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: Dean/ Max, other canon pairings
Summary: Change can be a choice and you never know where the road you choose to take will lead you.
When It Changes
Chapter Thirty-one
Into That Good Night
Max struggled quietly in the night, stumbling around the dingy, cramped motel room, trying desperately to find her clothes. Feeling something soft against her foot, she leaned down and her fingers encountered thin cotton. A shirt, though whether it was hers or not, was hard to tell in the complete dark that pervaded the room.
"Max?" a soft, sleepy voice interrupted her search and Max froze. Why, why did he have to wake up now? "Babe? What are you doing?"
"N-nothing," she forced herself to answer, her back still to him. "Go back to sleep Dean."
"Can't," he grunted and she could hear movement behind her. He was sitting up. Max hurriedly pulled the shirt over her head, realizing only at the last moment that it was indeed his shirt, judging by the lingering smell of his aftershave and the size of it. "It's too cold without you," he murmured by way of explanation. Max inhaled sharply when his hand shot out and caught her around the waist. He pulled her unresisting body towards him, her knees shaking. "What's wrong?" he asked, knowing her so well. Too well sometimes.
"Nothing's wrong," Max murmured. "I just..." her words faltered as his arm continued to snake it's way around her waist, over her stomach, pulling her down and she was suddenly seated in his lap. His very naked lap. "Dean!"
"Max," he grunted, his voice filled with sleepy bemusement that gave way to waking sobriety. "You can tell me sweetheart."
"Don't," she whispered harshly, refusing to turn to meet his eyes. She swallowed heavily and gave voice to the thought that had been running through her mind these last few hours. "This was a mistake Dean." And as always, she felt him stiffen beneath her.
"A mistake?" he repeated slowly. "Why would you say that?" Max was stumped for a moment as his thumb rubbed over her stomach, the material of his shirt riding up and down over her body in time with his movements. But before she could answer, he was talking again. "Because I don't think it was. I'm just wishing it had happened sooner."
"What?" Max was stunned by the sudden confession. Her... the man who'd been like a brother to her was...
"Maxie," Dean spoke again, his voice deep with emotion, such a rarity that Max stilled even more to hear it, "I've been in love with you for the longest damn time. And... I know I don't... show it very well. And I sure as hell don't ever say it, but I love you," he ended softly and Max felt as if she were melting. At the very least, her body relaxed against his.
"Y-you do?" she questioned softly, not quite sure that she really believed this.
"For a long time now," Dean assured her, nuzzling his cheek against her hair. "I just..."
"Oh Dean," she whispered, squirming slightly. His arm loosened reflexively and Max turned herself so that she was sitting sideways against him, turning her head to look up into his face. She had to know, this admission, she had to know the truth or if he was just telling her what he thought she wanted to hear. After all, how many times had she seen him at work, charming the ladies? When he realized that she was just changing her position, his arm tightened again and Max felt secure within his grasp. The corner of his mouth lifted in that familiar pleased smirk, his lips twisting ever so slightly in that charming quirk that Max found herself watching for most days. But while the self-satisfied look plastered on his face was evident in many situations, Max didn't ever think that she'd seen the... glow in his eyes before. Possessive, deep, filled with unnamed until now, emotion. Max felt her lips twitching, the words bubbling up within her. Her lips parted and after a soft exhalation, the words just floated out of her. "I love you too."
She had only a second to wonder at why the moment didn't seem as electrically charged as it should have been, declaring their love to each other for the first time. But then she realized as his lips descended to hers, that love had always been part of the deal. Saying it aloud didn't need bells ringing or angelic choirs singing, because it had been evident in every moment of their lives for so very long, had either chosen to examine those moments more closely.
And then Dean was reclining, his arms still around her, scooting back until they were both well ensconced on the bed. His hand groped for the bed covers that he'd kicked and shifted aside, pulling them up and over their bodies, his lips still not surrendering hers. Once they were properly and happily covered, he broke the kiss to then rub his nose briefly over hers. "So can I take this to mean you're going to stay put?" The words were light, but Max, who knew him so well, could hear the slight chill of fear behind the words.
"Always," she assured him promptly, lifting her face up to him, tilting her head back so that she could see him properly. She'd never tire of looking at him.
"Good," he chuckled. "'Cause we already have our hands full chasing down every damn ghost we find on this continent. I'd hate to have to add you to the list."
"You'd chase me down," Max giggled at the thought.
"To hell and back," Dean assured her grandly and joined in her chuckles. Slowly they began to quiet, Max resting her head against the broad expanse of his chest, her cheek turned, the slow thumping of his heart steady in her ear as it lulled her back to that unnecessary state of somnambulism.
Max woke slowly, feeling immediately the tears that were on her cheeks. That damn dream again. How many times had that made just in the week alone since Sam had called and told her that he and Dean were out looking for their father? It was getting so bad again, just like it had after she'd first left John and Dean so long ago, that now she was avoiding Sam. She had wanted to call him after his law school interview, but she'd been worried that Sam would be full of anecdote's about what Dean had been up to. And she'd already endured enough torture via Manticore in her life to not want to enter that state willingly. And that was what hearing about Dean, her brother, she had to remember that, would be. A personal, hell-like torture. Sam had called her, about the middle of last week, on her cell phone, but she had avoided the call and he hadn't left her a message. That had continued a few times and finally, he'd called the apartment. Kendra had very nicely, told Sam that Max was busy and she'd get back to him first chance she'd had. But Max hadn't. Sam had simply told Kendra to tell Max that he really wanted to talk to her.
And now here she was, lying in her bed, crying over something useless, pathetic and a thing which she'd never have. Crying so bad she was trembling with it. But that wasn't right. Max realized in an instant that the shaking wasn't right. Lifting her head from her pillow and her left hand in the same moment, she realized that she was hovering on the verge of another seizure. "Damn it," she breathed out softly. She knew as she carefully rolled out of bed that she should have seen this coming. It was probably part of the reason why she was so emotional lately. Stress always was worse for her seizures, her brain and she'd been putting a lot of unnecessary strain on herself by avoiding Sam And thinking about Dean. If she hadn't just come through a bout of heat recently, she could have blamed that too for the dreams she'd been having. But these ones were always more... gentle and nurturing than the sexually yearning drama she went through in the peak of her estrus cycle.
Max slowly made her way to the bathroom, thankful yet again that it was closer to her bedroom than to Kendra's. It took only a moment to find her last bottle of Tryptophan. She winced as the child proof cap gave her a moment's trouble. But then it was off and she was shaking the pills into her hand even as her back thumped against the wall behind her. She slid down to the floor, dropping the now empty pill bottle as her free hand came up to steady the one with the pills. She counted the pills. Only four left. Max could have sworn that there'd been five at last count, but well, even she could make simple mistakes. She swallowed them one at a time, dry and hasty, knowing that she'd have to get more right away. This one felt like it could be a doozey. At least she'd picked up milk the other day. There was always that blessing. Once she was through this bout, she reassured herself, she'd go have a bowl of cereal. Then she could head out for work and stop at the health food store a few blocks away and stock up again. But she wouldn't be able to get as much as she liked, she reminded herself as she wrapped her arms around her up drawn knees, trying to stave off a full blown shake. Payday wasn't for several days yet. And that was all she had time to think about as she was suddenly consumed by her bodies' deficiency.
