Fiction WiCC34- Darker Games

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-four

Darker Games

John strode purposefully into the motel room that he had booked for himself. He knew better for all his years of hunting, to look like he was fleeing, even though in a way he was. He wanted to be off the streets as soon as possible. The feeling had been growing, the closer he got to Seattle and had doubly intensified when he had discovered the slip of paper that was now slightly crumpled in his hand.

He threw his duffel bag on the bed closest to the door and instead of studying further the picture, as he wanted to do, he let it flutter down beside the bag. He busied himself with rote, but necessary precautions, removing from his bag, his salt and other forms of physical wards to line the room with. Only once he had completed that ritual, would he settle down enough to contemplate what else was happening in his very narrow world.

It didn't take him long before he was perched on the edge of the bed, smoothing out the rumpled paper. He studied it in meticulous detail. The description and sketching of Max was way too close to the reality for his comfort. But what puzzled him was that the poster gave no indication of who was actually looking for her. Usually, in these cases, the office of the local police force was listed, or if it were a state of federal case, a hot line number was included. There was certainly a number listed but John wasn't familiar enough with Washington State numbers to tell if it was a local number with the area code or a statewide line. Pursing his lips as he studied it, he wondered if he could persuade his informant to add a little bonus legwork into the deal. Deciding that it couldn't hurt anything to ask, John retrieved his cell phone. Taking his usual precautions, he dialed the number from memory and waited for the call to be picked up.

“It's me,” he announced heavily.

“Hey J,” the voice on the other end greeted, but John could hear that he wasn't exactly pleased to be contacted. “Look man, I've been doing the digging you asked me too, but I don't have anything solid yet.”

“I'm not surprised,” John sighed resignedly. “I'm a little off schedule here.”

“So you just checkin' in then?” his friend of questionable status asked, sounding vaguely relieved.

“No,” John was clear on that. “But something else has occurred that I need to to get confirmation on.”

“And...” the voice seemed wary. “What is it worth to you?”

“Your life,” John growled out instantly and silence reigned immediately after.

“Hey look, I told you that I'm not doin' that anymore,” the voice sighed. “I only meant, is this about what we talked about before?”

“It's a separate matter,” was all John would allow.

“Ooo-kay,” the voice sighed. “The point I'm trying to get at here is; I'm seriously out of this crap. I'm trying to move on. And I understand the work you're trying to do. That's why I'm willing to help. But I can't do anything else. You understand?”

John rolled his eyes. Usually, in his estimation, once a petty little snitch, always a petty little snitch. “I got it,” he snarked back. “And I'm not asking you to turn over state secrets. I just want to know some details about a current case. It was just quicker to ask you than to do it myself, okay?” he ended gruffly, but it was because of the subject of the inquiry and not any softening of feelings towards his informant.

“Okay, I can do that,” the man supplied. “What details can you give me? Names, dates, what?”

And with a modicum of relief, John related what he had found with the wanted poster and his worries and suspicions about it. To his relief, his contact never asked once why John had a connection to the girl. He just promised to contact him once he had the information requested and the pair hung up.

He was startled when it wasn't even twenty minutes later when his phone rang and glancing at the call screen, saw that it was his informant. Rolling his eyes, thinking the man probably had come up with reasons that he couldn't do this, he sighed heavily before answering.

“What have you got?” he demanded, no greeting or pleasantry passing his lips.

“She's wanted for the murder of a Private Investigator by the name of Vogelsang,” his contact informed him with no preamble.

John swore softly and then bit the tip of his tongue. He knew that name well. It was the name of the PI that Max had hired. Things started coming together in his mind. But his contact was continuing, so he cleared his mind to hear what other details he might share.

“There was no murder weapon at the scene,” he went on. “So maybe...”

“Maybe what?” John asked.

“Well,” the voice sighed, “they've got the bullet to type and match so-!”

“Wait! Bullet?” John demanded, an arc of relief coursing through him. Of course it wouldn't be Max. She would never touch a gun, not even when her own life was in peril.

“Yeah,” the man sounded puzzled. “Vogelsang was done professionally. Single bullet to the brain. I think the only reason they want her is because she was a client of his, probably the last one to talk to him before this went down. And according to what I got, information off the deceased indicated that they were meeting right around the time of his death.”

“Shit,” John cursed, knowing that was definitely a black mark for Max. The cops wouldn't know her innocence like her family would.

“Pretty much everything is circumstantial,” the man continued, though he didn't sound pleased at all. “She gets a good lawyer and an alibi and she'll come out of this mess just fine.”

“Yeah, yeah,” John agreed, frowning. He could only hope that Max had been somewhere very public and very much engaged with other people at the time of the man's death.

“J?” his contact sounded hesitant and John's interest piqued. Something occurred to him in an instant.

“This wasn't common knowledge, was it?” he demanded suddenly. “The information about the bullet?”

“No it wasn't,” the other agreed mildly. That made John suspicious. And when a Winchester got suspicious...

“So why the change of heart?” he demanded bluntly. “Not half an hour ago you were all woe is me, can't do this crap anymore, but now you're singing. Why?” His heart stuttered in his chest as he glanced warily around the room. Had his contact somehow, in some way, betrayed him?

“Because Maxie is a good girl,” the other man said softly and John's eyes went wide.

“How do you know my-!” he bit the words off before they could be sounded. “You know Max?” he asked instead.

“I do,” the voice agreed quietly but became impassioned the longer he talked. “She saved my ass J. I could have lost everything and she saved me. Even given what was going down. She didn't have to do that. She's what made me reconsider everything. Like I said before, I don't mind parting with info that might help save someone's life. But the bribes? All that crap? I'm done with it.”

The strength of this declaration rang true in John's ears and he found himself smiling. “I believe you,” he offered simply and with a huff, the other man chuckled.

“I'm glad,” he mumbled. “So if you have any intention of causing trouble for her, I'll have you up on any spurious charge I can come up with in a heartbeat!”

John's eyes widened. Not because he'd been threatened. That was an all too common occurrence in his life. It was more that the man was this loyal to his daughter. He allowed himself a soft smile. He had seen this before. People just naturally gravitated to Max, believing in her, because she believed in some greater good. He would have told his contact the connection that Max and he had, but some sense told him that it was better off in the long run to hide that as much as possible. After all, look what had happened to Sam's girlfriend. His heart clenched as he thought of it, in relation to himself, Mary, to Sam. He couldn't go through that pain again with Max. None of them could.

“I'm not gonna touch the girl,” he assured his friend quietly. “I just needed to make sure that this wasn't touching on something else that was going down.”

“Yeah, okay,” there was so much more relief evident now and John wondered if he could get the story behind the support Max got. “Well, I gotta go get ready for my shift and my girlfriend just got here.”

That was a surprise to John, since the last he'd heard, the old man was just as lonely as he in that department. “Okay,” he agreed, but before hanging up spoke again. “Thanks a lot Walter. I really do appreciate your help.”

“Yeah J. I'll let you know anything else I find out.”

And with that, the call was disconnected.

*****

Even though John had Walter's somewhat hesitant assurance that Max should be okay with these charges leveled at her, John realized that it was at the moment, just wishful thinking. The wanted poster definitely stated murder. There was no, wanted for questioning in connection to aspect here at all. Even though that was Walter had told him. And on some level, he knew that the wording of the poster was to attract attention, along with the reward listed for any information leading to an arrest. It was a common enough ploy. The police forces and detectives couldn't do it all themselves. That's were the network of snitches and informants came into play and some days, the general populace as well. The fact of the matter was, if the cops didn't have anythings solid on Max, but she could give them any more information about Vogelsang, they'd be happy. There'd be no arrest and no reward payout. But if Max was the culprit, then they had their perp and slush funds set up for this crap would cover the reward. And on the up side, papering the streets with posters that cost little to produce was a hell of a lot cheaper than flooding the street with officers.

But still, that niggling pain in his heart, because it was one of his kids involved... John just couldn't ignore this. Like how he couldn't ignore when that shifter had taken on Dean's persona and committed those atrocities. The moment word had come his way, John had been on his way, but the boys had taken care of business before he'd made it two states. So he'd gone back to his own hunt, relieved in some ways that he hadn't had to swoop in. Yeah, the situation sucked, authorities believing Dean dead. John almost wanted to chuckle macabrely at that, but refrained. Max on the other hand, he knew she would not walk away. She had put down roots and the matter of being falsely accused of murder and with a gun, would put her hackles up and cause her to dig in.

And so, not having faith in the system, from long years of hard experience, John found himself ducking into one of the local stations. Really, he only meant to slip into the back and pick himself up some information, namely where they were on the investigation and the frequency that the cops were using on their scanners. There had been too many channels for John to be able to properly decipher which one to tune into on his illegal scanner.

And that was how John came to be half hidden in the shadows of the mostly empty office. Mostly empty because there were a few people, personnel and some officers moving through the area. And also one detective, a young Asian man in his mid to late thirties. He was perched on his desk and John silently swore when he saw that the Detective was holding a copy of Max's poster.

