Chapter Text
That Way Madness Lies
No, I will weep no more. In such a night
To shut me out? Pour on; I will endure.
In such a night as this? O Regan, Goneril!
Your old kind father, whose frank heart gave all—
O, that way madness lies; let me shun that;
No more of that.
- King Lear III.IV
Chapter One:
One Year Later… 2010
Peace or Freedom.
Cas had spoken the words with kindness that night after the cemetery. Dean didn’t think it’d been his intention to keep him from a full night’s rest for over a year, but to be fair to the angel, his existential question wasn’t the only thing prying Dean’s eyes open before his seven o’clock alarm every morning; that just happened to be the topic du jour. Next to him, Lisa slept on in blissful ignorance. Down the hall two doors, he knew Ben was also likely still fast asleep.
Peace or Freedom?
Dean didn’t jolt when his alarm sounded. The radio clicked on and Bob Seger’s Beautiful Loser pulled Lisa to consciousness. Dean stared at the too-familiar ceiling until he felt Lisa roll over onto her side and rest her hand against his shoulder
“You okay?” she asked, voice groggy from sleep.
The confirmation that he was fine got caught in his throat. Dean took Lisa’s soft hand in his own calloused one and rested his fingers on her pulsepoint. He managed to pry his eyes from plaster and put on a convincing smile. “Yeah, I’m good.”
She pressed her lips to his knuckles gently. “Don’t forget, after work we’re going to Sid’s barbeque. And it’s Mercy’s last day, so I’m taking off early to help her pack. I’ll be around if you need anything.”
“Right,” Dean murmured, voice steady even as his stomach swooped at the reminder. “I’ll let you know.”
Lisa disappeared into the bathroom and Dean pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, plunging himself into darkness. He wasn’t ready for Mercy to leave. He wasn’t sure she was ready either, but she’d deferred going to that stupid boarding school of hers with Kelsey for a year already. This was for her future. It was amazing that she even had one of those. It made him warm to think about. Mercy had a future . An amazingly bright future, with freedom and all the bells and whistles because of-
Dean rolled out of bed without finishing that thought.
Downstairs, his sister was shoveling oatmeal into her mouth. There was a sheen of sweat on her forehead, and her dark curls were frizzing from the humidity and heat. She must have just gotten back from her morning run. The cross country coach at her new school apparently had a very strict summer training program, and Mercy certainly wasn’t an all-state athlete because she lacked discipline.
He grabbed his favorite nonstick pan out of the cabinet, set it on his preferred burner (the bottom right) and grunted out, “Lis said you’re gonna be packing today.”
Mercy glanced up from her oatmeal. “Yeah,” she said, sounding like her normal self, but there was a little tell-tale wrinkle to her nose.
It was tempting to ask her not to go. To tell her she should stay here, with him. They’d spent practically the whole year in each other’s pockets and now she was going to be seven hundred miles away? Mercy looked at him with those big blue eyes of hers and he knew she was waiting for him to ask, maybe some not-small part of her even wanted him to.
“Don’t forget to pack salt and your silver knife,” he told her instead, grabbing the carton of eggs from the fridge.
“Duh.” Mercy rolled her eyes, and Dean refrained from scolding her. She hopped off the barstool, rinsed her bowl in the sink, then stuck it in the dishwasher and stood practically eye to eye with him. At fifteen, she was just an inch shy of the six-foot mark. For a brief moment, just like always, he was reminded of Bizarro-Mercy.
But then he looked into her eyes. World-weary, but bright and getting brighter with each passing month. Dean’s tires had been stuck in the mud since that day, spinning and spinning without ever getting anywhere. Somewhere along the way, though, Mercy had found treads and was stubbornly trying to tow him with her.
“You okay?”
He’d lied to Lisa when she’d asked the same question, but Mercy would never let him get away with being dishonest with her. What she would let him get away with was simply not answering. At least, verbally. He knew, to his sister, how not-okay he’d been for the past year was written all over his face.
It screamed through his paranoia and drinking. Was a flashing neon sign in his inability to sleep from insomnia and nightmares. She’d found him desperately translating 11th century Latin manuscripts at ass o’clock in the morning, caught him half-way out the door with a spade and the intention to dig up the Horsemen's rings. Every damn time he’d been on the edge of a precipice this year, she’d somehow known.
Which is why he didn’t even try to fool her. Instead, Dean hauled her in, smacked a kiss on her temple and then pushed her away. “Do me a favor and go take a shower. You stink.”
Mercifully, she let him off the hook. “Yeah, yeah,” she grumbled, and headed upstairs.
With her gone, Dean grabbed hold of the sink to support himself and sucked in a lungful of air. Mercy had a future, and it was in New York. She had a future and-
The sound of Ben’s loud footsteps treading down the stairs got Dean moving again. He began cracking eggs into a bowl, and was whisking them with a fork when Ben plopped down into the same stool Mercy had been occupying moments before.
