Fiction Title: Racing Towards Destiny
Chapter Title: Silent Treatment
Author: Restive Nature
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 to NC-17
Chapter Rating: PG-13
Genre: Crossover
Type: Romance, Angst
Pairing: Sam/ Max
Summary: One dream set her on a path of destiny.
Spoilers/ Timeline: This story would begin in Chapter 17- Coming Of Age
Feedback: Always welcome!
Distribution: Ask first, please
A/N: This story, while being in the same universe as WiC, does not actually occur within that storyline. This fiction is just an off-shoot of what might have happened.
Chapter Three
Silent Treatment
“Max,” Sam replied succinctly, his gaze never wavering from watching her out the living room window. She sat, leaning back against the tire of Bobby’s tow truck, cross-legged with Rumsfeld’s head in her lap. The puppy had been her constant companion the entire day. And Max barely noticed. She just sat, staring vacantly at her surroundings.
“What’d she do?” Dean asked, also glancing out the window.
“Nothing,” Sam sighed. Dean waited, but no mischievous wrong doing or annoying little sister diatribe followed.
“That’s it?” he scoffed. “She’s sittin’ out there petting the mutt and you’re getting what… paranoid?”
Sam spared a moment to throw his older brother an aggrieved look. “It’s not that Dean,” Sam groaned, knowing that his older sibling could blow things out of proportion in a nanosecond if not seriously reined in. “What I meant was…”
“Was what?” Dean asked, slightly amused as Sam paused to find the words. Sam frowned again, mulling over things in his mind and then switched tactics.
“Has Max said anything to you?” he asked suddenly of his brother, turning to address him. The instant pensive look on Dean’s face prompted further explanation. “Is she mad at me? Did she say…?” burst out of Sam suddenly, not realizing that the bewilderment on his face was a clear indicator of how much the idea distressed him. It cut short the smart assed retort that Dean had been about to make.
“No,” Dean replied shortly, glancing out the window again at the girl. “Why would you think that she’s mad at you?”
Sam shrugged one shoulder awkwardly. “Well, she doesn’t talk to me,” he recounted. “And she’s been avoiding me for like, the last few weeks. I mean, did I do something?”
“Not that I can think of,” Dean grunted. He continued to stare, mulling, watching now as Bobby appeared, said something to Max and she pushed Rumsfeld away and stood. “You know,” Dean spoke slowly, “if something’s bugging her, maybe it has nothing to do with you.” Before Sam could reply, John stuck his head into the room.
“Grubs up boys,” he informed them before retreating back into the kitchen. Dutifully the boys rose and followed after him. Max and John were already seated at the table and Rumsfeld was whining at the door.
“Have a seat boys,” Bobby directed, stirring a ladle through a stew pot. Sam, with Dean’s last missive on his mind, saw a way to prove to his older brother, the point he’d been trying to make. He darted ahead of Dean and snagged the empty seat to Max’s right. Dean rolled his eyes and took the nearest empty chair, leaving Bobby the last free seat on his right, next to John. But it wasn’t anyone’s imagination that had put the sudden frown on Max’s face. Just as Bobby was turning from the stove and setting the stew pot on the hot pad in the center of the table, Max pushed her seat back from the table, but remained seated.
“Um, I’m not really hungry,” she announced, directing her words to John. “May I be excused?” The older males looked startled, but Sam threw Dean a ‘see what I mean’ look.
“Are you sure?” Bobby drawled, dishing up a bowl for Dean.”It’s chili.”
Max smiled tersely but shook her head.
“Are you feeling okay?” John asked, all concerned parent.
“I’m okay. Just feeling a little tired,” Max tried to assure him, but he was already in full swing, laying the palm of his hand against her forehead.
“You’re a little warm,” he noted, frowning. “Have you taken your pills today?” Dean forced a cough and once he’d caught Sammy’s eyes, tilted his head in a manner indicating ‘see, it could be something else,’. But Sam’s eyes darted back to Max.
