Title: What If... Racing Towards Destiny
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.
Rating: PG-13- NC-17
Genre: Crossover
Type: Romance
Pairing: Max Gueverra/ Sam Winchester
Summary: What if... Max had been having a different dream?
Spoilers/ Time line: This starts when Max is thirteen and going into heat for the very first time.
Feedback: Always welcome!
Distribution: Ask first please.
A/N: This story, while being in the same universe as When It Changes, does not actually occur within that storyline. This fiction is just an off-shoot of what might have happened.
Chapter Twenty-four
The Walls Tumble Down
Sam woke up suddenly, his eyes popping open as quiet but distinct noises made themselves known to him. Small tinkles, as of glass clattering together and soft thumps reached his ears. But before he could respond, he felt a hand slip over his mouth and a hand squeeze his shoulder. He turned his head and Max pulled her hand away from his shoulder to motion for him to remain quiet for the time being. He nodded and she removed her hand from his mouth. Sam was startled to realize that his heart was racing. He did wonder, panicked for a moment that Manticore had found her at last.
But Max seemed too relaxed for that possibility and in the faint moonlight that shone through their bedroom curtains; he could see that she’d thrown on her nightclothes. So she must have already checked the scene out, since she hadn’t been dressed when she’d fallen asleep. She grinned as she tapped his chest once and made a sort of abbreviated chopping motion towards the bedroom door. She tapped her own chest and motioned to the door again, but made a right handed curve. She tilted her head and Sam nodded slowly, understanding her unspoken directions. He rolled from the bed, landing quietly, quickly pulling on the sweats and t-shirt that she'd laid out for him at some point and followed her cautiously to the bedroom doorway that stood open.
She checked the hallway and moved towards the front door. He watched her peer around the corner into the living room, and then turned her head back to him. She have him a quick nod and Sam stepped out towards the back door. He checked the kitchen and could make out a figure in the dining room. He glanced back at Max, lifted one finger and then pointed to himself, and then the kitchen. She nodded and turned her head back to wait at her position.
Sam peered into the kitchen once more and began to pad silently across the linoleum floor, his bare feet muffled as much as possible. Whoever this intruder was, he was going to rue the decision to break into their home! Sam caught up with the guy just as he moved into the living room. Sam tried to grab the guy, but something must have warned him, since he turned at the last second, catching Sam’s arm and yanking him forward. Sam spun with the momentum and threw a punch that was blocked. It was his turn for the defensive as the intruder threw a flurry of punches and kicks that Sam easily blocked. He was just thinking about how well he’d fallen back into the self defense, especially with not practicing, when he was caught by a blow to the cheek. He fell back a few steps, pissed off that he hadn’t seen it coming, in the figurative sense, since it was pitch dark in the living room, with the curtains closed. Sam deftly maneuvered around the coffee table as the intruder kept coming. He kicked out, connecting with a thigh, making the guy grunt. More punches and kicks were exchanged and Sam wondered, as he was pushed back to the hallway, where Max had gotten to. Maybe there had been more than one intruder.
Distracted by the thought, Sam felt his legs being swept out from underneath him. He fell heavily to the floor and gasped, but not from connecting with the solid surface. Max was above him, arms and feet bracing against the walls, up near the ceiling. She grinned down at him and he lost sight of her as his vision was blocked by the intruder leaning over him. Sam rolled automatically to the side and up to his knees as Max landed deftly beside the guy. Her knee came up, catching the intruder in the chest, taking him by surprise, and knocking him back into the living room.
Sam scrambled to follow as the intruder quickly rallied, throwing a punch in Max’s direction, one that she ducked easily. She jumped and even though Sam knew of her abilities, it was still amazing to watch. Her legs straight, her ankles caught the guy at his neck and her body swung straight down, causing him to pitch forward. He pretty much drove his head into the floor, before his body, continued to fly, landing spread eagle on the living room floor. And just as the intruder sat up, Max was on him again.
“You’re in big trouble Dean Winchester!” she growled out.
Sam’s eyes widened and he reached to the wall to turn on the light. And indeed, there was his older brother, on the floor, pulling at the arm that was in a stranglehold around his throat, the other extended to the side as Max twisted it back.
“Dean!” Sam exclaimed. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I was looking for a beer,” Dean gasped and smacked at Max’s arm around his throat. “Call off the watchdog Sammy!”
Sam’s eyes darted up to Max’s face, seeing that her eyes had narrowed dangerously.
“What’d you just call me?” she demanded silkily, her voice soft and extremely menacing. Dean, realizing his mistake, jerked his head back and looked up pleadingly at her.
“I didn’t mean it like that!” he hurriedly assured her. “Please?”
“Well,” she drawled, “all right.” She quickly let him loose and danced back out of his reach, knowing he’d retaliate in a heartbeat, if he could. But Dean simply pushed himself to his feet, rubbing at his throat.
“Damn girl! You’ve been eating your Wheaties!” He coughed once and moved his hand to rub at the back of his head. “Why the hell did you attack if you knew it was me?”
Max held up one finger, “you broke into my house.” A second finger popped up. “You woke me up after I was finally asleep.” A third finger joined the duo. “You were beating on my boyfriend. You pissed me off. Satisfied?”
“Yeah,” Dean grunted. “Forgot the cardinal rule, dude!”
“Never, ever piss off Max,” Sam replied with a half grin. “But that still doesn’t explain why you’re here.”
“I needed to talk to you guys,” Dean told them.
“Uh, the phone?” Sam pointed out sarcastically.
“It’s a little more important than idle chit-chat Sammy,” Dean warned. Max moved over to Sam’s side and he wrapped his arm around her shoulder.
“What is it?” she asked softly and Sam could feel her trembling.
“It’s Dad,” Dean announced. “He’s missing.” Sam and Max glanced at one another in surprise.
“What do you mean, missing?” Max demanded.
“He went on a solo hunt and I’ve only had one message from him.”
“Well that’s nothing new,” Sam scoffed. “Dad’s not exactly the communicative type.”
“It’s been almost three weeks Sam,” Dean sighed heavily. “There’s something wrong, I can feel it.” Sam felt Max’s hand clench around his convulsively.
“Hey,” he soothed both of them. “Remember the poltergeist in Amherst? The Devil’s Gate in Clifton? Dad was missing then too. But he showed up eventually and he was just fine.”
“Yeah, but the message I got from him…” Dean trailed off, the implication behind his words very clear to the other two.
“Well, we haven’t heard from him,” Sam shrugged. “I don’t know what else to tell you.”
“What was he working on when he disappeared?” Max asked quietly. Dean motioned them back towards the kitchen.
“I brought the file.” Upon reaching the kitchen counter, he picked up a file folder and brought it over to the table. Max and Sam took seats beside each other as Dean perched himself on a chair at the end of the table. He slid the folder towards them. “There’s this stretch of two lane blacktop outside of Jericho, California. Guys have been mysteriously disappearing off it for the past twenty years.”
“I see the frequency has picked up as of late,” Max commented as she flipped through the different articles, noting the dates on each. Dean nodded and reached into his coat pocket to pull out a tape recorder.
“And yesterday, I got this,” he announced, pressing the play button. The message was full of static, but they all knew John’s voice, warning Dean,
“… be very careful… we’re all in danger.”
Dean shut off the tape and Sam noticed another slight shiver run through Max. It puzzled him at how upset she was.
“You know there’s EVP on that,” he remarked to his brother, almost absently. Dean nodded and fiddled with the recorder for a moment.
“Kinda like riding a bicycle, huh Sammy?”
“Did you run it through a gold wave?” Max asked, noting the next step that they would need to take. Dean nodded again.
“I slowed it down, took out the hiss and got this…”
The tape played again and a woman’s ethereal voice spoke out, “I can never go home.”
Dean shut off the machine and looked up at them. “So? What do you say?”
“Say about what?” Sam frowned, half his attention still on Max.
“Are you coming with me? I can’t do this alone.”
“We all know that’s not true,” Sam scoffed once again. “You handle stuff like this all the time.”
“Fine,” Dean grunted, collapsing back slightly in his chair as he stared down at the table. “Maybe I don’t want to do it alone,” he admitted in a small voice. At that, Max suddenly stood and hurried to the bedroom. Both males puzzled stares followed after her retreating form. With a sigh, Sam turned back to his brother.
“Dean, you know that Max and I have given up hunting.”
“Run away is more like it,” Dean taunted.
“Hey!” Sam protested. “We’re just trying to make a life for ourselves.”