“Morning,” the eleven-year-old grunted, still looking half-asleep under the brim of his baseball cap.
He managed to choke out a reply and sound half-normal.
A little later, after Dean had gotten breakfast on the table for everyone, Lisa and Mercy wandered back downstairs. Lisa was dressed for work, and Mercy was wearing a pair of ripped jean shorts and a Led Zeppelin t-shirt she’d definitely stolen from his closet.
“Thanks, Dean,” Lisa murmured to him as she served herself.
Mercy went straight to the coffee pot and poured herself a generous serving. Dean grabbed her elbow as she passed and asked jokingly, “Am I gonna have any clothes left when you’re done packing?”
“Only the stuff I don’t like,” she retorted, grinning at him over the rim of her mug.
“Mercy, I’m ready, can we please go?” Ben whined. According to the color-coordinated calendar taped to the fridge, there was some special event at his camp today, and apparently he was eager to get there.
“Sure.” Mercy dumped her coffee into a travel mug and grabbed a pair of sunglasses and the keys to her Lincoln. “Alright, let’s roll.”
Ben scurried for the door, and as he passed her, Mercy pushed his cap down over his eyes, then gave him a teasing shove in the back. The younger boy fixed his hat and scowled at her over his shoulder, but Dean saw how his cheeks twitched, holding back a smile.
A gentle touch to his elbow had him turning. Lisa was smiling softly at the two. “I’m glad they get along so well,” she said, then she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Go, you’ve got work. I can clean up before I leave.”
-M-
Dean managed to glide through his day without experiencing a single thought. He cut lumber in a fugue and hung drywall on autopilot. It was part of why he didn’t hate construction work; there was a rhythm that, once he got into it, he could just let his hands do the job and he’d blink and it was the end of his shift. After two years of hard choices and impossible decisions cloaked in gray morality, having a simple task with a right and a wrong way to go about it was as refreshing as it was tedious.
Sid clapped his shoulder as he left and reminded him of the big barbeque that evening, and Dean, sweaty and covered in sawdust, climbed into his truck and drove back to Lisa’s house. It smelled like Mercy’s famous peach cobbler when he walked in, though the baker in question was nowhere to be found. The cobbler and another desert, a key-lime pie decorated with intricately curled slices of lime, whipped cream, and graham-cracker crumbles, were out on the counter. Presumably, they were for the barbeque, and Dean barely refrained from sticking his finger in the pie filling for a quick taste.
After a quick shower, he found Mercy in her bedroom, along with Lisa. He poked his head in, heart clenching at the sight of her neatly packed suitcases.
Mercy’s room here was a lot more personalized than the one he remembered from Bobby’s. After she’d settled in, Lisa had insisted on making the guest room Mercy’s own. They’d picked out a new color for the walls and went thrifting and found a few pieces of furniture. Dean had spent a weekend with Mercy painting the room a sunny yellow and staining the desk and chest of drawers a honey-maple color.
At first glance, there was nothing out of the ordinary, but the plants and knicknacks she kept all had their own protective purposes. The plush rug in front of her bed had a devil’s trap painted underneath. The hollow weather-stripping for the window was permanently filled in with salt. It was the safest room in the house and, if Dean was being honest, it was one of the only places he felt completely at ease– and that was only in part due to the warding.
Watching Mercy pack up all the parts of the room that made it really hers– the pictures, the stuffed animals, her crocheting supplies– made him feel almost dizzy.
“Hey,” he said, rapping on the door frame.
Mercy looked up from where she was folding a selection of his favorite t-shirts and innocently packing them into a suitcase like the thief she was. “Hey!” She scrambled to stand up. His arms were already open to receive her hug. “You’re back!”
“Yeah. How’s packing going?”
“Well, I think we’re just about done.” Lisa finished wrapping the last of Mercy’s picture frames–a candid shot of them at one of her track meets last spring–in bubble wrap. She greeted Dean with a chaste kiss. “And we managed to get the baking done for the barbeque. All around a productive day, I’d say.”
“Ben home?” he asked.
Lisa nodded. “Out in the yard. I told him we’d be leaving as soon as you got home.”
They lugged Mercy’s stuff downstairs and stacked it by the front door. By then it was time to head out. Mercy enlisted Ben’s help carrying the peach cobbler and had to swat his hand away from picking at it more than once. The last neighborhood barbeque of the summer season was underway when they arrived, and the door was unlocked so they headed right through the house into the backyard.
“Dean, hey, man!” Sid greeted, clapping his shoulder. “Ben, the other kids are playing a game of pickle if you want to join.”
“Awesome, thanks!” Ben said enthusiastically. He practically shoved the peach cobbler into Sid’s wife’s arms and took off.
Lisa went to half-heartedly apologize to Amy for her son’s abrupt departure, but Amy waved her off, turning to Mercy with a bright smile. “This smells heavenly, Mercy, as always. I’ll show you to the desert table and we’ll put it right in front.”
