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-five
Forever Not Enough
“Sam?” Dean repeated, the phone pressed almost painfully against his ear. “He's in trouble,” he announced. But when he glanced at where Max had been, just moments ago, he found nothing. “Where the hell-?” he muttered, snapping shut her phone and sticking it in his coat pocket. He actually wasn't all that surprised when a car screeched to a halt right next to him.
“Get in!” Max ordered, leaning over to unlock the passenger side door. Dean scurried around the front of the car and climbed in. He'd just barely pulled the door shut before she had pealed away.
“So we're jackin' cars?” he asked wryly. Max threw him an annoyed look.
“Where's Sam at?”
“He was heading out to Breckenridge Road,” Dean informed her. “I-!”
“I know where it is,” she told him, deftly and quickly maneuvering the car through the streets. “There's a service road that'll get us there in a few minutes.”
Dean nodded and then made a disgusted noise. “Why the hell would Constance be going after Sam?” he demanded suddenly and then leveled a dark look in her direction. “Unless there's something I don't know...”
“Don't worry Dean,” Max scoffed. “Sam has never been unfaithful to me.” That seemed to relieve him, if only marginally.
“But then why-?”
“It's because Sam has someone he could potentially be unfaithful to,” Max pointed out.
“Yeah, Sammy'd rather kill himself than hurt you,” Dean drawled.
“Well if the situation were different, I'd certainly... understand at least,” Max sighed. “But this time, Sam's marked, either way.”
“Damned if you do, damned if you don't,” Dean muttered.
“Exactly.”
After a moment's pause, Dean pursued the subject. “So if it was you in that position? Would you?” he asked with interest. Max made a sharp turn that brought them onto a gravel lined road.
“I'd eliminate the threat before it ever got that far,” Max snorted derisively. Dean's eyebrow went up.
“Ah,” he whistled. “Well what if it were different? What if you had to cheat on Sam to save his life? Would you?”
“In a heartbeat,” she told him in a hoarse voice.
“Really?”
“If there were no other alternative,” Max nodded.
“Even knowing that it'd tear Sam apart and ruin everything between you?” Dean pursued relentlessly. Max turned her head slightly, her eyes brimming with tears for just the barest second.
“But he'd be alive and that's what matters.”
He certainly couldn't refute that and Dean wasn't sure why he approved hearing this sort of thing, except... Well, it just seemed to reinforce how perfectly Max belonged in their family. Sam had found himself, in Dean's estimation, the perfect woman.
“What the hell?” Max breathed out and Dean's eyes snapped forward, scanning the landscape before him.
“What?” he demanded and then caught sight of the Impala straight ahead. There was a strange flickering coming from the interior of the car. “Damn it!” Dean hissed. “We need-!” But before he could finish his sentence, the car had accelerated and Max had leaned forward to pull a gun from where it was tucked into the back of her waistband. She shoved it into Dean's hand as she pulled into the decrepit yard.
Recognizing it as his, Dean didn't bother wasting time asking why she had been packing. This was Sam they were protecting, after all. He leapt from the car, bringing the weapon up as he skidded to a halt just yards from his own car, where his brother was being tormented by the ghost of Constance Welch. The first shot shattered the driver's side window. The successive shots would have been straight through the spirit's head, had it been solid. Dean could feel Max at his side, could hear the escaping pants of their breath, could see the blood staining Sammy's shirt, but still he waited. And the moment the twisted visage of the vengeful spirit reappeared, he fired off the rest of the clip. The ghost disappeared once more and this time Sam was able to sit up. Both Max and Dean called his name, but he ignored them in favor of starting up the car again.
“I'm taking you home,” they heard him mutter and to the pairs utter surprise, he accelerated straight through the front of the tumbling down house. The Impala, more solid than the successive generations of cars, crashed through the building and furniture alike, with Sam stopping once it was fully inside the house.
Max and Dean were hot on the trail, jumping and stumbling over the debris.