“First thing this morning,” she informed their father. “But…” Just to appease the concern he was showing for her, she stretched out, took the glass of milk before her and gulped it down. After she’d set the empty glass back down and wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, she turned to John and he nodded.
“Okay. Why don’t you go lie down?”
She nodded and as she stood up, Rumsfeld gave a playful yip. “No, go lay down Rummy,” Max instructed as she pushed in her chair back under the table. As she skirted around the furniture, Bobby, who had continued to ladle out the chili, threw her a smile.
“I’ll save you some darlin’, just in case you get hungry later.”
“Thank you Bobby.”
“And if you don’t, I’ll eat it,” Dean joked.
Max paused long enough to lean over Dean’s shoulder and hiss mockingly,” touch my chili and die!” She flicked her finger against his temple, and then fled before he could retaliate. Laughter followed her as she made her way out of the kitchen.
“Ah settle down boy,” Bobby teased as he finally took his seat. “I made enough to fill that hollow leg of yours.”
“That’s only if you can get past that bottomless pit he has for a stomach,” John smirked as he dug into his own bowl. Dean and Sam laughed at the elder men’s verbal antics, but neither's hearts were in it. As John and Bobby continued to make fun of Dean’s prodigious appetite, Dean caught the look of misery on Sam's face. The kid was right. She’d fled as soon as Sam had gotten near her. She’d talked to everyone but Sam. Hell, even the dog got more attention than Sam had. Maybe there was more to Sammy’s assertions than Dean cared to admit. Knowing though that there wasn’t anything he could do at that moment to help, he applied himself to his food and coming up with some ideas.
Once the meal was over, Dean quickly volunteered himself and Sam for clean up duty. John seemed a little surprised, but took advantage of the offer so that he and Bobby could resume their ongoing gin rummy tournament. Once Dean was sure that they were occupied and after accepting a stack of bowls from his younger brother, told him in low tones,” you should go talk to her.”
“Yeah, like I haven’t tried that before.”
“Well she’s in the bedroom, unless you think she’d jump out the window to avoid you.”
“At this point,” Sam snorted, “I wouldn't put it past her.”
“Well all you can do is try,” Dean stated blandly as he began filling up the sink with water and suds. “And don’t worry, I got this,” he motioned at the table.
“Thanks Dean,” Sam grinned. Dean sure had his moments. Sam moved down the hallway, wondering if he was letting himself in for some trouble. He stared at her door, vaguely aware that amazingly, no one was paying attention to him. Wasn’t that just typical? Taking a deep breath to fortify himself, Sam raised his hand to knock. But he had to pull himself short when the door was yanked open suddenly before his hand connected. Max's startled face swung up to his and her eyes went even wider.
“Um-!”
“Max, can we talk?” Sam asked quietly. He shifted his hip to lean against the door frame, blocking her as she tried to edge past him.
“Cam it wait Sam? I need to…” and she pointed in the direction of the bathroom.
“No Max, it can’t,” he frowned, striving to keep his tone low and even. She swallowed heavily, her eyes darting past him.
“Sam I… really don’t feel well!” she blurted out suddenly. She elbowed her way past him and dashed into the bathroom. Sam felt like a heel once he understood that most likely, at that moment, whatever was bugging Max was less important than whatever bug had her. Groaning inwardly, he turned around and shuffled back to the kitchen.
“That was quick,” Dean commented as Sam joined him at the sink, picking up a towel to dry with.
“She’s sick man… and not the way you’re probably thinking,” Sam muttered, picking up a glass.
“Great,” Dean groaned. “That’s just what we need.” But he brightened after a moment. “Well at least she’ll have a harder time avoiding you now. Although I highly doubt you’ll want to corner her while she’s heaving her guts out.”
“Thanks so much for that lovely image,” Sam grimaced.
“Oh cheer up,” Dean snorted. “Maybe she’ll feel better tomorrow.
“Yeah,” Sam agreed quietly. “I guess I’ll just have to talk to her in the morning.”
RTD04- Driving Away The Demons
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