It took nearly half an hour for the Tryptophan to get through her system, unable to metabolize the homeopathic drug as quickly as she normally did because of the stress on her system. But when she finally felt well enough to pull herself to standing, she stiffly went about her usual post- semi-seizure routine with alacrity. She washed her face and body free of the sweat that had accumulated as she worked through the shakes. A quick pat down with the towel to dry off. Instead of returning the pill bottle to her side of the cabinet, Max swept it into the small trash receptacle located between the toilet and the sink counter. She pushed the mirror fully shut, glanced over her reflection and decided it was good enough. Unlocking the bathroom door, she could hear her roommate up and around and the sound of coffee percolating. Well, she hoped that Kendra was ready to either take some in a thermos, or waste half a pot, because Max was definitely in the mood for something else.
She mumbled a response to her roommate's soft morning greeting and headed straight for the refrigerator. She snagged her usual mug, where Kendra had set it beside the coffee pot and swung open the gleaming white door. Her eyes scanned the shelves quickly and then with a puzzled frown, looked in the inner door. "Kendra?" she asked as she glanced over her shoulder. She didn't see the milk anywhere on any of the counters.
"Yeah Max?" Kendra called back from the living room where she was cradling her steaming mug of coffee in one hand and going over some lesson plans with the other.
"Where's my milk that I bought?" she demanded. Still not seeing it in the frankly, sparse contents of the appliance,. Max pushed the door shut and whirled around to confront her roommate. Kendra gave her full attention to her friend.
"Oh, you didn't see the note," the blond surmised, gesturing to the notepad that was magnetically attached to the freezer door of the appliance. They had set it up so that they could leave each other messages and always have pen and paper with which to write down phone messages for the other. Max turned her head enough to see that Kendra had written in her neat handwriting 'I.O.U. milk, Kendra'.
"Well that's just great," Max snapped. "I was going to have cereal this morning."
"I'm sorry," Kendra stared at her roomie, puzzled by the tone of her friend's voice. This was not normally something her friend would get upset about. "Jacinta came by last night, before you got home," she explained quickly. "Omar wasn't feeling well and I gave her the milk to help settle his stomach. I really didn't think you'd mind."
"Oh, and of course she just had to ask us," Max harrumphed. "Not like she doesn't have neighbors on both sides of her that she could have asked."
"Max!" Kendra protested quietly, stunned. Normally, her friend adored their neighbor's son, had been very close to his father, since they'd worked together before his sudden illness and subsequent death. It had been Max that had helped Jacinta find an at-home job that allowed her to stay in the apartment and provide for Omar.
"Forget it," Max grunted, turning away from her friend and tearing the note from the pad. She crumpled it up angrily and threw it in the garbage before setting her mug down with a bang. "I have to get ready for work." She turned on her heel and headed back to her room. If she hurried, she could stop somewhere and get a bite to eat, stop at the health food store and not be too late for work. It wasn't like Normal ever expected her to be on time. Hoped for maybe, but the man was quite the realist.
She didn't acknowledge her friend's verbal assessment that she needed to be going as well. She slipped into her bedroom, nudging the door shut and headed to her closet and began going through her clothes. Finding something warm was top priority, since it looked like it could be yet another rainy day in the great city of Seattle. Honestly, she had already pushed Kendra out of her mind, when an indignant shriek pulled her right back.
"Max!" Kendra shouted and then the door to her room was slammed open. Max, reeled and was about to round on her friend for the unwelcome intrusion into her personal sanctum, but the blond was waving a paper before her, her face filled with anger. "What the hell is this? I thought you were taking care of it this month?"
Max, not knowing what Kendra was ranting about now, snagged the paper on one of its passes before her face. The ire about the previous situation faded as she took in the latest problem and her face scrunched up in embarrassment and consternation as she read the official looking notice that had apparently, been tacked to their door. "Oh God Kendra," she moaned. "I'm sorry. I forgot all about it."
"You're sorry?" Kendra echoed with a scoff. "You were supposed to take the rent in five days ago! And now we have an eviction notice?"
"I'll take care of it," Max hastily assured her. "I have our money. I just..."
"Well I hope you have more," Kendra huffed, her hands on her hips. "Because we have until five o'clock today to pay the rent and the late fee or we're out!" Max groaned again. They had never had a problem with rent. The realty company that owned the building had a very gracious five day waiting period. So if their paychecks weren't exactly copacetic, they had some time before things got dire with the living situation. And usually, Max and Kendra took turns delivering the rent money. Not always one after the other, it was usually whomever it was more convenient for. And with Kendra starting another stint as a two week substitute for a teacher that was on medical leave, she hadn't been able to get to the offices in the morning, since she had to be at the school by seven-thirty. So Max had volunteered to take it in. But the first day, she'd been too busy at work and the days after...
"I'll get it," Max promised. "Don't worry about it."
"I wish I didn't have to," Kendra shook her head. "Seriously. What is up with you lately?"
Max took instant umbrage with her friend's pity. "Nothing is up with me," she snapped back. "I just forgot. Okay? I'll get the damn money and I'll take care of it."
"See that you do," Kendra huffed as she turned and headed back out to pick up the books she'd dropped on the kitchen counter. "Because I am completely tapped out." And then she was gone, the front door slammed shut in her wake. Max sighed and looked down at the eviction notice once more, her eyes searching for the amount she'd need to pay in order to get their landlords off their case.
What a perfect start to her already crappy day.
*****
Max was tired and completely worn out by the end of the day. She'd ended up being late, monumentally late for work and when she gave Normal the absolute truth about why she was late, since she'd stopped at the landlord's to pay the rent, she'd been treated to a lecture about responsibilities. She hadn't had time for breakfast and was still feeling shaky through the course of the morning. She'd approached her best friend, Original Cindy, about borrowing some money, a short term loan, just until payday, but the other woman had blown her off. Since apparently, like the rent money, Max had forgotten that she had been supposed to meet OC at Crash the previous evening. But as it was, Cindy was strapped for cash as well.
So then Max had the decision to make about how to get some more ready cash. And at the same time, knew that she needed to make a run to the health food store for more Tryptophan. She had decided on the supplement first, since the seizures were prevalent in her mind. Unfortunately, the store had only one bottle left, but the manager assured her that more stock was incoming. Max had taken another dose and since she was close to home, stashed the bottle in it's usual place in the bathroom before she headed back to work, realizing only a block away, that she had just blown off Cindy again and this time Sketchy and Herbal Thought as well, since they were all going to have lunch together. She had decided quickly that she'd just explain that she was taking care of the rent situation, sure that as friends do, they would forgive her.
