Fiction Title: Racing Towards Destiny
Chapter Title: Back To Normalcy
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 Seven
Back To Normalcy
"That was Sam," he announced and immediately had their full attention. "They're okay," Bobby reassured John, even as the other man was opening his mouth to ask.
"What happened?" Dean demanded. Bobby picked up some pieces he'd been wiping down, about ready to re-assemble them.
"Sam said they ran into some trouble on the road. Not an accident," he hastily assured John. "Sam said something about a snow drift. Anyway, they got soaked, so they headed back into town to find some place to dry off, warm up, have some coffee. And they're heading back right away." The Winchester's took a moment to think about this.
"So, did they get things settled between them?" Dean asked as he continued his work as well. Bobby shrugged.
"Didn't say," Bobby frowned. "Sounded pretty happy though."
Dean and John shared another glance. Hearing that, they figured that the kids must have worked things out, at least a little Knowing that there was nothing left to say or do until the kids got back, work resumed all around, albeit with a little less stress.
*****
"Did you get through?" Max called out to Sam from the bathroom.
"Yeah, I did," Sam called back as he he slid his calling card back into his wallet. Standing, he replaced the wallet in his back pocket.
"Oh shoot!" Max cried out.
"What's the matter?" Sam asked, concerned.
"Oh I hate to ask you this Sam," Max sighed. "Are you dressed?"
"Yeah," Sam grunted suspiciously, glancing down at his jeans and shirt. "What did you need?"
"Can you possibly run out to the bike and grab my extra kit from under the seat?"
"Uh sure," Sam was puzzled as to why she needed it and then decided that as she was where she was, maybe he didn't need to know. "I'll be right back."
He found the little, zippered, black nylon bag, precisely as she said, in the hollow of the seat, where it lifted up to provide storage for just these things. He'd left the main door ajar and hurried back into the warmth. He knocked at the bathroom door, which opened immediately.
"Thank you," Max smiled, accepting the bag and offering him a kiss. "How much time?" she asked, referring to their appointed check-out time.
"Fifteen minutes," he told her. She nodded and retreated once more. Sam busied himself by checking around the room, that they had everything they'd come in with. It wasn't much, but it helped pass the time until Max was finished with her ablutions after her second shower.
"Darn it!" he heard and smiled ruefully.
"What now?" he asked as calmly as he could, trying not to sound aggravated, because really he wasn't. He was more bemused than anything. She emerged after another moment, her bag tucked under her arm, toweling her hair dry.
"The ends are still wet," she complained.
"Well maybe we can stop somewhere and buy you a hat or a scarf," Sam suggested reasonably and then flexed his hands. "I suppose I better get some gloves while we're at it."
"Or you could just snuggle up to me, I'll keep you warm," Max teased, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. Sam tugged her close for yet another kiss.
"Yeah, I like that idea. But we better get going." He let her loose and gentlemanly helped her with putting her coat on. He understood why she left her hair tucked inside. Quickly she sat and pulled on her boots, before taking his hand to stand. He handed her her helmet and riding gloves, made one last sweeping glance of the room, picked up the key from the table and followed Max outside. As he pulled the door securely shut, he noticed her give a slight shiver. "And now you know why Dean always tells you to never go out in the cold with a wet head. "
"That guy again, huh?"Max retorted dryly, linking her hand with his as they strolled toward the motel office. "You know, for being an insufferable, annoying, know-it-all jerk, he actually does give out decent advice."
"Most of the time, yeah," Sam agreed.
"We should get him something!" Max declared suddenly.
"Like what?" Sam laughed, letting go of her to open the office door.
"I don't know," she shrugged.
"Well what about us?" Sam asked, noting that the woman from earlier that morning was not seated behind the counter. "Check out," he murmured, sliding the key across to the man. The guy checked his clock, nodded, took the key and bade them mechanically to have a good day.
