Fic: Dreamers and Renegades 2/2

[summergen-mod.livejournal.com]

They had retreated to a small cabin in the far end of the garden. It was just a small apartment, including a kitchen, a small bathroom and an additional bare room with a queen-sized bed. The landlady had stared at them disapprovingly when they had told her, they'd be camping out in Boo's rented apartment and she sued them with an additional fee anyway.

“Why don't we get our own room?” Dean wanted to know when they entered the small hut, packed with their stuff. “We just paid enough money for the honey moon suite in the Ritz Carlton, after all.”

“If anything of what Boo's saying is true, it could be helpful to keep her away from the other guests and in our line of sight, don't you think?” Sam muttered under his breath, hoping Boo didn't overhear him. It wasn't like he didn't believe her. He reckoned that she believed what she was saying but after Dean shouted a few Christo in her direction except of her confused and affronted face.

“I'm not that kind of possessed, you poophead,” She hissed at him and Dean had to laugh because no one had called him a poophead since third grade.

Now, Sam could hear her rummaging around in the kitchen, while Dean was checking the salt lines, which she had rather messily planted on the doors and window sills. Sam had let himself fall prostate on the couch, which also could be used as a bed and, to his utter terror, would be serving as Dean's and his sleeping arrangement for the night.

A small radio stood in on a single board, which was rather crudely nailed to the wall, spitting out hollow sounds of music and Boo happily hummed the melody of the Dixie Chicks' song Good by Earl while preparing some sandwiches and coffee. Dean, who felt better already, took some careful bites of the offered food and when it actually stayed down, he emptied the plate before Sam even had the chance to get the first sips of hot, strong coffee... with a distant note of cinnamon. (Dean scrunched up his face in unspeakable disgust.)

“Tell us about your parents,” Sam finally wanted to know and Boo looked uncomfortable but started to tell anyway.

“He wasn't my real father.” She blinked, her meaningful gaze catching Sam's and he nodded, remembering, prompting her to keep talking. “But he was okay, I guess. He loved me... They died a few weeks after … the fruit basket.” She glanced at Sam, as if Dean wasn't in the room.

“I'm sorry.” Sam said immediately but Boo winked her hand dismissively.

“It's a long time ago.”

Sam nodded, understanding and continued hesitantly. “Was it... something supernatural?”

“No, I don't think so. A car accident. A large animal, they told me. I don't remember. My step father was driving and he and my Mom...” She paused. “She was in the passenger seat. The car went off the road after hitting something large. They never found out what it was.”

“Then, what happened?”

“Nothing.” Her eyes were innocent, full of pain but yet confused. “I don't remember. I woke up in the hospital weeks later.”

“Wait!” Dean commented. And Sam was even more surprised because brother sounded almost curious. “You were in the car?”

“Yes.” She nodded. “I almost died, they said. But I don't remember,” she hissed, angrily. “If only I could remember.” Standing up from her place on the floor she started pacing and Sam had to move his head in an uncomfortable angle to keep her in his line of view. His backside still throbbed in a dull pain and he didn't want to risk any more pressure on his abused body parts than a ten hour drive through half the country had done already.

“But what makes you think you're possessed? And why do you think it's one of your parents?”

“It all started a few weeks after I moved in with my aunt.” She returned to her place, crossed her legs and took a few sips of her own coffee. She made a face.

“I hate coffee. Makes me giddy.” As if to prove she got up and started pacing again, her hands folded behind her back looking like a general who was sending his army into war. “Anyway, at night I could feel someone with me, sitting by my bedside. Watching me. I had read about ghosts and stuff. I was curious but I never felt threatened or in danger. It was … nice to have someone taking care of me.” Throwing a glance first at Dean and Sam she half smiled. “And I started researching. First about ghosts, then demons and monsters. It sounded so exciting and it's amazing how much you can learn and find out just by opening you eyes and your mind.”

Dean grunted, coughing something into his fist that sounded suspiciously like “Pity you don't look like Jennifer Love Hewitt”.

“My parents had loved me. Maybe a little too much. Because they weren't really gone. Not even after they were burned.”

“They were burned?”

She stared at Sam, saying “I'm not an idiot” without actually forming the words. “Of course. I know about the burning ritual. But I could feel at least one of them close by, all the time, like an angel watching over me. But then...”