“Okay!”
Mercy and Lisa disappeared with their hostess, chatting about Mercy’s upcoming school year in New York, leaving Dean and Sid behind. “I’m sure gonna miss that kid,” Sid said. He grabbed a couple of beers from a nearby cooler and passed one to Dean. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do without her weekly baked goods delivery.”
“Lose weight, probably.”
“Hey, now,” Sid said in a warning tone, but he smiled as he took a sip of beer. “Alright, I gotta go check on the burgers. Don’t stir up too much trouble without me.”
“You know me,” Dean replied with a mechanical smile.
He watched Sid head over to the grill and flip the burgers like a showman to the applause of his nearby guests. It was warm out, but not too hot, a clear blue sky–the perfect summer day. Sid’s grass and flower beds were meticulously kept– even the kids in their enthusiastic game of pickle steered clear of trampling the rose bushes. All around him, men in bermuda shorts and polos drank their beer as they talked about the upcoming football season. Their wives were chatting idly in the shade with their perfectly manicured nails and neatly arranged hair. It was all so damn apple-pie, even the white picket fence didn’t dare to have a speck of mud disrupting the serene perfection.
“Never thought I’d live in Indiana again.”
Dean jolted, and his beer sloshed over his hand. “Damnit, Mercy,” he muttered, shaking his fingers out. She was one of the only people who could sneak up on him. Then, he registered what she’d said. “We’re barely an hour out from Burkittsville,” he realized. He’d never really thought about it before.
She hummed. “That’s right.”
“That part of the reason you’re going? Gonna be honest, can’t really picture you living in the big city.” He was fishing, but it didn’t come from an unfounded place. When he pictured Mercy, he saw her out in the scrapyard, covered in grease and working on her car. He saw her running cross-country and track, or hiking in scenic places. Mercy in a tiny dorm room in the middle of the concrete jungle was unthinkable. He’d almost forgotten she’d only deferred for a year instead of rejecting the school’s offer entirely until she’d mentioned needing a ride to the airport a month ago.
“Me neither,” she admitted.
“Then why-”
“Why am I going?” Mercy sighed. “You know, it was Kelsey’s idea to apply and Bobby accepted for me. I think he just wanted me to have a- a plan to look forward to… with everything that was going on at the time.”
The Apocalypse. They never mentioned it by name. They hardly even talked about it. Dean gripped his beer tighter as they wandered dangerously close to- “Practically all their alumni go onto ivy league colleges,” he recited from their pamphlet.
“Right. It’s good for my future.” She didn’t sound convinced.
Dean’s eyes slipped shut. Mercy had a future. She had a bright, beautiful future with the freedom to do anything she wanted all because-
“Burgers are up!” Sid called out.
A cheer went up from the hungry guests and Mercy’s hand slipped into his.
-M-
Waking up before his alarm was to Dean’s advantage the next morning. It gave him an extra hour with Mercy all to himself. They’d found each other in the kitchen as they often did and, despite the dwindling summer heat, Mercy made hot chocolate. They’d spent many sleepless nights nursing hot chocolate instead of coffee in the hopes they might catch another wink of sleep those first few months in Indiana. Now it was their infomercial-watching beverage of choice.
They curled up on the couch, the glow of the television as their only light until Lisa stumbled downstairs and started a pot of coffee, flipping on the overhead lights as she went. Dean pressed his lips to the crown of Mercy’s head where she was slumped into his side.
“I have something for you,” she said quietly.
He drew back. “Oh, yeah?”
Mercy squirmed, and he reluctantly let her get up. She disappeared upstairs for a minute and returned carrying a brown paper package, which she thrust out to him with little fanfare. Her hands twisted nervously as she stood before him.
He raised an eyebrow, but quickly ripped the package open to put her out of her misery. Inside was a soft blanket. Something about it seemed familiar, and as Dean unfurled it, he realized why. “I’ve seen you making these,” he murmured, smoothing it out over his lap and brushing his fingers over one of the many hand-crocheted squares that made up the mismatched blanket.
“Yeah.” Mercy pushed a long lock of her dark hair behind her ear. “They’re called granny squares. After Lisa taught me to crochet I started making one every night we ended up down here. It helped, I think. Anyway, I put them all together into a blanket and I thought you might-”
Dean looked her straight in the eye and said unflinchingly, “I love it.”
Mercy breathed out a sigh of relief, and a smile blossomed on her face. “Of course you do,” she said, shrugging off her nerves and keeping the moment sweet instead of letting it turn melancholy. Instead of saying anything that was held in her eyes, she said, “Take care of Remington for me, yeah?”
Dropping her off at the airport was easier than Dean thought it would be. It was only when he was driving home, and Bob Seger’s Old Time Rock and Roll came on that he felt the loneliness. He held out an imaginary mic to the passenger side, and it fell lamely to the side when he remembered that she wasn’t there to scream-sing along. Remington had been waiting by the door for their return. When Dean walked in without his mistress, the dog whined pathetically, ears flat against his head.
