Fake Fan Fiction ❯ Fight or Flight ❯ Questons, Answered and Raised ( Chapter 8 )

Sam stared at Mother Maria, trying his hardest to hide his shock and only succeeding about halfway. He wanted to look over at his brother, but the nun's eyes had captured him, and Sam had a feeling they would hold him until Maria turned away herself. He heard Dean making inarticulate choking noises, though, and his deep knowledge of his brother allowed him to picture the face to go with the sound.

 

The silence dragged on. Ryo didn't seem inclined to help—either that, or he couldn't come up with anything to say—and Bikky hadn't said a word since they'd come into the church. Maria just kept looking from Dean to Sam, and she obviously didn't plan to push them, though she didn't seem inclined to drop the question, either.

 

“Uh…” Sam finally managed to splutter, mostly out of desperation to say something. “Uh…well, yeah, but…what?”

 

Dean was a little more coherent. “Who the hell are you?” he asked, bestowing a hard look of his own.

 

Maria looked at him, really looked, and Sam sighed in relief as the gray eyes released him, freeing him to look at his brother. Dean was glaring at the nun, looking as if he very much resented her and her knowledge.

 

But Maria didn't flinch. She just sighed and said, “Why don't you come into the living room and we can talk?”

 

Dean grunted. “Yeah, I think that'd be good.”

 

“Hey, Mother, where's Morgan?” Bikky asked, finally speaking as Maria was turning to lead them into the living room.

 

“He took his sister to the court to watch the game,” Maria replied over her shoulder.

 

“Ryo?”

 

Ryo nodded dismissively. “Go ahead.”

 

Bikky grinned, and the effect on his features was astonishing. “Thanks, Ryo!”

 

Watching the teen run out, Sam very nearly asked one of the many questions on his mind, before quelling the urge and following everyone else.

 

The living room was large, but cozy, and crowded with armchairs, a big couch, and an old TV. Maria went instantly to one of the larger chairs and sat down, while Ryo sank down on the couch and leaned back with a sigh that gave Sam a pang of sympathy. He and Dean sat, too, a little awkwardly, and for a few moments none of them spoke.

 

Then, just when Sam felt quite ready to run screaming from the room, Maria rolled her eyes and said, “All right, it's clear that neither of you is going to start this on your own. Men…” With a disgusted and very un-nunnish snort, she sat back in her chair and folded her hands in her lap. “Well, now…where to begin?”

 

“How about with `I know your dad because…'?” Dean asked, sounding a little irritated.

 

Maria smiled at him, with all the understanding for his behavior that Sam certainly didn't have. “Good a place as any, I suppose. But there are a lot of blanks in the story, even after all these years.”

 

“And we might even decide to fill a couple of them,” Dean replied.

 

“Well, a half-baked promise is better than nothing,” Maria sighed. She was silent for a moment, seeming to let her mind drift back as she figured out where to begin. Then she just…started talking. “I'm actually a little surprised that you don't remember at least my name. You were almost six years old at the time.”

 

Dean's expression didn't so much as flicker.

 

“Well, I can see you'll be a joy to have at the dinner table,” Maria said, sounding disgruntled but still looking completely sympathetic. When she spoke again, though, it was to her whole audience, instead of just to Dean.

 

“It was twenty-one years ago, almost to the month, that John showed up. I was still running the orphanage back then, but the church was an actual church, too. Anyways, it was late, and the kids were in bed. I was headed that way myself when I heard someone calling from the church part of the building. The voice didn't sound familiar, but the man knew my name. I let my curiosity get the better of me, figuring that people of…disreputable nature weren't likely to come in shouting.

 

“Well, when I got into the church, I found three people waiting for me—a guy, in his…late thirties, early forties, somewhere around there. He had a baby in his arms—well, almost a toddler, really—and a little boy next to him. Neither of you made a single sound, by the way, which gave me chills. Even Sam, little as he was, looked…sad, and somehow determined. And the first thing I asked myself was how this man was raising his children, to make them that way. Well, I had to wonder!” she protested at Dean's cold glare. “You didn't seem like children at all, and as a woman who's lived in New York City for her entire life, and who runs a place that's called an orphanage but—let's face it—is mostly a runaway center for abused kids…you can hardly blame me for thinking it!