“Sam?” Max and Dean both called as they caught up to the car. Dean slid to a stop, leaning over to peer into the car.
“You okay?” he demanded of his brother.
“I think,” Sam answered, weaving with his effort to stay upright. Dean pulled the door lock up and yanked the door open.
“Can you move?” he asked.
“Yeah, give me a hand,” Sam grunted. Dean reached into the car and pulled his brother out. Sam stumbled to his feet and stepped towards Max, who immediately began checking him over, concern written all over her face. Sam stilled her hands as he caught sight of Constance Welch. Dean slammed the door shut but stilled as well at his brother's hand on his arm.
The trio watched as Constance moved gingerly, as much as a spirit could, through the house. She stooped to pick up a dusty picture frame, staring at it a moment before she tossed it aside. The ghost moved forward to look the group over derisively. Max edged forward, her body tense and Constance tilted her head to the side. Suddenly she flickered away and the next thing they knew, the credenza, that had been stationary against the wall of the staircase, flew towards them.
“No!” Max shouted and with one swift powerful kick, she met and knocked the credenza back away from them. It shot back towards the wall, the corner braces splintering from the impact. Sam reached for his girlfriend but she shook off his hand, prepared to protect him at any cost. Constance's head tilted again as she beheld Max. Her mouth formed words, but no sounds emerged from her lips. But a distant call was heard, faint and indistinct. Lights flickered in the house and there came a trickle of water down the stairwell. It coalesced into a puddle, not at the foot of the stairs, but off to the side, on the floor between Constance and the Winchesters. Constance's gaze traveled upwards, following the source of the water until she appeared to be looking at the top of the steps. Slowly, flickering in and out of sight, she made her way to the foot of the stairs, her gaze never wavering.
The trio unconsciously leaned forward, wondering what had the spirit's undivided attention.
“Mommy,” childlike, ethereal voices, layered one over another, sounded from above them. “You've come home to us.”
Constance began to edge away, her face twisting. There was another flicker and she spun around, confronted suddenly by two young children, a boy and a girl. They rushed forward to embrace the terrified spirit woman. The moment the children's ghostly flesh connected with her own, Constance began to scream. Everything flickered around the Winchester's and they could just discern through the moonlight and flickering glow of the wall sconces, the children dragging Constance down. After several seconds of visual torment, Constance and her children were gone. All that was left behind was the slightest of puddles. The three of them stepped over to investigate it. Dean glanced up at the ceiling and then back down to the floor.
“So this is where she drowned her kids,” he surmised.
“That's why she could never go home,” Sam nodded. “She was too scared to face 'em.”
“Well you found her weak spot. Nice work,” Dean congratulated his brother and slapped him playfully on the chest. Sam laughed with the pain as Max protested.
“Dean!”
“Oh just kiss it and make it better,” Dean snorted as he headed over to check out the car. “You know you want to.”
Max frowned and tugged at Sam's shirt so she could see if the wounds Constance had inflicted were still bleeding.
“I'm okay,” Sam assured her quietly and then raised his voice to address his brother. “I wish I could say the same to you. What were you thinking shooting Casper in the face, you freak!”
“Hey!” Dean half turned and pointed at Sam. “Saved your ass, didn't I?” He turned back to contemplate his car. “I'll tell you something,” he leaned over to check for scratches, “if you screwed up my car?” He turned again, “I'll kill you!”
“See now,” Max chuckled, “that's how she would have had to get to you Dean.”
“Huh?”
“Make you cheat on the car,” she grinned, “since there's no woman in your life.”
“Like that'd ever happen,” Dean snorted. “Come on, help me get her out of here.”
“Yeah,” Max agreed as she moved to check that the path was clear for Dean to back up. “We better hightail it out of here. Baldy'll be waking up soon.”
“Baldy?” Sam asked and Max looked slightly chagrined.
