Author: Restive Nature
Genre: Crossover
Type: WiP
Shows: Dark Angel and Supernatural
Disclaimer: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.
Story Rating: PG-13 up to NC-17 for language, violence and sexual situations. (All higher rated material will be contained in its own chapter and clearly marked at the beginning of the chapter. PG versions of these chapters will also be available.)
Chapter Rating: PG-13 for language.
Timeline/ Spoilers: This story takes place predominantly in the Supernatural timeline. This means that the Dark Angel structure of post-pulse America does not fit in. The massive changes will be that Manticore is decades ahead of itself and the characters from DA are born much earlier than portrayed on the show. There is no Pulse occurring. Any other changes to the structures or episodes of the shows will be (hopefully) explained within the story itself.
Pairing: None at this time. (The pairing will become evident as the story progresses, but much further down the road.)
Summary: Change can be a choice and you never know where the road you choose to take will lead you.
When It Changes
Chapter Five
Gaping Wounds
It didn’t take Max long to find some clothes to buy at the secondhand store. She went to the junior miss section, what little there was of it, and began pulling clothes out to glance through them. John, Dean and Sam followed along behind her. By the time they’d reached her, she had two pairs of jeans, two t-shirts and a sweatshirt in her arms. She held them out for John to look at and he nodded.
“Don’t forget something to sleep in,” he told her. “And some shoes maybe.”
Max glanced down at her feet and seemed about to protest. She glanced sheepishly back up at John. “Yeah, these are getting kind of worn out.”
“Hey Max,” Sammy called her attention back to the rack she’d just been at. Max walked over and Sam held out another shirt almost identical to one she already had in her arms. “How about this one?” Max moved to grab it, but something about it just bugged her. She shook her head and let go. “Why not?>” Sam demanded. Max wrinkled her nose.
“Just don’t like it,” she shrugged.
“It’s just like that one,” Sam pointed bewilderedly at the aforementioned shirt.
“It smells weird,” Max informed him. Sam’s eyes shot up and he dragged the sleeve up to his nose to sniff at it. Dean tried to muffle some laughter behind his hand and was mostly successful. John just shook his head.
“Go ahead and try those on in the changing room,” he told her. Max looked blankly at him for a moment and then turned on her heel and marched towards the back of the store. Dean waited until she was out of earshot, or so he thought, to talk to his father.
“So what’s the plan Dad?” he asked in a low voice. “We take her with us to Pastor Jim’s and then what?”
“Like I said Dean,” John sighed. “It’ll be up to her. I know Jim can find her a good home, probably with a hell of a lot less legal hassle than we’d face. Or she goes her own way.”
“Dad, she’s ten years old,” Dean protested. “How could a kid that young survive?”
“They do it all the time,” John informed him sadly. “And no, I don’t think I’d really let her go off without figuring something out. But she seems to be a smart kid. I think she’ll realize by the time we get to Jim’s that there are good people in the world too.”
“I hope so,” Dean sighed.
Max returned in short order with a faint smile. She took her clothing to the counter and as John had moved to pay for them, noticed that somewhere along the short way; she’d managed to add a decently lengthed cotton nightgown, a better looking pair of sneakers and an old army duffel bag to the pile. As he neared her, she gestured to the bag.
“I wasn’t sure,” she began hesitantly, then straightened up. “I thought I better have something to pack the clothes in.”
“Good idea,” John agreed mildly and nodded to the cashier, an older man. The man began ringing up their purchases and it was a pitiful amount, to John’s mind to spend on clothes. But Max seemed happy enough with her selections. Of course, going by what she had been wearing and by what she had said earlier to their waitress Mimi, perhaps she really didn’t mind. Instead of having a bag, Max stuffed the purchases in the duffel bag and gave her thanks to the little old man. The group left the store and after placing the duffel in the car, John directed them to the general store, not far away. But before going in, he stopped Max.
“Do you know what you need to get?” he asked quietly, a little embarrassed to have to think of getting the girl under things and such.
