]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.
Time line/ Spoilers: This story takes place predominantly in the Supernatural time line. 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-two
Close Enough To Touch
"Your parents must have been terrorists," Sketch breathed out before her, stinging Max with a slightly repugnant smell that told her that Sketchy had been indulging in something to calm his nerves as he waited for them, meaning her and Original Cindy, to save his ass, yet again. He was holding the money that Cindy had handed over, fanned before his face, trembling with relief and who knew what else. "'Cause you guys are the bomb!" He finished the cheesy line with an even cheesier expression of hopefulness marring his kicked puppy dog looks.
Max groaned internally, even as she tried to tamp down the irritation rising within her. Here they had just put themselves on the line in the name of friendship and a certain amount of life or death desperation for him and yet, Sketch was still trying to pull something on them. Flattery in hopes of getting some, perhaps? Well she had had enough. Her hand shot up faster than either of the others could blink to hold him firmly still so that he would not miss the importance of what she was saying.
"Next time you need a favor and call a friend?" she demanded icily as Sketch's eyes widened. He'd been manhandled by her before and some part of Max recognized that Sketch actually got off a little on it. After all, Lydia and the nails... ew! "Just remember one thing. You're out of lifelines sweetheart!"
She heard Cindy's grunt of approval and agreement. They'd both had enough this evening. Max let go of where her fingers had been slightly digging into his cheeks and gave him a light slap. Lighter than she wanted to because he was still their friend and she didn't want to knock him out, only to have someone steal the money she had just painstakingly hustled and have to go through this all over again.
"Let's go," she muttered, moving away from the still shaking man.
Max didn't bother to check if Cindy was following after her. But after a few steps, she felt more than saw her friend pause and she did as well, steeling herself against any kindness Original may have decided on. But the woman simply wanted to show her approval at Max's behavior. With a slight grin on her face, Max bumped fists with her girl before the pair moved on. A show of female solidarity before the unenlightened and probably never to be enlightened male.
They'd made it to the end of the block that they were to meet Sketch on before Cindy took up the conversation again. Muttering on about how that fool would be better off to try and do something useful with his life rather than coming up with crazy schemes. And while Max agreed, she could also see how desperation and fear could concoct some crazy plans. After all, she'd been in that position before, hunting the supernatural, evading Manticore. Normally, she liked a well thought out plan, but when you had to fly by the seat of your pants, cohesion sometimes went out the window. And speaking of pants, the tight little shorts she was wearing had been starting to ride uncomfortably and longing thoughts of home, where her comfortable clothes were, began to occupy her mind.
"You can't blame him you know," she offered to her friend. "Like you said, males? Not always the brightest of the species."
"And certainly not worth the time and effort," Original added smugly.
"But a necessary evil," Max giggled. "If we want to perpetuate the species."
"Suga," Original sighed contentedly, knowing that she would never fully bring Max around to her way of thinking, as she knew that just wasn't how her girl was built, "I thank the person who invented artificial insemination every night I think on this." As intended, that got another chuckle out of her girl. "If'n I ever decide to go that way."
"You with a kid?" Max paused slightly. There was an interesting thought. Beside her, her friend shrugged.
"As much as I'd like it to happen, Original ain't gonna be a young ingénue foreva," she shrugged. It wasn't like she thought on it a lot at this point. Or that she was serious about future plans like that. But still, she was female. "Maybe someday. You neva know what the future hold."
"True that," Max agreed. You certainly didn't.
"Well, this is me," Cindy continued, glancing up at the building they'd arrived at, where her apartment was located. "I'll see you tomorrow Boo. Walk safe."
Max parted from her friend, walking slowly, watching to make sure that Original got safely into her somewhat secure building before ambling off in the direction of her own home. Noting the various catcalls, a continuation of her journey to The Crash earlier that evening, Max could understand where Cindy's concern lay. They had looked quite a bit like hookers. But her no nonsense stride and confident mien, plus the fact that she wasn't actually looking for a good time, seemed to keep possibilities down to a minimum.
