’t know,” he replied, his voice slightly gravelly. “You called me.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” Max asked teasingly. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Dean trying to feign non-interest, which obviously wasn’t working.

“Nothing,” Sam muttered and Max could hear him yawning through the phone.

“You sound tired,” she spoke softly; injecting what she hoped was the right amount of concern in her voice. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Sam insisted immediately. “I just had a late shift at the garden last night. Anniversary party for some regulars. Made some pretty good tips all around.”

“Okay,” Max stood from where she’d been sitting and headed for the door to the motel. “Hang on just a second.” Sam waited and Max could feel Dean’s eyes boring into her back as she exited the motel room. She shut the door, the loud click echoing in the silence. “All right,” she sighed. “Sorry, I just had to get out of there.”

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked cautiously, seeming unsure if he really wanted to know.

“Nothing,” Max insisted immediately, and then quieted her voice again. “Dean’s just…”

“Just what?”

“No, it doesn’t matter,” Max tried to break off the train of thought, knowing that it would intrigue Sam, especially if he thought his brother’s behavior was hurting her. And as she knew he would, Sam took the bait.

“No, don’t give me that,” Sam sounded slightly angry and more wide awake. “What did Dean do?”

“Well, it’s just,” Max blew out another sigh, letting a hurt tone creep into her voice. “He’s just been saying….” She let out a phony sniffle. “He was just so mean Sam. He called me…” Her mind whirled. What would Dean say that would be hurtful enough that she wouldn’t just blow off, and Sam would believe of his brother? A slut? No, Dean wouldn’t go there. The blame would always be on the guy if one ever dared to hit on his little sister. A brat? No, he’d called her that before and she always ignored him. Hmm, this feminine manipulation was harder than it seemed, especially on the fly, as she was doing. “You know what Sammy? I’m sorry, I can’t talk about it.”

Before he could answer that, Max had hung up on him. Now it was time for part two of the hastily conceived plan. Time to work on Dean. She re-entered the motel room, her path straight and steady. She ignored her cell phone, already ringing in her hands. She was pretty sure that it would be Sam calling back. She dropped it on the bed as she passed by her brother, making a beeline for the bathroom.

“Everything okay?” Dean asked with a smirk.

“Just fine,” Max answered shortly. She entered the bathroom, turned to shut the door and let out a tiny sniffle while wiping a hand over her eyes. She made sure to lock the door, knowing that that would alert Dean that something at least was very wrong. The phone stopped ringing, and then began again after a few minutes.

Max knew that for this all to work, Dean was going to need some sort of evidence that she was upset. Tears were the easiest, but making them come was proving harder than she realized. She pinched herself numerous times, but that slight provocation just wasn’t enough. What else would work? The only thing that ever brought tears to her eyes was… well, thoughts of her family. Instantly her mind pictured Eva, the last time she had seen her sister, laying on the cold uncaring floor. Dead from a bullet from the gun of the man that was supposed to take care of them.

That did it and though Max was loathe to go there, back to that place; she let her imagination take over. She could see Zack like that, hovering over his sister trying to protect her, blood gurgling like foam from his mouth. Ben, Jace, Tinga, Seth, all of them, like a procession through her mind. And then, pushing it further, like a rotten tumor bursting in her mind, images of John, of Sam, Dean, all of them lying dead on the ground. Paying the ultimate price for trying to protect her.

‘Stop! Stop it!’  she screamed at herself. But once unbound, her mind didn’t want to stop. It wanted to bring forth all her fears, laid bare, force her to accept that this world she lived in wasn’t all happiness and light.

*****          

Dean glanced from the phone Max had dropped carelessly on the bed, the screen registering that Sam had just called three times in succession, to the bathroom door where his little sister had barricaded herself in. He frowned as he heard something that sounded suspiciously like a sob. Pushing the magazine off his lap, Dean stood, wiping the potato chip residue from his fingers on his pants. He skirted the edge of the bed to approach the bathroom door. Hesitantly, he knocked.

“Max? You okay?” Silence answered him.

Dean knocked again, wondering what the hell could have happened between the time she had gone out the front door, only to come back in, in tears. “Maxie?”

“I’m fine,” he heard her answer, but the catch in her voice belied the words.

“Yeah right,” he mumbled, trying the door, finding it locked. “Max, I know you’re not okay. Tell me what happened?” he demanded, using his most cajoling big brother voice.

“Nothing happened,” she insisted, though tremulously. “Sam just-!” And there her voice broke on another sob. Dean’s jaw clenched. Sam! He should have known. The usually oh so sensitive little clod had upset their sister. And almost like magic, the phone rang again. Dean whirled around, took two long steps and scooped the phone off the bed. Yep, it was definitely Sammy calling. Though whether it was to apologize or rub more salt in this wound, Dean wasn’t sure. But he wasn’t about to let his little brother off the hook either way.

He flipped the phone open, growling out, “what the hell did you say to her, bitch!”

There was only the slightest pause, knowing that Sam was taken aback by such a greeting. But he rallied quickly. “I didn’t say anything, jerk! You’re the one that upset her!”