“Yes sir,” she nodded quickly. “Private things, a toothbrush, brush and comb.”
“Yeah,” he agreed quickly. “But anything else?”
“Like what?” Max truly seemed mystified. John’s embarrassment was now obvious to everyone.
“Well,” he drawled, glaring at his sons as they grinned at him. “Maybe some perfume or… I don’t know, barrettes?”
“I don’t like perfume,” she informed him with a shrug. “It’s so stinky and it makes my nose itch. And I’ve never used barrettes.” She looked assessingly at him. “Should I get some toothpaste or soap? ‘Cause I can just use what the motels leave in the room. And there’s usually enough to take along from the amenities basket.” John nodded at that. They’d done that themselves, to save money in a few areas.
“All right, get what you need and meet us at the counter,” he instructed. The men followed her into the store and again she wasted no time in finding what she needed. To John’s surprise, when she came back to lay the purchases on the counter, she laid a combination brush and comb pack that had some ponytail holders and barrettes in it. She smiled sheepishly up at him.
“My hair grows pretty fast,” she smiled shyly. “So I might use them down the road. And the pack was just a dollar more that if I’d just bought the comb and brush.” She said the last part quickly, as if justifying her decision. John didn’t mind.
“That’s just fine kiddo,” he nodded and once again, a cashier began ringing them up. Max didn’t refuse a bag this time, as that would have seemed weird.
“Okay, we all set?” John asked. The boys and Max nodded and they left the store. As they moved towards the car, John dug the keys out of his hip pocket and tossed them to Dean. “You’re driving the first leg son.”
“Yes sir,” Dean drawled, though he didn’t mind. He was used to this and had in fact been expecting it. He knew his father couldn’t have gotten much sleep the previous evening. He was quite sure that John had been up quite a while thinking on the newcomer and what to do with her. And when he had gone to sleep, it would have been a light sleep. John had learned many years ago not to fall too deep into sleep when there were unknown variables in his vicinity. Not that a ten year old girl seemed to be any danger. Just something for his father to think over and ruminate on.
So they got under way, heading for the next stop on the trip. Dean drove, listening to music quietly on the radio. Their father slept off and on, being woken up every once in a while by the muffled laughs and talk from the back seat. Sam was doing his part to keep Max occupied on the long drive. He taught her a few variations of car games. He realized quickly that the license plate game, at which he excelled, would be lost to the girl because of her superior eyesight. So he pulled out some note paper and a few pencils and taught her how to play hangman.
At their first break in travel, Dean pulled into a gas station for a small break. John opened one eye, realized what was going on and promptly went back to sleep. Dean told Sam and Max to use the restroom if they needed it and then he’d have a turn. But Max had instantly busied herself with cleaning up the backseat of the Impala, like she had promised John she would. Dean approved, since that meant someone else was interested in keeping his baby clean and pure. She dumped the trash in the garbage by the gas tanks, and then returned to the car. As she closed the door, she heard John mumble something.
“What was that Dad?” Dean asked quietly.
John turned his head and without opening his eyes told them clearly, “if you guys are hungry, you can get into that take-away box. There should be fruit and sandwiches.”
“Okay,” he leaned down to grab the box from beside his father’s feet. He turned around in his seat and held it out to Max. “I’m not hungry yet. You?”
“Umm,” Max ducked her head a little and then peeped up at him from under dark lashes. “A little,” she admitted. “Maybe some fruit.”
“All right,” Dean smiled. This kid was quite a character, he decided. “Go ahead and have some. Just throw the garbage in that extra grocery bag.”
“Okay,” Max smiled, again a little shy as she took the box from him. She opened it up to see what selection there was and gave an exclamation of surprise.
“What is it?” Dean demanded immediately. Even John woke up.
“Look!” Max said excitedly as she pulled out a small mason jelly jar containing a dark red liquid. There was a note attached to it and Max eagerly read it. “For you, since they may not have anything as good down the road. Mimi.” She looked up at Dean. “Its chokecherry syrup.”