"What about us?" Max asked, resuming their conversation as they headed for the parked Ninja. That was a very good question, but not one that Sam wanted to broach right then and there.
"Well, don't we deserve something for having the good sense to follow Dean's advice?"
"Mm," Max nodded as she slung her leg over the bike and scooted forward so that Sam could do the same. "I already have everything I need," she teased, "but I suppose a little treat wouldn't hurt. Why don't we figure it out when we gas up?"
"Sounds good to me," Sam replied and then pulled on his helmet. He adjust the strap, wrapped his arms around his girl and they were off.
It didn't take them long to reach the gas station. But as Sam stood beside Max, he couldn't help but bring up the topic looming over them.
"What are we going to tell them?" he asked softly, no need in clarifying the them that he meant.
"I don't know," Max sighed, her voice just as soft. "Dad'll flip out."
"And Dean," Sam added. He let out a heavy breath. "So do we not say anything? Because it'll be torture. Ten times worse than before."
She nodded her agreement. "Well," she hedged suddenly, "maybe we can ease them into it slowly. Sort of get them thinking in that direction."
"And how would we do that?" Sam scoffed. "Dad and Dean tend to need anvil type hints."
"Yeah, I guess," Max groaned. "But anything more than that would probably bring on coronaries."
"I know. But I'm not seeing any other way," Sam sighed, momentarily defeated. "I guess we'll just have to figure it out as we go. Maybe keep it to ourselves for a while."
"And that'll be easy," Max snorted derisively.
"Well," Sam grinned, hooking his arm around her waist and pulling her closer, "we did just make up from a huge something or other. That ought to cover some generous goodwill, for a few days at least."
"True," Max wrinkled her nose up at him, "but good will only goes so far."
"And speaking of that," Sam began gently, leaning back with her against the concrete half-wall partition, "what, um, set this whole thing off? I mean why was it so much worse than before?"
Max shook her head, her grin widening. "Remember when Rumsfeld got in the house?" Sam nodded, recalling that day very well. "And we were chasing after him and I finally caught him?"
"But then he got away and ran between my legs," Sam continued. "Knocked me off balance."
"And you fell on top of me," Max tilted her head to the side shyly. "And uh, well, no matter what I tried, I couldn't stop... thinking about it. And, well I started ignoring the incident and that sort of morphed into ignoring you and it was just... easier."
"Ah," Sam hummed under his breath. "I couldn't stop thinking about it either," he admitted. "But you not talking to me? That's what drove me absolutely crazy."
"I'm sorry Sam," Max apologized softly, her face full of consternation. Sam caught the edge of her coat and pulled her even closer. He kissed her gently, pushing a stray curl back from her forehead.
"It's okay Maxie," he murmured. "It turned out all right in the end, didn't it? Or at least I hope it will."
Max tilted her chin up and offered another kiss, neither one wanting this spell between them to break. But reality intruded, as it always did, as a car, waiting for a turn at the pump and unable to turn around in the limited space to get at the other side, honked briefly at them. Max reluctantly pulled away and rolled her eyes. "Better go pay for this," she muttered. Sam let her loose and busied himself returning the nozzle to the pump, and then pushing the bike out of the way. The woman in the car that had honked at them, gave him a wave and pulled in. There was an apologetic look on her face, as if to say yeah, I remember what it was like to be young and in love, but now I've got errands to run.
Sam snorted ruefully at his imagination and trailed into the convenience store in Max's wake. He found her at the display of winter wear, debating over the scarves. Just as he stepped into place beside her, she dropped the red scarf she'd been holding, back to the shelf, retaining the blue, his favorite color. "Were you still going to get some gloves?" she asked and Sam nodded. While warming his hands holding his girl while they rode was a pleasant idea, they'd both noticed that the wind tended to gust up the gap between his arms and underneath her jacket and that was not at all pleasant. He quickly chose a pair of cheap, all-purpose black gloves. He just needed warmth for the ride back to Bobby's. When they got to the cashier, the guy teased Max about being back so soon, since she had paid for the gas immediately upon entering the store, so that other customers wouldn't have to wait on her. She bantered back about the lure of the merchandise. Sam noted that they still hadn't gotten anything for Dean. Max shrugged and pointed out that they still had two more towns to go through, they'd think of something.