Affecting a casual lean against the wall he was by, John knew the best way of not being noticed, was to look like he belonged. Luckily it had been easy enough to snag a file folder and pretend he was looking through the information. He could always pretend to be in informant if he had to. As long as they didn't try to search him, which was a very highly unlikely scenario, then he was fine. There were no outstanding warrants for any of his aliases in Washington state.

As he focused his mind and senses, he was able to filter out the background noise of the office, thankful that it was pretty quiet away from the booking desk. Finally he heard what it was he wanted.

“...does seem kind of fishy,” a male voice was saying and there was no answer, so John felt he had pegged the Asian male on the phone. “Well, this came from the Army, not police. We've been authorized to work with them, in conjunction, but the actual take down will be theirs.”

John furrowed his brows at that, a little confused. Yes the police and army would work in conjunction for certain things, but a hunt for a suspect? Usually they'd just have police cordon off an area while Military Police made the searches. He frowned and listened harder.

“Yeah, the details they gave us are pretty sketchy,” the detective continued. “It's mostly conjecture, from what I can see.” There was a pause and then an amused chuckle. “Logan, you don't have to convince me. You say she didn't do it, she didn't do it.”

The words were said forcibly enough that John breathed out a soft sigh of relief. Score one for them. The cops actually weren't complete dumb asses who ran around with limited information getting in over their heads and screwing over anybody else. He knew that he didn't really feel that way, but he'd had too many run ins with officers that had an overinflated sense of their own power and job description to have as much faith in them as he used to. That decided, John thought a moment on who the detective was speaking with. He had said Logan. Was that possibly the man that Max had been working for on the side that had been helping her look for her family? John was pretty sure at this moment that it was. Biting at his lower lip, he was about to slip away, but the detective in the main room, proved to be too useful a gold mine.

“Hang on Logan,” the detictive spoke and John chanced a glance around the slight corner. The male was holding the phone against his shoulder as he half turned to speak to someone behind him. “Marnie? What's the latest on the pursuit of the female perp? Channel fourteen.”

John smirked. Now he knew what else he had been looking for. He waited a moment, because the detective definitely said pursuit, so to his knowledge, someone had either called her in or the cops had spotted her. There was some rustling and then the woman, presumably Marnie, answered.

“Detective Sung? They've spotted the suspect in south market,” the woman informed her multiple, though unknown to the others, audience. “They've got the perimeter set up and the MP's are moving in for the stall to stall search.”

“Thanks Marnie,” the now named Detective Sung grunted and turned his attention back to his call. “Logan?”

But John didn't wait for anything more. He had more than enough information. He slipped out of the building, just as unnoticed as when he had gone in. Again, he didn't flee to his truck but it was still close. Once firmly ensconced inside, he simultaneously started the truck while reaching for his scanner. As he pulled out of his parking spot, careful to be mindful of traffic laws, wouldn't do to be pulled over now, he tuned to channel fourteen and almost immediately hit pay dirt.

“Perimeter established,” came a gruff male voice, muffled slightly by static and crackling. John's eyes constantly scanned the street as he tried to remember the quickest way to market place. He wasn't as familiar as Seattle as he should be for something like this.

“Moving in,” came another voice over the line. And it was followed almost immediately by another.

“Sector one clear, moving on to sector two, over?”

“Roger that.”

It continue on like that, section by section, with some reports of civilians that hadn't been moved out before the perimeter had been established. Id's were checked and people were moved to a holding area until the search was done.

But then the scenario changed.

“Suspect sighted!” came a younger sounding voice excitedly over the line. “Sector 8, Korean food stall!”

It wouldn't have been so bad, had John not heard the very distinctive, to him at least, sound of officers yelling for her to freeze and several pops of staccato gun fire.

“Hold your fire!” someone, older sounding, pissed off, by the clipped, harsh feel to the words, was yelling. “I repeat, cease fire!”

There were a few heart pounding moments as John picked up speed where he could, finally seeing the street sign he needed, signaling his turn. And then, whomever had been yelling just moments before, was obviously as on tenterhooks as John was.

“Report!” the voice barked out.

“Sir, she got away,” another voice, the young sounding one announced.

“What?” the tone was... disbelieving, but also, slightly amused?

“She used some sort of rappel hook and scaffolding sir. She's fled the scene and entered a blue vehicle. Late '90's Aztek, plates unknown. No one got a good look at it sir. Heading east on Market Way. Do we pursue?”

“Yes god damn it! Go! Go!”

John glanced up, wanting to laugh as the very vehicle they had just produced a description of went screaming past him, going the opposite way as he. John only had a quick glance to see a male driving and his daughter ducked down in the front seat, while he thought there may have been another person in the back seat.

Knowing that she was getting away, so far, was a relief, but he had no idea if this driver, whoever it was, could lose a tail, let alone a whole pursuit of cops and MP's. And then luck turned his way again as he debated only momentarily if he should follow as well. He was at an intersection and he could hear the whine of sirens in the distance. Being in the left lane for a strictly verboten u-turn, inspiration struck John. He saw the Aztek take a sharp turn a few blocks down. He eased out as much as he could into the intersection without endangering himself too much. And as the light turned yellow and seemed to hover in that moment of probably going to red, but no one could be sure, he completed a hurried left turn to the next block, because well, it was illegal and dangerous to stay in the intersection like he had been, really.

And of course, the timing of it was perfectly beautiful, as it caused the lead chase cars to slam on their breaks lest they plow into John's truck. Acting panicked, he managed to spin the truck around and stall out his engine, while effectively cutting off the second car that had started to move around the first SUV. John affected a dumbfounded look as the officers got themselves together and moved around him. He heard a car door slam and glanced up to see a police officer pulled up next to him. He grimaced and tried turning the engine over, but let the ignition go before it caught. And then deftly turned the scanner down and tucked it under his coat, just as the office rapped on his window.

John quickly rolled down the window as the officer leaned down and in slightly.

“Are you injured sir?” was his first question and John shook his head, acting rattled, though it was more of a belated adrenaline rush.

“No sir,” he answered honestly. “Sorry, I was trying to clear the intersection and my truck stalled out.”

“All right,” the officer nodded. “Try it again, we need to get you out of the way.”

John nodded as well and tried the engine again, knowing that it would be fine. When the engine roared to life he let his body deflate in seeming relief. “Thank you officer,” he smiled slightly. The man just grimaced at him.

“If you're ever in that situation again, just stay put, okay?” He waited for John's nod and then the officer stepped back. “Go ahead now. Drive safe.”

“You too sir,” John replied as he eased the truck back into the proper direction and continued what would have been his intended left turn. The moment the officer was out of his rear view mirror sights, John was rolling the window back up and reaching for the scanner. His sigh of relief was real this time as he listened.

“Do you have them?” the gruff angry voice was asking.

“Sorry sir. We lost them.” There was a pause. “Should we set up the barricades?”

“We have no idea which way they are going? And not enough manpower for a city wide permieter lockdown?” the male didn't waste time waiting for an answer. At least not over the scanner. “It's pointless at this stage. She'll go to ground. And Seattle PD is getting antsy with us. Call off the search. For now.”

John grinned tightly. Whoever the hell this yahoo was, he had things right. He had trained his children well. Max would do exactly as he had said, go to ground. She would have places to hide until either the heat was off, her innocence proven or she would hopefully find one of their many contacts to protect her. The strings around John's heart were tugged as he wondered if maybe, just possibly, she might call the boys for help. He knew they would be there for her in a heartbeat. And while the father in him wanted that most of all, to help heal this rift between Dean and Max and for Sam to have someone there to help him deal with Jessica's loss, the hunter in him protested. Max was safe so far. The boys were hunting and if he could keep her from that, as long as it were possible, he would.

Decided, the best course of action as father and hunter, John debated sending her a text message. But the demon had tracked him, using his technology before and he knew better than to risk that now. It was time to get the hell out of dodge. It wouldn't be the first or last time. He could grab his things from the motel and head up the road and find another place. Walter would still be able to contact him and he could maybe, just maybe take a momentary break. Lord knew he needed it after today.

*****

“Huh,” Max sighed as Logan pressed his foot on the accelerator of his sporty little Aztek that he had affectionately nicknamed Bessie.

“What Max?” Zack immediately piped up from the back seat.

“Oh, it's nothing,” Max immediately shook her head. “Just thought I saw something. Doesn't apply.” It was her way of telling him that it had nothing to do with the situation at hand and as expected, Zack immediately dropped the line of questioning. But while it may have nothing to do with the ridiculous situation she had found herself in this day, when she had caught sight of the wanted posters that obviously Lydecker had sent out after the debacle with Brin; it was still important to her. She could have sworn that she had seen a black truck, just like the one John drove. But she had dismissed it almost the moment she had thought it. If John were in Seattle, he would have let her know. She was sure of that much.