Dean took the jar from her and let out a low whistle. “You know Max, if you can use that cute little face to hustle some freebies, then I’m really gonna like having you along this trip,” he teased.
“Dean!” John admonished, half serious and half whining.
“No seriously Dad,” Dean joked. He turned back to Max. “I tried hard, with Sammy, but the kid was just too gangly. So people only ended up feeling sorry for him. I mean, yeah, they’d give him a few extra portions or something. Probably figured that he was a growing boy and needed the food. But he never scored us chokecherry syrup.”
“That’s enough Dean,” John decided.
Sam returned from the restroom and was shown the chokecherry syrup, but like his father, wasn’t overly excited about it. Dean swiftly took his turn and soon enough they were under way again.
That became the way of their days. Dean of John would drive. Occasionally Max or Sam would end up in the front seat. Their nights were spent in motel rooms. Though on one night, there was a small fight about Max taking the only bed. She’d tried to offer it to John, citing that she could take a turn on the floor. But John was adamant that children needed their rest and properly on a bed. At seeing his stubbornness, the child finally gave in.
So they continued traveling for many days until a usual occurrence, at least for the Winchester’s, occurred. Passing through a small town, with the radio dialed in to a local channel, at John’s insistence, they heard the report about a strange death, not far from the small town that was their evening’s destination. John had glanced at Dean in the back seat, Dean had glanced at Sam. Sam had shrugged. The byplay was noticed by Max, though she politely refrained from commenting on it. But the males in the car knew that something might be afoot and it was their self-imposed task to find out what might be going on.
They reached their motel room a little earlier than expected. Probably because the older males drove straight through to get there. This bothered neither of the younger children. Sam because he knew that there was something going on that might need to be taken care of. Max because she simply liked driving around. But as they were pulling into the parking lot of the motel, all four noticed the squeal of the alternator belt. John sighed and swore under his breath. They didn’t really have time for this.
“Sam, Max,” he said as he turned to face them. “Help me unload the bags while Dean has a look at the car.” Both kids nodded as did Dean. But as soon as Max had brought her bag and another inside, she’d raced back out, eager to help.
“Dean,” she called his attention back out from under the hood. He glanced up at her.
“Yeah Max?”
“Do you need any help?” she asked shyly. “Your dad said I could help you with the car.”
There was a moment’s pause and Dean mulled over the sincerity in her voice. The kid really did want to help him and help earn her keep. It was no skin off of his nose. And besides, it might be nice to have someone else in the family that he could share this with. His father was a mechanic by trade, but it was to feed his family. Sam had no interest in the car other than it transporting him or serving as the occasional nap spot. Dean well and truly loved fixing up and tinkering with cars, motors, but most of all, the families Impala.
“Well, for starters, can you hold this flashlight for me?” he asked, passing her the tool. She moved forward eagerly and took it from him. She leaned forward and then glanced down at the open jacket she wore. She peeled it off and then leaned forward with the light. “That’s right,” Dean encouraged. “Watch out for the engine, 'cause it’s hot.”
“Yes sir,” she replied promptly. Dean chuckled.
“And don’t call me sir,” he admonished gently. “That’s my dad.”
“Sir! Yes sir!” Max replied cheekily. Dean just grunted and shook his head.
“Keep that up and I’ll sick Sammy on ya,” he teased as he pulled at the alternator belt. He’d wrapped his hand in a rag before doing so, but the heat was still felt.
“Is it loose?” Max asked. Dean grunted again and shook his head.
“It’s not,” he grumbled. “Tension is just right.”
“Could it be wet?” Max asked next. Dean nodded, surprised that she’d thought of that. It was the next thing he was going to check.
“It sure is,” he finally confirmed. That accounted for the squealing. But where had the moisture come from?
“Could it be because that lid is off?” Max pointed out quietly.