 

“And besides, the thought left my head before a single minute passed, just watching how he handled you, and the way you looked at him. He was so gentle, and he never once raised his voice, even when Sam took one look at me and started crying, like the world was coming to an end. And you, Dean…you wouldn't stray two inches from him—and you knew when he moved away, even though you didn't take your eyes off me.

 

“So, anyway, John gets Sam calmed down, and then he introduces himself and you two, and then he's quiet for a long time, until I get impatient and ask him why he's come barging into my church in the middle of the night.

 

“I got the feeling that there was a long story behind his reason, so I was surprised when he just asked me what sounded like a completely insane question. He asked me if I believed in the Supernatural.” Maria sighed then, and shook his head. “Well, I had no idea what to say. It was just such a surprising question. So, I just continued our little game by replying with another question—why was he asking?

 

“He didn't tell me much. Just said that he hunted demons and spirits, and that he'd spent the last year establishing contacts all over the country, especially in churches, to help him do it. He didn't seem to particularly care whether I believed him or not, or whether I believed in these things, as long as I let him finish and didn't throw him out.”

 

Maria paused for a moment, her eyes distant. “I didn't know what to tell him. I didn't know what to make of him, or you two, or what he was saying to me. It just all seemed so surreal. I still remember exactly what I finally said. I told him, `Mr. Winchester, the fact is, I do believe that there are other things out there…dangerous things. And it's a good thing, what you're doing—fighting them. But I have a life here, and I have people to take care of. I can't afford to draw their attention to us.”

 

She looked sad, then. “I sometimes…regret that now. And I felt bad then, too, because I wasn't telling the whole truth. But John seemed to sense what I didn't say—that I was afraid. Afraid of what would happen if I stuck my neck out, afraid of the possibility of death at a demonic hand. An old woman's fears, I'm afraid, and nothing more.

 

“John didn't argue. He seemed somehow…above it. He just nodded, and thanked me for my time, and then you all just…left without another word. And I never heard a thing out of any of you ever again. I never forgot, though. I never could forget—him, or you.”

 

Her voice drifted off, and silence fell again.

 

Sam, for one, didn't quite know what to say. This was one thing even he had not foreseen. John Winchester had talked often and openly about all of his contacts in the U.S., and Sam had met most of them. They kept in touch with each other faithfully, and Sam had thought he understood. But he'd never considered the idea that some members of the clergy would simply refuse to join the fight—and he'd never thought that there could be people who knew him that he'd never even heard of.

 

And yet here he was, talking to a nun who fit that description exactly, but did not in any way fit the description of an actual nun, and who had apparently been wondering about them for over two decades, though there was really no reason for her to care at all. And, on top of it, an NYPD detective now had Dean's full name to enter into the records, and if he decided to try and dig something up, it could very well be nothing short of cataclysmic…

 

At the thought of Dean, Sam's mind switched to another subject entirely. Why hadn't his brother recalled at least something of Maria Lane? A nun with a tongue as sharp as Maria's seemed to be was hardly forgettable, and Sam happened to know that Dean had a very long and very clear memory. Still, the older Winchester had been only six at the time…

 

But that didn't quite fit, either, because Dean had told Sam that he did remember the night of Mary Winchester's death—though the details were getting a little fuzzy after nearly twenty-three years. Still, he remembered, and naturally, it would follow that he remembered the nights after. So why didn't he remember Maria?

 

And, more importantly, how was Sam supposed to broach the subject with his brother, and get his questions answered? How could he ask about something involving John and the early days without hurting them both?

 

These thoughts and questions chased each other madly through Sam's head, creating bedlam that made the normal noise seem tiny in comparison. He felt a headache begin to build again, and wished devoutly for the pills in his bag at the motel. But…no, it wasn't bad enough to mention, and at any rate, he was beginning to fear becoming too reliant on the things…

 

“So,” Maria said, pulling Sam abruptly out of his own head, for which he was profoundly grateful. “I've answered all your questions. But I have some, too, and I've been holding onto them for twenty years.”

 

“We'll answer them,” Dean said wearily, much to Sam's surprise—and concern. He sounded so tired…and sad…with that undercurrent of anger that almost always layered his voice nowadays, especially when he talked about John. Sam worried about that anger, but he couldn't do anything about it, and it was so frustrating.

 

The headache asserted itself with another throb, and Sam brought his mind back to the subject at hand before it could do more than that, just as Dean said impatiently, “Well, get on with it, will you?”