Once Logan completed another few turns and was able to get into a decent flow of traffic, heading north out of the city, was Max able to relax and return to her seat, from her cramped position on the floor. She did keep her Jam Pony baseball cap on, partially shielding her face in case anybody caught a glimpse of her in the vehicle. And even as she was going over in her mind, racing ahead to what she would need to do to lay low, go to ground, her pager went off. She glanced at the number, recognizing it as the pay phone in the Jam Pony headquarters. She sighed, knowing that she wouldn't be able to call Cindy back and let her know what was going on.

The noise had attracted the attention of the males in the car. “Cindy,” she explained, glancing at Logan. Both he and Zack nodded.

“I can call her at home once we get back,” Logan suggested. “If that's okay.”

“Just as long as you keep your mouth shut about where Max is,” Zack warned and Max rolled her eyes. Her big brother, just another of the paranoid protective males in her life.

“You're gonna have to,” she sighed. “I left my cell at home.” And so realizing, she wanted to grimace. If any of her co-workers saw that poster, well, she wanted to believe that none of them would sell her out, but man, in this day and age, it was a pretty penny the cops were offering for information on her. And she wasn't so worried about herself, but the Winchesters information was in there and that wasn't something that any of them liked to share with the authorities. She turned to Logan and biting at her lip, huffed out an annoyed sigh.

“Is there any way I could borrow your phone?” she asked as sweetly as she could.

Logan was reaching into his inner coat pocket before she even got the entire sentence out. He held it out to her even as Zack protested.

“Can it bro,” Max sighed. “I know what I'm doing.”

“I'm not so sure about that,” he snorted, leaning forward between the seats trying to see the number she dialed. “Who're you calling?”

“Why does it matter?” she snarked back quietly. “It's just me bein' sentimental, right?” The dig obviously got to him as his face hardened and her thumb nimbly completed dialing Sam's number from memory. She held the phone up to her ear, averting her face as much as possible from the others.

*****

“Dude,” Dean called, nudging at Sam's shoulder. Sam had been sleeping, almost from the moment they climbed into the car and had begun the drive to their next job. Dean was about ready to pull over at the next gas station he found and figured that Sam would need to eat something, since breakfast had consisted of a grande coffee and nothing else for the big lunk.

When the sign denoting that the next station was four miles down the road, Dean had started calculating at what mile he should start the niggling little process he had developed for an easy wake up, rather than the funny as hell, make Sam shoot straight up in his seat, panicking like all get out. He wasn't that cruel, right now anyway. So as they neared the mile marker sign, and instead Sam's cell began to ring, he figured it was as good as any excuse. A couple more less than gentle nudges and Sam was shaking his head, trying to focus. The phone rang again and Sam's puzzled features drew a little more focus.

“Phone man,” Dean added helpfully. Sam nodded around a yawn as he reached into his coat pocket to retrieve it. He glanced at the screen and frowned. He flipped it open and held it up to his ear.

“Hello?” he asked carefully, which immediately told Dean that Sam didn't recognize the number. But his face cleared after a moment. “Hey. What's up?” He turned slightly in his seat to mouth the words 'it's Max,' to Dean and Dean raised one eyebrow. Either his brother was so sleep addled he hadn't recognized the number, which was, he immediately realized, the wrong explanation. He knew just as well as Sam the ring tone that denoted a call from Max. So that must have meant she was calling from another phone. There could of course, be numerous explanations for that. But he worried all the same. Max wouldn't use any old phone to call them unless something was going down. With the patience he had started developing over the years of dealing with this, he waited for Sam to do his little info gathering session, rather than butting in.

Sam, ignoring his brother, was completely tuned into the phone call with Max. Being woken up before he was obviously ready had disoriented him enough that he could only deal with one thing at the moment.

“Yeah, I know I promised that I'd call,” Max was saying. “And I forgot my phone at home, so I'm borrowing Logan's.”

“Okay,” Sam nodded. So far, so reasonable. “What's up?”

“Well, I just thought I'd give you guys a heads up,” Max chuckled and Sam, normally would have been alerted right there with that forced tone in her voice. “I decided to go ahead and book it.”

His eyes scrunched up momentarily as he pushed another yawn down and tried stretching his back out a little, sore from sleeping hunched in the car as he had been. And suddenly it dawned on him what she was saying. “You're leaving Seattle?” he demanded, the suddenness and strangeness of her turn around had the effect of a glass of cold water being dumped over his head. He could feel, not needing to see that Dean had whipped his head around in apparent shock at those words.

“I am,” she confirmed. “Turns out Dean and I have even more in common now.” That puzzled Sam and he wondered to what she was referring. “Although I have to say that my sketch is a helluva lot prettier than his.”

Her sketch? Sam's mind raced and then, recalling the sketch that police had sent out when the shape shifter had taken on Dean's face to go after Becky Warren. “Damn it,” he sighed and then stiffened. He ignored Dean's soft entreaties to find out what was going on. “It wasn't a...?” he began asking but stopped because he didn't want his older brother flying off the handle as he knew he would if Dean even had a hint of suspicion that there was something supernatural after his family. Well, more than the usual scrapes they found themselves in.

“No, nothing like that,” Max assured him. “Just the cops being their usual dickish, moronic selves.”

“Okay,” Sam sighed and then winced as something else occurred to him. “It didn't have anything to do with Logan, did it?” He knew even as he asked that it was a powder keg ready to go off, whether Cale was involved or not.

“Actually he,” Max replied, fairly calmly for her, “along with Zack, just saved my ass.” Sam heard some male protests and the phone muffled while Max hissed something back and he wanted to smile at a brother other than him or Dean getting their ass chewed out by her. A small chuckle did escape him and he smirked at Dean for a second who was looking completely annoyed once again. But then she was back. “Anyway, we're heading out. I just didn't want you to worry when I couldn't call, since I left my cell at my apartment. Would you be able to do me a favor?”

“What's that?” Sam replied instantly.

“Could one of you call Dad's phone and let him know?” she asked softly and there was another annoyed hiss on her end that she was apparently going to ignore this time. “I don't have his number handy, since it's programmed in.”

Sam's stomach dropped a little as he realized what she was telling him. The situation she was in was hot enough that she had to bug out of town without being able to clear her name for whatever was going on. The information she had, namely their contact info and who knew what else, was on her phone. And she didn't have it. There was the possibility that the cops knew who she was and would be able to search her apartment. Basically, Max was going to disappear and Sam knew that he was damn lucky that he was even getting this much of a heads up.

“Yeah,” he whispered out, his throat suddenly dry. He knew, intellectually, of course, that Max could take care of herself. She had proven that well enough over the years. And she had Cale, who hadn't scored many brownie points in Sam and Dean's books, but also her brother Zack to watch over her. But to Sam it just wasn't the same. “Yeah,” he repeated, a little stronger this time. “We can do that.”

“Okay,” she breathed out and he could hear the relief in her voice. “If I can, I'll leave word with friends, okay?” Sam was nodding as she said that. He knew, as anyone who knew Max really well, was aware that she had all their numbers and information memorized. Saying that she hadn't Dad's number wasn't about that. She just knew that John would not answer or respond to an unknown number. So her calling from anyone else's phone would be pointless.

“All right,” Sam agreed. “You take care of yourself Maxie,” he offered, almost warning at the same time.

“Promise,” she chuckled and he could just see the smile on her face, in his mind as she said it. “Love you and you take care too.”

“Promise,” he repeated. “Love you too.”

The call disconnected and Sam hung up his phone as well. The afternoon, so calm and mild and like many others before it, seemed to have gone to hell in just a few words and Sam was so caught up in realizing how drastically things had changed in just moments, that he was caught off guard again, when Dean suddenly yanked the car off the road.

“Dude! What the hell?” Sam barked out as he braced his hands on the dashboard as the Impala skidded slightly in the grass and dirt of the fairly shallow ditch. But Dean had already thrown the car into park and turned himself completely in his seat.

“What the hell is going on Sam?” Dean barked out and Sam's eyes widened. He hadn't seen this dangerous intensity in his brother's eyes since... well since the last time Sam had been in imminent danger. Or, his mind quickly supplied, when he had told Dean that the shifter had plans to go after Max in Seattle. Filing that information away, of course finding it completely natural, Sam wondered what had bothered his brother to this extent in the side of the conversation with Max that Dean would have heard. But instead of trying to figure that out, because it would come to him eventually, he answered.

“Max is in trouble, Cale and Zack got her out of whatever situation she's in,” Sam recounted quickly, knowing this was definitely not a time to play games with his brother. “She's going to ground, we need to ditch our phones so the cops can't track us and cause trouble, and we need to warn Dad about the same. And if she can, she'll leave words with friends,” he finished even as he was reaching for his laptop, hoping that he was in range of a cellular tower to tap into with his phone. He wanted to know exactly the extent of Max's trouble, as apparently, Dean did as he heard his brother cursing under his breath.