“Then what?”

She sat back on the floor, leaning her back against the TV table. “After my parents died I was left with my aunt and she was a little... rough sometimes. When I had my first date with a boy crazy enough to confront himself with me I came home fifteen minutes too late and she hit me. It wasn't even that hard, just a thump against my head, really. But...” She shook, as if trying to get rid of the images in her head. “She stumbled. I mean, not stumbled... she was definitely pushed and fell down the stairs. Broke her neck.”

“Maybe, she just stumbled?” Dean intercepted, his manners almost bored again. Researching and questioning witnesses had never been considered among one of his strengths. Except when the questionee was 22, student and looked like she had just stepped from the cover of the Vogue... Scary enough that Dean knew about Vogue.

“No!” Boo was ruffling her hair. “No! That's not true. It went cold in the room and then... she was pushed. She was flying through the hallway and hit the ceiling before actually falling down the stairs.” Her lips curled tensely. “I know what I saw.”

“We believe you,” Sam tried to calm her. Feeling the hairs in his neck rising he shivered. Something was in the air and it wasn't the wafting remains of the coffee. “Tell her!” The urgency in his voice shook Dean out of his pouting lethargy. This wasn't fair. He had had a bad day and he was playing babysitter for a lunatic wanna-be hunter.

“What? Why? She could have pushed her for we...” He didn't get any further because he was hauled out his sitting place like a rag doll on rubber bands. The armchair beneath him toppled over with a loud crash and, with perfect timing, the door into the garden flung open, making way for Dean's unfortunate flight into the evening darkness. Grunting, he landed smoothly in a rosebush.

“Dean!” Sam screamed and rolled over, hissing in pain when his back protested. “What are you doing?” He wanted to know from Boo but when he looked at her he was sure, she was even more frightened and surprised than he was.

“See?” She spit at him angrily and all but challenging. “I told you! It wasn't me. But it keeps happening. I'm hurting people.”

“Just... calm down, okay.”

In this moment the door slammed back close, locking them inside the cabin.

“Sam?” Dean's voice came through the door which had closed behind him so forcefully Sam could have sworn he heard wood splinter. “You okay?”

“Yes, I'm fine. What about you?”

The older brother obviously tried to get back in. The door knob rotated but the entrance remained closed and Dean yelled, pissed, “What's going on in there?”

Sam had already struggled back on his feet, muscles and tendons straining in his backside, and marched to the door, which – how else could it be – didn't budge an inch.

“Great! This is so not how I wanted this day to end,” he muttered and looked back at Boo.

~~~

“Open the window!” Dean demanded, exasperated. But they wouldn't budge either. Throwing his hands into the air he slammed his fist into the wall in anger, cursing wildly when pain shot sharply through his knuckles. Damn, it felt good.

Agitated yapping made him swivel around and he found Conan sitting on his hind legs a few feet away, barking at him furiously. A pink coloured ribbon sat on top of his head and bounced in sync with the little dogs head.

“This whole day is majorly fucked up. I don't even have words for it,” Dean grunted, holding is throbbing hand against his chest, and trying hard not to kick the dog (accidently as well as deliberately) he began rounding the small cabin searching for another entrance. He could hear his brother's urgent voice coming from inside but he didn't understand what he was saying. Even though his brother was so close it felt wrong to be separated from him by something as flimsy as window glass.

How could something as ridiculous as a redhead, 5'6 feet hunter make his day get so much worse? Even without Boo this day had been a huge screw up from its very beginning. Jinxed and a waste of time and gas. First the stupid hillbillies shooting his brother, then the bad Tachos. What came next? Nuclear war?

The small kitchen was bright and through the window he could get a glimpse of Boo, who was agitatedly waving her hands in the air like she wanted to catch supersonic butterflies. Her mouth was going a mile a minute, her body language was tense and the whole cabin seemed to vibrate with malicious anxiety. This was bad, this was so bad. They had no idea what they had gotten themselves into and... “For fucks sake!” All his weapons were inside... with Boo and Sam.

Dean wanted him out of there. Now. And then he'd get ready to hunt some evil ghostly bitch or whatever.

Conan wailed pitifully at his feet and Dean wasn't sure whether it was because he had stepped on its paws or because the little flee catcher was scared out of its wits.