She arrived home with a minimum of fuss, only having to give just one guy a death glare before he moved off to find someone else more willing to play whatever perverted sexual games he'd had in mind. She'd done the expedient thing by keeping her apartment keys tucked in her shoes. She could feel the nudge of them every step she took. But they would have detracted from the lines of her outfit and there was certainly no room in her gold short shorts to tuck them anywhere. She was just glad they hadn't fallen out after that little tussle with Rafer and his goons. She extracted the set and made it into the apartment building and to the elevator, feeling slightly tired. It was the same after every event that was a little more adrenaline fueled than a normal workday. And while she certainly wouldn't sleep, she did feel like relaxing, perhaps with a bath and a book, provided Kendra wasn't in need of the facilities.
She opened the door to their apartment, having heard Kendra's voice murmuring on the other side of the door. She hoped that her friend wasn't entertaining, and didn't think she was as there were no notes or warnings at the door as Kendra sometimes remembered to do. So either they were not at the knockin' boots portion of the evening, or Kendra was on the phone. As Max came around the partition that led to the living room, she saw that it was the latter.
"Oh, just in time," Kendra announced into the cordless phone she held, with a large smile. "She just walked in." Okay, so whoever it was, was calling for Max, or had mentioned her.
For her then, as Kendra had just gestured for Max to come take the phone. "And whoa," the blond chuckled before Max could reach her, "looking sluttier than I have ever seen before." She dropped the mouthpiece a little and gave Max a thorough once over. She hadn't been there earlier when Max was getting ready to go out. "What were you doing tonight?" her friend demanded teasingly. "And why wasn't I invited?"
"I'll tell you later," Max retorted instantly, holding her hand out for the phone, "and it's not what you think."
Kendra just smiled mischievously and handed the phone to her friend. "It's Sam," she announced before she moved off to gather up whatever she had been working on at the desk. Max groaned silently, knowing that it was fruitless to hope that Sam had taken no attention of what Kendra was saying. The pair of them got along well, once Sam had managed to get past blushing at Kendra's outrageous sexual comments. Feeling decidedly irate that she'd been put in this position, by Sketchy and his need for help, by the males in the world that were ruled by their penises, and by her traitorous roommate, Max headed to her room to begin changing into something a little less binding.
"Hey Sam," she sighed into the phone, wondering where the diatribe would begin.
"Slutty?" was the first word out of his mouth. "Do I even want to know?"
"Probably not," Max informed him, hoping that he would go ahead and drop that line of thought, even as she moved to the dresser to begin collecting her preferred night clothes. Meaning clothes that she would be staying home in. Oh why couldn't he have called fifteen minutes earlier? But she knew he wouldn't just drop it. No, past history had showed her that the caveman protective streak in her brother was still in play, even after all this time and the distance between them. "No, I was out with Cindy tonight."
"Doing what?" Sam demanded gently. He knew better by now than to push buttons with her. But he did genuinely care for her well being. She heard grunts from the background on his end and cringed slightly. Dean must have been there, wherever they were. Max clamped a lid on those thoughts before they even had a chance to get started. She did not need a reminder of their last major encounter right now. Especially dressed as she was and with the mood she was in.
"We were just doin' a friend a favor," she muttered as she kicked off her platform gold sandals.
"And which friend was that?" he asked immediately. Max rolled her eyes. Dog and bone, same as usual. With her free hand, she carefully unzipped the gold shorts and began to push them down her hips. It occupied her for a moment until she realized that Sam was waiting, seemingly impatient for an answer.
"Oh, just Sketchy," she got off flippantly. But perhaps, from their previous conversations, that wasn't the best thing to tell him, since she had long ago confide in him the other messengers interest in her from their first meeting. Apparently evident in the dangerous tone that Sam repeated his name. "Oh not like that!" she protested.
"So what were you doing then?" Sam sounded like he was just keeping the lid on his ire, if not his curiosity.