“The guy whose car I stole,” she explained. Sam just shook his head, unable to say anything over the sudden roar of the Impala's engine. Dean cautiously backed the vehicle out, wincing over every bump and scrape. Sam joined Max, taking her hand as she moved over to the vehicle she had 'borrowed'. She pulled the keys from the ignition and stuck them in the unused ash tray and pushed it shut. She locked the doors and slammed them shut. Before she could move to rejoin Dean, Sam pulled her into an embrace. For some reason, she was still tense, shivering slightly, though not, it seemed, from the cool evening air.
“You okay, babe?” he asked softly. Max leaned into him, her arms holding his sides loosely.
“I'll be fine,” she assured him. “It's just been so long since we've been in that kind of danger...”
“But you guys saved me,” Sam cuddled her closer, understanding exactly how she felt. If the situation had been reversed...
“Okay,” Max groaned. “Can we go home now and just be a normal couple again?”
“Anything you want, sweetheart,” Sam nodded and tilted her chin up with one finger. He brushed his lips slowly over her and she shuddered delicately beneath him. “Home is sounding good right now,” he murmured. “Let's go” he decided just as Dean gave a quick honk of the horn.
“Let's get a move on, you lovebirds!”
“Yeah, yeah, hold your horses,” Sam snorted as he led Max back to the car. He opened the door to the back for her and with a lingering touch of her fingers to his cheek, she climbed in. He rounded the car and climbed into the passenger's side. As he did so, he noticed Max rearranging bags so that she could semi-recline. “Tired?” he asked solicitously.
“Mmm, more hungry than anything,” she announced.
“I'm not surprised,” Sam grinned, “after that surprising burst of adrenaline.”
“Oh, so that's how you explain that?” Dean scoffed.
“What?” Max demanded.
“Sorry,” he shrugged, “but you kicked that hunk of junk furniture like you were swatting a fly.”
“And?”
“If I tried that, I'd break my leg,” Dean snorted. Max and Sam exchanged amused glances. “Yeah, well she is an aerobics instructor who works out constantly,” Sam interrupted, “and is very... very...agile and-!”
“All right, thank you for that wonderful image,” Dean scoffed. “So,” he continued hurriedly, “is drive through okay with you guys?”
“That'd be fine,” Sam decided.
“Yeah,” Max concurred, “just preferably away from here.”
*****
“Ah, that really hit the spot,” Dean sighed as he crumpled the wrapper of his last burger and tossed it back into the bag the meal had come in.
“Mm,” Sam murmured in agreement, already having finished his meal and now just finishing the last of his coffee. He glanced down at the cardboard tray wedged in the center of the front seat that still had Dean and Max's drinks. He turned in his seat to ask Max if she wanted her drink, only to find that she was sound asleep. “Should've known,” he sighed with a smile as he righted himself.
“Known what?” Dean asked as he reached for his drink.
“Max is crashed out,” Sam told him, jerking his head just slightly towards the back seat. Dean's eyes flickered up to the rear view mirror, visually confirming what Sam had just told him.
“Not so surprising, is it?”
“Not really,” Sam grinned. “She always sleeps like that after she's expended a lot of energy and-!”
“I keep telling you, I don't want to hear this!” Dean warned playfully.
“Jeez Dean,” Sam snorted. “You've got such a one track mind!”
“Hey, you're the one that won't shut up about it,” Dean countered.
“I wasn't referring to that,” Sam protested. Dean quirked a meaningful eyebrow at him, coupled with a knowing smirk. “I wasn't!” Sam denied and then deflated a little. “Okay, maybe just a bit.”
Dean grunted.
“But can you blame me?” He glanced back and drank in the glimpses afforded him by the muted evening lights.
“Well that's my sister you're talking about,” Dean stressed and Sam laughed.
“We've been together for four, almost five years now,” he pointed out. “When are you going to accept that?”
“Never,” Dean replied cheekily. “She'll always be my little sister. Especially after Monday night.”