 

“Actually, all of my questions can be summed up pretty easily. What started your search, and what brought you into my church that night?”

 

Sam knew the question must have hurt Dean, somewhere deep inside where he actually allowed feelings to penetrate, but he didn't allow it to so much as flicker across his face as he answered, in a calm, even voice that meant his feelings went very deep.

 

“We started hunting when a demon killed our mom, when Sam was six months old. Dad started it, obviously, and raised me and Sam to that life. He taught us to shoot, knife-fighting, physical fighting…trained us in pretty much every weapon known to man. And then there were the Latin lessons, too. Anyway, when it started out, Dad just wanted that one demon that killed Mom. But as time went on, and we didn't find it…well, it started turning into something more than just revenge, until it became a full-time job, hunting down just about anything evil—with the help of church leaders all over the country, which, I guess, is how he ended up here.”

 

As suddenly as he'd started speaking, Dean fell silent, and sat back without looking at any of them, while Sam stared studiously at his hands and tried to ignore the weight of the two pitying gazes on him. God, he hated being looked at that way…

 

Finally, though, Maria spoke, with brightness that sounded only slightly forced. “Let's talk about something more cheerful, hey? Tell me about your father. How is he? Why isn't he with you?”

 

“He's dead,” Dean said flatly. “You're really good at happy conversation, aren't you?”

 

And then the conversation died past all resuscitation. Sam and Dean sat in silence, enduring more of the looks, as time ticked slowly by. Sam was trying frantically to find some topic to take the attention off their lives, and maybe something that would help Dean forget, when thankfully the matter was taken entirely out of his hands with the slamming of the door.

 

“So then I tell Dee that if I have to watch him feel up my dad one more time—”

 

“Oh, gross! Could you ve any cruder?”

 

“Oh, yeah, I can be cruder. You wanna hear it?”

 

“Uh…no, thanks…hi, Mother, hi, Ryo…oh, my God…”

 

The exchange was abruptly cut off when Bikky reappeared in the doorway, with another kid about sixteen years old, who was holding the hand of a small, big-eyed, utterly silent girl.

 

Sam's eyes widened in recognition, and he felt a huge smile break across his face as he stood up, Dean copying him a fraction of a second later.

 

The teen grinned back at them, and let go of his sister's hand to stride across the room. Sam held out a hand to shake, but Morgan rolled his eyes and grabbed him in a fierce hug. Sam grunted in surprise, but then hugged him back, noting in the back of his mind that the kid was getting tall. Must've hit a growth spurt. He was still thin, though—he probably always would be, Sam thought with a pang.

 

Sam found himself chuckling as he let go of the kid, and the sound was foreign to him. “Morgan, what are you doing here?”

 

Morgan smiled again and turned to hug a very startled Dean, who did not return the gesture, but just stood there and looked freaked out—and happy.

 

Well…happier.

 

“Sari, come over here,” Morgan said, and the little girl came cautiously forward. She hadn't grown much, but she looked a lot healthier than she had a year ago, and she only hid partly behind Morgan instead of concealing herself completely. Morgan half-turned and leaned over, scooping her up easily. “Do you remember Sam and Dean, Sari?”

 

Sari nodded, and smiled with much more ease than she used to, though she still didn't speak. Sam was used to that, and he gave her his most charming grin. “Hi, Sari. It's good to see you again.”

 

She nodded in agreement just as Ryo spoke up for the first time in the whole conversation, his tone mild but his interest clearly sharp.

 

“I take it you…know each other?”

 

“Morgan, what's goin' on?” Bikky asked a beat later.

 

“You still haven't answered me,” Sam added.

 

Morgan smiled at him again and sat down on the large couch, swinging Sari around and settling her onto his lap. She looked remarkably small next to him, but she seemed more comfortable than Sam had ever seen her. Everyone returned to their seats then, and Morgan said, “Okay, we can talk now.”

 

“Now will you share with the class how the hell you got here?” Sam asked impatiently.

 

Morgan shrugged. “You guys, actually. Well, in a way. It's kind of a long story.”

 

“Would someone please clue me in here?” Bikky asked, sounding a little irritated. “I'm already getting the feeling that I missed a big something while we were gone and I don't like the feeling!”

 

“Uh…sorry, Bik,” Morgan said, sounding genuinely apologetic. “I'm just…surprised, is all. I haven't seen or talked to these two in over a year.”