“Oh right,” it was Dean’s turn to scoff. “Living the American dream, all safe and happy and normal in your little delusion.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sam demanded, frowning.
“Come on Sam,” Dean spat out. “These last four years? Do you really think that everything you left behind just stopped because you started ignoring it? You and Max need to face who you really are, not what you’ve pretended to be,” Dean continued relentlessly. “Because if you don’t, if you’re not prepared-!”
“Oh my God,” Sam gasped suddenly, as his brother’s words resonated through his head and instantly Max’s behavior made sense. He pushed back his chair and stood abruptly. “Wait here,” he instructed his brother sternly, ignoring the scowl that Dean gave him at being cut off.
He found Max in the bedroom, at her dresser, pulling clothes from it. She’d already changed into some comfortable jeans and a long sleeved shirt. He crossed to her side and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. She paused in what she was doing and glanced up at him.
“So Dean’s pretty upset, huh?” he smiled tenderly, rubbing her arm soothingly. She nodded and stared down at the clothes that she held.
“It’s rolling off him in waves,” she told him in a small voice, before turning to him, leaning her head against his chest. Sam wrapped both arms around her waist.
“Hey, it’s gonna be okay,” he assured her softly. “This is Dad we’re talking about.”
“I know,” Max sighed and then pulled back to shake her head. “I’m sorry Sam. I have to go.” Sam moistened his lips and put one finger to her mouth, silencing her.
“It’s okay,” he assured her. “I understand.” And he did. She’s already told him about her instincts when it came to family. It didn’t matter what the actually danger might be. As long as someone was afraid, scared, worried, well, she would react. He dropped a kiss on her forehead and stepped over to his dresser and began pulling clothes from it.
“You’re coming?” she sounded surprised. Sam threw a grin at her over his shoulder.
“Of course I am,” he snorted softly. “Someone has to be the calming influence. Otherwise, you and Dean will fly off the handle.”
Max gave a small, strained chuckle and set the clothes on the dresser. She moved over to the closet and they heard a small tap on the door. Max reached over to open it, revealing Dean.
“So what’s the consensus?” he asked, striving for a light tone, but both Sam and Max could hear the strained under current.
“We’re coming,” Sam informed him as he carried a change of clothes to the bed. Max extracted a duffel bag from the closet and tossed it to her boyfriend. She turned back to pull a box down from the shelf and rummaged through it.
“We have to be back before Monday morning though,” she warned.
“What’s Monday morning?” Dean asked, leaning against the door frame, watching them. Sam and Max glanced at each other and began to laugh. “What?” Dean demanded indignantly.
“Inside joke,” Sam grinned as he moved to pick up the shirt that he had worn earlier. He tossed it into the laundry basket and then moved to pull one less ragged than his sleep shirt from his dresser drawer.
“Monday morning I have work and Sam has an interview,” Max explained as she carried the small box to the bed and added it to her pile.
“What? Like a job interview?” Dean scoffed. “Blow it off. Call in sick.”
“It’s a law school interview Dean,” Sam clarified, scowling at his brother’s cavalier attitude. “It’s my whole future on a plate.”
“Law school?” Dean echoed in surprise.
“And I can’t call in sick,” Max told him as she began to pack things into the duffel bag. “I just started at the gym. With Margie on leave, they really need me.”
“A gym?” Dean’s eyebrows shot up. “When did this happen?”
“Just recently,” Max grinned.
“What happened to the store?” Dean wondered aloud.
And as Max began to fill him in, Sam watched them for a moment. Max seemed much more relaxed now, as did his brother. Sam realized then that it was the assurance that he was going to have family at his back that had calmed Dean down. And that in turn had allowed Max to settle down as well. He smiled at that. Dealing with Dean would be so much easier with Max reacting to his moods. And since Sam could read Max’s moods easily now, Dean’s would be a breeze.
“You about ready, sweetie?” Max’s voice reached him and Sam gave a small start.
“Yeah, yeah,” he nodded. “I just need a few more things.”
“Okay,” she nodded and gave him a swift kiss. She turned to Dean. “Come on, let’s go get some munchies for the road.”
“You read my mind,” Dean grunted happily.
After they had left, Sam quickly changed and hurried to the bathroom, wanting to retrieve Max’s ring from his jeans before she accidentally found it. He returned to the bedroom, grabbed the bag from the bed and found them in the kitchen. Dean was stuffing bags of potato chips in a leftover grocery bag, while Max piled cookies into a plastic container.
“Well, I’m all set,” he announced. Dean gave his rustling bag one last shake, as Max snapped the lid to the container in place.
“Then let’s go!” Dean grinned.
*****
“Hey!” Dean called to his brother as he exited the gas station convenience store. He moved around the end of the car as Sam, sitting with the door open to the front passenger seat, glanced back at him. Dean held up a pop, a bag of chips and something that looked like a pre-wrapped Danish. “Want some breakfast?” Dean asked.
Sam snorted and shook his head in the negative. “Dude! You ate all that stuff that Max gave you?”
“Not all of it,” Dean defended as he laid his purchases on the trunk. He removed the nozzle from the gas tank and returned it to the pump. “I think there’s still some cookies left.”
“Crumbs, more like it,” Sam scoffed. “And how did you pay for that stuff anyway? You and Dad still running credit card scams?”
“Hey!” Dean frowned. “You know hunting isn’t a high profile gig. We can’t all be cushy lawyers, you know.” He climbed into the driver’s seat and laid his purchases beside him.
“And what name did you put on the application?” Sam demanded.
“Uh,” Dean’s eyes rolled upwards as he thought. “Burt Afromian and his son, Hector. Scored two cards out of it.”
“It’s fraud Dean,” Sam reminded him.
“Hey,” Dean grinned, “we only applied. Not our fault they sent us the cards.”
“Uh huh,” Sam grunted. “Where’s Max at?”
“Probably still in the can,” his brother shrugged. Sam rolled his eyes and Dean grinned. Sam continued to rifle through a box containing his brother’s music collection. “Cause you know, when you gotta go, you gotta go.” Sam shook his head, still trying to find something decent to listen to.
“Dude,” he finally complained. “You have got to update your music collection!”
“Why?”
“Well, for one thing, they’re cassette tapes,” Sam pointed out and Dean shrugged, as if asking for the point. “It’s like the best of mullet rock,” Sam continued derogatorily.
“So?” Dean demanded, slightly offended.
“I mean, come on,” Sam lifted one eyebrow as he picked up tape after tape. “Black Sabbath, Metallica, Motorhead?” He picked up another and Dean yanked it from his hand and efficiently opened and extracted the tape.
He pushed it into the cassette player as he announced, “house rules. Driver picks the music,” he tossed the cover back into the box. “Shotgun shuts his cake hole!” Sam rolled his eyes and set the box of tapes on the floor of the car.
“There’s Max,” Dean noted calmly, glimpsing her exiting the store, from the driver’s side rear view mirror. He started up the car and immediately AC/DC was blaring through the car. Sam spun the volume dial down as Max carefully climbed into the back seat. “What’s with the get-up?” Dean snorted, turning in his seat to regard her.
“What?” Max asked.
“The clothes,” Dean clarified. “You look…”
“Like a professional?” she asked archly. “Here Sam,” she extended the arm that carried a travel mug. “Coffee.”
“Ah,” he sighed, accepting it gratefully. “Sugar?”
“Already done,” she smiled and turned her attention back to Dean. “I figured that since we’re doing the investigating bit, it might help if at least one of us looked legit.” Her hand reached into one of the bags at her side that she’d just brought out of the store with her. “Here sweetie,” she offered another package to Sam, who took it with a smile. Dean glanced at the package of mini-powdered donuts and frowned.
“Oh, so it’s okay when Max buys that junk?” he snorted. Sam didn’t bother answering as he stuffed a donut in his mouth, chased it with a gulp of coffee and let out a contented sigh. “So that’s how you soothe the savage beast, huh?” Dean asked teasingly as he maneuvered the large car back onto the highway. Jericho was still several miles away.
“No,” Max shook her head. “Coffee’s just a stop gap measure. The beast requires sex. Of course, if it was just us, we’d-!”
She was cut off by the abrupt increase of volume and Dean’s sing-song “I can’t hear you!” denial. Sam turned enough in his seat to send a wink his girlfriends way, which she returned with a smug grin.
*****
“All right,” Sam announced a very short time later as he hung up his phone. “There’s been no one matching Dad’s description admitted to the hospital.”
“Same goes for the morgue,” Max added a moment later as she also hung up her phone.
“Well that’s good news at least,” Dean sighed gratefully.