“Oh right,” Dean snarled. “I’m the one that just got off the phone with her after having said something so mean that she had to lock herself in the bathroom because she didn’t want me to know she was crying. You little pissant! What the hell did you say to her?”

“I didn’t say anything!” Sam insisted, growing angrier. “You’re the one who upset her so much that she had to call me! I don’t care how you treat other people Dean, but you can’t treat Max like garbage and expect everyone to be all right with it!”

“I didn’t do anything!” Dean insisted, loudly. “You’re the one that-!” Dean stopped, hearing the bathroom lock click open. He swung around in time to see Max standing in the doorway, whatever tears shed, gone now from her face, a slight mocking grin gracing her lips.  Realization dawned and Dean was sure it was in his face as Max quirked an eyebrow up at him. “You little bitch.” He said it softly, mockingly, admiringly.

“You know Dean, if that’s the way you talk to your family, then it’s no wonder-!”

“Shut up Sam!” Dean replied brightly. He heard an indignant squawk at the other end of the line. “You know what. I think we’ve just been played.”

There was puzzled silence at the sudden turnabout. “What?”

“Yeah, Max seems to have miraculously recovered from her little bout with the blues.”

“She… did that deliberately?” Sam choked out. “Oh man. She is such a brat!”

“Hey you’re not the one that has to live with her right now,” Dean groused good-naturedly. Whatever ire he might have had over his sister’s behavior, well, he’d understood instantly why she’d done as she had.

Sam chuckled, and then cleared his throat. The prominent reminder did sort of hit home for him. “You know Dean,” he began, his voice quiet. “What I said, you know, when I left…”

“Save it Sam,” Dean warned tiredly. He didn’t really want to get into this now.

“No,” Sam protested quietly. “Dean, I didn’t mean it. At least not the way it came out.”

Dean’s jaw clenched, recalling clearly the slur against their mother. Granted, he had tried to understand Sam’s point of view. And taken differently, it was true. Sammy really didn’t have any memories of their mother, so she didn’t have the same connection with Sam that she’d had for Dean. “Yeah, I know,” he finally admitted. Silence hung between them, neither knowing what to say next.

Dean noticed that Max had disappeared back into the bathroom and he could hear water running. The door was ajar and when he leaned forward, he could see her washing the residue of her tears from her face.

“So has she been even brattier since I left?” Sam interrupted his brother’s thoughts.

“Oh like you wouldn’t believe,” Dean snorted. “She made up this totally suck ass game about you.”

“About me?” Sam voice climbed a little up the octave register in surprise.

“Oh yeah,” Dean grinned. “Little game she likes to call it’s a good thing Sammy left ‘cause now we don’t have to put up with his snoring and his whining and-!”

“Hey you jerk!” Sam laughed, recognizing the teasing for what it was. “It’s a two way street, you know.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean smirked into the phone, even though his brother couldn’t see it.

“Well let’s see, no more having to share my bed with someone who mumbles all night long. No more nicking my finger on your stupid knives. I’m not being subjected to lousy music every two minutes.”

“Hey!” Dean growled. “My music is not lousy.”

“Yeah,” Sam interjected. “Three to one family consensus dude!”

“You’re all idiots,” Dean grumbled under his breath.

“So what else has she been doing?” Sam asked. “Aside from reuniting her not speaking at the moment brothers?” He got a chuckle out of his brother with that.

“Oh dude, let me tell you about this stunt she pulled on a hunt,” Dean exclaimed. The bathroom was still occupied and he wasn’t sure if Max needed some privacy or if she was giving them some privacy. With a wary eye on the bathroom door, he proceeded to fill Sam in on Max’s unannounced plan and the succeeding events.

“Oh man,” Sam groaned. “That was stupid of her. Something could have gone wrong.”

“I know!” Dean crowed, glad that his brother was totally on board with his point of view on this.

“I mean, she could have dropped the damn thing, or not caught it and then there’d have been a huge problem.”

“Huh?” Dean’s mouth dropped. How could Sam have been more worried about the stupid thing-a-ma-jig than his own sister’s welfare? “Dude! She paid that guy to-!”

“Create a distraction, right?” Sam filled in for him. “And it worked, didn’t it?”

“Well yeah,” Dean groused. “But it was just plain wrong.”

“So teach her a lesson,” Sam chuckled. As soon as he said it, Dean’s eyes began to gleam. College boy was most definitely on the right track. As he began to muse over the possibilities, he heard the familiar roar of his father’s truck.  He checked his watch, surprised to see that he and Sam had been talking, yelling free for the last half hour.

“I’ll think on it,” Dean assured Sam. “If you get any ideas, let me know.”

“So, uh,” Dean wondered briefly if he should hang up before John got in the door. Maybe talking to Sam would be a good thing. If Max could break down the barrier between the two of them, he could turn around and do so for Sam and their Dad. He just wasn’t sure how to go about it, because one thing he knew, there was no way in hell that he was gonna get all emo and cry like a little girl. He finally seized on the first thing he could think of. “How are your classes going?”