In the course of her afternoon deliveries, she'd found a way to get the extra cash she'd needed. She hadn't wanted to fall back on her pickpocketing skills, since the slight shakes she had could have ruined everything. Instead, she'd come across another sneak thief, one she'd seen around town before, counting up the booty from a snatch and dash. Whomever it had been, must have been well to do, judging later by the supple softness of the leather bag. Knocking out the burglar had been easy and Max took the bag and disappeared.
Going through the bag, she found the usual assortment of paraphernalia that women carried with them, as well as a broken silver bracelet in a plastic bag. Rifling through the wallet, Max found eighty dollars and some change. With a thoughtful grin, she stashed the money, threw one of the credit cards in the street and headed off. It was easy enough, as a messenger, to find the woman's home, since it was listed on her driver's license. The woman had come to the door, cordless telephone in hand and had listened with growing relief to the bike messenger's tale. Completely made up of course, about how she'd ducked through an alley and come upon two young men divvying up their loot. Surprised but resourceful, they'd tried to take Max's messenger bag, but she had fought them off, smacking them soundly for their brazenness. They'd ran and Max had found the woman's bag. She offered it back and the woman was not very surprised to find the cash and card gone. But extremely happy that two other cards remained and most of all, her grandmother's bracelet still there. Apparently, she'd just been about to call the credit card companies to inform them of the theft.
The reward she gave Max rounded off the amount the young woman needed to pay off the realty company. Any momentary guilt she might have felt was swept away, because really, Max had returned what seemed to have been the most important thing to the woman and that was the sentimentality of the bracelet, even though it was broken. Noting that it was getting close to the cut-off time, Max had hurried to take care of business. And as such, she was late getting back to Jam Pony, with only Normal and a few others about the building. She was treated to yet another lecture about consideration for other's time and when she tried to explain that she'd been returning a woman's purse, she'd been met with deep skepticism and the order to 'get her feckless behind out the door' so that Normal could finish up and get going as he'd been waiting the last hour to do.
Max, now longing more than anything to just get upstairs to her apartment so that she could sink into a luxurious bubble bath, punched the button for her floor in the elevator, making sure that her bike was completely inside as the doors began to slide close. The ride was swift and silent. When the bell pinged, announcing it's arrival at her floor, Max's eyes popped open again and she wheeled her bike into and down the hallway, making a beeline straight for home. She was starting to feel shaky again. Leaning the bike against the wall, she checked the doorknob and found it open, which meant that Kendra was home. Opening the door, she grabbed the handlebars of her bike and wheeled it inside, just enough that she could lean it against the inside wall and still be able to close the door.
She came around the corner and was surprised to see both Kendra and Original Cindy sitting on the far side of the kitchen counter that divided the kitchen from the living room. "Hey," she greeted quickly, a little guilt rising up at how she'd left Cindy high and dry for lunch. "Sorry I missed lunch," she offered to Cindy and then included Kendra. "I was taking care of the rent." Cindy's face stayed fairly passive, but Kendra was nodding.
"Yeah," she murmured, gesturing to the living room. "They called and let me know to disregard the eviction notice." The two other women exchanged glances and then turned back to Max, their faces calm, yet somehow, expectant.
Max nodded once. "So that's taken care of. Excuse me a sec." She gave them a tight smile and headed for the bathroom. She really needed her pills right then. She pushed the door shut behind herself and reached for the mirrored door on her side of the cabinet. But the space the pill bottle usually occupied was empty. Max's eyes squinted in sudden panic. Where the hell had they gone? She yanked open Kendra's side, wondering if she had messed up. But they weren't there either. A cursory search of the bathroom yielded nothing.
"You're not gonna find them," she heard her roommate's voice ring out authoritatively. She spun around to see her two friends hovering together in the doorway.
"What did you do?" she demanded, her voice tight and harsh. The other two women exchanged those maddening glances again and Max could feel fear and anger welling up.
"Boo," Cindy spoke softly, but firmly, "you got a problem. But me an' sista girl got yo' back."
"What?"
"Because we love you very much," Kendra added with a forced smile.
"What did you do with my pills?" Max demanded, pushing them aside as she moved out to the search the rest of the apartment.
"I wish you could see yourself," Kendra warned softly, her voice mournful as she trailed after Max. "The temper? The mood swings?"
"Not showin' up when you supposed to," Cindy added, although her tone was a bit more acerbic. Kendra threw her an understanding look.
"All the things you keep forgetting about," the blond continued on. "That's just not like you."
"Look," Max snapped, pausing in her search of the cabinets above the counter. "I haven't been feeling well the past few days-!"
"'Cause you're strung out," Cindy snorted, joining Kendra at the kitchen counter once more. "Straight up jonesed."
"Where's my Tryptophan?" Max's voice was a strong mixture of desperation, whining and fear.
"Boo, you can quit coverin'," Cindy sighed. "Kendra looked that stuff up. Trypto-whatever ain't nothin' more than the stuff in milk that makes ya sleepy."
"It's true," Kendra nodded. "If those pills really had been Tryptophan, they wouldn't be making you act this way."
"They don't!" Max shrieked softly as she blew through the apartment, trying to ferret out any possible place that her so-called friends could have hidden her pills. "This is what happens when I don't have them."
"Like you goin' through withdrawal," Cindy nodded sagely. "Girl, look at how badly you shakin' already. But it's aiight. Me an' sista girl got you. We'll get you through this."
"No," Max protested, finally whirling to confront the pair. "You won't. You don't understand. I'll die without that medication. Now, tell me where you put it!"
Cindy was shaking her head sadly. "Down the toilet," she informed her friend clearly, holding Max's eyes so that the girl would make no mistake about how serious she and Kendra were about their desire to help. "Which is where your life is headed if you don't clean up."
Max shook her head ever so slightly. "Tell me you didn't?" she pleaded. She could not handle this right now. How could her friends be so disregarding of what she was telling them. Of course, they thought that her word was little more than a desperate plea of a drug addict, which in a way she was.
"Someday you'll thank us," Kendra tried to smile reassuringly, rubbing a friendly hand over Max's shoulder. Max's eyes fluttered shut for just a moment as her panicked mind ran over her options. Strangling her well meaning friends was somewhere near the top of her list, but deep in her heart, she knew that they were just trying to help. In a second, she had thrown of Kendra's hand and had headed back out the door, taking only enough time to grab her motorcycle. "Max! Max, I don't think you should-!" But whatever Kendra was going to say to her was lost as Max hightailed it back to the store.
*****
"What do you mean they didn't come in?" Max snapped, staring at the cashier at the health food store.
"I'm sorry Max," Tina shrugged, knowing the other girl since she was a regular customer who only ever bought one product. "The truck got held up on the interstate just outside of Richland, because of an accident. And he, the driver said something about not pushing his limit, so he stopped over in Yakima. He'll be here as soon as possible tomorrow."
Max groaned. "I need that stuff."
"I don't get it," Tina sighed. "It's just a food supplement."
"And a homeopathic remedy for certain conditions," Max added tiredly and a dawning look of understanding crested over the cashier's face.
"You know, I could call over to Jenny's store," Tina offered. Max shook her head.
"That's all the way across town," she sighed. "And they close in like, half an hour."