“Yeah, I miss her too, bud,” Dean muttered, patting his side.
He wouldn’t admit it, and Lisa wouldn’t mention it, but wrapping that stupid blanket around his shoulders and holding her cross tight was the only thing that helped.
-M-
Mercy tucked Dean’s amulet back into her shirt as she exited the plane. She’d spent the entire three hour flight clutching it tightly in her hand, and had a detailed impression of the amulet in her palm to prove it. It had been her first time in the sky since being beamed up by God himself, and she hadn’t anticipated how anxious it would make her until Dean was dropping her off at security to face the flight alone. He’d looked quite anxious himself, though that would have probably been the case whether she was boarding a plane or a bus or a boat. So, she’d put on a brave face and done her best not to dwell on her fear of free-falling out of the sky.
“Hey, Mercy! Over here!”
Kelsey stood just outside the baggage claim area with her dad and little brother, Keagan. She jumped up and down and waved excitedly.
“You’re finally here!” Kelsey squealed, dragging her into a hug and shaking her from side to side when she walked over. Her friend had to stand up on her tiptoes now to be at equal height in their hug, Mercy noted. It had been slightly more than a year since the Clarks moved to New York and Mercy to Indiana, and they hadn’t seen each other in person once that whole time.
Mr. Clark greeted her far more calmly. “How was your flight, Mercy?”
“Yeah, it was good. Thanks for picking me up, by the way,” she replied when she finally managed to disentangle herself from Kelsey.
“Well, duh!” Kelsey, flicked her hair over her shoulder. “I’m so excited for you to see our dorm room. I took the liberty of arranging the furniture to maximize the space. Oh! And later this afternoon there’s the tenth grade ice cream social. I can introduce you to Mai and Niamh. You’ll love them.”
“Lets not get ahead of ourselves, Kelsey,” Mr. Clark clucked. “I’m sure Mercy is hungry, and I promised your brother McDonalds. Is that okay with you, Mercy?”
Mercy’s stomach growled at the promise of food. The flight hadn’t been long, but she’d been so nervous about it she hadn’t been able to eat anything for breakfast. Unless you counted half a mug of hot chocolate at four o’clock in the morning.
“Yeah, I love chicken nuggets. I just have to call my brother and let him know I’m safe and you picked me up,” she said, already fishing her phone out of her carry-on bag.
The single father of two nodded in understanding. “Of course. We’ll start loading up your luggage. Take your time.”
Kelsey squeezed her hand once, and then grabbed one of her suitcases. “C’mon Keagan, make yourself useful,” she ordered, and the blonde family of three bustled off through the automatic sliding doors.
Mercy took a deep breath before she too stepped outside into the smoggy New York air. She leaned against a concrete pillar a little away from the Clark’s family-sized sedan, and pulled up her recent call log. Dean was right at the top. He picked up on the first ring. “So, how’s the big apple?” he asked gruffly.
“Mmm… loud and gray,” she summarized. “Doesn’t smell like apples, funnily enough.”
Dean chuckled. “Yeah, I bet.”
“The Clarks were at baggage claim just like they said they’d be,” she told him, fiddling with her necklace. “I think we’re going to go grab a bite and then head straight to the dorms. Kelse said something about an ice cream social later.”
“Sounds like a good time,” Dean said, and she could tell he was trying really hard to sound happy for her. “All very normal high school things.”
“Yeah,” she agreed.
Static crackled over the line, breaking up the silence between them. “You keep your nose clean out there, okay, Merce? And-” Dean cut himself off with a sigh. “Just, stay safe.”
“You know I will,” she assured him. “You too. Call if you need anything, okay?”
“Course… love ya, kid.”
Mercy cracked a smile. “Yeah, love you too, Dean.”
-M-
Mr. Clark and Keagan said goodbye after helping Mercy drag her suitcases up to her new dorm room. The on-campus housing was in a separate building than where they would have classes, but there was a small dining hall on the ground floor along with a little convenience store and the mailroom. Kelsey was already familiar with the building, and pointed out various landmarks as they went.
“This is where we hid from security when we snuck food out of the dining room and up to the dorms. If you look closely you can still see the stain where Niamh dropped a whole plate of lasagna!” she’d say.
The dorm room itself was of modest size, and came furnished with two beds, two desks, and two chests of drawers. There was also a mini-fridge and a microwave that Kelsey had brought with her, but that was it for furniture. String lights and pictures were hung on the walls, giving the space a personal touch.
Mercy found herself in a number of the pictures. There were a couple of Kelsey with her dad and brother, one of Kelsey’s mom in a silver frame by her bedside, and several featuring the two girls Mercy had never met, but heard a lot of over the past year
“That’s Mai.” Kelsey pointed to a Japanese-American girl. She was smiling in the photo, with her arms around Kelsey and a red-headed girl. “She runs cross country too, so you’ll be seeing a lot of her. And the ginger is Niamh. They’re really excited to meet you, you know.”