“Yup,” Max nodded in an exaggerated fashion. “Two down, only a couple other thousand hospital’s to check.”
Dean ignored the jibe, having caught sight of something more interesting than his sister’s familiar taunting. He slowed the Impala and pulled off the road. “What’s this?” he asked softly, in general.
There were officials of all sorts swarming over a bridge, in the middle of which, a lone car sat, seemingly abandoned. Dean was already reaching for a wooden box beneath the front seat. Sam noticed Max digging through the box she’d brought along with her possessions. Sam let out a small, perturbed gasp as he recognized their many fake identification badges.
“What’cha got Dean?” Max asked quickly.
“Marshal,” he answered shortly. “You?”
“BAU,” she responded as she clipped something to the lapel of her suit jacket. Sam knew that the shorthand referred to a section of the FBI known as the behavioral analysis unit. Specially trained agents who dealt with serial criminalists. He was brought back to the moment as Max pulled a clipboard and pen from the bag as well and climbed out of the car. She took a moment to smooth the material of her beige pant suit over her hip and followed after Sam, who’d managed to catch up to Dean. She affected a confidant, dominant stride, broken only once as they ducked under the official yellow police tape. She let Dean identify himself, the ensuing conversation playing around her as she calmly approached the driver’s side, the door of which stood open. She glanced at the officer crouched there and nodded.
“Excuse me,” she said softly. “I need to view the spray pattern please.” The officer’s glance dropped quickly to her chest, not to her cleavage, but to her id and then he nodded.
“Yes ma’am,” he agreed and backed out of her way. Max took in the amount of blood left in the car, looking at how it was dispersed. For similar to regular human crimes, it could be a clue.
“Don’t you people usually take pictures?” the officer behind her asked.
“Photographic memory,” she grunted. “I’ll get things started and the rest of the unit will be here shortly.”
“Yes ma’am,” he answered again, seemingly satisfied with her straightforward answer. She pretended to make a notation on her clipboard and noticed Sam’s face tighten. She had to bite her lip when Sam trod on Dean’s foot. Sam glanced her way and cocked an eyebrow.
“Ready?” he asked her. She glanced down at her clipboard and then back at the brother’s and nodded slowly. She gave a long-suffering sigh that the officers caught and she gave them a tight ‘see what I have to put up with’ look and garnered a few smirks that were quickly hidden. The feeling was amplified when Dean smacked Sam across the back of his head as they all walked back to the car.
“Ow!” Sam hissed. “What was that for?”
“Why’d you have to step on my foot?”
“Why’d you have to talk to the police like that?” Sam rallied immediately. Dean darted in front of his brother, effectively stopping both Sam and Max.
“Come on Sammy,” Dean snorted. “They 'don’t know anything'? We’re on our own on this.”
“Boys,” Max warned softly, jerking her chin just slightly. Dean whirled around as they were approached by three men, one a sheriff’s department officer, the other two FBI agents, recognizable by their jackets. And their stick up their ass demeanors.
“Agent Mulder,” Dean nodded at the passing suited men. “Agent Scully.”
“Can I help you folks?” the sheriff’s department officer asked, his hands on his hips. Max stepped forward, her clipboard covering her fake id.
“No, thank you officer,” she replied calmly and steadily. “We were just leaving.” She glanced back at the guys. “Shall we?” They both nodded and followed after her. “Dean,” she hissed as she pulled open the door to the backseat of the Impala, “you need to dial it down a few notches. You’re being an idiot.”
“What?” Dean demanded.
“An idiot,” Max repeated. “From the Greek, idiote, as in one afflicted with the mental capabilities of a three year old child!”
“Hey,” Dean growled. “I resent that!”
“You’re right.” Max sighed in apparent contrition. “You aren’t an idiot.” But her voice picked up as Dean started the car. “because you are in fact a moron!”
“Hey!”
“From the Greek, moros,” she went on relentlessly while Sam snickered. “One afflicted with the mental capabilities equivilant to a seven year old, capable of doing menial tasks under supervision, like… driving? Now! Before that Sheriff becomes even more suspicious of us?”
Dean caught the hint and pulled away from the scene of the crime. “You gonna let your girlfriend talk to me like that?” Dean nettled as he directed the vehicle into the town proper.
“Yes,” Sam smirked. “Especially as I happen to agree with her.”
“Bitch.”
“Jerk.”
“Sorry to break up the love fest,” Max chuckled, “but what’s our next move?”
“We’ll need some info on this most recent victim,” Dean decided.
“So we’ll need to find Amy?” Max asked, referring to the victim’s girlfriend.
“Yeah,” Dean confirmed, his eyes dark. “You heard that?”
“Mm hmm,” Max murmured as she stowed away the clipboard, pen and her fake identification.
“How does she keep track of everything like that?” Dean asked of Sam, only one of them completely mystified.
“I can parallel process like there’s no tomorrow,” Max grinned as Sam snickered.
*****
“Over there?” Sam pointed discreetly down the street at a young woman putting up missing posters.
“Think that’s her?” Dean asked and the other two threw him exasperated looks. “Okay, so what’s our cover?” he asked. “Concerned uncles?”
“Probably too young,” Sam mused.
Max rolled her eyes. “Oh for-!” she bit off. “Let me handle it.” And she strode away from them.
“Was she always like this when you guys were hunting?” Sam asked his brother sotto voce, even though he knew that Max would hear.
“Nah!” Dean scoffed as they waited a short distance away. “She’s mellowed.”
“Hey,” Max greeted the girl who had just finished putting up another sign advertising a missing man. “Are you Amy? Troy’s girlfriend?”
The blond turned her head to face Max, seeming slightly apprehensive. “Yeah, who’re you?” she demanded.
Max smiled disarmingly. “Max… Glasser. Um, my boyfriend Sam and his brother Dean,” she gestured at the pair many yards behind them, waiting. “They’re Troy’s cousins from Modesto.”
“Oh,” Amy chewed at the corner of her mouth. “I didn’t know Troy had cousins over there.”
“Maybe it was second cousins,” Max suggested lightly. “Sam was pretty upset when he told me what happened.” Amy’s face cleared a little. “Anyway,” Max continued, “we came down to see if there was any way we could help find him.”
“Well,” Amy hesitated, but before she could say more, another girl, dark haired, about Amy’s age, approached them, her concern evident.
“Amy? You okay? There’re some guys watching-!”
“It’s okay,” Amy assured her friend. “They’re Troy’s cousins.”
“Oh.”
“Is there some place we can go?” Max artfully intruded. “You look like you could use a small break,” she added solicitously.
“There’s a diner down the street,” Amy’s friend suggested, obviously in agreement with Max’s assessment. “She’s been up all night.”
“I can understand,” Max sighed, glancing back at the guys. She nodded and they hurried over. Max quickly made introductions and then asked Sam as she slipped her hand into his, “was it second cousin’s on your Mom’s side, babe?” effectively letting the guys know what their established cover was. “I wasn’t too clear on that.”
Sam nodded and the group followed the Jericho natives leads. Once a waitress had shown them to a booth, they made themselves comfortable. Amy and her friend on one side and Max followed Sam into the other side. Dean made do by pulling up a chair from a nearby table and plunking himself into it. He did end up settling closer to Max than he did the other girls, so that he could face them to talk. They ordered drinks quickly and declined menus from the waitress.
After the woman had returned with their beverages and after Amy had described the measures taken so far to find Troy, Sam leaned forward to ask, “so when’s the last time you talked to Troy?”
“Last night,” Amy answered promptly. “We were on the phone. He was on his way home.” The trio facing her all nodded encouragingly, knowing they were mimicking one another and not caring. “But then he had to go. He said he’d call me right back. But he never did,” she finished quietly. There was an awkward moment of silence as that finality sank in.
Sam cleared his throat and smiled gently. “I like your necklace,” he nodded toward the pentagram that Amy had adorned her neck with. She glanced down and fingered the small medallion.
“Troy gave it to me,” she informed them. “You know, freak the parents out. All that devil worship stuff.”
“Actually,” Sam spoke as a muscle in his right cheek twitched slightly, “it means just the opposite, safety and protection.”
The younger girls glanced at one another, sharing a look of mild disgust at an adult’s presumptuousness over what they clearly considered their cultural domain, even as Dean muttered, “thank you unsolved mysteries!”
Max grinned and patted Sam’s hand where it rested on the table. “Sam’s college courses included an Arcane Symbolism in Religion class. But things sure have changed in the last two thousand years, haven’t they?”