“How bad is it?” Dean finally asked, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand, the other clenching at the steering wheel. Sam wondered if Dean was debating heading up to Seattle right now. He would of course, point out that it would be useless, as they had no clue where Cale and Zack were taking her, or even if she would stay with them or go off by herself.

He powered up the laptop and luck was with him as he was able to start searching the Washington databases for information on his sister. Luckily, he saw, there was nothing under her name or any of the aliases that she used. At least any that Sam was aware of.

So he broadened the search, looking for new wanted posters, explaining slightly under his breath what he'd found so far. He knew Dean would either grab for the laptop himself or punch the information our of his shoulder if he didn't. As it was, knowing nothing yet, wasn't helping Dean calm down.

“Wanted posters Sammy?” his brother sounded extremely irritated.

“She said that you guys had more in common now,” Sam explained quickly. “And that her sketch was prettier than yours.” And even as he told him that, he found what he was looking for. There it was, a clear picture of his sister, even if it was sketched in pencil, black and white, Max wanted for the murder of a police informant. In his frustration, Sam shoved the computer a little harder than he'd meant, spinning it around so that Dean could see as well. With his elbow resting on the car door, he covered his eyes, throat swallowing convulsively.

“Did she say why?” Dean asked quietly. Sam focused on that, how quiet his brother's voice was. “Cause we don't know the whole situation here, obviously.” It was odd, that tone of voice and Sam turned his head to regard his brother. When had it become Dean being reasonable about this and Sam the emotional one? Well, there had been occasions, but given the past few years, Sam would have through that Dean would be having a major freak out over this.

“She didn't,” Sam agreed. “and it could have been anything, couldn't it?” There were myriad possibilities.

“And even if it was just what this says,” Dean sighed heavily, “Max wouldn't do that. Not without just cause.”

“She wouldn't,” Sam agreed again. Sitting up straighter now, Sam reached for the computer. He wondered if there was any way he could get more information, but that would require some hacking that he wasn't sure he'd be able to accomplish. He debated calling Kendra and seeing if he could convince her to get rid of Max's phone or even just deleting her contacts list. But that would require explaining some things he'd rather not drag the girl into. “You should call Dad,” Sam decided. If their father was going to listen to a message from them, better that it come from the son he still liked.

“Yeah, I'll do that,” Dean sighed, apparently reaching a decision as he put the car back into drive and eased the Impala back out onto the highway.

*****

“Thanks,” Max smiled sadly after she had hung up the phone and passed it back to Logan. He had just smiled tightly and nodded before slipping the phone back into the pocket it had come from.

“Who were you talking to?” Zack demanded instantly.

“The Winchester's,” Max replied broadly, hiding a grin at her big brother's expense. She exchanged a brief glance with Logan, who was trying to do the same. He may not have had siblings, but he certainly seemed to understand the dynamic, if the look on his face was any indication.

“And they would be?” Zack definitely sounded annoyed and Max sighed.

“Not too long after we escaped,” she began, “I bugged out of a bad situation with a foster family. I was on the highway and John tried to avoid hitting a deer and clipped me instead. He tried to help, ended up taking me into town and calling a friend of his to check me over. When he found out I didn't have anywhere to go and the situation I had been in, he and his boys pretty much adopted me right then and there. I stayed with them until a couple years ago, when I decided to head up here.”

“You stayed with them that long?” Logan asked, sounding impressed.

“That was dangerous Maxie,” Zack rumbled.

“You never found me in all that time,” Max snarked back, knowing instinctively that she would score a point there.

“And they never noticed anything... strange?” Logan wondered, eying her a little in a way that Max was wary of. She shrugged.

“They didn't really consider themselves normal either,” she offered. “John was pretty much a modern day nomad, going from job to job, dragging us along. I mean, seriously, the longest we stayed anywhere was for nine months, so that Dean could have his senior year in one school.”

“This is the same Dean that...” Logan began and then cut himself off as his eyes darted to the rear view mirror and Zack's intensely interested look.

“I explained about that Logan,” Max sighed tiredly. That had taken a lot of fast talking on her part to explain to Logan, that a serial killer had perfected the art of mimicking different males in order to infiltrate their lives and fulfill the killer's sick little fantasies. Logan had seemed to accept this, seeing's how he had talked to Sam, while Sam had been with Dean in a location that was hundreds of miles away from St. Louis, when the first murder had occurred. It was spurious evidence of course, but Logan seemed fine with it.

“Dean's got a record?” Zack inferred and wasn't too far off the mark. Of course, with Max's comment about her sketch for her wanted poster, that inference was easy to gt to.

“Room to talk pot?” Max teased, hoping they'd drop the line of inquiry. It seemed to work as Logan sighed and Zack rolled his eyes. And then Logan was reaching for the radio and finding the station he was looking for, the car was filled with the soft strains of Mozart and conversation was left behind.

It was about a half hour later, that they finally arrived at Logan's' family cabin. It was slightly more rustic than Max would have thought it would be and more opulant than Zack had been expecting. But after a sneering glance at Logan, Zack had shrugged it off and exited the car with nary a word to the man. Max watched as he moved around the front of the Aztek, shouldering the simple backpack of supplies he had with him. He gave her a pointed look and she jerked her chin up in stubborn reply. He didn't know it, but their contact before had been too brief to give him the full on Max Guevara Winchester stubbornness. Whatever she'd already had, had been amplified with lessons learned from those three men. It was, regardless of anything else, something that stood her in good stead.

As Zack trotted up the steps and retrieved the key from where Logan said it had been hidden, Max sighed. “You know, I get the feeling that the longer I hang with big brother, the more apologizing I'm going to be doing.”

Logan was silent for a moment and then chuckled. “Well, if you mean for Zack, just remember, his behavior is on him. No one can fault you for his upbringing. Or yours, for that matter.”

“I suppose,” Max smiled sadly. She glanced at the man that had risked himself, a man that was doing his own part to try and make the world a better place. Despite how they had started out, rocky quid pro quo, somewhere along the way a friendship had developed and Max was glad that she'd had Logan in her corner when it counted. Feeling strangely choked up, probably given from having to say goodbye to Sam earlier, Max was unsure how to say it again. Instead of worrying herself over it, since Logan understood the situation well, she chose to question something that had been bothering her on the drive up. She turned in her seat to face him.

“Are you sure you want to head back to Seattle?” she asked gently. “I mean, we don't know what the cops know after that little stunt we pulled, which, thank you by the way.”

“It was barely anything, you know that,” Logan chuckled. “The participation in said stunt, not the end result. And you are welcome.”

She smiled tightly and then sighed. “You know, you could come with us.” She felt like she was being slightly vague, but Logan it seemed, understood. He was shaking his head. “You know, just until the heat is off,” she pressed.

“I don't know Max,” he sighed as well. “My taking off right on the heels of you, especially when people know that we've been hanging together, it would look too suspicious.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she nodded. She knew that. “You're right. Well, I guess life is taking another unexpected turn, huh?”

“Yeah,” Logan grinned and then smiled shyly at her. “I don't know what I'm going to do now that my best cat burglar is heading up to Canada.”

Max shrugged, pleased at his acknowledgment of her work for him. She pretended to look thoughtful. “Um, keep fighting the good fight Mr. Eyes Only. Maybe churn out some more articles?”

“There's that, I suppose,” Logan laughed and nodded. “Maybe I'll even work on that Pulitzer prize winning novel.”

“I didn't know you were writing a novel?” Max exclaimed, surprised, though perhaps she shouldn't have been. Logan burst out laughing and shook his head.

“I was teasing,” he admitted. “Although after this last half year, maybe I could give a go at science fiction.”

“Yeah,” Max scoffed. “I'd be a little leery of that.” She smiled once more at him, glad that he was laughing and joking with her now. It made things easier. At least he was more at ease than he had been earlier during the drive, complaining of a stiff, sore back. “Well, this is me,” she joked back, gesturing to the great outdoors. She climbed out of the vehicle, but before she closed the door, she leaned over to tell him, “please, be careful Logan.”

“I will Max,” he assured her, with a little wave. “You too. And Zack of course.”

“He was born careful,” she teasingly chuckled as she pushed the car door shut. But as she mimicked Zack's path of only a few minutes prior, she realized that she was only fooling herself that saying goodbye was okay. She was leaving behind so much in Seattle, in reality, almost her whole life. And right now, the only thing of that life that remained in the moment was Logan. She just couldn't leave things with a meaningless quip.

She spun on her heel and returned to the car, glad that Logan had his window down already. And truly, she only meant to lean in and give him a hug, to thank him for all that he had done for her. Even as she had done things for him. But she was taken completely off guard, when Logan's head twisted around and instead of accepting a hug from her, he had cupped the back of her head and pressing his lips hungrily against hers.

Shock kept her from pulling back immediately, her head whirling.

Realization that perhaps he was a little off kilter as well from the sudden change kept her from rearing back and punching him.