“Cap,” Dean corrected her automatically, his eyes searching out what cap she meant. She helpfully pointed out the radiator cap which was just loose. She shined the flashlight and Dean could see some droplets of moisture. “Good going kid. You solved our little mystery.” With practiced ease, he checked the level of fluid in the radiator and found it to be low. He cleaned his hands off with the rag he had and shut the hood down. “Come on, we’ll go tell Dad what’s up.”
“Okay,” Max smiled as she slid the switch on the flashlight to the off position. She followed him back into the motel room that John had gotten where his father and brother were no sitting, waiting to hear what was going on with the car.
“Find the problem?” John asked laconically. If Dean hadn’t, then he would have himself, so he wasn’t overly worried about the car.
“Actually Max did,” Dean admitted with no small amount of pride in his voice. He moved to the washroom to wash his hands and Max followed suit, though she hadn’t gotten dirty. “The radiator cap came loose and threw some antifreeze back on the belt.”
“Do we have any antifreeze in the trunk?” John asked, going through his mind on the contents of the trunk.
“No sir,” Dean supplied. “We’ll need to pick up a gallon.”
“Well, I’ll head out and do that,” John managed to say as casually as he could. “I’m sure there’s a store around here somewhere. Maybe I’ll pick up a paper too. You kids stay put.”
All three nodded, not questioning him for their own reasons. Although it was odd, to Max since this was the first time that John had left on such an errand. But it made sense because they did need the antifreeze. And taking the car when it was acting up wasn’t plausible. So she put it out of her mind and went to go through her bag and settle on her outfit for the next morning.
John was gone longer than anyone expected. But when he returned, he was bearing a few pizzas. The boys knew better than to ask him outright what he had found out. There was a newspaper, the local and one from the nearby biggest city tucked under his arm, already read. He set the pizzas on the room’s only small round table and gestured at the kids to dig in. Dean muted the television and followed after Sam and Max. John opened a paper bag that he’d also carried in and handed around sodas and napkins.
“Sorry,” he apologized as he set the last soda can down for himself. “I figured this would be quicker.” He turned to Max. “I didn’t know what you like on pizza sweetie. So I got one supreme meat lovers and one just plain cheese.”
“I’m not picky,” Max shrugged as she followed the boy’s example and chose a slice for herself.
“Yeah, I’ve noticed that,” John smiled. Sam and Dean had retired back to the bed closest to the television set and Dean had turned the sound back up. There was some minor hand slapping over control of the remote, but Dean as usual, won out. Things were fairly quiet, discounting the drone of the television, through the meal.
Finally, about half an hour later, Max excused herself to the bathroom and Dean all but pounced on his father. “Well,” he whispered. “Did you find anything out?”
John nodded. “Three suspicious deaths all in the same area outside of town. Attributed to an animal, although no animals were seen around the area.”
“An ideas?” Sam asked just as quietly as his elder brother.
“I’ll need to do some more recon,” John informed them. “Tonight, after you kids go to bed.” Sam seemed fine with that, but John could see the immediate protestation on Dean’s face. He held up his hand to forestall him. “I need you to stay with Max, Dean. We can’t leave her by herself.”
“I know that sir,” Dean sighed. “I just don’t like the thought of splitting up.” John understood. His son had always had his back and vice versa. And neither one of them would ever consider leaving Sammy on his own, especially at his age.
“We might have to stay a few days,” John mused.
“Stay a few days for what?” Max asked as she came out of the bathroom. The males spun around to look in surprise at her. None of them had heard her return until she had spoken.
“To make sure the car’s running right,” Dean came up with. Max nodded. She moved over to her bed and sat down. She stared at the TV for a few minutes, but her foot was tapping against the other in an impatient staccato beat.
“What’s the matter Max?” Dean chuckled. He’d seen this behavior earlier, while they’d been waiting for their father. Her head snapped up, surprised at the question.