*****
The pair breezed into Bobby's well after one o'clock in the afternoon, both of them carrying bags. Their arrival had been well announced by Rumsfeld's spate of excited barking. Dean and John gathered at the kitchen window, wondering if the unexpected war between the youngest Winchester's had trickled down to a cease fire or if peace had been restored. But judging by the smiles as they greeted the overenthusiastic puppy, it seemed that all was well. The males stepped back from the door, as the kids entered, taking care that Rumsfeld didn't get in.
"Hey," Sam greeted them cheerfully. "Sorry we're late."
"Did we miss lunch?" Max asked as she settled her bag on the table. She unwound a blue scarf from her neck, one that they hadn't seen her with before.
"Nah, we were waitin' for you guys," Bobby informed her as he pulled various items from the refrigerator.
"What're we having?" Max asked as she removed her jacket and hung it up.
"Oh there's leftover chili, or sandwiches," Bobby shrugged. "Your call."
"How about both?" Max asked with a smile. "I'm starving."
"Okay," Bobby replied with a nod.
"And if no one minds, I'm gonna go change," Max decided as she headed out of the kitchen. "Don't forget Dean's stuff Sam," she called back through the hallway, before entering the spare bedroom. Three pairs of puzzled eyes turned to the youth and with a flourish, he presented his brother with the bag he'd been carrying.
"There you go," he told Dean, who took the plastic grocery bag suspiciously.
"What's this for?" Dean demanded. Sam smiled, knowing that his brother was fearing some sort of set up.
"Good advice," he uttered sagely. "Gotta be worth something, right?" Dean's eyes narrowed and then he looked into the bag and his eyes widened in delight at the assortment of chocolate bars and other candies. "Whoops," exclaimed Sam, his hand darting into the bag and extracting a small box of cherry cordials. "Those are Max's. But the rest of them are yours." He set the box on the table.
"Well all right!" Dean grinned, rummaging through the lot. "Good advice, I'm full of it."
"You got that right," John snorted with a laugh and then laughed harder as Dean threw him an imperiously injured look.
"Well he was right this time," Sam defended his brother. "He told me to keep trying to talk to Max. And it finally worked."
"So what was the problem?" Dean asked, trying to decide what to munch on first, even as John leaned forward, knowing what Dean was planning. He still didn't approve of candy before or in lieu of a meal.
"Put them away until later son," he instructed and then turned his gaze to Sam.
"It was pretty silly, actually," Sam told them casually, thinking of the partial lie that he and Max had agreed upon. "Apparently I said something to her, she took it the wrong way and then got ticked off because I didn't notice she was mad at me. It kind of snowballed from there." John shook his head, bemused, while Bobby let out an amused snort.
Dean however, collapsed onto a chair, scoffing, "all that 'cause she was PMS-ing?"
"Ooh," Bobby flinched as he was reaching for a bowl. "John, don't you ever teach your boys anything?" John rolled his eyes and pulled out a seat for himself.
"Look," he intoned quietly, beckoning both of his sons in closer. They obeyed more out of curiosity than anything. "Cardinal rule of dealing with women; never blame anything on PMS. Even if it is, just don't!"
"Yeah," Bobby chimed in, "or you'll end up suffering dire consequences."
"Like what?" Dean snorted. "Being ignored by my sister and getting a two week vacation from being annoyed?" he teased Sam.
"Hey, I'd like to see you try," Sam teased right back. "It's no picnic, you know. Dean, you'd go nuts within an hour if that happened."
"If what happened?" Max asked brightly as she re-entered the kitchen.