“Same,” Mercy said with what she hoped was a convincing smile.
They spent the afternoon unpacking Mercy’s things. She took her time, neatly file-folding and hanging her clothes and organizing her crocheting supplies. Kelsey ooh-ed and ah-ed over her completed and in-progress projects as appropriate. Along with running, crocheting had become her favorite coping mechanism. Something about the repetitive hand motions kept intrusive thoughts at bay.
She hung her photos on string lights, as was apparently mandatory in dorm-room decorating, but saved her two favorite pictures for her desk. One of her mom, and one she’d secretly taken of Sam and Dean when they were in Texas last year. A look-out point at sunset, her brothers staring out at the desert, surrounded by bluebonnets. The picture wasn’t of great quality. If they’d known she was taking it they’d surely not have looked as serene.
Tears gathered in Mercy’s lashes and she stubbornly blinked them back.
And then it was time for the ice cream social. Kelsey was bouncing in the elevator ride down. Mercy was far less enthusiastic, but she supposed as far as mandatory school social events go, a glorified sundae bar wasn’t too odious.
The dining hall was alive with activity. A long line of tables had been set up in the middle of the room, almost buckling beneath ten 5-gallon tubs of ice cream in a variety of flavors and dozens of different toppings ranging from sprinkles to hot fudge to Lucky Charms marshmallows.
“Niamh!” Kelsey squealed.
Niamh’s reddish curls were pulled up into space-buns. Her arms were weighed down by handmade friendship bracelets and at least three of those paper admittance wristbands that were so water-damaged and ragged she couldn’t read a single one.
“And this is Mercy,” Kelsey introduced when they’d finished greeting each other.
“Hi,” Mercy said awkwardly, suddenly remembering how it had taken her literal months to warm up to Kelsey.
“Do you really have a tattoo?” Niamh asked.
Caught off guard, Mercy glanced in Kelsey’s direction. Her friend just smiled back, offering an innocent shrug. “Uh, yeah,” she answered reluctantly. Niamh stared at her expectantly, and Mercy sighed, shifting the collar of her t-shirt aside to reveal the anti-possession symbol with a grimace.
It was something Dean had insisted on a few weeks after she’d arrived in Indiana. Being in one place for so long, especially a place that wasn’t as heavily warded as Singer Salvage and in the aftermath of the apocalypse-that-wasn’t (which had shaken loose God knows what), had Dean taking extra precautions in regards to safety.
“Woah.” Niamh’s eyes were wide. “Is that satanic? Were you part of a cult?”
“Oh, look!” Kelsey abruptly pointed across the room to a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper curls. “That’s the cross country coach over there talking with Mai. You should go introduce yourself, Mercy.” She grabbed Niamh’s elbow and dragged her off into a corner of the room, fiercely whispering as she went.
Mercy quickly covered her tattoo, suddenly acutely aware of the fact that she shared a bathroom with half the floor. Note to self , she thought bitterly, never shower unless the bathroom is empty . She stood there awkwardly in the middle of the dining hall for a long second before she decided she’d rather talk with an adult than any more kids her age.
The cross country coach–Coach Stone, if she recalled from the school’s website– caught her eye as she approached, and broke out into a welcoming smile. “Hi, my name is-”
“Mercy Singer,” Coach Stone stated, holding out his hand. She shook it firmly. “Indiana all-state in cross country and best in hurdles.”
She nodded with a sheepish smile. “Uh, yup. That’s me. It’s Coach Stone, right?”
“Yeah, but my runners just call me Michael. Right, Mai?”
“Sure thing, Coach Stone!” Mai sing-songed.
Coach Stone rolled his eyes fondly. “Brat. Anyway, it’s great to meet you, Mercy. I assume you’ll be trying out for the team?”
“I’d probably go mad if I didn’t,” she admitted.
“Ha! That’s what I like to hear. Mai here was on the team last year. I’m sure she can fill you in on all the gossip. I’ll be seeing you around,” he said.
“He’s actually a pretty cool coach,” Mai said when he was out of hearing distance. “You’re Kelsey’s friend from South Dakota, right?”
Mercy nodded, hoping the next words out of her mouth wouldn’t be about tattoos or cults. Luckily, Mai seemed a lot more chill than Niamh.
“If you want, I can show you where we run tomorrow. A bunch of us from the team last year put together a running schedule to keep up with the last week of Coach Stone’s summer training.”
Admittedly, she was curious about what cross country and track would look like in the city. She’d been worried she’d have to spend the last week of summer running on the streets around the dorms before she found out. “I’d like that.”
“Cool. Well, if I’m gonna be doing hill sprints at five in the morning tomorrow I’m gonna make it worth my while and eat one of those five-gallon tubs all by myself,” Mai joked. She jerked her chin towards the ice cream table, and they started heading over. “My favorite flavor is strawberry.”