“Nothing,” she protested lamely. The foot tapping stopped immediately. Then she looked sheepish. “Um, it’s kind of boring, just watching television all night.”
“We can change the channel,” Sam groaned, throwing his big brother a triumphant look.
“It’s not that,” Max shrugged. “I’ve never watched a lot of it.” The Winchester’s didn’t know just how true that was in her case.
“So what did you do?” John asked, interested in finding out more about this enigmatic child.
“I read a lot,” she answered honestly. “Um, actually… can I look at the paper, if you’re done sir?”
John glanced down at the disheveled papers laying half under the pizza boxes and nodded. He pulled them out and walked them over to her. She took them with a grateful smile and settled herself back onto the bed to read in comfort. Again all three males were surprised at how easily she seemed to tune out the annoyances around her. Max went through the two newspapers swiftly. But John watched as she perused each article, advertisement and announcement. He just didn’t know how much she was retaining. Soon, she was folding the paper back up into a tidy pile. She got up and placed it back on the table. She returned to her bed and without any other distraction, the feet started tapping again. John hid a smile.
“Max, Sammy, why don’t you guys start getting ready for bed,” he suggested. Sam opened his mouth to protest. “Just get ready I said,” John sighed. “I didn’t say you actually had to get into bed yet.”
Max just grinned at Sam and dug her nightgown out of the bag. “Want me to take my time Sam?” she asked sweetly. The thirteen year old nodded his head enthusiastically.
Max did as promised, drawing herself a bath. She spent as long as she dared, not sure if any of the others needed to use the facilities. But she figured if their need was dire, they’d be pounding on the door. She hadn’t washed her hair, since she’d done so in the shower that morning. So with a quick toweling off, a brush of her hair and into her nightgown, she was ready to head for her bed. She put her clothes away and settled the ones she’d chosen for the next day on top of her duffel bag. As she went to pull back the covers of her bed, she noticed that there was now a book resting on top of the pillows. She glanced over at Dean and John since Sam had already disappeared into the bathroom.
“What’s this?” she asked softly.
“A book,” Dean pronounced slowly. “You know, the thing you like to read.” He ruined the teasing by winking at her.
“Ooh,” Max retorted. “And here I was wasting my time trying to read shoes.” Dean burst out laughing at her unexpected retort. Max grinned at John until Dean had settled down.
“I’m still not sure that she should be reading that,” John sighed. Dean had pulled out the Stephen King novel he’d picked up at a dime store a few weeks back. While his eldest wasn’t quite the reader his younger son was, John knew that Dean enjoyed relaxing with a book every once in a while. It settled him down to read after a long night’s work. And the horror genre was Dean’s preferred. For some reason he liked to laugh over what the writer’s came up with. This one, about a killer clown, or some such, seemed a little much for a ten year old girl. Even as he thought about it, Max had turned the book over and was reading the synopsis on the back cover.
“Why not?” she asked. “It seems interesting.”
“Well,” John hedged. He certainly didn’t want to put ideas in her head about her having nightmares from reading the book, because in his experience, then she’d be sure to get them.
“It’s not that bad Dad,” Dean told his father. “The movie really sucked, but the book was okay.”
“They made a movie out of this?” Max questioned eagerly. Dean nodded and sat down on the bed by her. He took the book from her and turned it over to look at the cover again.
“Yeah, one of those made for TV movies,” he explained. “But man, the effects were so cheesy. You could totally tell that the spider thing was fake.”
“Well that’s be hard to come up with in real life, right?” she asked the question and John wasn’t surprised to hear a note of desperation in her voice.
“Sure would,” Dean assured her. “But if you don’t want to read it, I think Sam’s got some westerns or something.”
“Nah,” Max smiled and took the book back from him. “This’ll be fine.”
And with that, Max reclined on the bed, opened the book and immersed herself in the world of genre horror. A few minutes later, Sam exited the bathroom, also in his nightwear. Max never even glanced up at him. He flopped on the bed with a mutinous expression and Dean wondered what had his panties in a twist. He looked at his father who was checking his watch. He figured he’d help his father out.