As it was, she allowed him this close sentimentality because she needed something too. Not this precisely, but something. When Logan finally began to pull back, Max braced herself on the car door, and crouched down a little. Logan looked just as shocked as she had initially felt. His eyes darted down, away from her face and she just waited quietly. When he spoke, his voice was soft, with the barest traces of hesitation.

“I'm not going to apologize for that,” he finally said, though he still wasn't looking fully at her. She did notice his eyes darting towards her.

“I'm not asking you to,” she replied just as softly as he. When he seemed to realize that there was no censure in her voice he chanced a glance up at her.

“I just...” he began, but his voice faded out and he shrugged.

“I understand,” she moved her hand forward enough to rest on his bicep, through his light coat. “I can't say that I'm honestly in the same place Logan. I'm not exactly good girlfriend material, you know.”

That made him chuckle ruefully and his hand came up to cover hers. This time he did meet her eyes. “Don't ever sell yourself short Max,” he instructed, giving her a sad, understanding smile. “Take care.”

“You too,” she offered and as he leaned forward to put the car into drive, she stepped back out of the way of his wide turn to head back to Seattle. She watched as he pulled away, resolutely watching the road before him. She waved anyway and once he'd reached the turn in the path, did she finally turn and climb the steps.

And as she should have known he would be, Zack was waiting in the foyer.

“Well that was a hell of a kiss you planted on Cale,” he snarked and Max frowned at him.

“For your information, he kissed me,” Max sniped. “Not the other way around and not that it's any of your business.”

“Looking out for you has always been my business Max,” he barked back immediately. And Max had finally found a boiling point.

“You know Zack,” she seethed quietly, “in the civilized world, it's normal for people to get a little emotional when their friends have to suddenly disappear. You'd think that you'd have learned that over the last decade. And even if you don't care to indulge in blatant sentimentality, some of us do. So excuse me if I take just one friggin' second to adjust to my life being thrown upside down!” She began to storm down the hallway, realizing that she was being a little ridiculous, as it wasn't Zack at all that she was upset with. But he was there and he was pushing. Just like the other brothers in her life. She shook her head as she realized why it was hurting so much. She had said goodbye to Sam, to Logan, Zack was here with her now. But... he wasn't the brother that she wanted.

She ignored Zack's apologetic and sheepish calls after her as she ducked into the first room with a door that she found. It was a bedroom and she dispelled the urge to throw herself on the bed like some prepubescent teen in a snit. Instead, she let the door click shut, leaned back against it before slowly sliding down to the floor before burying her face in her arms, braced upon her knees and let out a shuddering, voiceless keen.

*****

Max had finally emerged from that room after giving in to her breakdown. More sentimentality she knew, but she had just given up the life and everything that had gone along with it that had kept her sane after she'd left... them. The Winchester's. Just as it had been the Winchesters' that had kept her sane after she'd escaped Manticore. She wasn't sure that Zack would understand that. Sure, he'd understand that she had grown close to these people, but from what she had seen before, from what he had said before, the only people that deserved their loyalty, was their original unit.

She'd made a pit stop in the bathroom to wash her face and after wandering around the large cabin a little, she'd come to a halt in the kitchen. She was quite surprised to find her brother standing at the stove, stirring something in a pot.

“Cale left the place pretty well stocked,” he offered quietly, gesturing to the row of cans on the counter closest to him. Several had been opened and Max could see that Zack had opted for some stew, along with a box of instant mashed potatoes, made with, of all things, canned milk. She smiled softly. Dinner was going to be... interesting at least.

“Yeah well,” she grinned, “those were probably the rations in case of nuclear bomb detonation.” She pushed the cans back out of the way, making sure the counter was clean before hopping up to sit and watch big brother in his awkward bid at domesticity. “In case you hadn't realized, Logan might argue for the little people, but he certainly takes advantage of some of the things his wealth has to offer.”

“I noticed,” Zack smirked and glanced at another door. Curious, Max thought about hopping down to investigate, but then Zack was staring intently at her.

“What?” she demanded with a frown, which in turn made him smile again.

“I know, I've been riding your ass Max,” he admitted and she scowled. That was how he was going to put it? Barely back in her life, for just a few months and he was treating her like the soldier she wasn't anymore and never wanted to be again. “But I'm only doing it because I want to see you safe.”

Max had to chuckle. It was the refrain she heard every single time that she was on the phone with Sam. Of course, she used the same excuse with him. She wanted to know what he was up to, just for her peace of mind. What all of them were up to really. But there were realities about those situations that she wouldn't push the boundaries on.

“What's funny?”

“Nothin' really,” she sighed. She pointed at the potatoes, bubbling merrily away on the back burner. “Better stir those too before they stick.” Zack made a soft disgruntled noise in the back of his throat, before he did as she bade and then turned back to her. “I was just thinking that you aren't the only one cornering that protective vibe, you know.”

Zack's eyebrows furrowed and then cleared. “These Winchester's?” he asked and she nodded.

“And not just them,” she shrugged. “There've been some people recently in my life-!”

“Like Cale?” he growled out and Max was surprised. Whatever had gone down between Zack and Logan, her brother, and wouldn't he get a kick to know he wasn't the only one, really took a dislike to him. She wondered what it might be about Logan that upset them so much. But, this was the male mind she was thinking of, though come to think about it, Cindy and Kendra had been suspicious of him as well, at first. But then, they didn't know Logan's alter ego or the crusade he was on. Maybe if they did...

“Not him, no,” Max shook her head. “No, I was thinking of Sketch and Herbal, couple people.”

“Oh, from Jam Pony,” Zack recalled. Max nodded. “They weren't so bad, were they?”

“No,” Max shrugged. “They weren't. Though there were a few times I wanted to drop kick Sketch for all the trouble he got into.

“Oh yeah?” Zack seemed interested now, but Max couldn't tell if it were feigned or true. “Tell me about it.”

She eyed him a little warily, but he just waited and finally with a sigh, she gave in, going back all the way to the first time that she had met Sketchy, when she and Cindy had started working at Jam Pony.

Working together, they brought the dinner Zack had created to the table and enjoyed a comfortable time, swapping stories about the screw ups of ordinary people they knew. The food was good, familiar, even if the potatoes did have a sweet flavor from the canned milk. As they cleaned up what they could, Zack asked again about the Winchester's.

“You know, when you first showed back up,” Max mused as she dried a plate that Zack had handed to her, “it really freaked my brother out.”

“Your brother?” Zack asked, glancing at her. “You really considered them family, huh?”

“Well, like I said before, they adopted me,” she grinned. “But see, I was talking with Sam,” she stressed the name and Zack's surprised glance made her chuckle. “Yeah, so when I told Sam that my brother Sam had shown up in town, he got a little freaked.”

“Really?” Zack seemed amused now too.

“Well, I can't really blame them,” Max sighed as she replaced the now dried plate in the cupboard. “It's not the first time someone has used their name for bad or shady things.”

“Dean, right?” Zack asked, proving that as expected, he'd been listening intently and putting some things together in his mind.

“Yeah, Dean,” Max sighed. She knew that she wouldn't be able to avoid this. “A couple months back, some freakazoid was impersonating him, committing murders. He never got a chance to clear his name before the killer died. So he's kinda dead to the world, as I understand it.”

“Kind of extreme, but I get it,” Zack assured her. He busied himself for a moment, pulling the drain from the sink and shaking the soap off his hands. “So lemme ask, why did you decide to stay with them? I mean, we all were taught...” he trailed off and grimaced.

“It wasn't right away,” Max explained softly. She reached for one of the pots. “I had been roaming from foster home to foster home, running when the situation got tough or bad, keeping on the move, like we'd been taught.”

“Finally got tired of that?” Zack asked, kindly for him and Max shook her head.

“More like, they wouldn't let me go,” she smiled softly. She glanced at her brother again, he was now leaning back against the counter, his arms crossed, a slight scowl on his face. “Look, the last foster family I was with? The dad was a drunk and an abuser. And I don't mean with just his fists.” She held up a hand to forestall him. “The other girl Lucy, she protected me. When things got too bad, she told me to hide, so I did and then I ran. When John hit me with the car, their first instinct was to help me, to protect me and John was canny enough to figure out pretty damn quick what was going on. When he offered to get me out of the state and to somewhere safe, it was like manna. So I jumped.”

Zack was nodding now, looking a little relieved. “So that was it. He got you to safety and you just decided to stay?”

“No,” Max protested softly. “No, I overheard him talking to Pastor Jim.” She glanced up and shrugged one shoulder. “Friend of theirs that they visited every summer in Minnesota. Anyways, they were talking about what to do with me and Jim said he could look into finding me another foster family. I didn't want to be in that situation again, so I bailed.”

“Of course.”

She had to smile that this was the logical conclusion for both of them to make. “But they came after me,” she remembered fondly. She set the pot down, not sure where he had found it and settled the towel on the counter before mimicking Zack's pose. “I took off to look for you guys, of course,” she explained. “They found me a few towns over. I... I thought I had found you. I went up to this kid, from behind, looked just like you, but when he turned around...”

