Title:
Memory In Motion
Chapter
Title: The D Word
Author:
Restive Nature
Disclaimer:
I do not own the rights
to BtVS. They belong to Whedon & Mutant Enemy. I also do not own
the rights to Supernatural. They belong to Eric Kripke and The CW.
Rating:
PG-15
Genre:
Crossover
Type:
Humor, Angst
Pairing:
DaddyDean/ WeeWillow
Summary:
Through a magical mix-up, Willow ends up in the Impala, disoriented,
terrified, facing the barrel of a gun and somehow... only six years
old.
Spoilers/
Time line: Post series for Buffy and late season one of Supernatural.
Feedback:
Always welcome!
Distribution:
Ask first please.
A/N:
This is a challenge response to pezgirl's The Little Demon Hunting
Challenge at the Twisting the Hellmouth site. Please refer to chapter
one for challenge details.
Memory
In Motion
Chapter
Four
The D
Word
They
made it to the restaurant that Dean had indicated with no further
problems. That was mostly because of an unspoken agreement between
the adults of the car to not speak of the worries that were
constantly coming to mind. They were too involved with looking and
acting like a new age type of family and trying to mine answers from
Willow's young mind.
Sam
was finding her surprisingly bright for her age, which she assured
him was six many fingers. Dean noted along with her, her advanced
reading and math skills. Her mention of her science experiments had
been noted. She was also very perceptive,
a little too much perhaps. She was constantly watching
the interactions between the brothers.
After
he had parked, the group clambered out of the vehicle and Dean
surreptitiously checked to see that the woman in the blue car had
pulled to a halt along the curb and seemed to be talking on a cell
phone. She didn't look up and she didn't notice that Dean and Sam
were checking up on her as much as she seemed to be checking up on
them. With a resigned sigh that they were having to keep this up,
they entered the restaurant. It was a typical family
affair kind of place and were instantly greeted by the hostess.
“Table
for three?” she asked and Sam nodded. She led them to a booth table
and Dean indicated for Willow to precede him in on one side. Sam took
the side opposite of the alleged father daughter duo. Once they were
in, the waitress passed around menus, including a children's menu for
Willow. “What can I bring you to drink?”
“Coffee
for me please,” Sam answered immediately.
“Same,”
Dean agreed. And then the adults turned to Willow, who was studying
the pictures on her children's menu. Before they could prompt her,
she glanced up at Dean.
“May
I have chocolate milk?” she asked with a hopeful look in her eyes.
Dean grinned and nodded.
“One
chocolate milk and two coffees coming right up,” the hostess
nodded. “Your server will be right over to take your orders.” And
then she was gone. Half way down the aisle of tables and chairs, she
was met by, of all people, the woman from the Blue Taurus. The
hostess stopped and then half turned as the woman that had been
stalking Dean and Willow, leaned forward and her eyes widened.
Dean
and Sam watched, though Willow was now busy coloring the paper with
the crayons that were supplied at the table. The woman let out what
seemed like a chuckle and then spoke quietly to the hostess. The
other woman shrugged and then they turned away. They both watched as
well as they were able as the woman that had been driving all over
town after Dean, left the restaurant, got into her car that she had
parked and pulled out her phone once more.
“Wonder
what that was about?” Dean wondered, resigned. They found out
quickly enough when the hostess returned with their drinks. The guys
let her pass those around, before Sam engaged her with a wide,
charming grin.
“Who
was that lady?” he wondered. The hostess, lowering her tray, shook
her head.
“Melanie?”
she clarified. “Oh goodness. She saw your little girl there and
thought it was one of the girl's from her son's class. She couldn't
get a hold of her parents and was worried that you were like... kid
snatchers or something.”
“Oh
wow!” Dean's eyebrows went up theatrically. “Have there been any
cases like that?” He inched closer to his pretend daughter and
wrapped an arm around her. Willow, as if on cue, turned her head to
beam up at him.