~~~

“What are you doing?”

“I'm not doing anything!” Boo yelled and her eyes flashed furiously. “I told you, this is what keeps happening! One time, I accidently broke some poor guys arm because he wanted to sell me the bible. And one time... ”

The air around them crackled with unseen energy. The pictures on the walls danced in their frames, the dishes bounced up and down, clanging against each other and the coffee spilled over the floor.

“Great!” Boo observed. “I'll never get coffee stains out of the carpet. Juliette is going to freak out.”

Incredulously, Sam stared at her. “What is wrong with you? Are you really worried about a coffee stain?”

“You can talk.” With a huff she rolled her eyes. “You don't have to pay the cleaning fee.”

Staggering towards his backpack Sam clenched his teeth and leaned down towards hit, pushing aside clothes and books and a few weapons until he finally found what he was looking for. After switching it on the small device greeted him with a line of blinking lamps and crackling static.

Pointing it towards Boo it wailed like a pained animal, not unlike the little dog outside the cabin, and Sam's confusion grew.

“What is this?” Boo had to speak loudly to make herself heard and eyed the weird gizmo distrustfully.

“It's an EMF reader.” He turned it off. “It reads magnetic frequencies. But whatever this...” He motioned towards their surroundings. “... is, it's coming from you.”

Her shoulders slumped simultaneously with the fading hubbub and the crashing of the back door.

“Sam? Are you alright?” Through the back door a disgruntled Dean stumbled into the room, his chest heaving with exertion. “What the hell are the doors made of? Steel?”

“I'm okay, Dean.”

The oldest brother stared at them and squinted. “Anyone care to tell me what's going on here?”

“Boo!” Sam looked at her pointedly and tried to keep his voice calm and measured. He didn't want to tick her off again. “There's definitely something attached to you. Maybe some jewelry? A necklace? Anything that once belonged to your parents.”

“No.” She almost sounded defeated. Her hair was a mess on her head, standing wild in all directions. The band, she had wrapped around her head to tame the red curls had given up long ago and now the strands stood erect like they wanted to reach out and touch the ceiling. “I don't wear jewelry.”

“Hair,” Sam added. Maybe it's hair or...”

Something crossed her features. Recognition, painful and relentless. It was so strong Sam could feel it rolling in waves from her body, a cold realization that made her eyes wide and the lines around her mouth more pronounced.

“What is it?” He wanted to know. “Whatever it is, it has to burned.”

She kept silent, staring at him with wavering self-confidence. “I'm tired. I... I'm going to bed.”

Without another word she had turned around and slammed the door towards her bedroom close leaving behind one disgruntled Dean and a very puzzled Sam.

“Great diagnosis, Mr. Sledgehammer.”

Dean had observed the play curiously and it hadn't escaped his notice that Sam had hit a nerve with his last comment.