"If you were to ignore me," Dean answered, leaning back in his chair to poke her in the ribs as she passed by him.
"Well, you're doing okay so far," Max grinned, "but now I'm really ignoring you. Anything I can do to help Bobby?"
"Nah darlin'," Bobby smiled. "Your chili'll be warm in a minute. As to the rest, I figure free for all."
"Well, I'll get some plates," she decided. She moved over to the cupboard, where Dean's back was to her and gave John and Sam a conspiratorial wink. They knew what she was planning and hastily wiped the smiles from their faces when she returned. She set the small stack of plates down on the table and passed them around, deliberately missing Dean, who scowled playfully.
"Ooh, that hurt," he taunted. "How will I ever recover from having to get up and get my own plate?" He stood up to retrieve one and Max just calmly stepped around him, her face a placid mask, quite blank, as she continued helping Bobby serve lunch.
"So what else did you guys get?" John asked, hooking the bag Max had set on the table by the plastic handles and moving it out of her way so that she had room to place things.
"Oh, we got some videos," Sam explained. "We weren't sure if you had anything planned for the next few days, so we got them for a while."
"That's fine," said John. They were on vacation after all.
"What'd you get?" Dean asked as he reached for the loaf of bread Bobby had just set down. "Nothing cheesy I hope. Although if Max was choosing, it'll probably be one of those teeny-bopper chick flicks.
"Oh, I vote we watch Hunt For Red October first," Max enthused as she and Bobby finally sat. "Thanks," she added as the older man slid her chili towards her. "I mean," she continued the thread of conversation, "political thriller, Sean Connery, how could you go wrong?"
"You just like him for his accent," Sam teased playfully as he worked on assembling a sandwich. So far everything had been good. No one seemed to suspect that there was anything between he and Max, beyond what they were seeing.
"Well, she could like him for worse reasons," John mused. "What else did you get?"
"Apocalypse Now," Sam recounted, ticking off the titles on his fingers, "Bridge Over The River Kwai, Good Morning Vietnam and The Joy Luck Club."
"What'd you get that one for?" Dean demanded with a snort and a full mouth. He swallowed hastily. "Unless you feel the need to get in touch with your inner female Sammy."
Sam merely raised an eyebrow at that and then turned back to his father. "We got that one for the essay assignment you gave us."
"The assignment was to write an essay on a book, not watch a movie," John scowled.
"We did get the book," Max chimed in, leaning forward to address her father. "We thought it would be interesting if we did a cross analysis of the author's version versus the screenwriter and director's censorship to appeal to the mass audience." Which was true. "That's part of why we were late. We had to stop at the bookstore too," Which was a partial truth. It had in fact been another attempt in delaying the inevitable return to their family's reality.
"So you're doing the report together?" John asked. Both nodded.
"If you don't mind," Max added.
"Yeah," Sam enthused," because we thought we could kind of do it with a gender biased interpretation, since it's a film centered on mother-daughter relationships."
"Kind of a he said- she said sort of thing," Max grinned,
Sam turned to her. "And you know, we should also consider the cross-cultural clash."
"Right," Max nodded as she spooned up some chili. "The whole ancient Chinese tradition being bucked by the pervading Americanisms."
"All right," John interrupted with a chuckle. "Save it for the essay. I want to be at least a little surprised by what I read."
"Sorry Dad," Sam grinned, echoed immediately by Max.
"Actually," she went on, "we were gonna get a copy of Hunt For Red October as well, but the guy at the bookstore said that the movie came pretty close."
"It did," Bobby chimed in. "Not like Clancy's other Jack Ryan novels though. They messed those up pretty bad."
There followed a discussion that took up the rest of their short lunch over the merit of books versus the movies that had been made for them. As expected, Dean took every opportunity that presented itself to tweak Max verbally. But she never once took the bait. The other males could see that he wasn't yet desperate, but faced with having to watch a movie wherein she had the perfect excuse to ignore him, he chose a risky move. As they were taking turns rinsing off the dishes that they had used and putting things away, Dean loudly and with great emphasis, began to rummage through his bag of goodies.