“Yeah,” Sam grinned in agreement.
“So, think she'll say yes?” Dean asked quietly.
“I know she will.” Sam stated authoritatively and then admitted “Jess asked her point blank on Halloween.”
Dean eyed his brother admiringly. “Joe College doin' a little recon, huh?”
“Actually no,” Sam shrugged. “Jess doesn't know about this. I just happened to overhear the conversation.”
“Well still,” Dean pursed his lips thoughtfully “it's good to know. When do you think you'll do it? The actual wedding I mean.”
“Um, hard to say,” Sam muttered, thinking it through. He checked back to make sure that Max was still asleep, which she was. “We'll probably wait until Dad resurfaces.”
“Yeah,” Dean nodded. “He won't want to miss that.”
“You think so?” Sam asked, a little derogatory, yet hopeful too. Dean just threw him an amused look and Sam hurried to say, “speaking of Dad, you said you had his journal?”
“Oh yeah,” Dean nodded and dug around under the debris from the drive through. He pulled out the leather bound book and held it up. “Coordinates are towards the back.”
Sam took the book and began flipping through the familiar pages, though many were newer additions, chronicling John's adventure. He stopped when he saw Max's handwriting and smiled as he skimmed through her comments. But finally he came to the message that John had left.
“Got a map?” he asked quietly.
“Check under your seat,” Dean instructed. Sam leaned forward and pulled a small plastic tote forward. Popping the top off, he found a collection of maps. A continental US map sat at the top, folded back to reveal the southeastern states. He rifled through them for moment ,finding all sorts, from more specific state maps, to topographical maps and even a few weather maps that were probably no good anymore. He took the continental map out and snapped the lid shut, mildly surprised at his brother's organization. But then, he knew he shouldn't have been. Hunting was one of the few things that his brother took seriously. He spread the map over his lap and began calculating the coordinates John had left for Dean.
It took a few minutes to find but soon enough he was able to announce, “got it.”
“Where?” Dean asked patiently.
“Place called Black Water Ridge,” Sam squinted to read the small print. “Colorado. Looks to be about...” he did another quick calculation, “six hundred miles.”
“You know,” Dean pointed out smoothly, hopefully, “we gas up and shag ass, we can make it there by morning.”
Sam frowned. “Dean, you know we can't. I've got-!”
“The interview, yeah,” Dean concluded for him. “Sorry,” he lied, “forgot about that for a minute.”
Sam shook his head helplessly as he clicked off the flashlight he'd been using to view the map. “It's not just that,” he sighed quietly.
“Max has to work,” Dean surmised. “I know.”
“Not that,” Sam shook his head. “It's just... I never realized until recently how... damaging... the hunting was for Max. It's not good for her.”
“Huh?” Dean puzzled. “You mean, dealing with you being threatened? Nobody likes that Sammy.”
“Not just me,” Sam denied quickly. “Any of us. Me, you... Dad.”
“Well like I said,” Dean scoffed, “nobody likes it.”
“No,” Sam agreed calmly, “but it's worse for her sometimes.”
“How so?”
“Well,” Sam sighed, wondering how to tell Dean without giving away Max's secret that she still wasn't ready to share with Dean. “You know about the escaped convict, right?” He went with the story that she'd concocted for John, that was semi based on the truth.
“The one that nearly shot Ben?” Dean recalled. Sam nodded.
“The thing is, that day, that moment has stayed with her all this time.”
“Well that's not so surprising,” Dean half scoffed. He seemed to want to say more, but didn't.
“I don't mean...” Sam hesitated, sighed and tried again. “The thing is Dean, any time one of us is in danger, that stuff doesn't just surface for her. It damn well overwhelms her. Especially you.”
“Me?” Dean grunted. “Why me?”
“Because you remind her so much of Ben,” Sam divulged.
“Huh. Really?” Dean grunted again. “Well, I suppose that clears that up.”