Mercy perked up. “Me too,” she said. “I like to eat it with-”
“With rainbow sprinkles?”
“Yeah!”
They laughed, and Mercy thought maybe this year wouldn’t actually be too bad.
-M-
Dean considered himself lucky he hadn’t pulled the trigger on that bird and brought the cops down on himself. His unregistered firearm and the fact that he was legally dead would have been a sticky thing to explain away now that he had settled in one place and had people to return to at the end of the day.
An ugly feeling of ‘not right’ had been bothering him since he’d said goodbye to Mercy, and it had been joined by a dizzying rush of adrenaline and his hunter’s instincts rearing their head upon finding a claw mark and bloodstain in that empty hotel yesterday. He was twitchy in the kind of way his usual nightcap wouldn’t be able to settle, which was how he found himself breaking into the 911 emergency call dispatch log and double checking on the phone that no one had seen anything strange.
“And no reports of anything around Vineland and Oak Street near that hotel renovation?... uh, call it a hunch. I’ve been a cop for a long time.” Out of the corner of his eye, Dean spotted Lisa approaching and quickly covered his tracks. “Okay, yeah. No, I’ll call you tomorrow. You too, man. Bye.”
Lisa was all squinty around the eyes like she got when she was tired. “Who was that?”
“Sid. I’m just setting up a poker game,” he said, taking a sip of whiskey.
“It’s 11:30.”
Dean blinked in what he thought was passable surprise. “Is it really?” he asked, glancing at the computer desktop. “Well, that explains why he was asleep when I called. I’ll be right up.”
A flicker of doubt passed over Lisa’s face, but then she put on a smile and said, “Okay.”
He checked the devil’s trap by the front door, assured himself that the holy water and his shotgun packed with salt rounds were in reach beneath the bed, and did his best to put the incident from his mind. When he woke up the next morning the slimy ‘not right not right’ feeling had mostly dissipated in the face of his normal routine.
And then he spotted the claw marks.
They were almost innocuous, gouged into a telephone pole that was already pretty weather-worn and scratched up by squirrels, but they definitely hadn’t been there the day before. Dean tucked his pistol into his jeans and got out to investigate.
There! Another claw mark in Mrs. Glickmans’ sheets hanging out to dry, and again on the door to her garden shed, a too-perfect trail. He was getting the creeping feeling that he was being led somewhere. As he got closer, the shed door rattled and Dean’s hand was wrapped around the ivory grip of his gun before he even realized what he was doing. Another sound, this time a muffled growl, and Dean pushed open the door, sites trained on Mrs. Glickmans’ ratty dog, which ran out yapping like the little menace it was.
“Dean? Is that a gun?”
Dean jolted and tucked the gun back into his pants as he stuttered out, “No, no. Yeah,” to Sid, who was paused on his morning run to gape at the spectacle Dean had inadvertently created. “Well, it’s… I got a permit for it.”
“What, to shoot the Glickmans’ dog?”
“I thought that was a possum.” He chuckled nervously. “Remember when I said I was in pest control? Well, possums carry rabies, so…” he mimed shooting.
Sid frowned hard, looking disturbed. “I did not know that.”
“Oh, yeah, yeah. Possums… possums kill, Sid,” he said confidently. He glanced back at the shed and his stomach dropped. “Oh crap,” he muttered, bending over to get a closer look at dusting of yellow on the ground.
“What’s that?”
“Sulfur.” It didn’t make sense. The claw marks and the sulfur, they didn’t quite match, but they didn’t have to. His gut was screaming ‘danger’. “I’ve got to go”
His neighbor called after him, demanding a more thorough explanation for his erratic behavior that Dean did not have time to give. He doubled back home and dug out the keys to the Impala. His Baby had spent the better part of the year under a tarp, and he threw it off to get into her trunk where he began stockpiling weapons in a duffle.
As he ran through his mental checklist of monster deterrents, he heard the creak of the garden gate opening. Lisa’s approaching footsteps had him kicking the bag of weapons under his car. He went for casual as he threw himself towards his toolbox and stuck his hand inside to grab literally anything less suspicious than a gun.
“Hey,” he said calmly when Lisa appeared. He glanced down at the tool in his hand. “Just getting a hammer.”
“So, I just ran into Sid,” she remarked and Dean forced himself to smile even as his hands nervously turned the hammer over and over. Before he could think up a reasonable excuse Lisa asked, “Did you almost shoot a yorkie?”
There was no point in lying. “...Technically.”
Lisa’s forehead creased. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” he said.
“How come I don’t believe you?”
Dean sighed. “I just– I, uh, I got this… I don’t know– spidey-sense.”
“Okay, are you hunting something?” Lisa asked in such a reasonable tone he almost felt bad for the lie he was about to spin.