“Oh, pretty good,” Sam sounded surprised, but then quickly warmed to his subject. “I still haven’t decided my major, but I’ve got the rest of the year to figure that out. Oh hey, you remember Kirkegaard? I saw her the other day. Seems she’s friends with one of the professors here. She saw me and just completely clammed up. Disappeared before I got anywhere near her.”

“The old bat,” Dean sniffed. “You know, she deserves whatever crap life throws at her.”

“Well, she didn’t look too good,” Sam admitted. “I guess teaching really was her life.”

“But otherwise, everything’s good?” Dean asked just as the door to the motel room opened. John stepped in, seeing immediately that Dean was on the phone. He quietly shut the door behind himself and glanced around the rest of the room.

“Yeah, it’s good,” Sam assured him. “It’s… everything I hoped it would be.”

“That’s good Sam,” Dean spoke clearly, watching his father. John just watched him back, allowing no flicker of emotion to pass his face. Dean’s gaze dropped down to his lap, not certain what his father’s lack of reaction meant. “I should probably let you go. Don’t want to keep you from your studying.”

“Okay,” Sam replied softly. There was a short pause. “It was good to talk to you man. Maybe I’ll… give you a call later?”

“Yeah,” Dean half-smiled. “That’d be okay.” Not waiting for a reply, or to bother saying goodbye, he pressed the end call button.

“Is he okay?” John asked quietly, his voice heavy with emotion. Dean’s head snapped up, relief filling him at this obvious show of concern from his Dad. Well, he knew that John was concerned. But John acknowledging it took a very heavy weight off of Dean’s chest. If John was concerned as well, then it didn’t mean that Dean was having to choose between his own family.

“Yeah, he’s good,” Dean smiled. And then laughed.

“Where’s Max?” his father asked before they could get into any other heavy subject. Dean was saved having to answer as the bathroom door came fully open and Max dashed out to greet her father. But it was unlike any greeting he’d had from her.

John was surprised when Max barreled straight at him. His arms opened instinctively to catch her as her slight frame attacked his, her arms going around her middle while her face became buried in his shirt. With startled, puzzled eyes, he glanced at his son, who seemed just as puzzled as he.

“Hey Max?” he greeted gently, unsure. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” she mumbled, her voice muffled by the fabric. “Just glad you’re back.”

He glanced again at Dean, who seemed to be lost in thought. But when he caught his father staring at him, almost pleading for some clue as to why she was acting this way, Dean just waved him off, seeming to indicate that they’d talk about it later. For now, John just let her hug him. But when she pulled back, he was startled to see traces of tears on her face. She gave him a sheepish grin and he couldn’t help himself. He grinned back.

“What did you do?” he asked, his voice only mildly tinged with unspoken accusation. He wasn’t at all mistaken when she grinned impishly and her eyes darted guiltily to Dean.

“Just mendin’ some rifts,” she evaded as best she could. And then John understood. She had probably been the one to get Dean talking to Sam. And had probably used tears to do it. He squeezed her shoulder once before moving away.

“I’m surprised you didn’t do it sooner,” he chided, throwing a smirk at his son. Dean’s expression became mulish when he realized that his father had seen what Max had been up to and had neither warned Dean about it, nor prevented the ambush.

“You planned this?” Dean accused, but John was shaking his head.

“No,” he said softly. “But I figured she would take matters into her own hands at some point. I just didn’t know who was going to be on the receiving end. You or me?”

“Dean’s easier,” Max stated, and then started to laugh. She waved her hand at her affronted brother. “Sorry,” she whimpered. “Came out wrong.”

“You know that’s your fault, right?” John frowned at Dean.

“What’d I do?”

“Your dirty mind is rubbing of on my sweet baby girl,” John taunted. “I mean, where else would she get the idea to pay a guy-!”

“That wasn’t my fault!” Dean protested instantly, before he realized that his father was once again teasing him.

“I know,” John put his hands up before the full chorus of the blame game could start. He smiled at Max, his mind wondering what on earth his tough little girl cold have done to herself to make her tears real enough to convince Dean. Because just like the rest of the family she was tough as nails and rarely gave in to those damn emotions. Whatever it was, it had to have been bad. Maybe what he’d been thinking on earlier was ripe for putting into action.

“I was thinking,” he began, his serious tone catching both Dean and Max’s eyes. “I haven’t come up with anything and haven’t heard about anything. The scene seems pretty quiet. What do you guys say to another vacation?” He pursed his lips and before they could answer, spoke again quickly. “It’d have to be short and we wouldn’t be able to do much. But you know, a little break probably wouldn’t hurt anything. Maybe we could head out west…?”

He trailed off, planting the welcome idea in their minds. The pair shared muted excited glances and then turned back to their father.

“Head out west?” Dean repeated, his voice amused.

“Like to say… California?” Max drawled.

“Well,” John pretended to consider. “If that’s where you’d like to go, I can’t say how I would mind.”

“Yeah,” Max nodded slowly, trying to remain nonchalant. “California sounds good. Nice weather this time of year.”