"We were just out doin' a little hustling," Max frowned. Surely that wouldn't be as bad as he obviously feared.
"Okay," Sam sounded set to reason things out, which was immediately what he began doing. "So if you and Sketch both have full time jobs, why did you need to be hustling?" She could hear the disapproval rolling off him, making her feel like she was twelve years old again. And then she heard a resigned sigh. "What sort of trouble did he get into now?"
She couldn't help but laugh at the tired tone he used. Everyone in Sketch's sphere was used to the absurd situations the stoner often found himself in. "Do you really want to know Sam?"
"I don't know," Sam chuckled. She could almost see him running a hand over his face, like a worn out parent with a child that just never learned. She smiled, her face softening. "Do I? How bad is it?"
"Not bad now that OC and I took care of it," Max replied. And it wasn't. She was pretty sure she'd taught those at the Odessa Social Club a little lesson. She sighed once more. She was pretty sure that Sam would not give up on this, since Sketchy had involved not only Max, but Cindy as well. There was still something, not Neanderthal certainly, but a chivalry that existed in Sam that got his dander up when females were deliberately put in dangerous situations. Even when he was one hundred percent aware that said females could handle themselves. She finally decided to give him an abbreviated version of the events. "He was running money and lost a package."
"And of course, whoever he was running the money for," Sam surmised, correctly, "wanted to be paid back? And please, tell me it wasn't drug money." She heard another protest in the background but decided to ignore what it could mean.
"No, not drugs," she assured her older brother as she finished changing, having to pull the phone slightly away from her ear. "It was a gambling club." There was silence for a moment.
"That's almost as bad," Sam decided.
"It wasn't that bad Sam," Max drawled out as she took a seat at the foot of her bed. "Like Cindy said, they didn't want to cause trouble when all those nice money losin' folks were watching, right?"
"And how about when they weren't watching?" Sam retorted sharply. He wasn't a fool and he could read his sister as well as anyone was likely to. With his father and Dean, Sam had learned early, the art of reading what people didn't say, because those two, never seemed to say anything at all. And it spoke volumes.
"We won that money fair and square Sam," Max shrugged philosophically. Or at least, that was the understanding of the club people. Not that they liked it any. Max figured that they were probably more pissed that the two dumb girls hadn't been so dumb and that they'd almost been caught with their pants down in the age old rivalry between the sexes. They'd allowed their dicks to do their thinking against whatever better judgment they might have had. And they lost.
"I mean, how do you rig roulette when you've never been to the club before?" She knew that would give him pause, to think that she'd won the money that way. And she had, a little. But no one need know it was because of the genetically superior mathematically inclined brain that Manticore had souped up for her. "And I think they were more pissed off because Cindy and I used the DB route on them and they totally fell for it."
"DB?" Sam repeated and there was silence on his end for a moment and then, as if to someone else, "oh, yeah, I get it. Dumb blond"
And then his attention was back on her and Max found herself wishing that Dean would suddenly decide to take the phone from his brother. They may have been estranged, but in the old days, before... well at least with Dean, she could have laughed over the situation instead of being grilled on it. She was just about to change the subject, from both those lines of thought, when Sam did it for her.
"So what else have you been up to? Aside from work? Been doing any jobs for Logan? That going well?" he rattled off quickly.
"Logan?" Max paused. Where had that come from. "Actually things are fine there. Not a lot of information forthcoming, but I knew that going in."
"Uh huh," Sam murmured, sounding thoughtful and concerned, almost like an overbearing parent so painfully out of the loop. "So is it worth it to keep working for him if he can't help you?"
"Hey," Max protested softly. "We do some good deeds I'll have you know," she said it lightly, jokingly. "We can't all be supernatural hunters extraordinaire."