“What?”
Dean shrugged. “The way she, well, over reacted some times.”
“Whenever you were in danger?” Sam asked wryly and Dean frowned.
“Hey, it was nothing I couldn't handle.”
Sam grinned at Dean's automatic protest. “I'm sure,” he murmured and then his voice strengthened. “I just really hate what this does to her Dean. She wants and deserves a normal life and I will do anything possible to make sure that she has it.”
“If that's true,” Dean asked quietly, reflectively, “then why didn't she protest? Like you did?”
“You mean before?” Sam tried to clarify. “Or this weekend?” Dean shrugged and Sam figured that his brother probably meant both. “It's not like she had a decent taste of normal until the past few years,” Sam pointed out reasonably. “And this weekend, you were so worried about Dad, so she was worried about Dad.”
“But you weren't?” Dean pounced.
“I'm concerned,” Sam hastened to explain, “but I'm about ninety-five percent certain that Dad'll pop up eventually, wondering what all the fuss was about.”
Dean grinned at that. “Yeah, he would, wouldn't he?” There was a brief moment of silence and Sam fidgeted in his seat for a moment.
“Look Dean,” Sam began quietly. “Just because Max and I have turned our backs on hunting, don't ever think we'll turn our back on family.”
“Course you wouldn't,” Dean snorted in amusement. “You're Winchesters.”
“Yeah,” Sam nodded with a matching grin. “That we are.”
*****
Several hours later, as they pulled into the outskirts of Palo Alto, Sam roused himself enough to ask Dean to make a quick pit stop.
“Can't you wait til you get home?” Dean asked teasingly.
“No that kind,” Sam groaned. “I need to stop by my bank. Hit the ATM.”
“This late at night?” Dean frowned. “Can't it wait?”
Sam shook his head, grinning. “Trust me, it'll be easier than doing it later.” And Dean, misunderstanding Sam's intentions for the money he needed, shook his head quickly and followed his brothers directions. Sam accomplished the task quickly and climbed back in the car to find Dean watching Max sleep.
“She is really out, isn't she?” he mused, shaking his head. Sam shrugged.
“Even she has to catch up once in a while.”
“Well, let's just hope she doesn't wake up with a crick in her neck,” Dean smiled. He straightened in his seat and reached to put the car in drive. “Anywhere else you need to stop?”
“No, that was it,” Sam informed his sibling. His hand clasped the wad of money that he and Max had agreed upon, in his jacket pocket.
“Well, then, I'll take you on home,” Dean decided before Sam could say anything further on the matter he wanted to discuss. He decided to leave it for the moment.
“Dean,” he spoke hesitantly and his brother glanced at him quickly but waited. “You know,” Sam continued, “you're welcome to stay. We've got the spare room. I mean, you really should rest a bit before you go anywhere else.”
Dean grinned but shook his head. “Thanks Sammy,” he shrugged his shoulders. “But I wouldn't want to be underfoot what with your big day and all. Besides, the thing up in Colorado might be time sensitive.”
“True,” Sam agreed and fell quiet as the familiar streets caught his attention. When at last Dean turned onto their street, Sam half turned in his seat and reached back to gently touch Max's knee. “Max, wake up,” he spoke softly, knowing it would be enough. “We're home,” he added as her eyelids fluttered for a moment. But soon, they opened fully and with practiced movements, she was sitting up just as Dean pulled in, double parking beside their car. Max yawned and gave a little stretch, working the kinks out of her neck. She glanced around quickly, assessing their position and then frowned when she realized Dean's temporary parking position.
“You're not staying?” she asked roughly, her voice husky. Dean gave her an apologetic smile.
“Not tonight,” he explained. “I need to head up to Colorado, pronto.”
“Okay,” she nodded. “Come here.” She clambered forward to give him a hug over the back of his seat and a peck on his cheek. Dean sat patiently for it, giving her arm a squeeze. “Stay safe and let us know what you find out.”