 

“We met him through…uh…work,” Sam supplied quickly, for Bikky's benefit, and Dean nodded in agreement.

 

“Oh, don't be so modest,” Morgan chuckled. “These two saved my arse,” he added to the room in general. Sam tensed a little, until the teen went on. “I was being attacked by this real freak and they—ran him off. And then they followed me to the Crap Shack, a.k.a. our home at the time, and…well, things sorta spiraled, and I ended up in their motel with Sari, with a pile of money in my lap and the name of a shelter for us.”

 

Sam blessed the fact that Ryo didn't react at all to the “pile of money” thing.

 

“So anyway, as to how I got here,” Morgan went on. “We made your money last for quite a while—we left the Crap Shack and got a really tiny room at a motel. We stayed there for about a month and just sort of…let a little time go by, while we figured out where our lives were going. The money lasted us a big longer than that, and we started shelter-hopping.” Morgan shrugged. “Wasn't a bad way of doing things, especially compared to the way we lived before, but…we wanted something more…permanent, y'know?

 

“Well, at one of the shelters we stayed at, the guy was running it was actually really nice, and I decided it was time to ask someone for advice on the subject. And this guy seriously thought about it—instead of just brushing me off—and finally he told me I should try New York City. Turns out he was a friend of Mother Maria, and he thought this place may be exactly what we were looking for. And then he went above and beyond by offering to pay to ship us over here. And…well, that's it. We found this church, and as soon as she heard our story, Mother welcomed us. That was about two months ago, and we've been here ever since.”

 

“And you'll continue being here until you get your G.E.D., and find a decent-paying job, and find a place to live, and become able to support yourself,” Maria said firmly, and Morgan chuckled.

 

“Hey, you won't get any arguments from us. Right, Sari?”

 

Sari nodded, and smiled, and it occurred to Sam that she was doing that a lot more now. And for a moment, he forgot about everything and just allowed himself a moment of warmth.

 

We did a good thing there…

 

XXX

 

Dinner lasted almost an hour-and-a-half. They lingered over the food and the conversation, and most importantly, said conversation was normal. No mention of demons, or spirits, or hunting, or really anything to do with the Winchesters.

 

Dean kept an eye on Morgan and Sari the entire time he ate, and he liked what he saw. Morgan chattered animatedly, and Sari, though she still didn't talk, no longer shrank away whenever someone looked at her. They didn't attack their food like animals, so they weren't starving anymore, and they weren't as pale as they used to be.

 

They seemed so much happier now.

 

And he had helped make it happen.

 

If Dean Winchester were the kind of person to admit to warm-fuzzies, he definitely would have felt them now.

 

But, as it was, he just sat next to his brother, and ate, and watched, and didn't say anything, and tried to ignore the fact that his brother kept glancing at him in what had to be a questioning way. What the question was, Dean wasn't sure he wanted to think about…

 

XXX

 

It was almost 9:00 when Dean, Sam, Ryo, and Bikky finally stepped out of the church, accompanied by Morgan and Maria—Sari had gone to bed once she was done eating. All night, kids had been trickling in, and Sam and Dean had been exposed to more homeless teens than they'd ever seen. But Maria treated them all exactly the same as any other kid, and they all seemed to love her.

 

All in all it seemed like a nice place, and Sam was glad his young friend had found it.

 

“So how long are you guys staying?” Morgan asked as Maria took Ryo aside, leaving them alone.

 

Dean shrugged. “We'll probably leave first thing in the morning. We finished up a couple days ago, and we would have left today at the latest, if not for this.”

 

Morgan smiled at that, but let it pass without comment. “Will we see you again before you go?”

 

“We could drop by in the morning if you want,” Sam offered.

 

“I'd like that. And Sari would love it. Thanks.”

 

Sam smiled. “Okay, then. We—”

 

“We should go,” Dean cut him off—perhaps sensing what he was about to say—and brushed past them both, heading for the car.

 

“Uh…sorry,” Sam said. “He's…it's not you, I swear. And he's right—we should go. Gotta pack and all…”

 

“Yeah, sure. I'll see you tomorrow.” Morgan reached out—and up, just slightly—and patted Sam's shoulder. “Go figure out what's bugging your brother.” As Sam raised an eyebrow, he rolled his eyes. “Don't tell me you haven't been thinking about it all night.”