“Oh
no,” the hostess shook her head emphatically. “though in this day
and age, you can never be sure. No, but there is a pretty nasty
illness going around. Are you new around here?”
“We're
just in town for a short time,” Dean nodded. “Before we take
Willow back to her mom. They live over in Rensfield.”
The
woman nodded at that explanation, recognizing the name of the town
down the road. But before she could say anything, Willow piped up.
“Uncle
Sammy came special to visit me this time,” she grinned. “He was
my surprise for being a good girl. He has to go to the hospital and
get a colonic.”
Dean's
laughter was not feigned that time as Sam groaned and dropped his
head into his hands. “I said he needed one, honey, not that he was
going to get one.”
“But
mommy says that medical per-seed-ures are important,” Willow argued
quietly. Dean glanced up at the hostess.
“Linda's
a psychiatrist,” he supplied easily. The hostess was
chuckling and settled one hand lightly and momentarily on Sam's
shoulder.
“Out
of the mouths of babes, huh?” she teased good naturedly. “I know
what it's like. I've got a four year old in daycare. You wouldn't
believe what comes out of his mouth.”
“Yeah,”
Sam nodded, his lips making a strange duck imitation as he tried not
to laugh. Willow was looking unconvinced.
“All
right, enjoy your chocolate milk honey,” the hostess directed and
moved off again.
“Well
that was a close call,” Sam sighed. But Dean was focused on the
child that was suddenly trying to burrow into his side.
“What's
the matter Willow?” he urged, though quietly, mindful that if one
person could be suspicious, there could certainly be others.
“That's
not her name,” the girl whimpered. Both brothers stilled for a
moment before they realized who Willow was referring to.
“I
know,” Dean whispered. “I just had to make up something for the
pretend game. Do you remember what it is?”
Sam
thought that was an odd way for Dean to phrase the question, but he
was quiet and watchful as his brother soothed the girl who was
shaking her head in the negative. She looked on the verge of tears
when his brother suddenly hauled her up and settled her on his lap.
He snagged the chocolate milk and directed Willow to take a few sips.
He was rubbing at her back with his free hand, when the waitress came
over.
“Hey,
we doing okay here?” she asked, showing that public concern that
really was on a surface emotion.
“Sorry,”
Dean apologized immediately, before Sam could offer anything. “We're
just having a bout of homesickness here.”
“Oh,
poor baby,” the girl sympathized. “Did you guys just move?” she
wondered and Dean was shaking her head.
“Nah,
visitation,” he supplied quietly, his hand moving to stroke
Willow's hair as she slowly sipped the milk through the straw that
had been provided. “She's still upset about the d-i-v-o-r-c-e.”
The
straw popped out of Willow's mouth long enough for her to announce
tremulously, “you just spelled the D word.”
“Yeah
I did,” Dean nodded, ducking his head down to look at her. “Tell
you what, you write out as many D words that you can think of and
Uncle Sammy will grade you on them. Okay?”
Sam
was surprised when that seemed to be just the ticket to perk the girl
back up. She slid back to her own place, while Dean rearranged her
milk to within easy reach for the small redhead.
“She's
a bright girl,” the waitress complimented while reaching for her
pad and pen.
“Advanced
reading twice a week,” Dean bragged, his chest puffing up slightly.
“And she's doing advanced math too. But she really loves her
sciences.”
Sam
had to fight the urge not to laugh at his brother. That or cry
because he'd never realized until that moment, just how much his
brother had given up for this life. He felt his brother's sharp kick
under the table and glanced up to see that the waitress was waiting
for his order.
“Oh,”
he came back, startled and glanced quickly at the menu. The food was
familiar enough that he was able to just pick something quickly.
“I'll have the Chicken Caesar salad. And can I get the dressing on
the side?”
“Sure
thing,” the girl nodded and then turned to Dean.
“I'll
have the Chef's Specialty burger, fries and can I get an order of
onion rings on the side?” he decided, just as swiftly as Sam. The
waitress nodded as she wrote it down. “Willow, honey, did you want
the burger or the chicken strip basket?”