“Know the feeling,” Zack muttered sadly, and when she peeked up at him, could see that his eyes were far away, but he came back to her after a moment.

“Anyway, I was sitting on this bus stop when all of a sudden they come screeching up in the Impala, scared to death because I had disappeared. They all converged on me, hugging the freak out of me and John hauled me off to the car and told me I had a choice to make. If I seriously wanted, I could take off, be on my own, face this big bad scary world on my own, or I could stay with them. Be one of them. I choose to stay. They were safe, they were... familiar. John had a way...” she frowned as she knew that there were so many things about the Winchester's that she couldn't say, couldn't explain. She smiled again though. “John's ex-Marine, so when he treated the boys like little soldiers, I was right there with them.”

“Oh yeah?” Zack grinned at that and then nudged her shoulder with his own. “And here I thought you shunned all that hut hut hut.”

“John wasn't a fanatic about it,” Max laughed softly. “Most of the time. But like I said, it was familiar and safe. And they didn't push hard about the things I couldn't talk about.”

“Like?” he said it softly, but she could hear the worried undertones there in his voice.

“The seizures, Eva, Lydecker,” she mumbled. She inhaled deeply and sighed. “They kept me safe and healthy when the seizures hit. We figured out that tryptophan worked for them.” She saw Zack nod and murmur agreement. “They knew that Eva was my sister and she had been killed. And though we never talked about Deck, they kind of figured he was, I don't know, my father or something. The one time he...”

“The one time what?” Zack prodded.

“We were in Washington,” Max recalled. “John was home schooling Sammy and I at that point, since Dean had graduated. Anyway, we were doing an assignment on who we thought was a good president, some crap like that and Lydecker was in town. Meeting with the bigwigs or something. Well, I spotted him before he spotted me. Told John I wasn't feeling well and he dropped everything to take care of me. Got us out of there before Deck even could suspect anything.”

“That's good,” Zack breathed out. “That's good you had that then.”

They stood, side by side, in silence for a long time until at last, Max pushed away from the counter.

“I'm gonna get a fire going,” she decided. “It'll get chilly up here tonight without the heat on.” She didn't bother to look and see if Zack agreed with her or not.

*****

It didn't take much to get the fire going. The wood in the bin beside the fireplace was dry from being kept inside, protected from the elements. One touch of the match to the tinder and it lit right up. She didn't bother to prepare it with banking the embers in mind. The fire needed to be fully out come morning, since she knew that she and Zack would be heading to Canada before first light.

She stood and stared out the window of the cabin. Outside the building, all was calm, serene, but inside, she felt anything but. Zack had been trying to be nice when he had said what he had said. That it was good that she had had the Winchester's then. But the truth of the matter was, even though she and Sam kept in touch, even though she loved them all, to differing degrees and ways, she just didn't feel like she had them anymore. Too much time, too many things happening, too many changes had pulled them apart.

It was almost like how things had become with her Manticore siblings. They had been together, a unit that had made themselves a family. But when it became too much, they had eventually scattered. That life on the edge... you had to pull back at some point. The breaking point in Manticore had been Jack's death, the seizures, those maneuvers. For Sam, the breaking point had been a touch of normality amidst the insanity. For Max it had been Dean, and then Seth.

Those kids, her first family, they would always be in her heart, just as the Winchester's would be. But she didn't know if she had the strength to go through this time and again. To gain her family only to lose it again. If she played it safe, like Zack, a lone wolf moving through the world with no ties, no loyalties but the ones he decided. But then, she remembered the loneliness. But the pain of loss was a heavy burden. Just look at Sam and Jess. John and Mary. She bit at her lower lip as she fought the tears that came up as she thought again about losing Jess, losing Brin. Two sisters, both as different as night and day. The only thing in common was that they had been loved by Max. At least Brin was still alive and if there was any way, any small semblance of who she had been, then Max would fight for her.

She heard movement again in the kitchen, footsteps coming her way. Hastily swiping at her eyes to rid herself of the evidence pooling in her eyes, of her sentimentality, she moved away from the window and took a seat on the plush sofa before the fire. Zack came into the room, smiling, carrying something in both hands.

Recognizing that it was a bottle of wine, in one hand and two wine glasses in the other, Max wanted to laugh ruefully. Of course Logan would have the family cabin stocked with some of his favorites. She wondered idly if Zack knew the differences and nuances of the fermented fruits, or if he had just grabbed the first thing he had seen. She raised one eyebrow, but he mistook her thoughts and how they translated on her face.

“We've got security tonight,” he defended himself as he took a seat before her on the coffee table, gently setting down his largess. “Safe place to stay, so I figured, why not?” Max simply inclined her head, not worrying either way. It wasn't like sharing a bottle of Pinoit Grigot was going to adversely affect them. She watched as Zack deftly uncorked the bottle, allowing the cork to pop free, but keeping it from going far. He poured half a glass each and then settled the cork loosely in the bottle. Settling it not far from himself, he reached for one glass and handed it to her. She took it and waited for him to retrieve his own. He lifted it in the air before him. “Here's to doing the right thing. Even if it took you forever,” he added teasingly and she knew he was referring to leaving Seattle.

“Yeah,” she murmured, avoiding his eyes and busying herself with sipping at the cool refreshment that she barely tasted. Zack swallowed his mouthful and regarded her, seeming to sense that this was not the time to push her. He smiled gently at her, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees, holding the wine glass between both hands.

“I remember the morning, the first one after we escaped,” he told her earnestly. “I got into Cheyenne early. Early enough that people were just starting to spill out on the streets. And they were just regular people, not the kind we were used to. Normal people going to their jobs, or errands or whatever.” He held her gaze for a moment. “To be honest, they scared the hell out of me. To me, with what we learned, these people, they were the enemy. All of them. And I was so outnumbered.”

“I remember that feeling,” Max sighed. She did remember it well, as all those people had surged around her, that day at the bus stop. All strangers, all potential threats. Until she saw that one familiar thing. The Impala. It had been safety, surety, it held something that she hadn't known she'd needed so badly.

“I knew I had to get away,” Zack continued, smiling a little ruefully. “So I climbed up to the roof of a building downtown. Had to lay low.” They both chuckled at that. “The sun was just coming up and I realized, all of a sudden, I was a free man. Everything changed in that moment. The whole world took on a new look.”

“Like it went from black and white to Technicolor all of a sudden,” Max agreed. She remembered that sensation too. She barely noticed when Zack set his wine glass back on the table and scooted a little further forward.

“I know you think I'm being hard on you,” he offered gently. “Max, I really am just trying to keep you safe.”

“I know,” she smiled up at him. Just as she would do for him. He smiled just a little and reached to push one of the tendrils of hair that had slipped down to curl around her eye and cheek, back behind her ear.

“You're going to miss him, aren't you?” Zack asked intuitively and Max's eyes startled wider for a moment. “And the Winchester's too.” He seemed apologetic, but Max wasn't sure. A little embarrassed that she had thought that Zack had seen right through her, thinking of Dean, but he meant Logan, she blurted out her next words.

“You think it's stupid, don't you?”

“No,” his voice was soft, the harshness lost as he scooted closer still. “A part of me wants that too. To have friends, my family. Maybe a place in the world to belong to. Someone to care about and someone to care about me.”

Max smiled up at him, holding her lower lip between her teeth as she contemplated the sincerity of his words. And it was right there in his eyes for her to see, as clear as the sun in the sky.

“I thought that was all just a sentimental lie?” she teased him, her smile for real now. He leaned all the way forward and bumped her forehead with his gently, even as his hand rested on her shoulder.

“Hey,” he protested good naturedly, a small chuckle rumbling through him, “even I'm allowed to have a moment or two of weakness.”

And while he meant it to be a teasing, harmless remark, he could not know how deep it cut into Max. For that was exactly what had killed the safety and surety that she had known in her life. Two moments of weakness.

*****

Bobby Singer sat at his kitchen table. It had long ago foregone use as it was intended and now often housed whatever tools of whichever trade Bobby happened to be working on in the moment. On this day in particular, he was simply cleaning and working on re sighting several of his weapons that he had employed recently. A dirty gun was anathema to the grizzled old hunter and a gun that was even millimeters off could be the difference between life and death.

It barely phased him at all when the telephone closest to him rang. With just a glance towards it, he realized it was the main line for his auto wreckage business. Hooking the phone with one slightly oily finger, from the gun cleaner, he caught the phone between his shoulder and his ear. “Singer Salvage Yard,” he answered politely, though with a vague hint of disinterest.

“Hey Singer man,” a female's voice trilled over the line. “How's my puppy doin'?”

Bobby's face lit up as he set the pieces of revolver that he had apart back on the table and reached for some paper towels to wipe his hands off. “Tryin' to eat me outta house and home. That's how. And how the hell are you doin' girl?”

“Doin' good,” she returned. “Better than I was the last few days.”

“Oh?” he muttered, knowing that even though she was adopted, what a penchant for understatement all the Winchester's had. “Anything I can help with?”