The girl’s suspicions were allayed once again, but Dean was getting tired of pussyfooting around and leaned forward once more.
“Okay look,” he began seriously, “the way Troy disappeared, somethings not right here. So if you girls know anything…”
Amy and her friend exchanged a long, uncomfortable look.
“What?” Dean prompted, accurately interpreting this. Amy’s friend leaned forward.
“Well, with all these guys disappearing? People talk.”
“What do they say?” Dean and Sam asked in unison, leaning forward eagerly.
“Well,” the girl began again, “years ago, this woman gets murdered, out on Centennial. And they say that she haunts the road, looking for her killer.”
The ghost hunting trio exchanged quick looks. That was precisely what they needed to hear. But Max reached out and patted Amy’s hand.
“Interesting urban legend, but, well…”
“Yeah,” Amy murmured. “I mean, it’s more likely he, I don’t know… picked up a hitchhiker or… or…”
Max squeezed the girl’s hand. She didn’t offer reassurances, since she was not at all comfortable with offering a stranger false hopes. And with this girl’s father on the police force, she probably had a pretty grim, realistic idea about Troy’s fate, but just hadn’t accepted it yet. As if reading these thoughts in Max’s face, Amy suddenly pulled her hand free and picked up the stack of posters waiting to be distributed.
“I should get back out there,” she murmured hurriedly, turning to her friend. The brunette nodded, gave the others a tight smile and scooted out of the booth. Amy followed, stopped for a moment and then whispered back, “if you hear from him…?”
“We’ll let you know immediately,” Sam assured her. Amy slid a poster free and set it on the table, then turned and hurried away. Her friend murmured a brief thanks and moved after her distraught friend.
“Move please Dean,” Max instructed once the girls were out of earshot. Dean pushed his chair out of the way and Max slid out of the booth with a murmured, “be right back.” Sam watched her leave as Dean returned the chair to the table he’d gotten it from and then slid into the opposite side of the booth.
“All right,” he growled, catching Sam’s attention again. “So now we’ve got somewhere to start.”
“But where do we want to go first?” Sam muttered. “Things are going to be shutting down soon.” Dean nodded, glancing at his watch.
“Typical small town, everything shuts down but for the entertainment.”
“Well, it’s not like City Hall’s open today anyway,” Sam grunted out.
“Maybe the newspaper?” Dean suggested. “We could look through the archives,” Dean shrugged.
“Without a specific date, it will take a while,” Sam sighed. They mulled over their options and were still at it when Max returned, her hands full. Sam reached for the newspaper she carried as she set down a full glass of milk on the table. Sam winced when he saw it.
“Did you take your pills today?” he demanded softly. Max nodded as she sat.
“This morning, don’t worry,” she assured him. She jabbed one finger towards the paper. “The Jericho Herald has an online archive of their stories, dating back over forty years.”
“Good news,” Dean grinned.
“And,” Max drawled, continuing, “the public library has Internet access and they don’t close until six. So that gives you almost two hours search time.”
“Okay,” Sam nodded once. “Library it is then. We can probably tap City Hall public domain records from there too.”
“I was also thinking,” Max lifted the paper up and pulled out the menu she’d also brought back with her to the table. “I am getting pretty hungry. Why don’t we order something to go. I’ll wait for it while you guys check this out and then meet you at the car or the library.” Just as she finished, Dean’s stomach made a large growl and the trio laughed quietly.
“What a team,” Dean grunted out in satisfaction. The males quickly decided what they wanted to eat and Max gave them the directions to the library that she’d garnered from the waitress. The group split, focused on their new current tasks.
*****
Many hours later, after they had reconvened, eaten dinner and went over what Sam and Dean had discovered, they’d headed back to the area where Tony Squire’s deserted car was, Sylvania Bridge. They’d made sure that the coast was clear before heading out onto the actual bridge itself. At least, Sam and Dean did. Max was doing a little backtracking, what she could of Troy’s tracks leading up to and onto the bridge. She puzzled out where he might have lost control of the vehicle or where he’d panicked at. But there was too much traffic in the dirt areas and no indications on the pavement that she could discern in the dark. As she moved to join up with the guys, she realized that she could hear them, clearly if not distinctly. Which shouldn’t have really been possible, unless they’d raised their voices. Which was very possible, knowing those two.
But Max swore under her breath when she saw Dean shove Sam up against a rail post, quickening her step. She wondered briefly what had been said to set Dean off. Probably some slur against John. As she debated over whether or not to intervene, she saw them break apart again. Her steps slowed to a halt and she caught a flash of white to her right and just slightly ahead of the guys. Apparently Dean had spotted the apparition as well.
“Sam!” Dean called his brother’s attention to the female figure standing on the ridge railing. As they watched the woman slowly glanced back at them and then away, leaning forward, falling away from safety. The guys ran to the other side of the bridge. Max stayed still as her hackles, figuratively speaking, rose.
“Where’d she go?” Dean demanded as they peered over the side.
“I don’t know,” Sam returned, his eyes scanning the dark. It was then that they heard the Impala’s engine start and they were partially blinded as the headlights flared on.
“What the-!” Dean bit out.
“Where does Max think she’s going?” Sam asked, slightly bemused.
Dean dug his fingers into his front jean pocket and yanked out the keys to the car. Suddenly, the car, empty of passengers of the human kind, jumped forwards and swerved to the left. The silhouette of a body was briefly illuminated before flying through the air as the car suddenly aimed itself at them.
“Max!” Sam yelled, his heart pounding in his throat, his breath coming in painful gasps.
“No!” Dean’s voice echoed only a fraction of Sam’s fear and it was still sickening to hear. But even in their fear for what had befallen Max, they realized the danger to themselves and began to run.
She had to be all right, was all Sam could comprehend in thought at that moment as he and Dean ran headlong down the bridge with the car gaining on them. She had to. She was his super woman. She could survive anything!
Sam and Dean ran, but the realization was swift in coming that the possessed car had a straight shot at them and no amount of running would save them. As one, they veered off the path and over the bridge edge railing. Sam fell, perhaps six feet before catching the rounded edge of a steel girder with one arm and leg. He hung on desperately, allowing the momentum to carry the rest of his body around as his free hand cushioned the impact against the side of the girder. Once stopped, he hoisted himself up until he could sit across the second guard. He quickly glanced behind him, to where his brother should have been. And wasn’t.
“Dean,” he whispered, his breath coming in pants, his heart still pounding in his ears. For a moment, all he could hear over that was the rushing of the below and then,
“Sam?” His mind seemed to explode with relief as he heard her sweet voice. He glanced up just as Max peered over the railing down at him. “Sam? Are you hurt?” she demanded, the fear evident in her voice. He shook his head quickly in the negative. “Where’s Dean?”
“He jumped,” he answered, his eyes returning to the water below. How deep was that river?
“There!” Max exclaimed after the barest of moments. Sam followed where she was pointing, and saw his brother bobbing towards the river’s edge.
“Dean!” he yelled, hoping his brother could hear him over the rush of the water. He yelled again as Dean pulled himself onto the rocks and gravel and tiredly rolled over.
“What?” his aggrieved voice floated up to them.
“You okay?” Sam yelled down and Dean held up his hand, his thumb and forefinger in a circle to indicate that he was, indeed, okay. Sam laughed with the relief that he felt that everyone had made it. They were okay.
“Come on sweetie,” Max directed, leaning over the rail still, extending a hand to Sam. “Let’s get you up.”
“You’re okay?” Sam asked quickly as he began to climb up. “The car…?”
“I jumped over it,” Max explained, “when I saw I couldn’t avoid it.”
“You leapt over the car?” Sam demanded, amazement tingeing his voice as he grasped her hand for the last few feet up. She grinned at him.
“At the rate the car was going, I only had to be in the air for a few seconds,” she explained further. Once Sam got over the railing, they wrapped their arms around one another, relieved that things hadn’t turned out worse. And then suddenly, Max laughed. “We better go rescue Dean,” she told her boyfriend.
Sam nodded, but couldn’t understand what she found so humorous. It showed in his face, obviously, as she said, “didn’t you hear Dean?” He shook his head in the negative as they separated, but continued holding hands. They began the trek to the end of the bridge where they could climb down the embankment. “And I quote,” Max giggled, “’here I am freezing my ass off while they’re up there makin’ kissy face’.”
Sam snorted and laughed. “Man, he is so immature some times.”
“True,” Max conceded. “But if he wasn’t, how would we recognize him?”
“I see your point,” Sam sighed mockingly and then chuckled under his breath, “kissy face!”