"Mmmm, these all look so good. What should I have first?" he wondered aloud. "Oh I know! I'll start with these!" and he snatched the box of cherry cordials right out from under Max's outstretched hand. The other three watched with baited breath for the imminent explosion, but it never came. Max didn't even flinch as she simply changed the direction to pick up the bag of videos that John had set on the floor. She took them to the living room where she set up the movie she wanted to watch and then darted into the bedroom, returning a moment later with a pillow and a blanket. She made herself comfortable on the floor as the others followed her. Bobby and John took seats on the opposite ends of the sofa. Dean grabbed his pillow, laying atop his rolled up sleeping bag and threw it down on Max's right. He laid down beside her as the opening credits began to play, leaving Sam to mimic them, laying to Max's left. But not so close that they'd be tempted to give himself away.
Dean, very casual and studying the screen, suddenly and with great deliberation, yanked away the blanket that Max was using and happily settled it over himself. In return Max simply got up, picked up her pillow and retreated to Sam's far side. With pursed lips, Sam scooted towards his brother, who looked gleeful at having gotten at least that reaction out of her. Sam deliberately left a fair gap between he and Dean. There was silence but for the movie for a few minutes, but then the distinct sound of cellophane being unwrapped reached their ears. Dean pulled the cover off the chocolate box and held the box up to his nose and inhaled dramatically.
"Ah. Those smell so good!" he declared.
"Sh!" Sam hissed and Dean turned his head.
"Oh, sorry little brother. Did you want one?"
"No!" Sam scowled. Dean shrugged and turned the box toward the couch.
"Dad? Bobby?" he offered. Bobby declined the offer, but with a scowl eerily similar to Sam's John shook his head.
"Cut it out Dean," the warning rumbled up from deep within his chest.
With a satisfied smile, Dean rested the box on his chest and withdrew a confection, which he popped into his mouth to chew noisily and appreciatively. "Oh man these are so good!" he groaned, reaching for another.
"Dean!" his father warned again, staccato and full of dire threat and the younger man fell silent, even though they could all hear the crackle of the individual papers that held the candies separate from one another. Sam was just a little pissed off, since he'd been the one to buy those for Max to enjoy. And now they were being used in his brother's quest for one oneupmanship. He turned his head and once he'd caught Max's eye, mouthed the word sorry to her. A small smile touched her lips and she shook her head minutely and Sam understood that she wasn't too upset by Dean's behavior, recognizing it for exactly what it was.
Figuring that once Dean had eaten his way through the candies, they'd have some peace, Sam soon found that he was mistaken. He was startled when something flew in front of his face. He reflexively followed the arc of the small projectile as it landed on Max's stomach. He turned his head to see that his brother had changed his position. Dean was lying on his side, facing them, propping his head in his hand, bracing it with his elbow on the floor. The cordial box was on the floor before him and as Sam watched, Dean reached for another paper, crumpled it and lobbed it towards Max. Rolling his eyes and sighing, Sam turned his attention back to the movie. But like everything else, the paper missiles had no effect on her. Max didn't even deign to brush them off of where they landed, as Sam had when one landed short, falling on his chest. Finally out of ammunition, they had a few peaceful moments until Dean launched his next attack. Very calmly, he sat up, set the cordial box aside, picked up his pillow, fluffed it a few times and then let fly. Everyone stilled as it contacted Max's face with an extremely audible thump. They held their breaths, but after a moment, Max simply reached up, pulled the pillow from her face, lifted her head and crammed the new pillow beneath it. She calmly folded her hands across her stomach, her eyes never leaving the television screen.