"I bet if I explained, they'd stay open for you, or at least have someone wait for you in the mall," Tina shrugged. "It's worth a try."
"You'd do that for me?" Max grunted in pleased disbelief.
"You're a good customer," Tina grinned as she turned and reached for the telephone on the wall behind her. It only took a few minutes of conversation before she had hung up and turned back to Max. "Okay, Rod has a bottle for you. It's gonna be seventeen ninety-five," and there she grinned slightly, knowing that Max preferred to shop there for convenience and the fact that her supply was about a dollar cheaper per bottle than the competition. Max nodded, not worried about price. "He said to just knock at their service door if the mall is closed. He's going to be a bit, doing clean-up."
"Oh thanks Tina," Max exhaled in relief. "You're an angel."
"Just take care of yourself."
*****
Logan Cale heard some slight noises as he sat at his lowered for convenience, kitchen counter, savoring a glass of red wine and looking over some notes he'd made about some suspicious dealings he'd been made aware of by one of his informants. Glancing out the large windows beyond the dining room at the streaks of lightning and rain that was pelting through the air, he figured that it must be the storm. But then the noises came again and were shortly after, followed by the young lady that he was just starting to get to know, even though they'd been acquainted several months already.
"Max?" he grunted, slightly surprised, even as he reminded himself that he shouldn't be. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"
"It's raining," she answered shortly, leaning against the door frame that led into the kitchen from the hallway.
"And most people would usually find that a good reason to stay in, rather than go visiting," Logan grinned. But Max shook her head and he could see by a sudden illumination of lightening that she was wet.
"I had to run over to a different store than usual to stock up on my pills," Max explained, her voice sounding as tired as she looked. "The storm broke just as I was leaving the mall."
"Ah," Logan nodded in understanding. His place was probably closer than her apartment to wherever she'd been shopping. She had, he recalled, mentioned before that she didn't like being in the rain unless absolutely necessary. And that motorcycle of hers probably wasn't the best thing to be tooling around on in a storm. "Wine?" he asked, gesturing to the bottle that was waiting on the counter.
"No thanks," Max shook her head. "I'm feelin' kind of punk right now."
"The seizures getting bad?" Logan asked, grabbing his glass of wine and deftly maneuvering his wheelchair so that he could follow her as she wandered into his living room. Knowing what he had discovered of Manticore in general and the X-5 series, of which Max was a member, in specific, Logan knew that she suffered from serotonin deficiency related seizures.
"Starting to," Max informed him as she gingerly seated herself on the sofa. Logan wheeled in closer, but had to stop when the lights suddenly flickered. He glanced up at the ceiling lights suspiciously and then let out a sigh himself when they went out and stayed out. Knowing that he had candles that he kept at the ready on the dining room table, he decided to head that way first, but he misjudged a little where he was at and the wheels on his chair bumped into the chair behind him. "I can get it," Max told him swiftly and through another jagged night sky illumination, he saw her already in the dining room.
"I forgot, you can see in the dark," he chuckled. "Must be nice."
Max waited until she had found and with the matchbook resting between them, lit the candles on the table before she smiled back at her friend slash non-official employer in the he didn't pay her in the usual method sort of way. "Not really. I need at least a little light. But it does come in handy."
"It's too bad there's not a brighter side to those seizures," Logan lamented and was surprised when Max suddenly chuckled.
"Actually maybe there is," she commented, seemingly more to herself than to him.
"And what would that be?" Logan prompted as he wheeled himself over to the credenza and lit the candles that resided on the top counter.
"Hmm?" Max mumbled. "Oh. Well, I figured out pretty fast who my good friends are."
"Oh?" Logan twisted in his seat to glance at her. "How did that come about?"
"Well," Max shrugged one shoulder. "Cindy and Kendra decided to um... stage an intervention, because, well..."
"They mistook you for an addict?" Logan connected the dots fairly quickly, his voice laced with bemusement. Max nodded resignedly.
"I mean, that's a good sign, right?" she queried as she moved back to the sofa. "That they cared enough...?"
"Oh, definitely a good sign,' Logan jerked a little, pulling himself out of his sudden musings. "I just wonder that you haven't mentioned this problem to them. I mean, they are your good friends, right?"
Max glanced away, suddenly feeling defensive. Before she could frame any sort of response to that, she heard her cell phone ringing. Pulling her slightly wet jean jacket out and away from her body, her hand delved into the inner pocket and retrieved said phone. She muffled a groan when she saw that it was, yet again, Sam calling.
"Are you going to answer that?" Logan asked, his tone light, but puzzled. Max could hear that clearly. She shook her head slightly.
"It's just my brother," she sighed and blinked in surprise when Logan leaned forward.
"Your brother?" he questioned sharply and Max realized the slip of her tongue.
"Foster brother," she amended quickly. "Callin' to check in with me."
"Ah," Logan nodded as the phone rang again. "I'll give you some privacy," he informed her politely. "Got to go call the power company and find out what's up." He gave her a tight smile as he wheeled his chair around and headed out of the room. He had another phone in the kitchen and since it wasn't cordless, could use it to call the power company and find out when power could be restored to the building. Although he hated to do so, since the company was probably being inundated with calls like this from outraged customers.
Max watched Logan leaving the room with some slight trepidation. She didn't particularly want to answer this call. But she knew that she, who made such a big deal out of her family to this man, would look extremely suspicious if she didn't answer this call. And she could have made up a story about them having a fight, but she really didn't want to get into the intricacies of the Winchester's with Logan. Because in all honesty, Logan was damn near as curious as that clan was.
As she sank back down to the sofa, Max answered her phone, noticing that the shaking in her hand was back. "Hello?"
*****
Sam perched on the edge of the bed furthest away from the door of the motel room that he and Dean had secured. He stared blankly at the wall as he listened to the seemingly endless ringing of his cell phone as he attempted yet again to call his sister. By this point, the fifth call he'd tried to make, he was beginning to suspect that she was avoiding him for some reason. And honestly, he couldn't figure it out. Was it something to do with that kid Eric that she had said nothing had happened with? Was she embarrassed about that situation? He would have thought that she would have called him the Monday after... But she hadn't called at all. No calls, no messages, nothing to acknowledge him in any way. She even had Kendra covering for her.
But then, finally, someone picked up. There was a little pause, a hesitation and Sam wondered if it was somebody else that had Max's phone. But it was her voice that finally answered. "Hello?"
"Max?" he whispered softly and suddenly, he wondered if he could do this. And thankfully, a stream of apologetic rambling spewed forth from his younger sibling, because the words he had to say were lodged in his throat, strangling him.
"Hey Sam," she got out in a rush. "Sorry I haven't called you back. Things have been kind of hectic around here lately. I mean, I would have called you back and asked about your interview. But I figured that you'd let me know if it was bad news. 'Cause I mean really, you're such a shoo-in for-!"
"Max?" Sam repeated her name a little louder this time and perhaps there was something in his voice that warned her for she instantly stopped.