“Cali’s always got good weather,” Dean reminded her. “Though it doesn’t matter to me. As long as I’m driving, I’m happy.”

“Then it’s settled,” John grinned. “We’ll leave tomorrow morning.”

*****               

“You’re going to have to shorten the leash sometime Dean!” Max snapped angrily, slamming the door of the Impala shut.

Dean just glanced at her before pulling away from the gas tanks, following once again, his father’s lead.

“Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?” she demanded once they were back again on the highway.

“What’s there to say?” Dean asked irritably, ignoring his sister in favor of watching the road. “The little punk was trying to lure you off to God knows what.”

“He wasn’t trying to lure me anywhere!” Max retorted. “He just asked me if I lived around here.”

“You shouldn’t have been talking to him in the first place,” Dean insisted angrily. He didn’t know why he was so hot under the collar. Well, maybe he did. While she may not have been truly part of the Winchester brood, she did seem to have inherited devastating good looks that were developing more every day. And she could be charming as hell when she wanted to be.

“Oh right!” Max growled. “I forgot. My world has to revolve around you.”

“I didn’t say that,” Dean’s teeth gnashed, as somehow he knew he was digging himself into a hole.

“No, it’s fine,” Max slashed at the air angrily. “But I hope you realize that this means that I won’t have any hesitation in butting in on your conversation the next time you’re chatting up a woman.”

“Hey now!” Dean protested, understanding exactly what she was getting at. “That is a completely different situation.”

“How?” she demanded. “How is it different? Don’t you ask about where they’re staying? What their phone number is? Or maybe you just concentrate on numbers more to your liking. Hmm, is her intelligence matched or outstripped by her bra size!”

Dean gaped at his sister. Where the hell had this little temper tantrum come from? He’d simply told Max that they were done and told that little no good punk that his sister wasn’t interested. Right? She wasn’t, was she? He wasn’t sure that he wanted to broach that question. But damn it, Max just shouldn’t be ready for dating. She was only fifteen!

But then again… what had he been doing in the dark on lonely back roads that wasn’t hunting related, at that age? He flushed slightly.

“Dad?” he heard her speak and dared a look towards her again. She had her cell phone out now. “Can you pull over? I don’t feel like riding with Dean right now.”

Dean could just imagine trying to explain this to his dad. But then again, John might have a pretty good idea, since he was the one that had been glaring at the teenage Lothario to begin with. It might shock some sense into Max when John sided with his son.

But apparently something in her tone convinced him to stop, or perhaps he wanted to talk to her about caution in talking to strange boys. Dean figured it could go either way. Dutifully, he slowed down and followed his father to pull off on a turnout. The car idled while Max unbuckled her seatbelt and exited the car without another word to her brother. But instead of walking to their father’s vehicle, like he expected, she opened the back door. He turned to find her digging through her bag. Rolling his eyes, he was about to suggest that she just take the damn thing with her. Really, this would be nice for him. He wouldn’t have to listen to her bitch for the next couple hundred miles.

But John didn’t seem happy about how long it was taking and Dean noticed his father getting out of his truck. He turned and rolled down his window as his father approached.

“What’s going on?” John demanded shortly. If Max had wanted to ride with him, she should have said so back at the gas station. He leaned over so that he could see both his children in the car.

“Max is pissy because she and her new little friend didn’t get a chance to play patty cake,” Dean snarked, loudly enough so that Max would hear him. But instead of the expected retort, the back door slammed and she stalked away.

“Dean, that’s about enough out of you,” John warned. Dean looked up at his father in surprise.

“Dad,” he protested. “She’s not thinking straight and-!”

“No,” John growled. “I mean it. I don’t know what kind of problem you two have, but I’m getting sick of this. She didn’t do anything wrong and you need to quit acting like-!” John stopped suddenly, his eyes widening as if suddenly realizing something for the first time. ‘A jealous boyfriend’ he’d been about to say. But he softened his tone and amended that. “You need to stop being such an overprotective big brother. If you keep this up, it’ll just drive Max away. She’ll start to resent your behavior and then she’ll start resenting you. I don’t think any of us want that.”

Dean felt chagrined over being taken to task over something that he thought he’d have one hundred percent agreement on. But that was quickly eclipsed by the amazement as he caught sight of what Max was doing. “Holy hell! How did she do that?”

John spun around to look at what his daughter had accomplished. He’d assumed that she had climbed into the truck and was waiting for him. But while he’d been berating his son, Max had gotten busy unstrapping her Ninja. The motorcycle which was currently residing on the side of the highway. There were only two ways she could have gotten it down. Either pushing it off the truck, which would have possibly damaged it. Or one end held and had to be lifted down. John wasn’t sure that Max, as strong as she was, could accomplish that by herself. But by Dean’s slack-jawed amazement, that was just what she did.

“Boy,” John grinned. “You pissed her off but good.”

“She just…” Dean trailed off, looking to his father for confirmation. He gave his head a quick shake, trying to convince himself that there must have been some trick to the feat of strength that his sister had pulled off. And maybe there was. Anger could easily transmute itself into adrenalin. That was how, it had to be.