"What are you?" Dean hissed. "Some friggin' ice queen?" And still intent on his mission to annoy a reaction out of her, he leaned across Sam and yanked his pillow back from her. When that yielded nothing, he jerked hers out as well, causing her head to fall back and connect with the floor, making a very a solid thump.
"Dean!" Sam snapped, peeved beyond belief on Max's behalf. She may have ignored him, but she'd never resorted to deliberately hurting anyone and she certainly didn't deserve this just because Dean wanted to prove something. He turned to check on her and was extremely startled to see her eyes swimming with tears. She hurriedly sat up, stood and left the room. They all heard the bathroom door click shut and almost as one, the other three males rounded on Dean, who sat straight up, obviously satisfied with himself.
"You jerk!" Sam hissed. "That was just great. Jesus Dean! You made her cry!"
As those words sank in, the triumph faded from Dean's eyes and guilt began to creep in and take over. "Oh damn it," he sighed and climbed to his feet to chase after his sister as Sam glared at his back "Max!" he called loudly to be heard through the door. Bobby helpfully used the remote to mute the television. "Maxie? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."
With a sigh, John made to get up, but Bobby flung his hand out to stop him. "Let them sort it out John," he instructed, not bothering to hide his amusement. Dean pounded on the bathroom door.
"Maxie! Come on! I'm sorry I ate your chocolates! I'll make it up to you. You can have some of mine. I'll buy you another box. A bigger box. Two boxes! Two huge boxes! Please Max!" he whined. "Come on, talk to me. You're driving me nuts here!"
Two things happened with that admission. The first was that Bobby chuckled and reached for his watch, making it beep. The second was that Max immediately emerged from the bathroom, stepped past her contrite brother and back to the living room. "I believe you said an hour Sam?" she asked, her voice with a strange lisping quality to it. "So what was it Bobby?"
The older man, still chuckling, held up his watch. "Forty-eight minutes and twelve seconds." He laid his hand across his stomach and leaned back, sighing.
"Are you okay sweetie?" John asked, leaning forward, having noticed her lisp as well. Max grinned and quickly stuck her tongue out for a moment.
"I was trying so hard not to laugh,' she explained, " but I bit my tongue, made it bleed."
"She damn near rocked me off the couch, she was shaking so hard," Bobby complained good-naturedly. "I'm surprised you didn't notice John." He and Max shared a grin, delighted in their parts in this mutual prank.
"You little brat!" Dean exclaimed and then gave a hearty laugh. He settled himself back on the floor and then noticed the raised eyebrow stare that Max was leveling at him, "What?"
"I thought you said you were going to buy me some more chocolates," she reminded him softly.
"Right now?" he asked incredulously, gesturing at the television. "What about the movie?"
"Oh, okay," Max whispered, her lower lip trembling artfully. She lowered herself to her original position between the boys. "I guess it doesn't matter."
Dean's face crumpled in consternation and then he sighed and made to stand up again. "All right, I'm going. Just-!" He was cut off by John's sharp laughter. Glancing around, he saw their amused faces and Max's lips twitching.
"God, she has you wrapped around her little pinky, Dean-o," John taunted.
"Yeah well," Dean huffed as he dropped back down. "I'm not the only one Dad," he pointed out sarcastically.
"That's just cause we love her so much," Sam quipped and daringly, under the cover of family unity and bliss, he glanced a quick kiss on her cheek.
"Love you too," she answered and though the words sounded like an automatic reply, and she kept her eyes on the television screen, Sam knew that the words had been expressly for him. Settling back after Dean replaced her pillow where it belonged, she held out her hand one more time to him. Dean stared at it for a moment before slowly and regretfully handing over his bag of goodies. It changed to puzzlement as she chuckled. "No Dean," she whispered. "My blanket?"
With relief, he took the bag back and exchanged it for her quilt. She quickly settled it over herself, including Sam under its folds. Under that cover and pretense, they held hands where no one could see, with their heads together, enjoying the movie to the fullest extent that they could.
RTD08- Mystery Solved?
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