“Hey dad,” he spoke softly, but loud enough for Max to hear if she cared to listen. “You put the antifreeze in the car, right?” His father nodded, looking grateful. “Why don’t you take her for a spin and see how she’s running?”
“Yeah, I might just do that,” John conceded. “Maybe stop somewhere for a dr-!” He stopped, looking towards Max. He was going to stay, stop for a drink. But he wasn’t really keen on reminding Max of the drunken abusive foster father she’d fled. But she hadn’t so much as batted an eye, just kept right on reading.
“Okay,” Dean nodded. He nudged at Sam with his foot, but Sam ignored him.
“Well, if I don’t get back before you kids fall asleep, have a good sleep,” John offered. He took up the room key, his wallet and the Impala’s car keys and left to a chorus of good nights.
Dean continued to watch the television, along with Sammy. Max continued reading, every once in a while glancing up as there was a roar of laughter from some sitcom they were watching. It didn’t take long before Sammy was starting to drift off. Another nudge of the foot and the younger boy reluctantly climbed under the covers. Ten minutes later and he was out. Dean glanced at his watch and turned to Max.
“Looks like it’s about time for lights out,” he hinted to Max. She obediently, immediately put down the book on the nightstand between the two beds and snuggled under the covers. Dean picked up the book and was surprised to see, where it fell open naturally from her reading, that she was about one hundred pages ahead of where he’d left off. And he’d been reading a bit almost every night. He got up to shut off the overhead light and commenced to reading, although there was his usual undercurrent of awareness coursing through him.
An hour and a half after John left and Dean was starting to wonder where his father was. He’d found himself re-reading a page and with a sigh, set the book down on the nightstand. He nearly jumped out of his skin when Max’s voice piped up from across the room.
“It’s getting late, isn’t it?”
“Jesus Maxie!” he gasped, grabbing at his chest. “You scared the crap outta me.”
“Sorry,” she apologized with an impish grin on her face. “You should have seen the look on your face.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Dean groaned. He rubbed at his forehead. “How come you’re still awake?” She shrugged. “That book didn’t bother you, did it?”
“No,” she said swiftly, her look telling him that she thought the idea silly. “It’s all fiction, right?” This time it was Dean’s turn to nod. “Then what’s there to be afraid of?”
“Nothing I guess,” Dean smiled to himself. “So why are you up?”
“John’s not back yet,” she whispered. She seemed about to explain herself more fully, but the words wouldn’t come out.
“Sleep better when he’s here?” he asked sympathetically. She nodded again. He glanced at his brother then leaned towards her conspiratorially, over his brother’s sedentary form. “If you tell Sammy, I will string you up by your toes. But I just sleep better when he’s here too.”
“So what do we do?” Max asked girlishly.
Dean sighed. They couldn’t share the book, since she was so way ahead of him. And he didn’t want to turn on the television and wake up Sammy. “Hey,” he hit upon an idea. “You ever played cards?” She shook her head in the negative. Dean threw back his portions of the covers and padded softly over to his bag. He withdrew a battered old deck of cards and beckoned her over to the table. “Well, how about I teach you a fun little game I like to call poker?”
They’d played for well over two hours. Dean had been surprised at how quickly she’d picked up the basics and then proceeded to beat the pants off of him. And then he decided to teach her about bluffing and betting and then they started playing for peanuts, literally. And most of the time, she beat him. At least that’s what her pile of peanuts indicated. It didn’t help matters that Dean was sneaking a snack out of his own pile every once in a while.
He glanced at his watch as Max took her turn shuffling and dealing and was surprised to see that it was after one in the morning. He tried to hide the worry over his father and instead turned that worry to wondering how in the heck Max could still look as fresh as a daisy so late at night with no sleep since last night. He’d been yawning himself off and on for the last half hour.