“Just remind him that he’s lucky we didn’t commandeer the car right here and now to celebrate our being alive,” Max offered good naturedly.
Sam squeezed her hand. “He gives us a hard time, and I just might.”
The climb down took little time and effort, since there was a grass covered hill that led down to the gravel and rock lining the river’s edge. Dean was kneeling and still coughing by that point and Max nimbly hurried forward to check him over. Dean waved off her concern and Sam saw by the moonlight the pinched measure of distress on her face.
“Hey man,” he intervened, “let her check you out.”
“I’m fine Sam,” Dean protested, holding up a hand.
“You might think so,” Sam replied, “but just to be sure. I mean a fall from that height, you might’ve cracked a rib, or something else.”
“I fell into water Sam,” Dean snorted and coughed again.
“Dive or belly flop?” Sam asked shrewdly. Dean’s mutinous look was his answer and he laid back down gingerly and let Max do a cursory check, daintily avoiding the sludge as much as possible. He winced a little when she slid a hand under his back and quickly explained that it only felt bruised, not broken.
Max nodded. “Any trouble breathing now?”
Dean shook his head in the negative and she proclaimed his fit to get up, ignoring the I told you so grimace that he threw at her.
“But let us know if your back gets worse,” she warned.
“Yes ma’am,” he snarked as they began walking back up the embankment. Soon enough, they were back on the bridge and Dean hurried forward to check on his beloved car. Max stopped to look at the tire marks left at the point of acceleration. She knelt down for a closer look while Sam waited, indulging whatever notion was in her mind at that point.
When she rose, she reached for Sam’s hand and told him quietly, “the treads getting pretty worn out. Think he’d like tires for Christmas?”
Sam grinned. “I was actually thinking of getting him a compact disc player for the car and some cds.”
“He’d probably return them and buy more tapes,” Max chuckled as they walked to the car.
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Sam sighed. “Tires it is then. Should we do it now or can he go a little longer?”
“The sooner the better,” Max decided and Sam nodded.
Dean had the hood up on the Impala and they rounded the car just as he began pushing it back down. “The Impala okay?” Sam asked.
“Yeah,” Dean grunted. “Whatever she did to it, it seems to be okay.”
Both men leaned back against the hood of the car and Max stepped in between Sam’s slightly splayed legs. He wrapped his arms around her as she snuggled against him, warding off the chilly night air.
“That Constance,” Dean growled and then yelled out into the night. “What a bitch!” Sam and Max exchanged an amused glance with one another. All three sighed and Sam’s head turned towards his older brother.
“Dude, you smell like a toilet.”
Dean grimaced tiredly in Sam’s direction.
“Actually,” ‘Max drawled, “I’m thinking that this might have been the dumping ground for L’Amour.” Dean leaned forward and frowned at her.
“What’s love got to do with it?’ he demanded, knowing enough rudimentary French to figure that out.
“Not a thing, Tina,” Sam snickered.
“Oh ha ha ha,” Dean deadpanned. Max smiled, relaxing under the familiar flow of their banter.
“That’s the name of that perfume,” she explained and Dean gave a startled jerk slightly away from her.
“You’re not gonna ralph on me, are you?”
“I’m trying desperately to suppress the urge,” she grimaced.
“Seriously?” Dean inched away from the pair.
“Yeah, my stomach’s churning,” Max smacked her lips together in disgust.
“Uh,” Dean tilted his head away in alarm as Sam frowned in consternation. Was she serious?
“I’m going to…” Max’s shoulders hunched delicately and her fingertips covered her mouth. Dean scrambled away and then, she giggled. “Better?” she asked Sam impishly. Sam roared with laughter as he realized her ploy and Dean growled.
“When the hell are you gonna grow outta this damn bratty stage?” he demanded of her.
“Maybe when it’s no longer any fun to bait you,” she sassed right back. Dean shook his head and flicked a glob of mud in their direction.
“Okay!” Sam intervened with a loud voice before there was a real contention of mudslinging. “Why don’t we figure out our next move?”
*****
“Over there,” Sam pointed to Dean’s left. His brother nodded and pulled the Impala into the curb. A cell phone rang and all three scrambled to check their respective phones.
“It’s me,” Max announced and then answered the phone. “Hey Jess. What’s up?”
“Hey Max,” Jess greeted in a small voice. “I didn’t wake you up, did I?”
“No, I was already awake,” Max assured her. “What’s going on?”
Dean caught Max’s attention in the rear view mirror, and then whispered, “I’m checkin’ in.” Max nodded at him, although her attention was mostly on her friend, who did not sound good at all.
“I tried the house yesterday, a couple of times,” Jess told Max hesitantly.
“Oh well, Dean came by and we headed out for a little road trip with him down the coast,” Max covered.
“Oh, okay,” the other woman sounded relieved that she wasn’t actually really interrupting anything.
“Hang on a sec Jessica,” Max told her and covered the phone with her free hand. “Go ahead Sam,” she instructed her boyfriend. “I’ll be in, in a few minutes”
“Okay,” he nodded and leaned towards her for a quick kiss. He climbed out of the front passenger seat and hurried to join his brother in the motel office. Max pulled her hand away from the phone and brought the receiver up to her mouth again.
“Sorry about that,” she apologized quickly. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”
“Caden was here,” Jess told her friend without preamble. “When I got home from Chuck’s yesterday.”
“Oh sweetie,” Max’s commiserated immediately. “Was it bad?”
“Pretty bad, yeah,” Jess sighed. “He used the key I gave him to get in and pack up the stuff that he’d left here.”
“Mm hm,” Max offered, non-committed, knowing that Jess would get through her story at her own pace.
“I thought I could get through it okay,” Jess went on. “But then, he grabbed the jersey that I bought at the game, you know?”
“The anniversary game?” Max asked, referring to the football game that she’d gotten them tickets for.
“Yeah,” Jess sniffled. “I mean, I paid you back for the tickets, I paid for the gas and the food and I bought that jersey.”
“I know you did,” Max soothed. She turned in her seat so that she could see which room the guys were assigned.
“And I thought,” Jess’ voice was getting angrier, “why on earth should he have the jersey that I bought, that he’s never worn!”
“And what did he say?” Max murmured as she caught sight of Sam and Dean exiting the office at a fast clip.
“He thought it was a gift and he tried to tell me that he wanted something to remind him of the good times that we’d had together,” she explained derisively.
“What on earth,” Max muttered, more as a reaction to Sam and Dean skulking down the motel walkway than to what Jess had said. They’d paused at a door and while Dean kept lookout, Sam set about breaking in.
“Yeah,” Jess scoffed. “Apparently, they’re her favorite team and Caden thought she’d like to have it.”
“He told you that?” Max demanded, outraged on her friend’s behalf and in general for screwed over woman, the world over. “What an asshole!”
“Yeah,” Jess agreed. “Things just deteriorated from there. You would not believe what he had to say about all of you guys.”
“I can just imagine,” Max murmured as she watched Sam viciously yank Dean into the room he’d just broken into. The door slammed shut behind them and Max noted the number on the door. The most likely explanation was that they’d just discovered where John was or had been staying.
“He told me that Alli is a self-righteous busybody who has no right to weigh in on our relationships!”
“Well, to be fair,” Max smiled softly, “she is a bit of a busybody. But only because she loves us.”
“Exactly,” Jess agreed. “And apparently Tom is a chronic bum that mooches off of everyone instead of actually doing something with his life.”
“Oh, because he was down-sized out of a job?” Max noted.
“Uh huh,” Jess continued. “And Chuck and Dale are pathetic drunks who are just jealous of him because he can actually land a girlfriend.”
“Oh, now that was rude,” Max snorted. “And what did he have to say about Sam and I?”
“Well,” Jess hesitated and Max chuckled.
“Don’t worry sweetie,” she assured her friend. “I’m a big girl, I can take it.”
“Well,” Jess began again. “He actually had a lot to say about you guys.”
“Like what?”
“It pretty much boiled down to his saying that Sam is a hypocritical jerk who is coasting off the hardworking taxpayers and you while he dicks around at school.”
“Uh huh,” Max muttered dryly. “Sounds like he’s jealous.”
“That wasn’t the worst of it,” Jess warned and something in her voice made Max pause. “He actually really likes you.” Max blinked several times. That… really sort of surprised her. “Which is why he told me that if we all really cared about you, we’d stage an intervention.”
“What?” Max laughed. “He thinks I’m a druggie or something?”