“I’ll check in every hundred miles!” they both heard Max shout as she slung her leg over the seat. Before either could answer, she’d started the bike, checked the oncoming traffic and had roared away. John watched her for a moment, pleased to see that she wasn’t speeding or driving erratically, yet, then turned back to his son. He quirked an amused eyebrow at his eldest, then shook his head and turned to head back to his truck.

The little storm had blown over by the time they’d reached California. Although Dean continued to watch with dangerous eyes anytime strangers, especially strangers of the male persuasion got near Max, he’d eased off snarling at them or blatantly blowing them off. Some of the younger ones, unused to the lingering threat behind those glares, gave in to instinct and backed off. It was the older ones, ones with a little more experience who shrugged it off. But Dean was pleased to see that John occasionally stepped in with a soft but sure indication that her Daddy was watching out for her. And to the son’s amazement, the father was much better at it than he would have believed. Because John managed to do it in a way that kept Max smiling and not out for blood.

Max had gone 300 miles initially on her motorcycle before she found a gas station to wait at while the males caught up to her. With John’s help, she put up the motorcycle and strapped it down again. As Max had pointed out, they didn’t need to be fuelling up three vehicles the whole way to Cali. She’d just needed to blow off some steam.

And so she was riding again with Dean as they pulled into San Jose. He hadn’t exactly apologized for jumping down that kid’s throat. More like he explained that he wasn’t really happy about guys thinking male thoughts about his little sister. Max had accepted that and just told him that he’d better figure out a way to get used to it. And while Dean’s brain was trying to do just that, his heart had a little more trouble following along.

When they stopped at a diner, before finding a motel, Max pulled out her phone to call Sam. Since the waitress was prompt, she waited until they had ordered before digging for a little information. Under the general guise of asking about his days and his work at the restaurant, she was amazed that he was still working there, Max found out that Sammy had no classes and was off of work the next two days. Not so surprising about the classes, since it was the weekend. But he informed Max that he was taking time off to study for an upcoming mid-term. He might go out with his friends that evening, he wasn’t sure.

After they hung up with each other, Max turned to fill John and Dean in. Dean was pleased, since this all worked out perfectly. They would stay the night in San Jose and head to Palo Alto in the morning. They could surprise Sam and have a few days with him with nothing to get in the way of the family reunion. But then again, even if he had other commitments, such as classes and work, they’d be amenable to working around them, which they just might have to. Even John wasn’t sure how long they’d be staying.

Dinner eaten and a motel suite found, John decided that he was going to go down the street to the bar. He figured he could have a few drinks and return so that Dean could have a go if he wanted. Just as long as his son wasn’t too late or into anything that would delay them the next morning. As soon as John left, Dean had the remote in his hand, surfing through a wide selection of channels.

“Dean?” Max called, standing near the door. He turned his head towards her, though his eyes were still locked on the television screen. “I’m gonna run down to the corner and get a paper, okay?”

“What for?”

She shrugged. “Something to read. See if there are any movies playing that we might want to see with Sam. Just want a quick walk. Take your pick. I’ll be back in five.”

“Okay,” he sighed. He glanced at his watch. Surely there wouldn’t be any trouble with a five minute walk, would there? And thankfully there wasn’t. She was back in under the time she’d allotted for herself.

Max let herself in, her eyes glued to the paper before her. Maneuvering around the room to her assigned bed, she sat gingerly at the edge, and then passed the paper in front of Dean’s eyes.

“Dean, look at this,” she instructed.

His eyes flicked down to the paper, not sure what he was supposed to be looking at. But when he saw the headline about a missing woman being found and the by-line about how the woman claimed she was lured into a decrepit house by a phantom child, he swore softly and threw down the remote. He clutched the paper as Max let go. She reached for the remote and hit the mute button.

“Just outside of Palo Alto, at the lake” she murmured before he could even ask. Dean chewed at the corner of his lip as he mulled it over.

“It might not be anything,” he warned, his tone resigned. Max had a sharp eye for their line of work, no one could deny it.

“She’s not the first,” Max informed him, pointing towards the bottom of the column. It said that it was continued on the next page. “Dead bodies have been turning up on this stretch of beach and others have reported seeing what they thought was a child. But it disappeared if they got too close.”

“Any connections in the victims?” was Dean’s next question. Max was already shrugging.

“Aside from them all being women?” she muttered. “No. The cops aren’t taking the sightings seriously, since the descriptions of the kid are vague. They’re thinking possible serial killer in the area.”

“We should tell Dad,” Dean sighed. He let the paper flutter to his lap.

“I know,” Max echoed his tone. “But…” she bit at her lip and glanced away.

“If it’s nothing, you don’t want to distract him from spending some quality time with Sammy?” Dean answered for her. “Don’t feel bad,” he grinned suddenly. “I’m feelin’ the same way.”

“But if it is something?” Max hedged.

“I’ll tell you what,” Dean smiled widely. “Why don’t we check this out? That way, if it’s nothing, we can show Dad and he won’t have to worry about it. And if it is something, then we’ll have the info we need to take care of it quick and easy. It’d barely cut into our movie of the week reunion.” He chuckled. “Man, Dad’s been riding my ass to start doing more research.”