“Honestly? Uh, at first, I thought that I was. But, I’m pretty sure that I got worked up over nothing. It’s, uh, you know… it happens.”
“Are you sure?”
Dean went for the misdirecting truth he knew would sell the bit. “I guess I’m just on edge… I mean, from- with Mercy being-” He watched Lisa’s entire face soften and pushed away the guilt. “But I’ll tell you what. Just because, you know, I have an OCD thing about this, why don’t, uh, why don’t you and Ben go to the movies, hit the Cheesecake Factory, you know, hang out with the teeming masses, and I’ll do one last sweep just to be one hundred percent.”
“Okay,” she agreed. “Be careful.”
“Careful’s my middle name.”
She laughed softly, and kissed him even softer. With one last glance over her shoulder, she was gone. Dean felt the easy-going smile he’d managed to conjure up slip right off his face. In the Impala’s actual trunk–not in the false bottom–was a beaten up chest. His dad’s old leather jacket, which he’d stolen from his motel room in Jericho a lifetime ago, sat on top. He set it aside and grabbed his dad’s journal from underneath it.
What left behind claw marks and sulfur? Nothing, he was sure, but a year off had him double-checking anyway. Dean flipped through the ink-riddled pages, skimming passages he’d long since memorized. Overhead, the light flickered.
He reached for a shotgun loaded with salt rounds and stood up slowly. Something went thud on the other side of the room. Then, one of Ben’s soccer balls rolled off the shelf apropo of nothing. It was like he’d fallen into an uninspired, low-budget horror flick. Claw marks, sulfur, flickering lights, loud sounds, a child’s toy moving on its own. He was being haunted by Hollywood’s idea of a supernatural creature that added up to nothing in reality. Still, Dean cautiously stepped around the Impala to where the bang had come from, but found a whole lotta jack with a side of squat.
The shotgun fell out of the pocket of his shoulder.
What was wrong with him? Mercy is gone for one week and he’s already losing his damn mind? Dean shook his head and turned around directly into the pair of yellow eyes that had haunted his childhood.
“Hiya, Dean! Look what the apocalypse shook loose!”
It wasn’t possible. Was it possible? Dean couldn’t form any words, but it didn’t matter. Azazel laughed in his face. “You have fun sniffing that trail?” he circled him tauntingly, and Dean reared back. “Cause I sure had fun patting you around.”
“You can’t be-”
“Oh, sure I can!”
He shook his head. “ No .”
“Yeah, kiddo. The big Daddy brought your pal Cas back right? So why not me? Add a little… spice to all that sugar.”
Dean lifted the gun and fired once into Azazel’s chest. The shell impacted the wall behind the demon and Dean frowned in confusion. But before he could figure out what had just happened, Azazel was saying, “Really? After all we’ve been through?” and he was being grabbed by his throat.
“You know, you’ve got a great little life here,” Azazel said as Dean choked for air. His eyes glowed putrid yellow. “Pretty lady, real understanding. Hell of a kid, and that clever sister of yours– maybe I’ll pay New York a visit next. And how do you keep your lawn so green? I mean, come on Dean. You’ve never been what I’d call brainy, but did you really think you were gonna get to keep all this? You had to know that we were coming sometime, pal.”
His back hit the Impala. His lungs burned . And just as it was all going black, Azazel leaned in and whispered, “You can’t outrun your past.”
-M-
In the morning, Mercy, along with the rest of her classmates, had woken to find their class schedules posted in their mailboxes. The rosters for the fall sports teams had been released by early afternoon. Tomorrow was the first day of classes, which meant by that evening, the entire dorm was buzzing with anticipation and excitement.
“Congrats,” Kelsey offered when she saw that Mercy had made varsity. “Not that I expected anything less, of course.”
Mercy looked up from where she’d been going through the team running schedule and meet dates. She’d have to email Dean a copy. She knew her brother wanted to make the drive up for at least a couple of her meets. “There were a lot of talented girls trying out. Could have been anyone.”
“Whatever you say, little miss misdirect,” Kelsey said with a grin. “What’s your class schedule like?”
They hadn’t been able to compare that morning. Mercy and Mai had gone for an early run with some of the other girls from the team and by the time Mercy had gotten back to the dorm, Kelsey had left to spend the day with her dad and brother. She slid a copy of her schedule across her desk in Kelsey’s direction. “See for yourself.”
“Oh, we’re in the same honors chem section!” her friend enthused. “Let’s see, AP world history, honors english. Why are you taking algebra II and geometry, you are such a nerd!”
“Cause I have an extra class block since I’m not taking a language,” she explained.
Kelsey rolled her eyes fondly. “That’s still not fair. You cheated the system by divine intervention.”
“Hey, do you have any idea how many dialects and sub-dialects of ancient Greek and Latin I had to learn the hard way? I put in my time.”