“No,” Jess spoke softly, hesitantly. “He thinks… well, he thinks that Sam…”
“That Sam is a drug addict?” Max asked, puzzlement coloring her tone.
“No!” Jess denied, sighing heavily. “And I mean, I know that what he said wasn’t, isn’t true.”
“What did he say?” Max demanded impatiently.
“Well,” Jess repeated and then cleared her throat. “There’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll just say it. He said that… that Sam was probably… abusing you… physically.” Max was shocked speechless. “He said that, um, if we’d all just quit acting like Sam was some sort of saint, we’d see the signs too.”
“Signs?” Max asked faintly. “What signs?”
“Uh, well, there were a lot of things that he said. Like that one time we saw you and you’d hurt your back.”
“I just twisted it wrong at work!” Max protested, understanding immediately what Jess was referring to.
“I know,” Jess soothed as best as she was able. “But Caden figured you lied about that because 'you’re too dainty to lift boxes like that'.”
“But you’ve seen me do it!” Max protested.
“I know,” Jess replied calmly. “But Caden said I was imagining it or something, or it wasn’t as heavy a box as I said.”
“What else?” Max snarled.
“He figured that you, um, well your refusal to go out with us sometimes was because you didn’t want us to see any bruising or anything,” Jess continued on somberly, “and the way you were always checking in with Sam. Or you wouldn’t make any plans with anyone until you’d cleared it with Sam and that comment you made? About how you couldn’t wear a certain outfit because Sam wouldn’t let you leave the house.”
“That was a joke!” Max cried out, frustrated and sickened by the slurs against the man she loved. “I meant that-!”
“I know what you meant sweetie,” Jess reassured her. “It was just little things that he was throwing into the argument. The big thing was…”
“Was what?” Max asked, her voice going deadly cold.
“Well, he said that the biggest clue was your age.”
“My age?” Max echoed.
“Uh huh. Caden basically said that only sick, perverted bastards go after fifteen year old girls when they could be with a girl their own age.”
“Really?” Max voice was even icier. “Did anyone ever tell Caden that Sam was seventeen when we started dating? And that nothing happened between us again until I was of legal age as well?”
“Yeah, I did mention that, several times,” Jess sighed. “And he didn’t care. He said that Sam was probably sent to Stanford by his family to avoid statutory rape charges.”
“Oh my God,” Max moaned raggedly. “How dare he!” She didn’t even realize that she was crying until the moisture dripped from her jaw onto the clenched fist in her lap. She quickly swiped away the tears. Crying wouldn’t do any good. “You know,” she laughed humorlessly, “suddenly I wish I hadn’t asked you.”
“I know,” Jess agreed hastily. “And I wouldn’t have told you, but Caden said that if we were going to keep deluding ourselves about Sam, that maybe he’d do something about it.”
“Like what?” Max asked with alarm.
“I don’t know,” Jess admitted. “But that’s why I thought you should know, to warn you guys. And I’m sorry. More sorry than I can say for… inflicting this on you guys.”
“Oh no Jess,” Max denied. “It’s not your fault. I mean, this must have come out of left field for you too.”
“It was,” her friend hastened to tell her. “I seriously had no idea he thought or felt any of this.”
“And here we all thought, at least until recently, that he was a pretty decent guy,” Max sniffled.
“I wish I’d never met him,” Jess sighed again. “This is just… I’m so sorry Max. I know you guys have your own stuff that you’re dealing with and you don’t need this.”
“Hey! Not your fault,” Max protested. “This is one hundred percent on Caden. But…”
“But what?” Jess asked hesitantly.
“I hate to ask this,” Max began quietly, “but could there possibly be any way that Caden’s um… projecting?”
“What do you mean?” Jess whispered, suddenly fearful. “Like is Caden abusive?”
“Not so much that,” Max denied quickly. “More like the possibility that Caden knew or knows someone who actually was abused and now he’s reading too much into the situation?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Jess sounded vaguely relieved at the possibility that Max introduced. “Maybe. I mean, we certainly didn’t share ever little last detail of our life histories with each other.”
“Well, let’s just hope that’s what it is,” Max sighed, feeling drained. “God. You know, Sam and I knew that there’d be people who thought these kinds of things about our relationship, way back then. That’s part of why we handled things the way we did. I just never thought it would come back and bite us in the ass by this point in our lives.”
“And nothing may come of it,” Jess supplied. “I just wanted you to be prepared, just in case he shows up.”
“Oh don’t worry,” Max muttered darkly. “I can definitely take care of Caden and teach him a thing or two he won’t forget about slandering my boyfriend!”
“I know you can,” Jess chuckled lowly.
“I better go,” Max murmured. “Sam and Dean are waiting for me.” Jess murmured her agreement and a few more apologies before the pair finally hung up.
*****
Dean stared at the various articles that John had plastered on the wall of his motel room. All victims of the Woman In White, so really, not victims from a certain viewpoint. “You sly dogs,” he chuckled under his breath. He turned back to Sam, who was busy scanning other notations that John had put up. “So, if we’re dealing with a woman in white, Dad would find the corpse and destroy it.”
“She might have another weakness,” Sam mused aloud.
“No, he’d want to be sure,” Dean surmised, leaving off looking at information he’d already memorized to join where Sam was standing. “He’d dig her up. Does it say where she’s buried?” he asked, jerking his chin towards the article on Constance Welch.
“No,” Sam sighed. “Not that I can tell. If I were Dad though, I’d go ask the husband. If he’s still alive, that is.”
“Hm,” Dean grunted as his eyes trailed down a familiar picture, tacked underneath the Welch article. “So, speaking of women in white,” he drawled out, his eyes seemingly stuck on that vaguely menacing, yet familiar picture.
“What about them?” Sam grunted.
“Oh, I was just wondering when the hell you were gonna make an honest woman out of my sister?” Dean demanded with a lazy smirk. It caught Sam slightly off guard and he smiled at his brother’s obvious attempt at meddling.
“Monday,” he answered with a huge grin.
“What?” Dean yelped, even more surprised than Sam had been by his question. Sam half turned to face his brother, smirking at the stunned and slightly hurt puppy look radiating from Dean’s face.
“I mean, I’m planning to ask her on Monday night,” Sam clarified and began to move over to the window. He checked to see that Max was still in the car, talking to Jess on her phone.
“No wonder you were so adamant about bein’ back Monday,” Dean grinned. “Got a big evening planned.”
“Actually, Max planned it,” Sam laughed. “She told Jess that she was going to surprise me with an evening out to celebrate my law school interview. And Jess told me, so I just figured…” he trailed off as Dean laughed appreciatively.
“Sammy the sly dog!” Sam rolled his eyes.
“Sammy,” he stressed heavily, “was a chubby twelve year old Dean.”
“Yeah yeah,” Dean waved the rebuke away. “Whatever. Did you get her a ring?”
“Yeah, I did,” Sam’s face brightened once more as his hand delved into his inner coat pocket.
“Dude!” Dean protested. “You brought it with you?”
“Well, I didn’t want to leave it around for Max to find, or for it to be stolen,” Sam shrugged as he pulled the jeweler’s box out and held it out to his brother. Dean snagged it and flipped open the hinged top. He let out a low whistle at the gold and diamond ring nestled there.
“Nice.”
“You know,” Sam offered quietly, “I’m gonna need a best man.” Dean’s head came up sharply and for a moment he seemed speechless.
And then he grinned, widely and said, his voice thick, “yeah, I’m pretty good at holding the rings.”
Sam gave him a puzzled stare and Dean reached for the silver chain around his neck, pulling it off over his head. Sam’s face went from puzzled to surprised as Dean held it out to him. Slowly he reached out and caught the ring that was dangling from the chain. “Is this…?”
“Mom’s ring?” Dean supplied for him. “Yeah, it is. I had it fixed up a few years ago. Take it.”
Sam dropped it instantly, his startled gaze flying again to his brother’s face. “Dean, I can’t,” he protested softly. “I mean, you’re the eldest, you should use it.”
“Oh, like that’s gonna happen,” Dean scoffed. “Besides, it’s not for you,” he went on. “Or me, for that matter. Its for Max.”
“Yeah,” Sam nodded slowly.
“You know… Mom would have loved her,” Dean told him confidently. Hearing him say that, it only solidified the rightness of everything, in Sam’s mind. Even though both boys knew that it was only conjecture on their parts, assigning the opinion to their long dead mother that they themselves held.
“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “Just like the rest of us.” His hand reached out for the ring once more. Once it was securely in Sam’s hand, Dean let go of the chain. It felt strange to Sam, in a way, to be holding a little bit of his mother in his hand. She seemed very real in that moment.