"What happened?" she asked in a tiny, tremulous voice. Sam swallowed heavily, pointedly ignoring Dean carefully making his presence known. His brother had just gotten back from whatever dining establishment he'd chosen, with their late night meal. Fighting that Wendigo had taken a lot out of them. And surprisingly, Dean was keeping whatever might have been occurring in that warped brain of his to himself, pretending that he was completely unaware of what Sam was doing. What he had to say. And in a way, Sam was strangely grateful for it.
Dean hadn't blown off Jess' death. Because Sam cared about her, Dean had cared, even for just the few minutes that they had met. Not in the same way of course. But Dean had been surprisingly mature in his reaction and support of Sam's grief and it took the younger man a little by surprise. Like right now. Dean obviously knew that Sam could only handle one emotionally charged, non-supernatural based, confrontation at a time. So Dean was keeping his nose out of it until Sam was able to work through what he needed to work through with Max. Sam realized then that Max was waiting.
"It's bad news," he spoke heavily, feeling literally, like a weight was pressing down on his chest, making it hard for him to breath.
"Dad?"
Sam inhaled slightly. He should have known that was coming, that since they'd last talked, that Dad would be her first concern. And he couldn't begrudge her that worry, since what had happened had been... unexpected. "No," he answered, slightly more sharp than he'd intended to. "Dad's fine. Or at least we assume he is. We haven't found him yet."
"We?" Of course she'd picked up on that.
"Dean and I," Sam informed her. He glanced over his shoulder at where his brother was apparently, calmly eating his dinner
"Oh, you're..."
"Um yeah," Sam sighed. "About that... Max..." Sam was at a loss for actual words. He knew what he needed to say, he just didn't know if the words would actually come out. Taking a deep fortifying breath, he braced himself and got the words, the dreadful hated words out. "Jess is... gone. There was a... fire and we couldn't get her out in time and-!"
"What!" The word exploded in his ear and Sam winced. But before he could respond there was a thump, he thought she'd dropped the phone. But then there was a crash and Sam pressed the phone closer to his ear.
"Max?" He was startled to hear her name echoed by another male. He threw another glance over his shoulder, but it wasn't his brother. Dean was watching him, his eyes dark and thoughtful, hand in mid-air holding the burger that he'd bought for himself. Sam's shoulder's hunched a little as he wondered what the hell had happened. "Max?" his voice was softer this time, full of concern. But when the answer came, it wasn't what he expected.
"Hello?" it was the male's voice, he was sure, that he'd heard echoing concern for his sister.
"Who is this?" he demanded tiredly. He really wasn't up for meet and greet with another of Max's boyfriend's.
"This is Logan Cale," the voice answered promptly. "You're Max's brother?"
"Yeah, Sam," he introduced himself abruptly. He remembered that Max had mentioned this Logan guy a couple times and then Eric had as well, last week.
"Okay Sam," Logan's voice was calm, cultured and Sam had the ridiculous feeling that it carried that soothing weight that meant that he was covering for something bad going on. "Can you hang on for a minute?"
"Yeah," Sam grunted. "What's going on?" He had to wait briefly for an answer, but it came after a muffled conversation from the other end.
"Max is going through a rough patch with her seizures right now," Logan explained and Sam felt something clench around his heart. "I just need to get her pills."
So many thoughts ran through Sam's mind as he distractedly agreed. Of course, he needed to keep quiet and let this guy help his sister, even as he wanted to demand some answers. Like, why did this guy that Max had been casually working for know such personal things about his sister? Was there more to their relationship than Max had let on? How bad were the seizures? Sam knew one thing for sure though. If he had known that this was happening right now, he wouldn't have told her just yet about Jess. Stress was definitely one thing that Max couldn't cope with when she was battling these damn things. Sam's head hung slightly and he ran his free hand through his hair, feeling slightly like an ass, though he wasn't exactly clear why that was.
A disgruntled noise from behind him brought him around and Sam half-turned on the bed to see Dean gesturing with his food, obviously wanting to know what was going on. Sam lowered the phone slightly and furrowed his eyebrow's together. "Seizure," he answered his brother's unspoken query succinctly. He wasn't surprised by how quickly Dean's face darkened. Whether it was threat of the supernatural or anything else, their family could always count on Dean to be ready to fight.
"Bad?" Dean asked as calmly as he could, though his mind was screaming at him to try and take control of an uncontrollable situation.
"Don't know," Sam grunted and passed his hand over his face again. "I shouldn't have told her," he sighed, glancing away. "Not when she's like this."
"You didn't know," Dean confirmed quietly. They'd all been through this nerve wracking time with Max and despite learning to remain calm and collected in the face of crisis, Dean knew that none of them really handled it well. It was different when they were on a hunt. They were actively seeking out things that were dangerous. But these seizures were a threat that stalked Max constantly. No one knew for sure when and where they would strike. Sam looked as if he were about to say something else, but a muffled curse from the other end of the phone caught his attention immediately.
"What?" he demanded sharply, his concern entirely focused on his little sister now.
"It's okay," Logan grunted into the phone. "Sorry. I was just trying to reach a blanket and I dropped it."
"Oh," Sam sighed in relief. "A blanket... for..."
"For Max," Logan confirmed. "There's a storm raging outside," he explained further. "The power is out and she's cold." Sam nodded, accepting that.
"So..." he pondered the few things he knew about this man that Max had told him. It really wasn't much. How did you make small talk with remote strangers? Sam really wasn't sure about the protocol here. "Uh, were you guys working tonight, or something?"
"Actually I was," Logan sounded surprised. Perhaps Max hadn't shared certain things with Logan, which would make sense. The whole family was very close-mouthed around strangers and casual acquaintances. "Max got caught out in the rain on her motorcycle and she was closer to here than home."
Sam processed that rapidly with the other information that he'd garnered. "Smart," he murmured. "I'm glad she had the sense to stop rather than try and make it home."
Logan, on the other end of the phone, smiled as he wheeled himself awkwardly back to the living room, blanket in his lap. It wasn't easy to carry on a conversation while you needed both hands to maneuver a wheelchair. "Especially in her condition." He heard Sam's agreement.
"How bad is she right now?" Sam asked and he could see Dean out of the corner of his eye nodding at his line of questioning. "What are you doing for her?"
Again Logan smiled. He'd dated enough in the past, some girls with protective family, that he recognized the concerned older brother stance. It didn't bother him though, as he was probably older than Max's brother by a few years at least. "She's a little shaky. I guess she has been most of the day, from what I understand. She's got her Tryptophan," he recited back easily. "She's just taken four. And now she has the blanket, hang on." Logan dropped the phone back down to his lap as he helped Max arrange the blanket over her. She was staring vacantly at some spot in front of her and Logan was sure that she wasn't really focusing on anything specific. He pulled the phone back up as he ran one hand over Max's brow, checking her temperature, which seemed a little high to him. Perhaps some liquid would help. "Max, do you want some milk?" Her eyes slowly focused and raised to meet his and Logan was startled by the anguish that she wasn't quick enough to mask. It hadn't been there before, but Logan was tactful enough to say nothing. Whatever it was, was her business and he wouldn't ask unless she offered to share. But quickly enough the mask of the beautiful but remote girl was back in place, although she couldn't quite clear her eyes. She nodded slowly and Logan tried to give her a reassuring smile.