“Guess it’s time to sink or swim then, huh?” Max retorted sweetly. She pulled free her cell phone and dialed her father’s number. When he answered, she put on her most innocent face, blithely ignoring her elder brother who was trying not to laugh and alert his father that his daughter was up to something. “Hey Dad. I was getting kind of bored here and Dean said he wouldn’t mind driving around a little bit and looking at the sights. Would you mind?” She paused to listen. “Yeah, okay. We’ll be back by then.” John said something else. “Yeah, love you too.” She hung up her phone and grinned at her brother.

“How do you do that?” he demanded rhetorically, shaking his head.

“Just be glad that I can,” Max wrinkled her nose at him. “Otherwise we’d have to put up with one of your lame-ass stories.”

His protest carried them out the door and into the night.

By the time John got back to the motel, it was just after midnight. He wasn’t anywhere near drunk, since he’d nursed two beers through the night. Dean had called him earlier when the pair had gotten back to the motel and told him not to worry about relieving him, since he didn’t feel like going out. So John had taken the time to relax and think about what he was going to say to his youngest son when he saw him the next day. Hopefully he’d do better with the sentimental crap than he had in the past.

At first glance, he didn’t see Dean. The television was on, playing quietly. But as John eased the door shut, he caught sight of both kids. Max was in her bed, sitting up, but asleep, and her head resting on Dean’s shoulder. Dean was also sitting up, though he was sitting on top of the covers, also asleep. His head was leaning back against the headboard and the remote was still loosely held in his left hand. John held back his chuckle. He should have known.

Passing his bed, he shuffled in the small space between the two. “Dean?” he whispered quietly, tickling at his eldest’s foot, just like he had decades ago when his son fell asleep anywhere but his bed. And just as it had before, it woke up his sleepy child. Dean blinked owlishly up at his father, and then tilted his neck, working out whatever crick was there.

“Hey Dad,” Dean returned, just as quietly. He glanced down at his sister, but she didn’t stir. He made to move away from her, but her arm shot across his stomach. Dean smiled ruefully up at his dad. “Don’t think she’s gonna lemme go.”

John did chuckle this time. “Scoot down at least,” he instructed.

Dean did as instructed and Max unconsciously followed suit. John pulled the cover off of his and Dean’s bed and laid it over his son. There wasn’t even time for Dean to thank him since he’d already fallen back asleep. John took the remote from his son’s hand, turned off the television and set it on the nightstand between the beds. Satisfied that his children were well and taken care of, he moved to his bag to retrieve what he would need for his nightly ablutions.

When John woke the next morning, both Max and Dean were gone. There was a note on the bedside table, telling him that they had something to take care of and would meet him at the diner a few blocks over at nine.

Checking his watch, he saw that it was almost that time already. He was surprised that the kids had managed to get by him without his waking up. Usually he was a much lighter sleeper than that.

He made it to the diner only a couple minutes late. But sweeping his glance over the other patrons, he didn’t see the pair anywhere. Approached by a waitress, he asked for a table or booth for three and told her that his kids would be joining him. She showed him to a booth and he chose the side facing the door, so he could see when they came in. He asked for coffee and declined a menu for now.

He didn’t have to wait long. It was just after his first sip of coffee that he saw Max and Dean walking up to the diner. Again, out of the blue, he was struck by something odd watching them. Dean had reached past his sister to open the door for her. And when she had entered, he’d laid a protective hand across the small of her back. It was a move that John was very familiar with. One that stole his breath away. That was exactly how he and Mary had used to enter a public place.

It seemed to him that he was looking at the kids through new eyes as they both glanced toward him. Max gestured and turned her head to say something to Dean. He tilted his head down to hear her, and then responded with a grin. Max’s smile was brilliant and they both waved away the waitress as they moved to join him.

It wasn’t until Max slid the file folder onto the table that John noticed that she had it at all.

“What’s this?” he asked quietly, setting his cup down.

Max glanced up at her brother as he slid into the seat next to her. “We were doing some research,” she informed him in a low voice.

“And you found something, obviously?” John sighed. He pulled the folder to him and after a quick glance to see that no one was in the vicinity; he looked over the odds and ends the pair had stuck in there. He closed it again as the waitress approached to freshen his cup, which didn’t quite need it and to deliver menus and take Max and Dean’s drink orders.

“This is what we were doing last night,” Dean informed his father. ”And this morning, since the county courthouse was closed last night.”

John sighed again as he ruminated over this discovery. Granted, the kids had done the right thing, gathering the information and by all means, they both looked prepared to deal with it. He just wish that it could have... not happened. And barring that, waited until they’d had a chance to see Sam.

“It shouldn’t take too long,” Dean interrupted his father’s thoughts with an eerie canniness. “We’ll take care of this and still have plenty of time to visit Sammy.”

“Speaking of Sam,” Max muttered. “I wonder why he didn’t mention anything about this?”