“Uh, Dean,” Sam began and then found he had to clear his throat. “That stuff I said about Mom last night? I didn’t-!”
“Hey!” Dean interrupted, his hand still outstretched, spread wide as if to ward something off. “We’ve already had our chick flick moment. No more!” Sam regarded him for a moment, the corners of his lips twitching.
“Jerk!” he enunciated clearly.
“Bitch,” Dean responded just as easily, his eyes twinkling at the familiar refrain. At that moment, they heard a click come from the door. Dean hastily threw the ring box back to Sam. Fumbling slightly, Sam opened it and hastily stowed Mary’s ring inside before shutting it and cramming the box back inside his jacket once more. Dean had moved over to the door and caught it as Max popped it open, effectively hiding Sam from view, keeping the secret as long as possible.
“So,” he announced a little louder than he normally would have, “if you’ll look up the husband’s address, I’m gonna get cleaned up.”
“Good thing I grabbed this then,” Max noted, holding up one of Dean’s smaller duffel bags. He took it from her with a grateful smile that faded slightly when he noted the faint stain of tear tracks down her cheeks.
“You okay?” he asked softly, which did more to catch Sam’s attention than anything else he could have said.
“I’m fine,” Max assured him tersely, but neither male believed her. “I’m just extremely pissed off with Jess’ ex boyfriend.
“Okay,” Dean pursed his lips, quickly deciding that it was a matter that Sam could better deal with. He hoisted the bag over his shoulder as Max pushed the door shut. “I’ll be out in a bit,” he informed them as he headed for the bathroom.
He shut them out just as Sam asked, “is Jess okay?”
“Other than being hurt, shocked and upset… yeah,” Max told him dryly. “She saw Caden yesterday.” Sam’s face darkened.
“He didn’t pull anything, did he?”
Max shook her head in the negative. “But Jess is worried that he might. We can… discuss the particulars later, once I’ve calmed down.”
Sam eyed her wonderingly. “So, are you at egg breaking, dish breaking or worse?”
Max pursed her lips in contemplation. “I’m ready to bust heads, kick ass, maybe run him over a few times with my bike, just for good measure, you know?”
Sam’s eyes widened fractionally. He held out his hand to her and she came to him without hesitation. Sam wrapped his arms around her. She snuggled against him as he rested his chin on the crown of her head. “Whatever happened, or does happen, we’ll deal with it, right?”
He felt her nod and the gradual relaxation of her body. Finally she pulled back and tilted her head back. “You know, I really love you Sam,” she whispered with a soft smile on her face.
“I love you too really,” Sam grinned and pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose. Max chuckled, ending on a sigh and then glanced about the room.
“Dad was redecorating, I see.”
“Yeah he was,” Sam agreed.
“Did you guys figure out what we’re up against?”
“Woman in white,” he supplied, gesturing to the wall with the pertinent information. Max glanced over, her eyes narrowing.
“It fits, I suppose. So, salt and burn?”
“Once we’ve figured out where she’s buried,” Sam nodded. “Hopefully we’ll get finished with all this by this evening and be home by late tonight.”
“That’d be nice,” Max sighed. “I’d forgotten how, restrained we were with Dean around.” Sam grinned down at her.
“Feeling neglected?” he asked softly.
“Not really,” Max half frowned. “I’d just prefer to be able to kiss my boyfriend without comments from the peanut gallery.”
“Yes, well, the nut is currently occupied with other things,” Sam teased.
“True, but he’ll figure the odds and come out swinging,” Max giggled.
“And you’re letting that deter you?” Sam asked, feigning shock. “Oh Max, I am so disappointed.”
“Hm, I think I’m sensing a challenge here,” Max drawled. Sam quirked an eyebrow at her and suddenly found himself falling backwards through the air. He landed on the bed, his elbows bracing his body as he semi-reclined. Max followed quickly, climbing over him to straddle his waist. “And you know I can’t resist a challenge,” she continued, as Sam watched her carefully.
“Well, no one is stopping you,” he urged easily, not caring that his brother was in the tiny, most likely un-sound-proofed room next to them.
“No,” she agreed,” but it would seem that I’m up against some undefined time con- con… achoo!” She sneezed suddenly, the unexpected force of it shaking the bed. Her surprised eyes met Sam’s amused ones as he laid back the rest of the way, folding his arms under his head.
“Do that again,” he chuckled. “Believe me, time wouldn’t matter if you kept that up.” Max giggled as he shifted under her and she felt the undeniable proof that he also needed a ‘break’.
“Actually, it would matter,” Max sighed, though she did wiggle about a little bit more. “Water just shut off,” she explained.
“So?” Sam demanded. “He’s still got to dry off and get dressed.” Max lifted an eyebrow, setting it somehow in a perfectly symmetrical arch and let out a rich laugh.
“I suppose a few minutes more wouldn’t hurt,” she decided, laying herself out on top of him. Sam moved his arms to wrap them loosely around her waist, his hands spreading across her back. As she lowered her face to his, her hair fell around them, creating a slight shield against the room around them. She brushed her lips lightly across his and Sam responded enthusiastically. Max felt her lips grow into a smile as they continued to kiss chastely. Of course Sam wasn’t going to push her into anything she wasn’t comfortable with, not that she was against this. It was just that she didn’t think it was the time or place and her train of thought was lost as Sam shifted, rolling them to one side.
He pulled away an inch or so and rubbed his nose against hers. “That’s all I wanted,” he told her teasingly.
“I know,” Max sighed. “I just really want to get this done and taken care of so we can get home and take care of other things.”
Sam contemplated her for a long moment. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Max chewed at the corner of her mouth. “I’m as okay as I’m going to be, for now,” she told him vaguely.
It was Sam’s turn to be arching his eyebrows. “Caden really screwed up, didn’t he? For you to be this upset?”
Max nodded. “And I’m thinking maybe you better distract me again before I reach boiling point once more.”
Sam, wondering what on earth the guy could have done that wouldn’t involve a felony against Jess or another of their friends, to earn Max’s enmity, decided that it was in everyone’s best interest to comply with her request. Hand resting on her hip, he lowered his mouth to her ear. “Well, would you like to know what I’m planning to do to you when we get home?”
But Max wasn’t given the chance to find out if her imagination was that accurate, as the bathroom door opened then and Dean emerged. He was fully dressed and carrying his coat of the previous evening. Both Max and Sam lifted their heads to regard him as he began rummaging through the pockets, removing his essentials and laying them on top of the television set that had been pushed into an out of the way corner.
“I feel so much better,” he announced blandly, to the room at large.
“That was quick,” Sam smirked. Dean shrugged and glanced over his shoulder at them.
“Yeah, sorry, but the hot water ran out fast and I was getting hungry,” he apologized with a very uncharacteristic blandness. “I saw that there was a little diner down the road. I’m gonna walk down and grab a bite to eat. You guys want me to bring you back something?” He waited, but both Max and Sam declined. “You sure?” he pressed as he grabbed his wallet and cell phone, putting them in the pocket of the leather coat he’d just donned. He headed for the main door. “Afromian’s buying,” he told Sam with a smirk and his younger brother just rolled his eyes.
As soon as he was out the door, Max commented, puzzled, “uh, what was up with that?”
“With what?”
“No teasing, no sly or snide remarks, no dirty gestures or weird faces,” Max enumerated.
“Maybe Dean is finally figuring out the futility of his behavior,” Sam smiled. He heard his phone ring and quickly extracted it from his jacket, glancing at the call screen. “And maybe I spoke too soon,” he chuckled as he answered. “What Dean?”
“Dude! Five oh. Take off!” Both heard the warning loud and clear. “Cops and they don’t look happy.”
“What about you?” Sam demanded as they both slipped over to the window to peer out cautiously.
“Yeah, they already spotted me. You guys go, take care of Constance.” And then the phone shut off. They watched for a moment as several officers approached Dean. The sheriff gestured to two other deputies who broke away to approach the motel door that Dean had just emerged from. Sam and Max gave each other an unneeded glance. They knew the routine, escape and evade. Sam shoved his phone in his pocket while Max snagged the keys to the Impala from atop the television set. They hurried to the bathroom, Sam hoping desperately that they hadn’t posted officers in the alleyway. Max popped the window from its frame and set it gently on the floor. She quickly hoisted herself up and through as they heard banging start on the main motel door. Sam followed, less gainly and agile as she, while Max watched the alley exit ways.