"Good deeds?" her brother muttered and Max wondered when this phone call had turned into a fishing expedition. Actually, it probably was from the get go and she wondered what Sam was leading up to. Had they discovered that Logan was some sort of incubus or something absurd like that? Nah, it would have registered in her physical as well as mental senses, just like almost every other supernatural creature she'd come across. That was one time she actually liked her feline DNA. It was useful for at least something.
"Yeah," Max tried to reassure him. "I mean, just today, we were able to help out this young woman off of information I picked up." She didn't bother to tell Sam how exactly she had gotten this information.
"Okay, so you helped," Sam offered cautiously before pausing and then, Max could hear his deep breath before he continued. "Or is that just what Logan wants you to think?"
She was stunned. What the hell had Logan done to Sam to piss him off? There had to be something, even though, as she could recall through the haze of grief over hearing about Jessica, the seizures and the storm, Logan had been solicitous, polite and reassuring with Sam on the phone. Hell, Logan had probably been fed super-polite vitamins right along with his morning pablum by the nanny.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean Sam?" she demanded, her tone low and just slightly hurt. No, she didn't particularly enjoy people, especially people that were supposed to be close to her questioning her rationale or her capabilities in judging character. She heard her brother sigh and she could hear Dean in the background speaking sharply. Whether he was defending her or egging Sam on, she just couldn't tell. But suddenly, she didn't really feel like being on the phone with older brother right now.
"Look Max," Sam decided on a resigned tone, she could tell that right away. Perhaps yes, he did feel a little bad about pushing this on her, but Sam wouldn't have gone on about it if he hadn't in some way justified whatever he was trying to find out from her in some way. And now it was up to Max to figure out where the motivation was coming from because she knew he wouldn't just admit to it. Unless she was spot on the nose and really wanted to push the issue. "I admit, I was a little curious, so I did a little digging." Well that certainly sounded ominous. Max's eyes fluttered shut for just a moment and then she was wondering, what had Sam found out that she didn't know about? Was it something about Logan, something about her? "It was mostly just basic stuff you know," he was trying to soften the blow, which seemed typical of him. Letting his sister off the hook in some way. But Max had had enough of that.
"Why don't you just tell me what it is you're trying to say Sam," she directed and she could almost see his look of perturbation that she was cutting across his carefully thought out line of questioning. But she wasn't going to let him off the hook either. Whatever it was, she needed to know. Damage control was forefront in her mind.
"Fine," he got out calmly. "I found out a lot of stuff and it made me wonder. How well do you know Logan? Because there's a lot of stuff in his past-?"
"Like what?" Max demanded. So this was about Logan and not her. That was good, after a fashion, but she thought that Sam would have understood. But maybe not.
"Okay fine," Sam had obviously decided the time for pussyfooting around was gone. "Did you know about his link to Nathan Herrero? He was a journalist, much like your "friend", who got himself killed for speaking out so publicly. And since Mr. Cale decided to drop off the radar for a while, it got me... us to wondering, why? Max, it's possible that you might be into something, I mean-!"
Max felt as if her brain had been clamped in a huge neon glaring sign shouting "irony" to the world as she shook her head slightly in disbelief. "He's not dead," she asserted calmly. Okay, so now the crux of the problem. Sam thought Logan was a bad guy trying to disguise himself as a good guy.
"I- what?" Once again Max managed to effortlessly take the wind out of her brother's sails.
"Herrero," Max repeated as if speaking to a slow witted child. "He's not dead."
"Yes he is Max," Sam insisted. "I kind of remember when it happened. I mean, the news was all over some of my classes. And the information I found recently, suggests that your friend-!"
"Oh for crying out loud Sam!" Max cried out, breaking through his justification. Why was it that the Winchester males couldn't accept when someone else obviously had more information than they did and just shut up and listen for once. She'd thought Sam immune, but now, obviously, after being in Dean's influence for more than a few hours had proved that it must be a genetic fault. "Look, Logan was being smart. He was just as outspoken as Hererro. It would have been stupid to keep squawking over the things that his friend and mentor had just apparently been murdered for."
"Okay, but-!"