“Chicken
please,” the girl announced, not even looking up from where she was
scribbling on the menu. Dean turned slightly to look over the
children's menu option.
“And
did you want mashed potatoes or fries?”
“French
fries please.”
“And
what's the vegetable?” he wondered, turning back to the waitress.
“We
have cheesy broccoli, glazed carrots or sweet corn,” she offered.
Dean's hand gently nudged at Willow and she paused to glance up, her
face serious once more.
“May
I have the brocklies with no cheese, please?” she implored and the
waitress smiled broadly.
“Sure
thing sweetie,” she agreed as she made the notes. She then held her
hand out for the menus and Dean and Sam obliged. “Boy a smartie
with manners and healthy eating habits. How'd you get so lucky?”
High
five for healthy eating!” Willow declared, holding her hand up to
Sam. He had to shift forward a little to reach, but he obliged the
girl, especially since her grin was so broad. The waitress chuckled
and headed off to put in their order.
Both
of the males watched as their waitress disappeared into the kitchen
and turned to look back at one another. Sam breathed a slight sigh of
relief, though Dean turned his attention back to the girl.
“So
that's one crisis averted,” he murmured quietly and Dean nodded,
then glanced up at his brother, his hooded eyes still full of worry.
“We're
gonna deal, just... not yet,” his elder brother warned.
“So
just tell me what precisely, the problem here is Dean,” Sam
prompted. “Aside from the obvious.”
Dean
slowly wet his lips, catching his lower lip between his teeth as his
gaze darted to Willow and then back to his brother. Sam could see
that Dean was hesitant to discuss this in front of the child and
looking for himself, he could see that there was still a hitch to her
shoulders. Finally Dean turned to the girl and tapped her menu, where
she seemed to have run out of room for writing. “Hey, how about we
let Uncle Sammy grade this and we can go wash our hands?”
“Okay
Daddy,” Willow nodded, settling the yellow crayon down where she
had been doodling something. She pushed the paper to Sam and waited
for Dean to slide out of the booth. As they walked away, Sam's jaw
clenched. He was getting a little tired of being out of the loop. The
pair, tall man and tiny girl walked back towards the entrance, asking
once for directions and then disappeared from sight. It took only a
moment for Sam's cell phone to chirp once more.
He
chuckled and shook his head, suspecting that he knew already who the
message was from, as he dug the phone out of his coat pocket. He
flipped it open and read the missive from his brother. But the words
made him suck in his breath with regret. 'She's forgetting things.
Scared and alone.'
This was not good and it was Sam's
turn now to chew at his lip. Quickly deciding, he started scrolling
through his number's list, until he came to the one he wanted.
The older hunter picked up quickly,
just as gruff as he had always been. “Yeah?”
“Bobby?” Sam offered by way of
greeting. “It's Sam. Winchester,” he tacked on.
“Sam?” Bobby repeated. “How the
hell are ya? I s'ppose you boys are hot on your Daddy's tail, huh?”
“Um, actually no,” Sam winced.
“We're on a case, but there have been some developments. I was
wondering if you could help us out?”
“What can I do?” the older man
offered immediately. And Sam felt that relief, knowing that he had
someone else, someone close to the family, someone he trusted to back
them up on this.
“We're dealing with a shtriga,” he
told Bobby, after making sure that no one was close enough to be
listening. “But that's not the problem. Dean's got a plan for
that.”
“So what is the problem?” Bibby
demanded.
“Yeah, that development?” Sam
scoffed as his eyes continued to scan for people, notably his brother
and “niece”. “Little girl by the name of Willow Rosenberg
showing up in Dean's car. Passed all the usual tests and she's...
fine, but she's starting to lose her memories.”