Tilting his head again to keep her cell phone between his head and his shoulder, Logan wheeled himself back, heading for the kitchen. "So now I'm going to get her some milk," he announced, addressing Sam once more. "I mean, I won't be able to heat it up, since the power is out. But any port in a storm, right?" he asked lightly.
"Yeah," Sam agreed, sounding just as shaky as his sister did. "Look, thanks. For helping Max, I mean."
"It's not a problem Sam," Logan replied simply. "There's no way that I was just going to let her suffer."
"Right," Sam agreed, his shoulders drooping again. "Of course it didn't help that I dropped my stuff on her." His eyes widened and he clamped his mouth shut as he realized what he'd said. Damn. There was something about this guy's voice that was comforting. He was probably one of those people that was a great listener. Well, he had to be. He was a reporter, wasn't he?
"I'm sure that whatever it was," Logan began calmly and Sam knew his suspicions about this guys vocal resonance was correct. "You didn't know that Max was ill right this second. It's no one's fault," he finished, unknowingly echoing Dean's sentiments from just minutes before.
"Okay," Sam nodded absently. "Look, Logan, uh can you just... if Max gets worse..." The other man simply waited to hear what Sam was going to suggest, rather than finish the thought himself. Sam glanced at Dean, his brother unconsciously, or perhaps not, leaning towards him, still intent on the family drama. "Can you get her to a hospital or something. I mean, I know she'll be stubborn about it and I doubt there's much they can do. But-!" His words were cut off by a bark of laughter and then,
"Sorry," Logan chuckled. "Stubborn is an understatement about your sister." A small grin graced Sam's face for a moment before the other man continued. "Besides, she could kick my ass blindfolded before I... ended up in my chair. I really doubt I could force her now if she didn't want to." Sam bit his lip as he recalled Max had told him that Logan was a paraplegic. "Although," the other man continued, "I suppose I could use her guilt as leverage."
Sam's antenna shot straight up at that. "Her guilt?" he repeated suspiciously. What the hell was this guy talking about? But Logan wasn't answering and it seemed to Sam that there was another muffled conversation taking place.
Logan, who had just delivered Max's milk to her, was conversing with Sam and poking some gentle fun at Max all the while trying to assure everyone concerned that things would be handled to the best of he, Logan's ability. But at those last two words, he suddenly felt like he was caught in a crossfire again. And Logan most definitely didn't like the sensation.
Max had hissed and flapped one hand at Logan, gesturing to the cell phone. Quickly, he'd put one hand over the receiver and leaned forward, to hear what she had to say. "They don't know about me," she whispered quickly to him. He was about to ask for more specific information. There were a lot of things she could have meant, although he had a pretty good idea that she was talking about her altered genetics and early upbringing. "They don't know I'm g-genetically revved up," her words were even quieter now. Logan nodded once. Okay, he got that and he could work with that. But before he could remove his hand though her eyes darkened again. "And I told S-sam that you were carjacked and shot."
"Which isn't that far from the truth," Logan grunted. The car that he'd been traveling in that fateful day had been attacked. She obviously just hadn't mentioned that the attackers had been trying to get at his informant, and he'd just been in the way, trying to protect them. "But he knows we're working together?"
Max nodded. "He just thinks that I do s-some research and l-legwork for you," she confirmed, her voice still revealing the effects of her faulty brain chemistry as she stumbled slightly in her words.
"Which, again, sort of the truth," Logan smiled fondly down at this dark, enigmatic girl before him. He noticed right away that she hadn't denied what he'd said about her guilt. It was something he'd never mentioned to her, how close to consciousness he'd been, when she had come to him in the hospital after he'd been shot. He'd heard her words, though they'd hovered in his unconscious for a long time. It wasn't until he'd been hovering on the verge of sleep one night after an appointment with his doctor, and had been thinking back to the incident, that the words surfaced again. Taken in one context, they hadn't meant much other than a conversation filler. Especially if Max thought he was completely unconscious. But taken as Logan had figured, to be her way of talking through something that bothered her, as some people did when they thought no one could catch them talking to themselves, it made perfect sense.
She felt guilty about his shooting. About not agreeing to be there to protect Lauren and her daughter Sophy. For not keeping him from being shot. If she didn't feel guilty, why go to the trouble of telling an unconscious man that she didn't feel guilty? Not one little bit guilty for what had transpired. And then why had she turned around and done everything in her considerable power to complete the mission. To save Sophie? Sure, but Logan had sensed back then, even as he was sensing now, that there was more to the story. He was almost ready to return to his conversation with Sam, but he just wanted to make sure.
"Anything else I should know?" he asked easily, gesturing with the phone between both hands. It was extremely slight, the quick shift in her eyes, but Logan was sure that there was something. "Max? What is it?" He wasn't startled by the lone tear that slowly leaked from her eye. He could certainly empathize with the emotional strain that battling a faulty body put on one's mind and emotions.
"Nothing," Max denied hurriedly, tiredly swiping the offending moisture away. She glanced up over the couch, out the window where both could plainly see the lightening streaking through the sky. It took her a moment, but then she seemed to have come to a decision. "Sam's girlfriend died. In a fire. That's what he called to tell me."
"Oh my God Max," Logan sighed heavily. "That's horrible. Were you close to her?"
Max let out a weak, sickened chuckle. "Yeah Logan. She was like a sis-sister to me." With that admission, tears welled up in her eyes again and she quickly twisted her head away, not wanting this man to see the weakness in her. The weakness of emotion that she had always been trained was an enemy.
Logan let her. He sat back in his wheelchair. Despite their short, stunted, more business than anything else relationship, he understood the feminine cues to back the hell off. Turning himself away and wheeling back into the kitchen, he took a deep breath before he addressed her brother again. "Sam?"
"Yeah?" Sam barked with relief, worried that in the few minutes since Logan had quit speaking to him, something was happening. Something bad.
"Sorry about that," Logan replied easily. "I was just giving Max a hand. The couch isn't all that comfortable."
"Oh, okay," Sam sighed. "She's...?"
"I think she'll be okay," Logan pronounced.
"Good," Sam sniffled, trying not to let the worry in his mind flood everything. "That's good." He gave Dean a tired nod to indicate that everything was as well as could be hoped for in the situation. Dean slumped back in his chair. "But um," he continued, wondering how to pick up the previous thread of conversation, because he was still intrigued by what the man had meant. "You were saying something about Max feeling guilty?"
"Oh that," Logan chuckled lightly. "Yeah. Max and I were supposed to meet up that day. But she had to call and cancel," he lied easily. "So I was heading out to do some work when I was carjacked. I guess Max just feels guilty because if she hadn't canceled, I wouldn't have been at that place, at that time and I'd still have functional use of my legs."
Sam blinked slowly, assimilating that tidbit of information. Yeah, he could see that. He did the same thing to himself. If he had just ignored Dean when he had come, Jess would have been okay. If he'd insisted on not stopping to eat on the way home as Dean wanted to do, Jess would have been okay. If he'd not lingered to talk to Dean at the car, Jess...