Again she cut him off. "And I know for a fact that Nathan Hererro isn't dead, because that girl that Logan and I were helping, was Nathan's daughter Alina!" She could hear his confusion as an almost palpable thing. "So now Sam, do you really think that I should go back to Alina and tell her that we were wrong when we found out that Nathan's housekeeper slash lover bought a nice little apartment several months after the incident to move them into? And that when I went over there to talk to her and saw Nathan hale and hearty that oops, somehow I was wrong? Should I tell her about how Logan must have contacted the wrong man who met with him once it was safe to do so to tell him what really happened? Should I tell her that the man she is having dinner and a long overdue reunion with even as we speak right now is not her daddy? On the basis of what? Because my brother said so?"
Max's chest was heaving at the end of that little rant and she took a deep breath to calm herself. She wondered just for a moment why she was going off on Sam, but in reality he was attacking her first. By questioning her life and her decisions. Something that she tried not to do to him, even as she worried just as much about his well being as he did her.
"I'm sorry Max," he apologized. "I didn't know any of that."
"Yeah well, it's not like we were gonna advertise the fact and give Nathan's enemies another shot at him," Max retorted dryly. "But I gotta ask, where is this all coming from Sam? The twenty questions bordering on interrogation here?"
"Hey, can't I be-!"
"No, don't pull that crap on me," she warned. "What is going on?"
"Fine." There was a long pause filled with silence on both ends. "I saw the hover drone footage, the attack on Logan," he informed her softly. Max bit off the curse that wanted to escape her tongue. She should have realized that right away, she told herself. Anything public about Logan was accessible to Sam and that attack had been well publicized thanks to local news crews and his identification had been easy to make.
"Sam," she began, knowing why now he was so upset. Not because Logan had been in danger. No, he didn't give a damn about Logan beyond caring for another human being. It was Max and her safety that concerned him. Just like always.
"Why didn't you tell me?" the question was asked, plaintively, quietly.
"Because I didn't want you to worry," was her automatic reply. It was flimsy and overused, but it was true.
"So instead, I get all worked up with conspiracy theories, fears and no answers," Sam chuckled, relieved now that the truth was out on both sides. "Yeah Max, that worked really well."
"Ugh I'm sorry!" she mock pouted, even though he wouldn't be able to see it. "But I'll bet you don't tell me every little detail of what you're doing when you're out looking for Dad. For instance, what are you hunting right now?"
"Well..." he hesitated and Max took her moment.
"Ha ha!" she laughed out triumphantly. "Not so fun when the shoe is on the other foot, huh?"
"Oh it's not that bad," Sam retorted. "As long as we don't go swimming in the lake."
"Oh jeez, not another one," Max groaned softly. "And me not there to wedgie you out of a bad situation," she teased. She heard Sam's injured grunt.
"You are such a brat," he complained good-naturedly. "But seriously Max, please, don't keep things from me. Even if they're bad..."
"Oh Sam," Max sighed.
There was no way that she could keep to that kind of promise. There was so much of her early life that affected her still, would follow and haunt her forever and there was just no way that she knew how to share that with him. At least not without running the risk of alienating him forever. At best. Being another one of the things they hunted, the worst.
"I mean," Sam went on as if she hadn't been speaking, "yeah, I know you weren't there, but an organized hit like that? And I know that's what it was!” he exclaimed, in case she tried to protest, which she didn't. “This Cale guy has enemies and I don't want you caught in the crossfire."
"It wasn't Logan they were after," Max interjected patiently. "Sam, he was trying to help that woman and her daughter get to Witness Protection and unfortunately he paid a heavy price for trying to do the right thing."
"Yes he did," Sam responded, his voice heavy with sympathy and Max's eyes fluttered shut. She could just see her brother putting himself in Logan's shoes after a fashion because that's the way Sam was. That was why he was so good at ferreting out information, because he was so naturally empathetic that people felt comfortable talking with him about things they wouldn't normally talk about with strangers.