“Aren’t you tired yet?” he mumbled through another yawn. Once complete, he stretched his arms up over his head and arched his back.
“Uh uh,” Max grinned as the cards flew from her fingers. She stopped in mid deal and cocked her head. “We can go to bed soon though.”
“All right,” Dean conceded happily. “One more game in which I whoop your ass and then bed.”
“No I-!” Max was about to explain, but was cut off when Dean silenced her.
“Quiet!” he hissed, his ears attuned to a noise outside their door. In a flash, he was across the room to grab a pistol that was settled in the top of his duffel bag. He had it trained on the outside door in the blink of an eye. He couldn’t spare a glance to see how Max was reacting, but he had the feeling that it wasn’t good. He hadn’t meant to scare the girl, but her protection and Sammy’s was far more important than their feelings at the moment. He waited, forcing himself to breathe slowly as the door began to open.
He never saw what exactly hit him. All Dean knew was that something had flown at him from the side. So quickly, it seemed a blur to him. The gun had gone flying from his hands and before he could recover, he could see that it was his father standing in the doorway. And somehow, Max was standing right beside Dean, looking as if she’d been electrocuted.
“Dean?” his father asked, with worry in his voice. He stepped over the salt lines at the door and hurried forward, slinging off his coat. Dean breathed a sigh of relief that it was indeed his father. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” he muttered. “I’m fine. What the hell happened?”
“That’s what I’d like to know,” Sam growled from his bed. He’d woken up as soon as he’d heard Dean yell. But as of yet, he couldn’t make sense of the scene before him. Dean on the floor, Max right beside him and his father leaning over them.
“I don’t know,” John answered both the boys. He glanced at Max, still looking shocked. “I think little Max here kicked the gun out of your hand.”
“Well what did you do that for?” Sam demanded in angry, gruff tones. Mostly he was upset about being woken up, fearful that something had come to get them and Dean had been hurt. And upon figuring out that his family was okay, the shock and scare had been transferred into peevishness at the girl that seemed to have caused the trouble.
Max gave no answer but to suddenly dart into the bathroom. The door slammed shut behind her and the three males exchanged glances. John held his hand out to his elder son and Dean took it, with his left hand. He winced slightly as he rotated his right wrist, the hand that had held the gun still stinging.
“Something’s wrong,” John murmured as he moved to the bathroom. Sam scrambled off the bed to follow his father and Dean to the bathroom door. At seeing how stricken Max’s face had been, he felt bad over making her feel bad. John knocked on the door. “Max? You okay?” There was no answer. He turned a crooked a smile at his sons. “Think there are bars on this window?”
“I hope so,” Dean muttered. John knocked again and this time tried to open the door, glad to see that she hadn’t locked it.
“Max, I’m coming in,” John announced and then opened the door. His heart almost broke when he saw Max’s tiny form huddled in the bathtub. She’d drawn herself into a tightly curled ball, with her head buried in her knees. John gingerly took a seat at the edge of the tub. Dean and Sam crowded in behind him and he briefly wondered if he should send them out. But Max seemed to take no notice of them. “Max? Are you okay?” There was an infinitesimal shaking of her head.
“Max, everyone’s okay,” Sam added. “You don’t have to be scared.”
“I th-thought Dean was going to sh-shoot you,” she whispered brokenly. John and Dean’s eyes clashed. Both knew the same fear that she had.
“Dean would never shoot me,” John lied. Or at least he hoped he was lying. If it ever came down to brass tacks and there was a situation where Dean had to take his father out to prevent a disaster, John hoped that Dean could do it. But that was not the issue right at the moment. “He was just doing like I told him to and protecting you and Sammy.”
“I didn’t know who was at the door,” Dean added. “I didn’t hear the car, so I was being precautious.”
“And I would have kicked his butt if he hadn’t been,” John teased mildly, hoping to bring Max out of her fear.
“But I knew it was him,” Max glanced up in surprise.
“You did?” John asked wonderingly. He glanced at the boys. “How did you know it was me?”