"Well anyway Sam," Logan continued. "Max's cell battery is getting low," he informed the other man. "And with no way to charge it right now..." he trailed off and Sam immediately got the point.
"Yeah, yeah," Sam replied hurriedly, clearing his throat, or at least attempting to do so to get past the lump that was there from thinking again, still of Jessica. "Just, have Max call me when she's feeling better."
"Will do," Logan assured him quickly. But there was something that still weighed heavily on the older man and for the briefest of moments, he wondered if he should say something. Common manners were helpful, that yes, he should acknowledge Sam's girlfriend's death, since Max had taken the pains to point it out. But he was still such a stranger. Pushing the questions to the back of his mind, Logan inhaled slightly. "And Sam?"
"Yeah?" Sam waited, wondering what else the man might say. As relaxed as he could be under the circumstances, Logan's next words hit him like a freight train right to the chest.
"Max told me and I'm... very sorry for your loss," Logan spoke softly, reverently, empathetic to some degree over what Sam had to be suffering.
Sam's mouth gaped slightly. What could he say to that? Thank the man for acknowledging the most devastating event in his life that he could remember? Did he tell him to shut the hell up? To not mention Jess to him when Logan had no idea... But no, it wasn't as if the man were deliberately trying to hurt him. Cale had made a connection with his sister. She was hurting too. Jess had been her friend. It was slightly reassuring in its own way, that Logan had revealed himself not to be as aloof as Sam had imagined him to be for a business acquaintance to Max. That he was helping her through her seizures and understood this moment of loss and how adrift Sam felt. His mouth snapped shut as he realized that Logan was waiting. "Yeah," he whispered huskily and then more quickly, "goodbye." He hung up before Logan could say anything else and dropped the phone to the bed, not caring where it fell. He perched at the edge of the bed, for how long he didn't know. But finally, his brother clearing his throat brought his attention back to the present.
"Sam? You okay?" Dean's voice was steady, to Sam's ear. But then, barely anything ever seemed to rattle Dean externally. It was only to those that knew him as well as the family did, which was pretty much no one else on this earth, who could discern the fear and worry in the undertones of his body language. Sam chanced a peek over his shoulder. Dean really was worried. The burger and fries sat untouched before him and even though his brother was leaning back in his seat, Sam could discern, just barely, one foot jiggling nervously on the floor. He threw his brother a slightly contemptuous look, daring Dean to ask him that again. How the hell could he be okay? "If you're done on the phone," Dean continued on calmly, not acknowledging his brother's menacing glare. Which pretty much meant that he was amenable to skimming over the touchy feely moment since Sam certainly wasn't up to sharing, but he would have, with the expected protest if Sam really needed it. "You should come eat," Dean directed, gesturing to the remaining bag that held the fast food that had grown lukewarm while Sam conversed with Max and Logan.
Sam inhaled deeply again, rubbing his left hand over his face as he turned forward once more. "Yeah," he sighed, leaning forward and pushing himself up off the bed. "I guess." It was a crapshoot these days, remembering to eat. Usually it was only Dean waving food underneath his nose that got him eating. It just wasn't important to him right then. But just to be on the safe side, should Dean continue pressing at subjects better left buried, Sam snagged his laptop and brought it to the rickety little motel room table. He busied himself setting it up and then pulled his food out. Hot or cold it didn't matter. It was all ashes in his mouth anyway.
"Looking for another job?" Dean queried easily, his mouth full of a bunch of fries. He scooped up the soda he'd gotten himself and slurped loudly at it. It was an easy way of not letting Sam slip into a semi-comatose state as he occassionally did. Dean suppressed the grin threatening to break over his face at the expected annoyed glare that Sam shot him. Sam shook his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as he typed quickly, hit the 'Enter' key and then sat back to wait for the information it would yield. Giving in to his brother's non-verbal urging, he picked up his sandwich and began to eat. It took very little time and Sam skimmed over the information presented to him.
"Just doing a little googling," he replied absently.
"Dude, kinky!" Dean chuckled, lifting his cup and straw to his mouth again.
"Dean," Sam snorted in protest of his brother's as usual, one track mind. "It's a search engine."
"I know," Dean returned smugly, enjoying how Sam squirmed a moment as they fell back into their usual and oh so familiar patterns of behavior. He knew instinctively that this was what Sam needed right now. And if Dean had to play this part to help Sam move forward at least a little, it was no skin off his nose. "Who you lookin' at?"
Sam didn't answer for a moment as he continued to peruse several links. "Logan Cale," he finally answered. Dean's eyebrows shot up as he quickly made the connection.
"The guy you were just talking to?" he demanded. He couldn't help the tiny bit of well, jealousy that bit through the next words. "Max's friend?"
"More like her on the side employer," Sam corrected, his eyes still glued to the screen. Surprisingly, given Dean's drive to protect his family, Sam had found him still extremely reticent to discuss Max or anything to do with her since they'd been on the road together. But Sam knew, since Max had told him herself, that she had regularly spoken with their father before his disappearance. Was John going that far into not-sharing mode that he didn't even tell Dean what was going on in their sister's life? "You did know about that, right?" Sam clarified, sparing his brother a glance and surprisingly, catching the complete mystification that his elder brother swiftly hid.
"The reporter," Dean countered. "Right, right. Yeah, she mentioned that," he nodded before shoving the burger back in his mouth and Sam knew that if pressed, Dean would pretend at having some manners and use his full mouth as an excuse not to talk. Not like it bothered him at any other time, just when Dean didn't want to talk about something. Then, any trick in the book was acceptable.
Wearily Sam turned his attention back to the computer, reading over what he had begun. "Huh," he grunted softly. "Gotta love p.b.c's."
"Are those like p.b. & j.'s?" Dean countered quickly and even as soon as Sam had said it, he was expecting the comparison from Dean, the younger Winchester still smiled.
"Public background checks," he corrected. He turned his laptop slightly so that Dean could see the plethora of information that was coming up on this guy. It was to be expected, since Cale had been a reporter, still was and had been in the public eye with his articles. Sam, used to running this kind of information check, quickly scanned the pertinent information provided. Height, six foot two inches, weight, 180.
"Huh," he murmured to himself again.
"What?" Dean demanded, his tone slightly annoyed as it usually was when Sam muttered to himself.
"Oh," Sam recollected himself. "Says here he's divorced." Sam took a moment to open another screen with more information. "Interesting."
"What's so interesting about divorce?" Dean snorted. "Unless there was a really juicy scandal." He waggled his eyebrows in his brother's direction, but Sam was now effectively ignoring his brother in favor of reading. Sam shook his head, though Dean was unsure if it was in response to his comment or what he was reading. "Sam?"
"Hmm?" Sam grunted and then turned back to his brother. "Oh. No, interesting in that he dropped off the radar several years ago. Hang on." Sam clicked on several more pages, leaning forward as what he was reading captured and drew him in once more. It took him several minutes and so intent was he that even Dean's impatient finger tapping didn't annoy as it usually did. When Sam finally leaned back and reached for his burger, Dean broke down and asked.