"But I don't do that," Max tried to reassure him. "I mean, I don't go into a situation like that sort of thing without thinking through all the angles."
"So you're saying that you would have left that woman hanging out to dry, and her kid?" Sam asked shrewdly and Max refrained from giving in to the urge to curse.
"Nope," she replied honestly, because she had after all, ended up helping the mother and daughter, reuniting them after Edgar Sonrisa had had the girl kidnapped. "I would just go about it a little smarter."
"So what happened to them anyways?" Sam asked, giving her a momentary reprieve from the previous guilt trip. "Did they..."
"Oh," Max thought quickly, wondering how to downplay her involvement. "Well, it seemed pretty complicated. I only know parts of it. But I guess Lauren, the mom, found someone to cook up a ruse with." Of course, not telling Sam that she was the one Lauren had worked with, "they managed to get the bad guys dumbest dirt bag.” She wisely refrained fom giving names, lest Sam do some more digging around. “They pulled some kind of messing with the mind that had the guy thinking his boss had betrayed him. He spilled the beans on where the kid was and then went and took out his boss. Let's see," Max paused, pretending to think things over. "The news report said that there was a huge gunfight and bunch of baddies bit the bullet. Literally."
"Maa-ax," Sam half-whined. "You really..."
"What Sam?" suddenly she felt amused. She could almost tell what was coming.
"Okay, I know why you're there, but oh man, you need to get away from that place."
"'Cause New York or Los Angeles would be so much better given their crime rates?" she teased. "And hell no on the small towns. They just attract too much freaky crap! You know what I mean?"
There was an amused pause on the other end of the line and Max knew that she had made her point, even if Sam didn't want to give in. "All right," he finally chuckled. "You're right. I can't argue that. But would you please, just keep me informed. I am allowed to worry about you."
"Just as long as you do the same," Max shot right back. Keeping Sam informed about what she was up to occasionally was a much different tune than telling him all her deep dark secrets. She could handle that. And it wasn't as if they would come charging in trying to protect little sister from the big bad world. No, they were much too busy looking for Dad. Which was right where they should be.
"Deal," Sam affirmed in a much stronger voice now. "So, uh, was it really, I mean, going by Kendra's yardstick, um..."
"Oh man Sam," Max giggled. "Tight shorts, halter top and platform shoes. And no, we weren't goin' for the hooker look. More of the dumb, young club girls just out looking for a chance to unwind after work." That was more than enough information for her brother.
"Okay," Sam inhaled deeply. "I'm going to drop this. But only because my brain is going to explode if I think about my little sister dressed like that in too much detail. That's just wrong!" Max gave in to a giggle, though it was forced this time, but apparently Sam didn't notice. "So aside from everything I've been bugging you about, what else has been going on?"
Max took a moment to think over the mundanes of every day life, left behind when the bright lights of Seattle nightlife beckoned. And she knew that Sam needed that. He needed some way of reaching, being able to touch normal, if only on the surface. To keep himself from losing his mind, in the grief, in the numbness that loss and the craziness that hunting brought. So, pulling up the memory of Normal's latest favorite slurs against his employees, she set out to entertain her brother. Helping to keep the wolves at bay for just a little while, at least.
*****
"So George Phelps huh?" Dean muttered as he directed the car down the road.
He and Sam had been called in by an old client of his father's, if one wanted to call him that. He and John had helped Jerry and his family with a poltergeist that had taken up residence in the families home. And so, suspecting something supernatural in a recent airplane wreck in Jerry's field of work, he'd called for help. That put him on the smart list, as far as Dean was concerned. He glanced over at Sam, perusing what information he could while traveling in the Impala. He knew that Sam had heard him, just as he knew that Sam would reply in his own good time. Dean wasn't too worried. He had the address of the guy's widow, who they had decided to interview next, as that was where their leads were pointing.
But unfortunately, before Sam could respond and give Dean a legitimate excuse to make some noise, aside from the kind the stereo made, which he wasn't quite in the mood for, Sam's phone rang.