“Shut up. Mr. Helpful!”

~~~

“It's her.”

He kept his voice quiet to neither be overheard by Boo, who was sleeping in the small room next-door, nor to wake her up.

„No, really? Wouldn't have guessed,“ Dean replied sarcastically.

The pandemonium had vanished as fast as it had risen and Sam felt on the edge, unsure of what they could do to help her. After she had announced that she'd retreat into the sleeping room, he had told Dean exactly what had happened. Which wasn't much considering the circumstances.

“Some broken porcelain, the pictures moved on the walls and that's pretty much it. It subsided as soon as Boo had calmed down. It's almost like telekinesis.”

“What if she's one of … the children? You know, the gifted ones?” This topic came up pretty rare one and they hadn't spoken about it much ever since Cold Oak. Mostly, because Sam hadn't had one single vision since then.

“No.” Sam shook his head. “That's not it.”

“Then we should exorcise her.”

“Wouldn't work either. No reaction to Holy Water or salt. I even started to recite a few words of the Rituale Romanum.” He blushed. “She asked me if I was choking on my sandwich.”

Dean snorted. “I don't know, Sammy. This feels like Candid Camera. It's like she's bewitched or something.” He shuddered. “I don't like witches, you know.”

“Yeah,” Sam smiled. “I remember.”

They were quiet for a while. The only light came from the open laptop, the blueish screen shimmering ghostly on his face and Dean felt much better already, having all his weapons within reach.

“She acted strangely...” It wasn't a real question, more like an observation and Dean quirked an eyebrow, which Sam couldn't see since he was staring at the screen.

“No shit!”

“No.” The younger brother finally managed to avert his eyes from the online search engine. “I mean when I asked her about the hair.”

“She's a woman. They tend to act strangely when asked to burn their hair.” Dean smirked. “Not like her hair needs it as red as it is already.”

“Could you please take this seriously?” Then, quieter. “I don't want this case to become another Madison.”

Realization dawned in Dean and he opened his mouth wide, waiting for the right words to come. They wouldn't.

Sam clicked some buttons Sam on his keyboard and the blue-ish color changed to red-ish, then grey.

“We need to know more about her parents.” Dean had stood up, a bag of chips in his hands (“What I haven't eaten all day. My body needs salt.”) and walked over, leaning over his brother's shoulder to look at the website that had popped up.

It was an old newspaper article, dated March 20th,1999, showing a picture of a man, a woman and a girl, red, wild hair which didn't get to shine in the grainy black and white image.

“Tragic accident on highway 26,” the headline announced dramatically and Sam and Dean read on, each by himself, until they found, what they had been looking for. The answer. But before they could formulate it, a grave voice sounded from the bedroom. “She's my body!” It didn't even remotely resemble Boo's earlier speech, deep and sharp as it was. “She's my body and I'm her soul!”

For just a moment another energy rush filled the air, unloaded itself in wind and earthly rumblings. But it was weak, not enough power left to do any kind of damage. Deflating, just like Boo.

“You can't kill me.” Her voice back to normal Boo sucked a breath deep in her lungs, stood frozen on the spot, her hand leaning against the door frame as if she would have lost balance if she didn't hold on tightly. “You can't just... kill me!”

“Of course not!” Sam yelled, appalled at what she was saying. But at the same time... Deep down inside his thoughts were racing, efficiently going through all the possibilities, stumbling over each other. “We don't want to...” At least, it was the truth. Yet, Sam felt ashamed for saying it. Because, even when you don't want to do something, it doesn't mean you don't have to do it after all. “We won't kill you.” He promised.

She cocked her head, slowly, looking like a computer that was calculating multiple requests at once and when she blinked again, Sam felt a sharp tug at the bag of his neck. His body was flung through the room and his breath was being pressed out of his lungs when he hit the wall next to his brother. Unable to swallow the yelp from between his lips he cried out loud in pain, when he felt the fresh wounds in his back open again. Maybe some new ones had been added, at least it felt like but it didn't matter.

“Stop it, stop it, STOP IT!” In horror Boo was staring at them, surprised by the raw power she was causing. “I don't want to hurt anyone. I...” Another second passed, that had Sam and Dean pressed against the wall next to the stupid horses and barns paintings, before she was bolting through the back door out into the night.

“Fuck!” Dean cursed when he finally found ground beneath his feet and he scurried over to his brother. “Are you okay?”

Sam's right hand came back bloody, though not enough to worry.

“Yeah, yeah...” he panted, more disoriented than in pain.

“You sure?” His older brother's gaze was boring into him but when Sam nodded abruptly.

“Boo... “

It took them a few moments to get into motion and with a synchrony that would have been comical under different circumstances and would have made the Olsen twins green of jealous they chased behind her.

Of course, she was long gone when they reached the parking lot in front of the main house. How could such a small person with such short legs be so freaking fast, anyway?

“Please, dude. Explain this to me, would you?” Dean demanded, now really pissed again. “I'm not sure I'm getting this right here.”

“You know perfectly well what's going on here,” Sam hissed. This was Madison all over. “We can't kill her. Not again. I can't do this.”

Sorrow swept over Sam, threatened to take his breath away and made his skin crawl with foreboding.

“It's the heart, right? The organ donation.” Oh, Sam would have loved to hit his brother in this very moment for stating the hard truth. The one Sam didn't want to hear but knew perfectly well already. “She's got the heart of her Mom, Sam. She said she was in the car, she must've been hurt pretty bad and her mother...”

“I know that, okay?” barked Sam. A light in the house was switched on and the silhouette of the landlady was appearing behind one of the windows.

“I know what this means. And so does she. We gotta find her.”

This was bad. This was so bad, Sam had no idea how to put his distress in words and Dean knew exactly what to say in moments like this. Nothing. He just jumped into the car, waited for Sam to fling his lanky body into the passenger seat and started the ignition.

In the end, following her was easier than they had anticipated. If Boo hadn't left a trail of overturned letterboxes, broken branches and madly barking dogs, the EMF meter would have shown them the way without even so much as a wrong turn, its wailing loud enough to drown the two men's thoughts.

The area around the small town was waste land and with the sky free from clouds the stars twinkled undisturbed from above in the far distance. A pregnant silence filled the car. Neither one would have thought that things could have fallen apart so fast and so hopelessly.

“There has to be something,” Sam repeated for the umpteenth time and Dean nodded... for the umpteenth time even though reason told him otherwise. The only way to get rid of a ghost was to salt and burn its remains. Its bones or flesh... or hearts. It was an insight learned from years of researching and learning and experiencing. A pure fact, a constant. One of the few they had in their lives. There was just no other way. Like there was no other way than falling when jumping out of an air plane.

Out of the corner of his eyes Dean could see Sam open his mouth and shutting it again. Switching off the device, he led it sink on his lap and stared at Dean, a knowing acceptance on his face.

“We can't help her, can we?”

Dean remained silent, swallowing hard to keep cool when he stopped the car, letting it roll until it stopped by itself, resting comfortably against the curb. The engine ticked loudly, evenly, like a metronome counting backwards until the piano piece had reached its ending.