Max listened for a moment, Sam close behind her. She led him to the far end of the alley, moving carefully to watch the scene unfold. "We need to get the car," she whispered to him. Sam nodded.
"The room's bad enough," he whispered back. "They'd have a field day with the car."
"Well I was thinking more along the lines that Dean would kill us if we let the car get impounded," Max grinned. There were shouts and startled exclamations from inside the room. “There's not much time.” She glanced around and then pointed in the opposite direction. “Go, two blocks down, two blocks left,” she instructed. “I'll pick you up.”
“Max!” Sam protested.
“Trust me, babe,” she smirked and gave him a quick kiss and then blurred away. Sam was committed to obeying the plan since Max had already set the chain of events in motion.
Just as Sam reached the meeting point, she pulled up in the Impala, next to him, the car's engine idly rumbling. Sam dove into the passenger's seat, yanking the door shut behind himself as Max pulled into a tight u-turn. Soon they were accelerating away from the hot zone.
“What's the plan?” Sam choked out as he checked behind them for any hint of pursuit. This was just one of the myriad of things that he hated about hunting.
“Bait and switch,” Max replied. “They're going to be searching for you on foot and me in the car. For starters at least.”
“You want to split up?” Sam frowned. Max spared him a glance.
“Honey, we need to take care of this as quickly as possible,” she pointed out as she reached across the span to squeeze his hand. “I'm going to run interference around here for a few hours so that you can find the husband and Constance's grave. And I think I'm a little better equipped to be breaking Dean out of jail, don't you?”
Sam couldn't argue about that logically, regardless of how much his emotions might have wanted to. However, “I don't have to like this plan, do I?”
Max chuckled and squeezed his hand again. “You can dislike anything you want sweetie.”
“Okay,” Sam nodded. “Just so long as we're clear on that.”
“Crystal,” she dead-panned.
Sam turned fractionally in his seat. “So how'd you get the car?” Max shrugged.
“One of the officers was checking it over. I ran up behind him, knocked him out, jumped in, pulled a u-turn so the other cops could see me and then I was gone. I headed straight as long as I dared. Hopefully they'll think we separated at the bathroom window, but I'm not getting my hopes up.”
“Me neither,” Sam muttered.
Eventually Max pulled off the road to the side and climbed out of the car. Sam followed suit and met her at the front of the car. He reached for her and hugged her close to him.
“I know I don't need to say it, but be careful, please,” he whispered into her hair. She smiled up at him, her hands resting on his chest.
“I will be,” she promised. “I am just as eager to get this done and get home, as you are. So no way in hell am I going to get my ass caught!” Sam grinned down at her, reassured almost by the cockiness in her voice.
“How long do you think you'll be at this game of hide and seek?” he asked.
“Get it right Sam, escape and evade,” she corrected with a laugh. “And probably several hours. Since I'm going the careful route, I'll have to do some recon before I bust in and bust Dean out.”
“Okay.”
“So I'll call you once we're clear, standard signal,” she informed him as Sam nodded.
“I love you” he murmured. “Give me a kiss.” She complied and then stepped back.
“And I love you too and we'll see you later.”
*****
Dean stared at the table before him, wallowing in his boredom. He'd just spent the better part of this day being interrogated by a fat, stick in the mud, narrow minded, small town, overinflated by his own hubris, sheriff. In it's own way, it had been very enjoyable, seeing how far he could out sass them without receiving a little country justice. But he was also starting to wonder what the hell Max and Sam were up to. The door to the questioning room opened and Dean drew a deep breath, steeling himself for another go around The sheriff came up behind him, on his left and Dean glanced up as the sheriff leaned over.
“You need to use the can boy?” he asked of Dean bluntly.
“No sir,” Dean shook his head.
“Good,” big and burly grunted and the next thing Dean knew, he'd been handcuffed to the table. Which, of course, was bolted to the floor. Dean's eyes followed the bucolic officer as he left the room and saw personnel scrambling every which way.
“Shots fired out on Whitford Road!” came through the door of his room loud and clear.
Dean pursed his lips as his gaze roamed absently around the room. Perhaps he should have said he needed to use the facilities. A gleam caught his attention and his eyes narrowed as he focused his eyes to behold a moderately sized paper clip, grouping some sheets together in a file folder. Checking quickly out the security window of the door, he saw that no one was watching him or paying attention in his direction. He pulled the paper clip loose and stared at it for a moment, bemused.
“Idiots,” he snorted under his breath as he straightened the clip out and began to expertly pick the lock of the handcuff shackled about his wrist. He just about had it when,
“God, you are such a slow poke,” tinkled in his ear.
Dean bit off a startled exclamation as he spun around in his chair, to see Max grinning down at him. “Jesus!” he hissed. “Where the hell'd you come from?”
Max grinned and looked up. Dean followed her glance and saw that she'd come through the ventilation shaft between the floors.
“Uh huh,” Dean muttered. “And what took you so long getting here?” he demanded as he went back to releasing himself from the handcuff.
“I was running interference and getting the layout of the place,” Max replied easily. 'You about done?”
“Yeah,” Dean grunted, “got it... now!”Max grinned and gestured to the door.
“Hang on,” Dean leaned forward and grabbed up several important items that the cops had confiscated.
“Is that Dad's journal?” Max's voice was subdued, suddenly underlined with worry.
“Yeah, he left me a message,” Dean explained.
“Okay,” Max sighed and moved to the door. “Oh damn.”
“What?”
“They left her behind,” Max gestured to the lone officer still manning a desk.
“I thought we were...” Dean gestured upwards.
“Your shoulders are too wide,” Max explained as she pulled out her cell phone. “What did they plan on charging you with?”
“Suspicion of kidnapping,” Dean shrugged. “They can't pin a murder wrap on me, because no bodies.”
“Just plenty of blood and suspicions,” Max surmised. She dialed rapidly and then pulled back, out of sight of the small, square window in the door, while gesturing for Dean to resume his seat. He obeyed, watching her with curiosity.
“Name's Ted Nugent,” he whispered, an inkling of what she was planning coming immediately. Max just nodded. It was a moment before Dean heard a telephone begin to ring in the outer office and he smirked.
“Yes hello,” Max began to speak, her voice automatically taking on the soft, culturally snobbish fake tones that spoke of expectations, money fueled escapades, and Daddy funded bail outs. “Whitney Mann, public defender's office,” Max announced. “I was dispatched to meet a client, suspected kidnapping.” She paused for a moment and Dean heard the corresponding voice to the phone call in the outer room, through the words weren't clear.
“Yes, that's the one,” Max confirmed in her false story. “Unfortunately, there's no one at the front desk to sign me in.” She was forced to pause again and then there was a hint of steel in her voice.
“Yes, I can understand, but I've already been waiting for fifteen minutes, and my client a lot longer than that.” Dean grinned widely at the note of exasperation in his sister's voice. “I assume that my client is still afforded due processing, isn't he? After all, he is innocent until proven guilty, correct? I'm quite sure that the DA would be very upset to learn that he couldn't try a case because of a technical offense committed by the officers of... yes, I'll be waiting.”
Max hung up the phone and gave Dean the thumbs up sign. He continued to grin at her, but then had to hastily wipe it away as a female officer's visage appeared at the security window. She disappeared from their view quickly and they both listened in silence to the receding footsteps fading away. A heavy seeming door shut somewhere away from them.
“Let's go,” Max whispered.
Dean followed after her hurriedly, glad that she'd taken the time to figure out the layout of the building. They made it to an unoccupied janitor's room, larger than the usual closet, out the window and down the fire escape ladder in a trice. Once they were a few blocks away, Dean paused.
“Let me borrow your phone,” he asked of Max. “They've got mine.”
“Calling Sam?” she asked and Dean nodded as she tossed the phone to him. “Standard protocol,” she informed him as he deftly caught the phone she tossed at him and he nodded again. He hadn't actually expected anything else. He dialed his brother's number, let it ring once, hung up, waited a moment and then called again. Sam picked up immediately and grinned.
“Hello to you too lover boy.” Max ducked her head to hide her smirk. “No, she's right here. She's had a busy afternoon, phoning in fake police calls, impersonating a lawyer. Very slick.” He paused to listen to what Sam was saying.
“Yeah, well Dad's not here anymore Sam,” his words were directed to his brother, but he included Max, his eyes serious. “No, I've got his journal,” he responded to Sam and Max could just make out Sam's voice.
“I know. He left me a message. Same old Marine crap as always.” He paused again.
“Yeah, listen... Sam? Sam!”
RTD25- Forever Not Enough
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