“Did'ja get anything out of her
beforehand?” Bobby wondered, as usual, skipping over the usual
questions and moving straight to the heart of the matter. Sam was
sure that if they were actually in one another's presence, the man
would have a few more things to say, or at least some physical
gestures that relayed his impatience with the younger generation.
“She says she's from Sunnydale,
California,” Sam offered the most telling clue that he had seen so
far. “Which, if you didn't know-!”
“Was the home of the west coast
Hellmouth before it collapsed,” Bobby supplied.
“A Hellmouth,” Sam winced. “That
doesn't sound good. How did we not know this?”
“Hell if I know,” Bobby snorted.
“But if there's one place on this green earth you don't go? You
don't go there.”
“But it's gone now?” Sam prompted.
“Yeah, collapse of the town took
care of it,” Bobby agreed. “So why is this so bad?”
“Because the kid?” Sam urged,
“Willow, she's talking about it like she was just there. She's
like, six years old, would she really remember these details?”
“Hell Sam, I don't know,” Bobby
snapped a little. “Kid appeared somehow in Dean's car and you don't
think she's just a little traumatized?”
“Uh, well,” Sam cringed, chastised
enough already in the implication. Yeah, it was weird, but he had
forgotten that she did seem to be just a child.
“Memory loss to protect her mind?”
Bobby went on. “Kinda sounds like a normal reaction and an
understandable one.” There was regret in Bobby's voice that Sam
wasn't sure he wanted to touch. “So what ya want from me?”
“Well,” Sam tried to move on
smoothly. “Since we're dealin' with this thing, we don't have time
to get into the research. Would you be able to...?”
“Look 'er up and see if I can find
her parents and how an' why she showed up there?” Bobby finished
for him, sounding resigned. “Yeah, I can start at least.”
“Thank you Bobby,” Sam breathed
out, relieved once more. “Do you want me to have Dean call you with
the information. He might have more than he was able to tell me.”
“That'd be fine,” Bobby agreed and
with no more ceremony, hung up on Sam, which was fine, because Dean
and Willow were on their way back, followed by the waitress. He set
the phone down just as the girl slid into the booth, Dean right
behind her.
“Who was on the phone?” Dean
wondered as Sam checked to make sure that there were no more missives
from his brother. There weren't. They accepted their plates from the
waitress, echoing Willow's polite thanks.
“Just talkin' to Bobby,” Sam
smiled widely, even if he didn't feel like it. “He'd like us to
visit after we're done here. Maybe you can call him about scheduling
that. There might be some road construction on the trip over,” he
hinted and Dean, looking nonplussed, nodded.
“Yeah, I'll call him later,” he
agreed. “Now, did you get a chance to look at the words. Willow's
got a vocabulary that'd put you to shame at that age.”
“No, I didn't,' Sam frowned and then
reached for the paper, when he saw that Willow's eyes were large and
luminous again. “Sorry sweetie,” he apologized. “It would have
been rude not to talk to Bobby.”
“That's okay,” she nodded in a
small voice and carefully chose a French fry to nibble on.
Sam took the paper and turned it every
which way as he read all the different words, as he ate his salad.
But very quickly, the amazement indeed at her vocabulary descended
into an ill feeling as he recognized some of the words that one might
take for nonsense or a child's imagination. He could see the Latin
and names and words that one didn't see outside of a professor's
classroom, or a hunter's bible.
“Wow,' he breathed. “One hundred
percent,” he complimented the girl. “No mistakes. Good job.”
Even as he mouthed these platitudes, he turned the paper for his
brother to see and tapped the paper. “I especially like this one.”
Dean, his burger to his mouth, tilted
his head to see, his eyes going wide as he read and then choked
slightly on the mouth full of burger. Even as he coughed, covering
his mouth so as not to spray his brother with food, he whipped around
to stare at the little girl.
The
one who had perfectly spelled out among
other things like decerto, defaeco, defetiscor and
denutio, one word that filled
him with a cool dread, bubbling up like the memory of reading the
name of a particular demon long ago in a dusty volume of the old
world.
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