A mixture of feelings ran through Dean every time he heard the ring tone that denoted a call from Max. Sam wasn't like him, programming his cell phone to ring specific songs whenever a certain girl called. But it was a higher toned pitch than normal, sure to catch Sam's attention wherever he was or whatever he was doing, because Max was always someone that little brother wanted to talk to. And even out of the corner of his resolutely staring straight ahead, ostensibly focusing on the road, eye, he could see Sam's face light up like it was Christmas, birthday and every little thing that made life worthwhile in this crappy world all rolled into one. His jaw clenching tightly, Dean forced himself not to go there.
You'd think he'd be used to this ache now that had intensified from Sam bringing Max, albeit unknowingly, to the forefront of life again.
No such luck.
"Hey Maxie," Sam greeted cheerfully enough, shifting things on his lap so that they wouldn't slip to the floorboards as he held the phone up to his ear. "Yeah, I've got a little time. We're just heading over to interview a woman about her husband's death."
He listened for a moment and then burst out laughing and Dean once again felt that momentary surge of jealousy. Not just that Sam could talk to Max. No he didn't really begrudge Sam that. But also that Max had the ability to make his brother laugh in the midst of... Well, he should just be damn grateful that someone could lift Sam's spirits. Because Dean was fast running out of ideas to keep Sam's emotions on a more even keel. So if he had to put up with and wasn't that an understatement, of these phone call intrusions from a painful subject for him, he would.
But then Sam was speaking again.
"Okay, that'd be better that what we're dealing with," his younger brother was grinning. "So shoot." He listened intently for a moment, his face darkening before he sputtered out, "okay, how is Herbal getting fired, in any way funny?"
Who was Herbal again? Dean wondered before his memory banks kicked in automatically with the answer. The philosophical Jamaican that Max was friends with and who worked at Jam Pony with her. And even as he thought this, he could hear Max's slightly indignant voice, if not the words, through the phone and Sam shook his head ruefully.
"Okay, I'm sorry. Go on."
And then his face went from dark to puzzled to worried instantly, the changes so fast that Dean barely had time to recognize, let alone acknowledge them.
"But I wasn't anywhere near Seattle," Sam interjected, slightly panicked and once again Dean heard Max's voice overriding whatever Sam could say next. And it was apparently enough as Sam visibly relaxed back against the seat. "Oh okay. Good. Wait!"
That excited startled tone had Dean easing off the gas pedal slightly, wondering what the hell was going on. Something funny, Sam in Seattle when he obviously wasn't? Regardless of how things were between them, or weren't, there was no way in hell Dean would back off of something potentially threatening his family. And Max was still a part of that, in spite of...
"Your brother?" Sam was seemingly echoing something Max had said and Dean frowned again. "Oh my God!" Sam exclaimed. "Who-?" he didn't have the full question out before it was apparently answered for him.
His eyes flashed wide as he turned in his seat to be able to face his brother, whatever excitement Max was full of transferring itself to him if the sudden grin was anything to judge by. Dean's glance kept flickering between the road and his brother, knowing that he too was waiting on tenterhooks and wondering if Sam could tell and obviously his brother could, since Sam suddenly pulled the phone from his ear and switched the call to speaker phone.
Dean was about to protest, but then his ears were filled by her sweet voice, happy, carefree and he couldn't speak for the lump formed in his throat and chest.
"So like I said," she continued on, oblivious to the fact that her audience had multiplied, "Normal hired this new guy right. And he wants us to show Sam the ropes. And of course, we were all pissed that he had fired Herbal, so we were staging this slowdown. Anyway, Vogelsang, that P.I. that I had hired, contacted me to let me know that he had some info for me. So I stopped for coffee, with this guy trailing after me like some little lost puppy, butting his nose in while I was waiting for Vogelsang to call me back. So I dealt with that and then this guy Sam, he offers to pay for the coffee and starts asking me if I wanted to get together, I don't know, dinner or something and first thought on my mind, he's hitting on me right?"