“Maybe he’s been too busy with school to read about it,” Dean offered quietly in their brother’s defense. No one said anymore about that. They just ordered their breakfast and made plans to deal with this as quickly and as quietly as possible. Sam had no idea they were coming, so he wouldn’t be disappointed if they didn’t show up when they had wanted to.

The drive to Palo Alto was completed in record time. Due to Max and Dean’s research, they had a pretty good idea about where to search.

But as they began the careful street by street search for the turn off they wanted that would lead them down to the lake, Max motioned for John to stop the truck.

“What is it sweetie?” John asked, mildly concerned. He glanced up in the rearview mirror to see that Dean was right behind him, puzzled, but patient.

“There’s Sam’s apartment building,” Max offered quietly. She turned to face her father. “Should I…?”

John knew immediately what she was asking. He just wasn’t sure if Sam would go along with it. But there was no harm in asking. “Go ahead,” he nodded, sighing heavily. The worst would be that Sam refused to come. That would be fine. They’d take care of this and Sam would know they were in town and have time to clear his schedule of anything else, if he wished.

Max slid out of the truck and dashed up the front walk way. She stepped in the first security door and turned to the buzzer. She ran her finger down the list of apartments before selecting Sam’s. She pressed it lightly, then again a little harder. She had to wait a few minutes before the rough, gravelly, familiar sleepy voice answered.

“Yeah?”

“Sam Winchester?” Max asked, deliberately lowering her voice. She wondered if Sammy was sleep deprived enough to be fooled. “I’ve got a package here for you.”

“Mmm,” he mumbled, apparently it was going to work. “I’m not expecting anything.” She could hear the yawn in his voice.

“It’s from a, let me see,” she feigned with a smile on her face. “From a Max Winchester. Postmarked Rutland, Vermont.” She plucked the name of one of the larger towns they’d passed through recently.

“Oh, okay, sure,” Sam sounded a little more wide awake now. The inner security buzzed and Max yanked it open. Her enthusiasm to see her brother carried her up the few flights of stairs swiftly. She came to his door and knocked loudly. Sam must have been waiting because she was answered almost immediately.

“Hey,” she sang out. Sam’s eyes widened, his jaw slack and then he whooped as he reached out to drag her into the apartment and into a fierce hug.

“Oh my God! Max!” he exclaimed even as he swung her around. “What are you doing here?” As he let her feet touch the ground again, he pulled back from her instinctive hug back. “Everything’s okay, right? Dad and Dean are-!”

“They’re okay,” Max assured him quickly. “Everyone’s fine. We were just, you know, passing through.”

“Passing through?” Sam was suspicious immediately.

“Okay, not passing through,” Max giggled. “You should feel honored big brother,” she laughed, poking him in the shoulder. “You know Dad doesn’t take a vacation for just anybody.”

“Dad’s what?” Sam was gaping at her again. Two words that were very foreign to each other had just been put to use in a sentence. It near boggled his mind. Realizing then that they were still standing in the open doorway, Sam pulled his sister forward and shut the door behind her. “Come in here.” He glanced around the room, looking slightly sheepish.

While ordinarily Sam was a very neat, organized person, his roommate didn’t hold quite so religiously to the same qualities. It wasn’t bad, just a few things scattered here and there. A few mugs and plates that hadn’t quite made it to the kitchen yet. Thank God Rick would be moving out after the semester ended. But all the same, he didn’t really like for Max to be seeing a mess the first time she saw his place. His hands quickly gathered what he could of the dirty dishes.

“Make yourself at home,” he called as he headed towards the kitchen. “I’ll be right back.”

“I can’t stay long,” Max called after him as she skirted around a coffee table. “Dad and Dean are waiting for me.” Trying to be helpful, she moved a few more dishes to the corner of the table, crumpling up some paper napkins and putting them in a bowl; since she didn’t see a trash can in the living room. As she moved another dish, she caught sight of a very familiar piece of paper. Carefully setting the dish aside, she eased the newspaper off the stack that it had been residing on.

Looking through the article, Max noticed that a few things had been lightly circled in pencil and then erased. She frowned and glanced up as she heard Sam return.

“Sorry about this,” he apologized sheepishly, brushing back a lock of hair that persisted in falling into his eyes. “My roommate’s more a party animal than a cleaning machine.”

“It’s okay,” she dismissed quickly, and then held out the paper. “I’m assuming you saw this?” She didn’t have to clarify what she meant. That much was obvious by the sudden flush in Sam’s face.

“Yeah,” Sam hurried to say, gesturing widely, as he did sometimes when he was nervous. “How could I miss it? It was in a lot of the newspapers yesterday.”

“Uh huh,” Max said quietly. “But I doubt that very many someone’s would circle all the evidence that points to something other than a run of the mill serial killer.” Again, that flash of blush on her brother’s cheeks. Glancing down, she saw that there were more papers under where the first had been. Some were flat, some were folded back. All of them to do with the same mystery she held in her hands right now. “Oh my God Sam,” she breathed quietly, hesitantly. Her eyes were huge with disbelief as she looked back to her brother. “How long have you known about this?”