~~~

Idaho, Somewhere outside Boise - January, 25st 1999

~~~

His neck was aching from staring behind when they finally passed the last signs of civilisation.

Dean was still wheezing hard and his face was red from laughing, while Sam was still eyeing the fruit basket irritatedly. A freaking fruit basket!

“Dude, you should have asked for a steak!” Dean explained, hiccupping from the strain on his lung.

John Winchester had barely grunted when Sam had jumped in the car, putting the basket next to him. Now his eyes found the rear view mirror once in a while and Sam ignored it, pouting.

“Honestly, Sam.” Evidently, Dean still didn't think this topic was discussed to his full satisfaction. “You should have asked for her phone number, too. She's totally into you. And think of all the healthy stuff you'd be fed with once you two are married.”

“Shut up, you oaf!” Sam countered heatedly. “She was just a stupid girl.”

Dean snorted. “That's my point, moron! You probably won't find another girl like her. Especially one that likes you. You are the perfect match.”

That was it. With a hefty oomph he banged the basket against Dean's head, who ducked in surprise, cursing loudly.

“Boys!”

Amazing, how a single syllable of his father could crash a sweet brotherly moment like that with just hitting the right tone.

Crossing his arms over his chest he watched the basket sliding off seat and vanishing into the gap between front and back seat, when he caught sight of a small white paper. His fingers reached for it and what he held in his hands turned out to be an envelope with nothing written on it.

After making sure his father and brother weren't paying attention he opened it and enfolded a piece of paper which, according to its numerous lines, she had ripped out of her diary. Tiny curled letters were squeezed on the snippet, like she wanted to fill every single void.

“Sammy, please don't snitch me to Ms Bender because I broke into the Directors office. I didn mean....” These words were carefully crossed out. “She doesn't like me. I just wanted to get a copy of my birth certificate. I want to find my real Dad, you know? You could help me, if you want to. It's really exciting, looking for your father. A real adventure. Oh and did you do the homework for geography? You could copy them from me, if you haven't. Now I have a new chance of finding my Dad. See you in class and Thank you. Boo.”

It was ridiculous. Sam knew why Dean had laughed so hard because he wanted to laugh about this whole thing, too. But he didn't. Because something warm spread in his stomach, a contentment, a happiness deep and refreshing, as if it was the first time he had saved someone's life. Which, officially, he hadn't. But it didn't matter. She was thankful, just because. It was a nice feeling. And it was more than welcome.

He never talked about it any more... but kept the letter close. Just because.