“It's dealt with,” she assured him quickly. “Nothin' I couldn't handle, especially since it was the every day normal variety of crap, huh.”

“Somehow,” he drawled out teasingly, “knowing you Maxie, that doesn't reassure me.” She laughed in response.

“It wasn't too bad,” Max sighed at last. “Remember that PI I told you about? Vogelsang?”

Bobby took a moment to recall and then was nodding. “He was looking for your family, right?”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Well, he found my brother Zack, when Zack hit Seattle. He had called me to arrange a meet to let me know the information he had found. But when I got to the location, he was dead.”

“Well shit,” Bobby grunted. Never a good sign no matter which way you cut it.

“Uh huh,” Max agreed dryly. “Anyway, because he had my contact info on him when the hit went down, cops assumed the worst and put up wanted posters. You know, I woulda thought Sam would have told you this?”

“I ain't talked to that boy in a couple years,” Bobby growled, extremely put out of joint by the fact.

“Oh, sorry,” Max laughed and then stilled. “Do you know what happened with him? I mean, what went down?”

“I know,” Bobby assured her, his voice heavy with sympathy. “I may not be in that idjit's loop, but my sources are still talking.”

“Okay,” Max sighed and then went on. “Anyways, the cops were looking for me, but I bugged out with a little help.”

“Well yeah,” Bobby agreed, it was the obvious thing to do until the heat was off.

“Of course, I ended up going back, but it all turned out in the end,” she gamely finished and Bobby grimaced.

“I never thought I'd have to say this to you girl but, what the hell were you thinking?” he growled at her. He wasn't too upset, since obviously she was fine, but still...

“You left off the idiot,” she prompted him and Bobby had to grin.

“That goes without sayin',” he told her. “Besides, that's reserved for those fool brothers of yours.”

“Well I hate to think what you call Dad,” she teased. “Though I do remember some choice words coming out of that mouth of yours on a few occasions.”

“What can I say?” Bobby leaned back in his chair, not having enjoyed a conversation so much since the last time he'd chatted with Maxie. “Your Daddy brings out the best in me.”

“And the worst,” she agreed. “He has that gift, huh?”

“So,” Bobby wondered, pushing aside the topic that they could spend days trying to dissect and never getting anywhere on. “What made you go back?”

There was a heavy sigh before she answered. “A friend of mine was in trouble. Serious health problems. He uh, well, he had to go back under the knife because some bullet fragments shifted closer to his spine.”

“Yowch!” Bobby groaned. “But I don't see what you coulda done other than moral support,” he chastised gently.

“Well, as it turns out,” Max drawled, “it was a good thing I did go. Logan's AB negative.” Bobby nodded at that, recognizing the rarity of the blood type. “The hospitals' blood bank was tapped from the operation and the batch they pulled up from the city reserve was tainted. So I was there in a pinch.”

“A pinch is right,” Bobby shook his head. He couldn't fault the girl for trying to help. It was a fundamental thing about her. That she'd risk about anything to take care of the people she loved. Bobby was just glad he was on that end of her spectrum, instead of the other. “So he's all right then?”

“He is,” Max agreed. “And just 'cause I know you'll fret yourself to death if I don't explain, yes, the cops picked me up, along with every other female in the city that matched my description. And then they let me go.”

“They let you go?” Bobby repeated, slightly incredulous.

“Yeah,” Max agreed. “Apparently an anonymous tip gave them some more information on the actual killer and when they found the perp, he still had the murder weapon on him. So that was that.”

“Okay,” Bobby nodded. “Well, I guess that turned out all right. But seriously Maxie?”

“Yeah?”

He could hear the slight apprehension in her voice and smiled softly, knowing what she was expecting. “I'm glad you called. Don't get me wrong, I love your letters. But I like hearin' your voice even more kid.”

“Yeah,” she chuckled, sounding relieved. “I was wondering?”

“What about?” he asked.

“Two things, but you already answered the one.”

“If I'd heard from the boys,” he surmised.

“Or John,” she sighed.

“Not a peep outta him,” Bobby admitted, though over the past few years, that wasn't so unusual.

“Yeah, I kinda figured,” Max groaned. “Problem is, I called Sam when I was leaving and let him know that I had to leave my cell behind. So he spread the word and they got themselves some new numbers. I have no way of contacting them. I told him I'd leave word with friends if I could and you were the first one on my list.”

“So I rank that high, huh?” Bobby teased again, feeling a warm glow emanating through his chest.

“Of course,” Max assured him. “Anyway, if you hear from them, please let them know my number is still the same.”

“I can do that sweetheart,” he promised. “Although, I might just have an idea. I can give it a try and let you know if I come up with anything. Okay?”

“All right Bobby,” she enthused. “And the other thing?” Bobby grunted his assent for her to go ahead. “I was wondering if you'd be adverse to a little company for a few days this summer?”

Bobby perked right up when he heard that. “Seriously?” he demanded. “'Cause you know you're always welcome?”

“Yeah, seriously,” Max said. “It's been a few years and I miss you Bobby. Letters and calls just aren't always enough, you know?”

“I do know,” he agreed, trying to hold back a suspicious little sniffle that he was sure was just from the fumes wafting up to his nose from the table. “And besides, maybe with you around Rummy will get so lovesick again that he can drop a few of those extra pounds he's packed on, huh?”

“Oh please,” Max giggled. “I'm not a miracle worker.” Bobby laughed as well and they exchanged a few more pleasantries before hanging up. With his hand still on the main line, he stared blankly at the wall for a moment, thinking. He knew that John, even if he had gotten a new cell phone, would have hung on to the old one for at least a little while, in case anyone else needed to leave word for him until his new number finally made the rounds.

Just on the off chance that it was the case, he pulled one of his phones close and dialed the number that he knew, to try and reach John. When the call was put through to voice mail, the usual rigmarole was still in place, but there were instructions to contact Dean if it was an emergency. Bobby repeated the number under his breath while he grabbed a pencil and some scrap of paper. He got it written down and left a terse, “call your daughter, number's the same,” message for the man. He highly doubted that John would listen or do so. But then, all Bobby knew he could do was try.

Hanging up that call, he was immediately thumbing the next number into the phone. Wondering if this was Dean's new or old number, he was relieved when it was answered by a familiar voice.

“Hello?”

“Hey, where's your brother, ya idjit?” he demanded gruffly.

“Bobby! Hey!”

“We already said that Sam,” he teased, though you couldn't tell from his tone.

“Right, sorry,” Sam apologized and Bobby could just see the kid, ducking his head, bein' all sheepish. “Yeah, Dean's in the can. I only answered because sometimes he gets calls for jobs.”

“I 'spect your daddy's got something to do with that,” Bobby declared grumpily. As if the boys didn't have enough on their plate.

“Maybe,” Sam answered heavily. “So anyways, what did you need?”

“Oh, so I can't call just to check on you boys?” Bobby was right back to teasing the boy as if a beat had never been missed, time had never split everyone apart.

“Oh well of course,” Sam backpedaled hastily and Bobby had to keep himself from laughing aloud. “It's just, that's not really like you Bobby.”

And the jig was up. Because Sam was right. Bobby wasn't an ol' biddy gossip, even if Dean had accused him and John of being worse on one or two occasions. “Well you're right, but for once it's good news, so...”

“Okay,” Sam waited, the very obviously patient one of the family. Aside from Max. They had to be when Dean or John got it in their hot heads. But then, John and Sam had been known to go at it. And Max and Dean. But the consequences of the latter two, well, it was a whole different ball of wax from the arguments Bobby remembered between father and son.

“I just got a call from little Maxie,” he happily informed the young man whom he considered to be the nearest thing to a child of his own, among with his siblings, adopted or no.

“You did?” The relief in Sam's voice was palpable and Bobby was glad that he'd gone forward and called the dunderhead's phone. “Is she okay?”

“Better than,” Bobby answered happily. “The cops found the real killer, she's off the hook and back home in Seattle, safe and sound.”

“Oh man, that's great,” Sam sighed happily. “That's wonderful news.” Bobby heard the phone muffle slightly and then Sam announce that he was talking to Bobby. And no it wasn't about Dad. Bobby grinned. He could just imagine Dean's one track mind. And then Sam was back. “Dean wants to know if you've heard from Dad.”

“You know I haven't,” Bobby grunted. “Otherwise, you'd be hearing my pissy voice right about now.”

“Yeah, I remember your pissy voice,” Sam laughed. Apparently the news about Max was enough to lift his spirits quite a bit. “Though I thought it was reserved mostly for the dog.” But then just as lightning fast, he was back on topic. “So, she called you...?”

“Since you went ahead and changed your numbers,” Bobby informed him, his tone slightly sarcastic and Sam immediately picked up on it and quickly reeled off his new number, forgoing Dean's since Bobby obviously already had it. “But hers is still the same.” He paused for a moment, wondering if he was sticking his nose in where it wasn't wanted and then realizing that it had never stopped him before. “She's sounding a little homesick Sam. Asking if she could come up and see me this summer.”