“Will do,” he promised. She moved back and with another yawn, reached for her bag.
“Go on and head in,” Sam ordered her gently. “I'll bring in the bags after I talk to Dean.”
“Okay,” she nodded, instantly dropping her bag. She instead began fumbling for her keys. “I'll see you inside.” Both men smiled fondly at her unusually sleepy state as she hurried up the walk and let herself into the house, leaving the door ajar for Sam.
With a gusty sigh, Sam turned back to his brother, who was waiting, with a guarded look on his face. “What'd you need to talk to me about?”
Sam gave a small start and then grinned. “It's nothing bad,” he assured his sibling. “Just this.” Sam reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the cash he'd just withdrawn from the bank and held it out to his brother.
“What's this?” Dean muttered without taking it.
“Early Christmas gift, from us,” Sam chuckled extending his fingers. Dean took the cash, still puzzled. “For tires, for the car,” Sam explained further and then Dean grinned ruefully.
“Yeah, the treads getting a little worn on the back end,” he admitted.
“Well, if you'd quit peeling out...” Sam offered sarcastically and then laughed at the defensive glare Dean leveled at him. “And don't worry,” he continued, “Max'll still have plenty of things for you, knowing your fetish for wrapping paper.”
“Not a fetish,” Dean grinned wolfishly. “I just like unwrapping things.”
“And I'm sure it's not limited to paper,” Sam chuckled and Dean nodded slowly, smirking all the while. “But anyways,” Sam continued, opening his car door, “Max figured you'd want to take care of the car sooner rather than later.” He climbed out to remove their two bags from the back seat. After he'd grabbed them, he pushed both doors shut and then leaned over to say goodbye.
“Well, thanks for this,” Dean bobbed his head once, gesturing to the money. “And thank Max for me.”
“Thank her yourself,” Sam smirked. “I'm pretty sure you'll be getting a phone call at some point tomorrow evening.” Dean laughed. With Sam's surprise, that was pretty much a given.
“You know, she takes damn good care of us,” he noted.
“Yeah she does,” Sam agreed.
“You know,” Dean drawled again hesitantly, “the three of us make a pretty good team.” Sam just smiled and then bit his lower lip.
“Make sure you let us know what you find.”
“I will,” Dean assured him.
“Maybe,” Sam sighed and glanced quickly away and then back. “Maybe after things settle down, we could meet up with you someplace.”
A surprised grin covered Dean's face. He really hadn't been expecting that. Of course, given their schedules, it was something of a long shot, but the offer was appreciated.
“That sounds good,” Dean agreed and then gave a small jerk of his head. “Now get in there and take care of your girl.”
Sam's lips broadened into a grin that told Dean that he planned to do exactly that. His younger brother stood up straight and patted the car once and slung the duffel bags over one shoulder and stepped back. With a slightly wave, Dean put the Impala in gear and pulled away. He made a discreet glance back and saw Sam hurrying up the walkway. Dean pulled around the corner at the end of the block, slowly counting the one hundred dollar bills that Sam and Max had graced him with. He let out a low whistle as he tallied it all up. There was plenty there for a full set, spare included and gas money to boot. Folding up the money, Dean started to accelerate down the street. But as he went to put the money in his coat pocket, his hand encountered something unexpected and forgotten.
“Damn it,” he muttered as he felt Max's cell phone nestled there. In all the excitement and hurry to get away, he'd forgotten to give it back to her. He exchanged the cash for the phone in his pocket. Heaving a sigh, he looked in consternation at the item. She was definitely going to need it back. Dean grinned suddenly. Especially, he told himself, if she was going to call him with exciting news. Of course, she'd have to call his back up cell phone, since his primary had been left behind in the police station in Jericho. Dean made a tight u-turn and headed back to the house. There was a spot on the street opposite, a few houses away and Dean pulled in. He left the car running, since he'd only be a moment. He jogged across the quiet, darkened street, deciding that he's just pop the phone into the mail box. It wouldn't be a problem at all to call the house line first thing in the morning and let them know where the phone was. And maybe wish Sam good luck.