Sam made noises, like he was concurring on her process of thought while Dean's lips were pressed together so tightly, his tongue in danger of being bitten off as he forced himself to stay quiet in the bittersweet position he was in.
"So I totally blow him off and head out," Max continued. "Bunch of boring parts of the story, yadda yadda, I find out that word on the street was that someone was looking for me. So of course, I start looking for this person and it leads me to this crappy little rundown apartment complex by the day, week or month, right?"
"Yeah," Sam grunted, wondering probably, just like Dean was, what yadda yadda boring parts she was deliberately leaving out of the story, but the excitement in her voice was just too much to deny at the moment.
"So lecture me later, but I broke in," she went on and Dean had to smile about that. Yeah, she knew Sam and knew what would be forthcoming in the lecture series. It was ll right for them, when they were working, but for Max, the show would be on the other foot. "Found this helmet of this guy I was street racing on my baby. Found a flier for Jam Pony and some other stuff and I knew, just knew... it was Zack!"
"Zack!" Sam repeated, his face lighting up and Dean could understand why. Zack, her big brother, protector, all around great guy that she'd expounded on so much of, in the Winchester's early time together. That time, learning to be the Winchester's little girl, their family was a distant, longed for time to Dean.
"Oh God, that's great Maxie. Awesome!" Dean could tell that Sam wasn't faking the enthusiasm. It really was good news, right? "So then what happened?"
"Well, I was just so stunned, that he managed to sneak up behind me, scare the hell out of me and take absolute pleasure in the fact that I hadn't recognized him like he recognized me."
"Oh of course," Sam chuckled. "So Sam was really Zack, huh? Wonder why he changed his name?" It was an absent thought, though of course aliases were nothing new to them.
"He wasn't sure it was me," Max explained quickly. "He travels quite a bit, doin' who knows what, we didn't really get into that. But he thought I was familiar enough to take a chance and of course, duh me, I took it all the wrong way."
"Oh yeah," Sam smiled down at the phone that was now resting in his lap. "Maybe it's happened before and he ended up a little disappointed."
"Think so," Max agreed. "Anyway, I found my brother!"
"Actually, it sounds like he found you," Sam teased.
"Whatever!" Max huffed and Dean was surprised to feel the corners of his lips twitching into something resembling a smile. The refrain was so familiar that how could he help but feel comforted by it.
"So what happens now?" Sam asked, unconsciously echoing Dean's very vocal thought.
"Well," Max spoke slowly, considering. "We managed to catch up a little, but Zack could only stay for a little while."
"How come?" Sam asked at once.
"He's looking for the others too," Max supplied.
"Any luck?" Sam asked, slightly breathless and Dean checked his brother, gaging this reaction. He knew instinctively that Sam was wondering the same things he was himself. Now that Max had found a member of her real family, what did the future hold?
"No," she replied, slightly gloomy, which was totally and one hundred percent understandable. There was a small pause before she admitted exactly what they'd been worried about. "He did ask me to go with him."
The two brothers glanced at one another at exactly the same moment, their fears and worries communicated with the barest glance. "And what did you say?" Sam asked gently.
"I said no," Max responded just as quietly. "I mean, I could have, but with... Seth," her voice broke off uncomfortably and Dean wondered if she had had to break that news to her brother. That was... he didn't want to have to ever imagine going through that. "Anyway, Zack didn't really like it, but he understood, I guess. And besides," her voice picked up again, "if I stay in one place..."
"He'll know where to find you," Sam finished for her, pleasure for her and relief commingling without the slightest revelation of guilt for feeling selfish that she wasn't leaving them. At least, any more than she already had. But Dean wasn't so sure. The closer she got to finding her family then the further she would move away from theirs. Until maybe they were just a card at Christmas time, a phone call here or there.
And even with the way he felt about... things, there was just no way in hell that he would ever be okay with that.
Chapter Thirty-three
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