“Fine, fine, fine,” she relented. She handed Mercy back her schedule. “Anyway, Niamh has a TV in her room and she invited a bunch of people over to play Mario Kart. We’re gonna order pizza, and Jenna– have you met her yet? She’s cool. Anyway, her mom dropped off an entire plate of slutty brownies. You down?”
Mercy glanced at her desk, where she was busy making copies of her schedule and color-coordinating them according to the system she’d established freshman year. She typically spent the night before the first day of school getting ready for the first day of school. But… pizza, Mario Kart, and slutty brownies sounded like normal high school behavior.
Normal was her thing now.
“Uh, yeah, sure,” she said, reluctantly putting aside her impressive collection of Flair pens and highlighters.
Niamh’s dorm was on the floor above theirs, though aside from the nametags on the doors, the hallways were practically identical. The door was open, and there were already several girls sprawled across the bed, a couple of beanbags, and a loveseat.
“Wow,” Mercy said, taking in the tastefully decorated dorm.
“Niamh’s parents are loaded,” Kelsey whispered. “They’re alumni and donate buckets of money, so she got a single.”
It really looked more like an apartment out of a catalog than a high school dorm room, with curtains, a low coffee table, and even floor lamps that lit the room with softer light than the overhead fluorescents. No wonder Niamh could get away with not having any tact. Mercy only recognized a couple of the girls, but fortunately, Mai was there too. She waved Mercy over as Kelsey went to greet their hostess.
“Hey, congrats on varsity,” Mai said. “I knew you’d get it. Coach Stone was giving you moon-eyes practically every time you ran. It was all he could do not to gush over your form. And you can kick faster than anyone on the team.”
She grinned. “When I trained in the summer my brother would sometimes race me for the last leg. He’s the fastest person I’ve ever met and he isn’t even a runner!”
Mai laughed, but before she could respond, another couple of girls ran into the room toting pizza boxes. They slammed the door behind them. Apparently, the arrival of their dinner signaled the start of the party, because Niamh loaded up the game, and everyone began serving themselves and huddling in front of the TV.
Mercy had never played Mario Kart in her life, and was content to just watch the other girls play as she ate pizza. She hated to admit it, but she wasn’t having as horrible a time as she thought. Mai and Kelsey were good company, the pizza was delicious, and Jenna’s mom was a great baker. Kelsey even strong-armed her into giving the game a try later in the evening.
She was horrible, but she quickly learned that just meant she got all the fun items in the game to compensate.
“Ugh! Which of you bitches used the lightning?!” Niamh shrieked as she fell out of her first place lead on the third lap.
The joke was on Mercy anyway as she careened off rainbow road for the fourth time in as many seconds. Somewhere behind her, a phone started buzzing, but she didn’t pay it any mind until Kelsey was pressing her phone against her ear and Dean’s voice was frantically saying, “You need to come back right now.”
She dropped the controller and snatched her cell from Kelsey’s hand. “Dean, what? What’s happened, is everyone okay? Are you okay?” The other girls were giving her weird looks, and Mercy paced out of the room and into the hall, shutting the door behind her to get some privacy.
“Sam’s alive.”
“ What?” she demanded, because surely she had misheard.
On the other side of the door, the game had been paused, and everything was suspiciously quiet. She put some more distance between herself and her eavesdroppers, as Dean repeated, “Sam’s alive. Listen, something is happening. I don’t have time to explain, but I can’t have you in New York by yourself.”
Mercy breathed in deeply through her nose and divorced herself from any feelings of attachment to this school, her friends, the cross country team, all of it. “Okay,” she said. “Okay, I need a few hours to pack and then I’ll have Mr. Clark drop me off at the airport and I can be on the next flight to Indiana. I’ll text you with my ETA. Love you.”
She hung up before he could respond and slid down the wall. Her head dropped between her knees.
Sam was alive. Sam was alive .
Mercy choked on a sob and stuffed her fist in her mouth so she wouldn’t make anymore sounds. She only gave herself a minute to process this new reality before she stood up and wiped the tears from her eyes. When she stepped back into Niamh’s dorm, Kelsey caught her eye, and her friend’s expression broke. “You’re leaving,” she said.
The other girls pretended to be busy, but Mercy knew they were listening. She swallowed and said, “It’s Sammy.”
Kelsey’s eyes widened. “Oh my god. Wait, are you serious?”
She could only nod.
“But, you’re coming back, right?” Kelsey pressed.
“Kelse, I don’t- Dean sounded really freaked,” Mercy hedged, not really wanting to get into it in a room full of strangers. “I don’t think-”
“Yeah, but, you said the- you said everything that happened last year was over. It’s over, right? You’re out now.”
She glanced at her former classmates. They were looking back and forth between her and Kelsey now with undisguised curiosity. Niamh leaned over to Jenna and said in a fake-whisper, “I told you she was in a cult.”
Mercy grit her teeth. Screw it. Screw this and screw normal . She looked Kelsey dead in the eye. “I don’t want to get out of my family. I love my brothers. I’m going home.”