“I think that would be good,” Sam murmured softly. “Maybe Dean and I could swing out that way. It's been a while.”

“That it has,” the older man agreed with a grin. Three of the four Winchester's that he still liked under his roof all at once sounded like a plan, or a disaster in the making. But then, with that family, Bobby was sorta used to it. “So, you boys let me know and I'll plan me some vacation time. Where're you at now?”

“We just finished up a case in Iowa,” Sam informed him. “Don't know where exactly we're headed next.”

“Okay,” Bobby nodded. “Well go ahead and call your sister. And you boys can tell me all about it next time.”

“Sounds good. Talk to you later.”

Bobby made his own goodbyes and after he had hung up stared at the phone for a moment. Sam might think he was being sneaky. But Bobby had known him long enough to know a few things. And right there, that boy was planning something.

*****

“What'd Bobby have to say?” Dean demanded as the brothers climbed back into the car after their pit stop. “And why were you answering my phone anyways?”

“I thought it might be a job and I'm, glad I did,” Sam answered simply, not letting Dean get a rise out of him. His brother shrugged, letting it go, since it was perfectly logical and what Dean would have done in his shoes. “Bobby was letting us know that Max called him.”

“She doin' okay?” his brother asked softly, avoiding Sam's interested gaze. Sam smirked slightly, staying quiet for a moment, until Dean gave in to the urge that Sam knew was gnawing at his stomach. Dean frowned at his brother and then gave him a glare that had long lost it's menacing overtone with his brother. “Well? Simple question dude.”

“Yeah, she is,” Sam grinned. “Apparently the cops found the real killer.”

“See,” Dean grinned triumphantly. “I told you she wouldn't do something like that.”

“Uh huh,” Sam grunted, turning in his seat slightly, angling for a comfortable position. “Right after which, you decided that she would, if she had cause to.”

“Well, wouldn't you?”

Sam just shook his head warily. Pulling out his own phone, he ignored his brother's muttered rantings to dial in the number that he knew well. He'd try her at home first, though he doubted he'd get her, since it was still afternoon on the west coast. But to his surprise, the call was answered after only a few rings.

“Hello?” his sister's slightly subdued voice made him pause, but he wondered if it was because it was an unfamiliar number calling.

“Hey,” he greeted quietly. “Did you miss me?”

“Sam!” her squeal nearly busted his ear drum and he pulled the phone away, laughing as he did so.

“Hang on,” he called out, deftly switching to the hands free speaker phone.

“Oh man,” she was saying. “I know Bobby's good, but I didn't think he was that good!”

“He's the best,” Sam agreed and the happiness he knew was in his voice, his eyes, his whole being, was echoed in Dean's eyes at the very least, even if he kept said eyes on the road. There was a whole softening to his brother, relief that their sister was okay, the moment they heard her voice. “So tell me what happened. I didn't get too much from Bobby. The real killer confessed?”

“Yeah,” Max sighed. “From what I can figure, it was one of Vogelsang's other clients.”

Dean and Sam's eyes met worriedly. They hadn't known or realized that Max actually knew the victim.

“He was that private investigator you hired, right?” Sam asked gently.

“Yeah, though as a source, he'd dried up a while ago,” Max grumbled. “He got himself into a lot of sticky situations, and this was one... well.” He could hear the pain in her voice and hated bringing that up. “But the cops got a hold of some more info and found the perp, weapon still in his possession.”

Weapon? Dean mouthed at him, just as Sam was wondering the same thing aloud.

“Yeah, he was shot,” Max informed them. Dean instantly rolled his eyes and Sam wasn't far behind him. Well it was obvious then, knowing that, that it could never have been Max.

“But hey,” Sam searched for something to brighten things up, “at least you got to spend some more time with Zack, right?”

“Oh yeah, buckets of joy there,” her voice, instead of perking up, sounded even gloomier. Sam frowned, wondering what could have happened to put a damper on her like that.

“Not the reunion you were expecting?” he asked gently.

“Oh no, that was fine,” she exclaimed. “It's just...”

“What is it?” Sam asked as patiently as he could.

“It's nothing,” Max protested softly. “Well, not nothing, but nothing solid.”

“Yeah, but if it concerns you, it concerns me,” Sam reminded her. “What's going on.”

“It's Zack. Or at least...”

“What did he do?” Sam wondered.

“No, it's not that,” Max denied instantly. “Look, I just got word today that the flight that Zack was on?”

“Yeah?”

“It went down, somewhere over the Rocky mountains.”

Both brothers shared a miserable look at that announcement.

“And I know,” she continued, “that the report stated no survivors, but also no bodies.”

“You think he might be okay?” Sam wondered and was relieved when Max chuckled.

“Well,” she sighed, “Zack is a survivor. If anyone could've done it, it'd be him. I guess, I just get the sense that Zack is probably okay.”

“Well that's good,” Sam nodded in relief. She could have taken that news much worse than she actually was. “No news is good news.”

“Sure,” she chuckled. “Now, on the down side,” she began and Sam grimaced, bracing himself again. “Normal's being an absolute dick right now.”

“Uh, you mean as opposed to his usual sunny self?” Sam chuckled, letting the tension go.

“Oh no, the man is on a mission to make me miserable,” Max laughed. “Of course, that's what happens when one of his 'feckless bums' disappears from work in the middle of the day, he finds out she's wanted for murder and when he takes off to go turn information on said worker, instead of collecting the fifty grand, gets railroaded about some unpaid parking tickets, thrown in jail and threatened with a strip search!”

“Oh no way!” Sam half shouted, amazed. Not that Normal would turn on Max. He was that type of sniveling little moron that would do exactly that. But for him to get such an excellent comeuppance when he was technically doing a civic duty just made it all the sweeter.

“Uh, yes way,” Max giggled and Sam was amazed to see his brother's face light up as well, as Dean tried to muffle his own laughter. But some of it escaped from his mouth, there was no help for it.

“Yeah, I think Dean's about to bust a gut over here, trying not to laugh himself to death,” Sam commented carefully. And to his amazement, Max didn't immediately break off the conversation.

“I don't blame him,” Max chuckled herself. “I got the dirty details from Logan, who knows Detective Sung, who was the one taking Normal's statement. And of course I had to tell all of the lovely bums whose chops Normal likes to bust. And of course there's been an influx of jokes and innuendos, you know what they're like?”

“Oh I can just imagine,” Sam smiled, fondly remembering the people that Max had introduced him to, that he'd been able to get to know just slightly, when he had visited her.

“Although Herbal seems to think that enough was enough,” Max sighed. “He got what was coming to him and that's the end of it. But knowing Normal, he won't let it go until he gets a jones for some other thing to be pissy over.”

“I'm sure you guys will come up with something soon,” Sam rejoined. “After all, you learned from the best and I know you're happy to share the wealth, right?” he teased.

“But of course,” Max's voice was preening and Dean was nodding his head. “Cindy's already got plans to spike his coffee with a little ex-lax, but I might just have her save that for down the road.” They all chuckled at that one. “Anyway Sam, I am so glad you called, but I'm actually still on the clock. I just stopped by the apartment to grab some water. We're actually having a halfway decent day. And I was getting a little dehydrated.”

“Gasp, shock!” Sam teased. “You're actually working instead of making Normal's life hell.”

“Yeah, well got those bills to pay and groceries to buy,” she quipped back. “Can I call you back later? Now that I have your digits again.”

“Of course,” Sam agreed. “We're between jobs right now, so anytime is good.”

“Okay,” she sounded happy to his ears. “You guys take care and I'll talk to you later.”

Sam hung up the phone and turned in his seat to regard his brother, who was grinning like a fool. Sam didn't think he was quite so bad, though his spirits were certainly lighter now. “So,” he began.

“Don't even go there Sammy,” Dean warned, though it wasn't as harsh as it usually was.

“I wasn't,” Sam held up his hands. He knew that Dean probably figured that Sam would try and get into this whole argument between his siblings, digging up past hurts again, but he wasn't. That wasn't his intent. “I was just going to say, that maybe, can't be sure, but maybe Max is ready to move on from whatever happened between you too. Maybe she's finally ready to forgive you, huh?”

“Yeah,” Dean grunted with a roll of his eyes, firmly unconvinced. “I ain't gonna hold my breath on that one Sam.”

“I'm just saying,” Sam pointed out. “No matter what else, we're still family. She obviously still cares.”

“I know she does,” Dean shrugged. “And just like the rest of the family, she knows how to hold a grudge.” He glanced at his younger brother. “Just quit worryin' about it. When it all comes down to it, we'll be there for each other. You know that.”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed softly, relaxing back into his seat. “I know. Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

The word floated back automatically and though neither knew or realized, they were both thinking along very similar lines. Things may not have been perfect, but at least some sort of status quo had been re-established. And maybe, in some case, a little bit better than what it had been before.


Chapter 35- Courting Disaster