Sam felt utterly chagrined as he took in her accusatory face. But then it dawned on him that she knew way too much about this from just reading one article in one newspaper. And as he’d learned at an early age, when you were cornered, that’s when you went on the attack.

“That’s what you’re really here for, isn’t it?” he demanded angrily. So swift was the change that Max felt herself taking a step back, only to bump into the old sofa. “You don’t need to feed me that crap about Dad taking a vacation. He never takes a vacation! He never stops! You’re just here because he’s hunting this thing!”

“Damn it Sam!” Max snapped back, surprised at him. At herself even. “You know what? It took me and Dean one night to know something was wrong. We saw this article in San Jose. After we traveled across God knows how many states to see you. We figured it out and thought we’d take care of it while we were here. It is not the reason that we came!”

Her words seemed to get through to Sam, though he sounded like a little boy as he asked her “really?”

“Yeah really Sam,” Max offered sadly. She slowly sank down to the sofa, carefully setting the paper back on its pile. “Why didn’t you do something Sam? You had to have known?”

“I-!" Sam faltered, avoiding her glance. “I just can’t handle that stuff anymore, okay?”

“Sam,” Max pleaded and he finally looked up at her. “You can’t just ignore what’s out there. I know you want something different. Something normal. But you just can’t pretend that what’s out there doesn’t exist.”

He was silent for a moment, and then hung his head. “I know,” he whispered. “You’re right.” Stronger now, “but you guys are here. You can take care of it, right? You will take care of it.”

“Yeah,” Max agreed. “We’ll take care of it. You should know that. I mean, even if you didn’t want to deal with it, you should have called us back when you first suspected something. That’s what family is for, right?” She tried to lighten her tone. Sam responded by grinning sheepishly. “Sammy,” she chided, “I know you. This isn’t like you to sit by and let innocent people be hurt. Or let them die.” She almost felt guilty, seeing the sudden welling of tears in his eyes.

“No,” he agreed with her assessment. Of course he did, but it wasn’t that simple for him anymore it seemed. “I just kept telling myself that, well…”

“That it had to be anything but?” Max asked. Sam nodded slowly. In the stretching silence, they heard a familiar horn honk. Sam’s gaze flew to the open window. “Dad’s here?” he asked incredulously.

“And Dean,” Max assured him. She stood again and crossed over to him. “I should probably go. I actually came to ask you if you wanted to help us. But I don’t suppose you do, huh?”

Sam seemed to debate this and then finally shook his head. “No. I’ll stay here. I’d probably just get in the way.”

“Okay,” Max offered, though inside she was a little saddened by his refusal. But she still understood. She hugged her brother again, feeling better when his long arms surrounded her shoulders. “But please Sammy, don’t ignore this.”

“I won’t,” he said. “I promise.” He dropped a small kiss on her forehead as they heard the horn honk again. “You guys stay safe, okay? And call me as soon as it’s done.”

“I will, promise,” Max smiled. She gave his hand one last squeeze and headed for the door. Sam followed and watched as she descended the stairs, until she was out of sight before finally shutting the door.

As Max exited the building, she could see that both John and Dean were waiting for her. Dean was leaning lazily against the Impala, his eyes shaded from the early morning light. John was coming around the front of his truck, after having briefly leaned on the horn. He unconsciously mimicked Dean’s pose against his truck.

At Max’s gesture, Dean joined her and their father at the hood of the truck. Quickly Max relayed what had happened, what she had discovered and Sam’s refusal to join them. With each word, John grew sterner and more distant.

Fine!” he spoke softly, the words sharp and cutting. “If that’s the way he wants it then that’s just fine! If he doesn’t want to deal with us, then he won’t have to!” With those snarled words, John broke away from them and headed back to the driver’s seat. He slammed the door, gave them a get your ass in gear look and started the engine. Max and Dean stepped back and without waiting to see who Max was going to ride with, took the decision from her hands as he peeled away from the curb. Both Max and Dean were left staring dumbfounded, after him.

“Why is he…?” Max gasped, then turned to her brother. His expression was unfathomable. “He’s confusing the issues,” she stated emphatically.

“It’s kind of hard not to,” Dean replied harshly. “You know Max, hunting is our life. It’s us and we’re it. If Sam wants nothing to do with it, it feels like he wants nothing to do with us!”

Without waiting for her reply, Dean opened the passenger’s side door for her and then moved around to mimic his father’s just recent actions. With one last sad glance at the building behind her, Max climbed into the car.

*****                

A week later and John had still not calmed down about the Palo Alto incident. He barely spoke to Dean and Max and when he did, it was more likely to be an order to do something, than a request or conversation or even a simple ‘hi, how ya doing?’ type thing.

Instead of the longed for vacation, they were back in the hunt with a new determination. So it was no surprise that one evening, John returned from contacting a source, to hand Dean a file folder with everything that was known about a poltergeist east of their current position. What did catch them by surprise was that John had another folder, equally as full about another case. After a surprisingly short argument it was decided. Max and Dean were heading east while John was heading south.

Chapter Twenty-four