Feeling good, Dean started up the walkway. But just feet from the porch, Dean felt the feeling evaporate quicker than it had come, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. Some strange preternatural sense screamed at him, chafed at his insides. He caught a whiff of a scent carried on the breeze and panic gripped his heart, especially when coupled with the terrified yell of his brother, calling to Max.
Dean vaulted up the steps, phone forgotten, the door locked. Two powerful, adrenaline fueled kicks and the simple bolt locks splintered out of the frame. As he raced down the hallway, knowing instinctively where his family was, his father's warning rang through his mind.
“We're ALL in danger.”
And like a damn fool, Dean had concentrated on one thing and one thing only. Finding John.
His nose was assaulted by the acrid scent of fire as he skidded to a halt in the doorway of the master bedroom. Sam was on the bed, staring up in horror at the ceiling as flames curled downward. Dean's eyes flickered upwards, his heart clenched with fear at what he'd find. The sickened whimper when he finally recognized what he'd refused to admit to until he had the visual proof, echoed Sam's heartrending cry. Whispers from long ago, half buried and forgotten, his father's voice screamed at him again, charging Dean once more with his life's mission. Protect Sammy!
Seeing the danger to Sam galvanized Dean to action. He leapt forward, yanking his brother from the bed. He had to save Sammy. He wrestled his furiously protesting, fighting brother down the hall, silently echoing the cries for Max in his heart.
Once upon the lawn, both brothers collapsed, watching in horror as their lives were decimated yet again.
*****
Several hours later, Dean stood, just another face in the crowd that watched the firefighters that tried to keep control of that which was out of control. All around him, the shocked cries that had now become whispers echoed in his ears. Whispered despair, memories, sympathy, it all seeped through the shell of numbness that he'd tried to surround himself with.
His family was his whole life. Never once had he considered how loved and needed Max and Sam had been to other people. The words of one woman echoed in his mind, her conviction in saying it while she held a slumbering child, resonating within him.
A light had gone out in the world.
Dean had always known that the world was a dark, bleak, desolate place. But there had always been a little light somewhere. And now it was gone. And he didn't know how he, how Sam... how they were going to survive this.
His brother brought forcefully to the forefront of his mind, Dean turned to locate Sam. After calling emergency services, he'd dragged d Sam further away, to the Impala, fearing that he'd have to knock Sam out to save his life. But when the windows blew out in the bedroom, all the life seemed to fade from him, as if the unalterable truth had finally hit him. Max was gone and there was nothing they could do to save her. Dean felt a momentary surge of panic at not finding Sam where he'd left him. But he noticed immediately that the trunk of the car was open and a figure was standing there. Within two steps, he'd realized it was Sam. The cautionary diatribe that instinctively sprang to mind was pushed away. No one but Sam was by the car. Everyone, firefighters, police officers, gawking neighbors, all were giving him a wide berth, recognizing that the shock hadn't faded yet, was still too fresh.
Dean made his way over slowly, not wanting to draw unwanted attention. He paused, unsure, hesitant. He had no clue what to say. He didn't know if he could even speak. He watched Sammy carefully, trying to gage his next move. Sam was checking over a sawed off shotgun. His eyes flickered to Dean, the briefest, most infinitesimal acknowledgment. Dean's eyes dropped as a ragged sigh escaped his little brother. But somehow, Sam managed to rein it in. A glint of something caught Dean's eye and he recognized, after a moment, the chain and ring he'd given Sam earlier. Joining it now was the ring that Sam had bought for Max. It seemed appropriate somehow, those two rings, laying against Sam's heart. Dean was startled when Sam threw the shotgun into the trunk.
And announcing in a voice he'd never heard from his brother before,
“We got work to do.”
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