"So? What'cha find out?"
Sam shook his head as he quickly chewed and then swallowed. "Got a well to do background. Parents died when he was fairly young. College, a couple engagements, marriage. He was supported by the family business, though he didn't work there very long. Huh. Didn't know that."
Dean rolled his eyes as Sam fell silent again. It was extremely annoying and sometimes felt like he was pulling teeth when Sam was playing the silent research game. "What?"
"You know those hover drones?" Sam segued and caught Dean's blank look. He gave a small huff. "The flying cameras?" Dean still looked blank. "The ones they've been testing for the last few years," he continued, his voice rising slightly in disbelief that his brother could have possibly missed these things. "Jeeze Dean! Don't you ever read the paper? Watch the news?"
"Just for the obits," Dean shot back and Sam shook his head. "But yes, I know what you're talkin' about."
"All right," Sam's jaw clenched at his brother's obvious baiting. "Well, Cale Industries, Logan's families business, is the one that produce the microchip that enables the hover drones to fly. I didn't know that."
"And it's important why?" Dean smirked, resting one fist on his thigh as he leaned on his other arm on the table.
"It's not," Sam protested. "I was just surprised, I guess. Anyway," he continued in a hurry before Dean could interrupt. "After his divorce from Valerie Cale, he turned to journalism, his major in college. Looks like he was working closely with his mentor, Nathan Herrero." Sam paused, leaning back in his chair, his fingers hovering over the fries that Dean had slid closer to his elbow.
"What?" his brother demanded at this latest pause. Sam shook his head.
"The name's familiar," Sam grunted. His eyes were continuing to scan different pages of information. He found and clicked on a link to Herrero and the moment he started reading the old article, the information fell into place. "Ah, that's right."
"What is?" Dean asked, his jaw clenching minutely with the frustration he always felt whenever Sam made pronouncements that he didn't immediately explain. Sam turned his laptop so that Dean could see it as well and then picked up his food.
"Herrero was big on social and political issues," Sam explained even as Dean glanced over the information, sort of filling in the background for his brother, since he knew that Dean wouldn't have cared one whit about the guy unless he was haunting or being haunted. "He started delving into the issue of police corruption. Next thing you know, he disappears."
"And this matters why?" Dean sighed.
"There were a lot of rumors going around about it," Sam answered after having swallowed his mouthful. "It was a hot topic in my poli-sci class. He was presumed dead by the police, but people wondered which faction was behind the guys disappearance."
"And again?" Dean muttered, rubbing at one temple with his forefinger. Sam smirked that Dean hadn't made the connection yet. But there, suddenly something lit up in Dean's eyes. "Wait? Was this about the time that Cale dropped out of sight too?" Ah, he remembered that. Sam nodded.
"Published a few more articles," Sam agreed, "and then poof, it was like he didn't exist anymore."
"So what," Dean mused, staring at the screen even as he absentmindedly ate his food, mirroring his brother's action. "He was involved with his mentor's disappearance? Or he took a page from the kill or be killed survival guide and disappeared before he went the way of the dodo?"
"Probably more likely the second, I'd say," Sam added sagely. He shook his head. "All the money in the world can't save you from a bullet to the brain."
"But he's resurfaced now," Dean muttered, not bothering to articulate the fact that they only knew this because Max was involved in some way with the guy. And if thinking about that wasn't the damnedest kick to Dean's gut. He blinked in surprise as the computer beeped at him. "What's that? I didn't do anything."
Sam chuckled and pulled the computer back so that it was facing him. "No, just means the page I wanted is done downloading. There's a video clip that was linked to the background check. A hover drone video, looks like it."
"Man, those things are crap," Dean opined, leaning back in his chair. "A complete waste of money. Once the crooks figure them out it's pretty damn easy to get around them." Sam smirked at that pronouncement.
"Max said pretty much the same thing," Sam noted absently. "When they first came out."
"Smart girl," his brother retorted dryly.
"Of course, maybe she changed her mind when she saw that footage of what she thought was Seth," Sam commented quietly. He did notice his brother lean forward again as he read the corresponding article about the hover drone footage. Just basic information about when it was recorded and where.
"She hasn't found anything else out about him, has she?" Dean asked softly and Sam smiled internally at his brother's typical concern. Instead of answering, he just shook his head as the video began to play.
Sam stared in surprise at the screen, the obviously grainy quality of the film doing nothing to retard the recognition process. Right before him, was some sort of organized hit going down in broad daylight in the streets of Seattle. A car was rammed, blocked at the front end and there was an honest to God shootout happening. Sam knew he was gaping slightly, but he was just that dumbfounded. Why hadn't he heard about this? This was no gang warfare, commonplace in the larger cities. This was... oh there, a woman, by the looks of it had gotten away. Sam could hear a child screaming somewhere in the compilation and again Dean was scooting over to get a closer look. Together they watched as several armed men shot at the trapped vehicle until finally, another man emerged, only to turn back and pull a small girl from the car. The man tried to run, tried to protect the kid, but within three steps, he was down. And their attackers had converged, wrenching the child from him.
Sam gasped as the camera footage zoomed in on the guy that had just been shot. "Damn," he breathed out shakily, before one of the attackers turned, noticed the hover drone and fired. There was static for a few seconds after that and the video file was done.
"Was that...?" Dean trailed off as Sam was already nodding.
"Logan Cale," the taller man confirmed. Without realizing it, his finger had reached for the touch pad again and had started the video over. They let it play, silence between them. Both of them soaking up any and all details they could garner. When once more the file was finished, Sam pushed the laptop away and turned back to his brother. "She lied to me." There was no need to specify what she Sam was referring to. His eyes held a beseeching note that Dean was near captivated by. He hadn't seen that... that mass of confusion and the need to understand that only Sam could convey, not since Sam was still a kid. "Why...?"
Dean, uncomfortable that the onus was placed on him to help figure out the motives of the one woman in all this earth that was a complete enigma to him anymore, gave out a low snort. "I don't know Sammy," he replied helplessly even as a thought occurred to him. "You know, maybe she didn't. Maybe this Logan character didn't tell her the truth about what went on. You know, she might have missed the news report-!"
But Sam was shaking his head. "Logan said the same thing, to me," he informed his brother. "He said straight out that he had gone out for something work related and was carjacked." He pursed his lips momentarily. "And that was right after they were talking, muffling the phone so I couldn't hear."
Dean shrugged one shoulder. "Don't look at me. I don't know what goes through her head anymore. Closest guess I can make is that she probably didn't want us, you, to worry about her." Probably didn't want to risk big brothers riding onto the scene and making her think about past... mistakes! Dean glanced away from his brother, the ache in his chest, the one he'd thought buried and drowned in cheap beer, raising its ugly head once more.
"Probably," Sam agreed slowly. And then, speaking more to himself than his brother, he let out a long breath and wondered, "what the hell has she gotten herself into?"
Chapter Thirty-two
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