~~~

A few miles outside Epiphany, South Dakota - 23rd July 2007

~~~

They found her when the morning light struck the horizon, blazing fires in a far away fairy tale country. The sun was curiously peeking over the the rim of the world and if she she had the chance she probably would have turned back on the spot when she saw what was waiting for her. Another day in the row of many, yet different all the way. The beams made Boo's hair alight with flames. The green bandana long gone.

He walked towards her, slowly, not sure what to expect. Her eyes were open and for just a moment he thought...

She blinked... and he sank down besides her, leaning his shoulder against the tree she was resting on.

“Did you...” He began, his voice raspy. “Did you ever find your Dad?”

A smile tugged at her lips, almost making her look happy.

“No.” Shrugging shoulders. Like she wanted to say “No aubergines, zucchini will do”.

This was all so wrong.

“Oh.”

Her eyes closed. The sun was blinding her.

“Doesn't matter.” She smirked, actually smirked and Sam felt like crying. “What matters is the people who take care of you, are there for you, and … home is where your heart is. Ironic much, huh?” Her speech was slurring and made the distinctive impression of an ancient phonograph, scraping irregularly over the surface of the platter.

Sam knew from experience, that bleeding to death was faster than generally assumed. And according to the pool of blood that was forming puddles beneath her... it would be fast.

“I should be angry, don't you think?” She wanted to know, her brows furrowed in stark concentration. “But I'm not. Wanna know why?”

Sam nodded, not trusting his voice.

“I thought I'd die alone. I thought, I'd have scared off everyone around me before I … buy the farm. I never really understood that phrase.” She was whispering now, he could see her skin getting paler and paler. “Why would I buy a farm?” She took a deep breath.

For just a second Sam wondered, if it really was Boo's Mom haunting her, why hadn't she tried to keep her daughter safe? Why hadn't she taken control like she had before? But ever since he had found the young woman sitting against the ragged bark, there was no sign of ghostly activity, not even a blip. Even the EMF Meter had calmed down, getting weaker signals the closer they got. If it hadn't been for Boo's red hair, they'd have passed without even noticing her.

As if Boo could read his thoughts she spoke under her breath: “I can feel her. She'll take care of me.” One more hard-fought breath. “Like she did my whole life.”

“I'm sorry,” Sam finally managed to say. “We came here to help you.”

“You did. You gave the answer. Thank you... again.” Craning her neck towards the hot ball of fire, she sighed contentedly, feeling the warmth on her face.

And in the end, when her heart stopped beating, it took two souls with it.

~~~

Sioux Falls, Singer Salvage - July 27th 2007

~~~

Bobby Singer had not been surprised when, three days ago, two bedraggled figures had shown up on his front porch. He had served them beer, spiked with the usual amount of Holy Water and Dean had gulped it down just because he knew Bobby wanted them to, whereas Sam stared at it for a whole minute before grimacing and imitating his older brother.

That was the first sign.

The second was even more obvious because without another word Sam had vanished through the front door, hiding in the maze of dead car wrecks for the next four hours.

The third one... was unmistakable.

“We've had the shittiest week. Ever!” Dean complained and, for a weird reason, he seemed strangely battered for the matter. Not physically. Because neither he nor his brother had a single scratch... except some healing tweaks here and there. Nothing serious. Nothing to explain the dark mood that hung over them like they had rented the rain clouds all for themselves. And it had lasted for three days already with no end improvement in sight.

The chair was swinging lazily under his butt and, in one hand holding a half empty bottle of beer, the other one rubbing the head of his German Shepard Cheney, he watched the black Impala roll back onto the drive way. Dean had gone out two hours ago, claiming to get some groceries (meaning beer) - his animosity against the foamy liquid was evidently short-lived – and …

Bobby almost lost grip on his beer when he saw, what Dean produced from the back seat. Besides the usual bottles of beer, the ugly brown paper bag that probably contained some bread and Tachos, Dean carried a huge, yellow-green pineapple whose leaves were sticking proudly from its head.

“What?” He asked nonchalantly when he passed by Bobby's sitting place. “Rich in vitamins.”

He never would understand it but only seconds later, Sam's laughter, though subdued and pressed, rang out of the house.

With new found energy, Bobby pushed his feet against the floor and resumed his swinging.

Pineapples for dinner. He'd never get these boys.