“Your left shoe squeaks when you’re trying to walk quietly,” Max informed him. “And I could smell you…your coat.” John’s eyes widened, not knowing whether or not to believe her. To cover himself, he turned his head and sniffed at the collar of his coat. He never really noticed it, but she was right. His coat did have a distinctive odor. Sort of a mix of his musk and aftershave and the occasional whiff of cologne, mixed in with the gas from constantly fueling up the Impala. There were a few other things that his nose couldn’t quite pick out, but nevertheless, his subconscious recognized and was comforted by.
“That’s amazing,” he pronounced. Max seemed to lose her fear a little and loosened up some. She shrugged off his amazement, as it was nothing new to her. She’d learned quickly that she seemed to have superior senses over normal people, but she also knew not to make a big deal out of them. They weren’t extraordinary to her because she’d grown up with kids exactly like her.
John watched her for a moment, assessing things, wondering how much he could tell her to make her understand why they were so precautious, why Dean reacted as he had and why John encouraged it. If she wasn’t questioning it now, John knew she would be soon. But Dean took the moment from his hands. The older teen knelt down beside the tub and laid a comforting hand on Max’s shoulder.
“You know, when Sammy was just a baby,” he began heavily, “a bad man came to our house.” They could all see Max listening and watching Dean with interest. “He tried to take Sammy away and our Mom tried to stop him. That bad man killed her,” Dean’s voice grew shaky as he related this to her, understandably so. “Ever since then, we’ve kind of worried that that bad man, or another one like him might come back and try to hurt us again.” The three Winchester’s were pleased to see Max nodding in agreement.
“But you don’t ever shoot family,” she told them, quiet but authoritative.
All three agreed at once and John took the lead again. “No. You’re right Max. You don’t shoot your family. And I’ve taught both the boys not to go shooting guns off wildly. But it was better for Dean to have the gun were he could use it, than to wait and see.”
“Tactical advantage,” Max murmured. Again John was surprised. As far as he knew, that was not a commonly understood term among ten year olds, barring his own children.
“Exactly,” Dean confirmed. “So? Is everything okay now?” Max nodded and loosened her grip fully on her knees. Everyone seemed satisfied, but Sammy. He was standing still in the doorway and when Dean turned to exit, the younger male didn’t move. He was string, trancelike at Max. “Dude!” But Sammy just leaned around his older brother to look at Max.
“Who got shot in your family Max?” he asked with startling clarity. John and Dean’s heads whipped around to look at Max, realizing in a heartbeat what Sammy already knew. This was too personal for Max, given her reactions. She looked like a deer caught in the headlights and she answered him automatically.
“My sister Eva,” she whispered, then ducked her head, the pain of it coming back to her. John’s eyebrows drew together as he tried to fit this new information into the puzzle. The sister she had mentioned at her foster home was named Lucy. Had there been another sister? Or was this perhaps what had transpired with her biological family that caused her to be taken into foster care.
“How did it happen?” Sammy persisted. “Who shot her?” But Max, fearing that she’d said too much, just started shaking her head. In fact she was shaking all over. John hushed Sam, recognizing the leftover traumatic shock she was experiencing. The best thing to do for her right now was not to push.
“It’s okay Max,” he soothed her. “You don’t have to tell us unless you want to.” He waited briefly, but nothing was forthcoming. With a sigh, he pushed himself off the edge of the tub. “Okay, I think we need to head for bed and get some sleep. Come on Max.”
It took a few seconds for her to respond and climb out of the tub. John hooked his arm around Sam’s shoulders and led his son back out to the main room. As she passed him, Max glanced shyly up at Dean.
“I’m sorry I kicked you,” she apologized softly.
“No problem,” Dean smiled, rubbing at his wrist again. “You’ve got a hell of a kick kid. You’ll have to show me sometime.”
“Okay.”
“But next time, please, use Sammy as your punching bag.”
“Hey!”
Chapter Six
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