 

Sam tried not to show his thoughts, but that didn't mean they weren't there.

 

He should not be that perceptive…he doesn't talk to people. That's creepy…

 

XXX

 

“So,” Maria said, watching as the Impala drove away. Morgan had already gone back inside, and Bikky had tactfully moved off during the goodbyes, leaving them alone. “Are you going to tell me about the fight?”

 

“…Huh?” Ryo asked stupidly.

 

“The fight you and Dee had earlier that's been on your mind all night. Do you want to tell me about it, or do you just want to pretend it didn't happen?”

 

Ryo shrugged. “Like I told Bikky, it wasn't really a fight.” He didn't bother asking how she knew—she was a mother and a nun, after all.

 

“Oh? Then what was it, really?” Maria asked.

 

“We had a…thing.”

 

“A thing?”

 

“A tiny thing. Hardly worth mentioning.”

 

“Then why do you look like your puppy just died?” Maria asked shrewedly.

 

“I do not look like that. Look, it was nothing. I said some things. He said some things…”

 

“Would you like to tell me what?”

 

Ryo shook his head. “It doesn't matter. It's done with. I'm fine. And we're fine. Or…we will be.”

 

Maria looked hard at him, then said, “You're hurt. What he said hurt you.” She didn't give him a chance to confirm or deny. “But you don't want to tell him so, so you're just gonna forget about it.”

 

“Well…well, yeah,” Ryo said, a little uncomfortably.

 

“Why?” Maria pressed.

 

“I don't want to make him feel bad…”

 

Maria chuckled. “Oh, Ryo, Ryo, Ryo, you don't understand at all, do you?”

 

“This conversation? No, not really.”

 

“He already feels bad. He knows he hurt you, and he probably knows you're going to pretend you didn't. But he also knows you're just pretending. You have to talk to him, Ryo.”

 

Once again, Maria had displayed her talent for making the fewest words go the longest way, and Ryo sighed. “Okay, I'm the idiot.”

 

“So?”

 

“So…I'll…talk to him when I pick him up in the morning.”

 

She shook her head. “Now. I think you should do it now. You shouldn't go to bed without resolving this.”

 

“But visiting hours will be over soon—”

 

“Then you should probably hurry, shouldn't you?”

 

Ryo looked at her for a moment, then suddenly smiled tiredly and said, “What would we do without you, Mother?”

 

Maria shrugged. “Probably eat a lot of soup, and buy some cats. Now go.”

 

XXX

 

Dean forced himself not to so much as glance at his brother the entire time they packed to leave. He had been waiting tensely for Sam to ask the question he knew was coming all night long. He had felt the curious look Sam had shot at him when Maria made that comment about Dean not remembering her, and knew that Sam had to be wondering. After all, Dean remembered the night of the fire, if dimly, so it therefore followed that he must remember afterwards.

 

Only…he didn't.

 

He didn't remember a thing after the fire. From the moment he'd stepped out of the burning house with little Sammy in his arms to the moment he picked up his first weapon three years later, Dean's mind was a complete blank. He couldn't understand why that was, but in the end he supposed it didn't matter. It hadn't done any harm, and he wasn't sure he wanted to remember those days, anyway.

 

But how was he to tell Sam all that? He'd never told anyone that, not even his father…

 

And besides, Sam would probably make the whole thing into a much bigger deal than it actually was. He was a good guy, but in Dean's opinion he tended to blow things out of proportion a lot. He'd probably see this as some sort of tragedy…

 

No, it was probably better not to say anything. But what to tell him when he finally asked?

 

As if the thought had summoned the question, a hesitant voice echoed through the silent room.

 

“Hey…Dean?”

 

Dean sighed inwardly. Here it came…

 

And then Kansas rang through the room—Carry On, My Wayward Son, which Dean had always found terribly ironic—and Dean breathed a sigh of relief as Sam fished his phone from his pocket.

 

“H'lo? Oh, hey, Ryo…” He listened for a moment, frowning, then nodded. “We'll be right there.” He hung up and dropped the shirt he was folding on the bed, then turned to Dean. “We have to go.”

 

“Why? What's goin' on now?”

 

“Dee went missing from the hospital.”

 

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AN: Well, it didn't take as long as I thought it would to get out! Unfortunately, I haven't even STARTED the book I have to read for my final, so the next chapter will probably take another little while to get out. Plus, I have very little idea where I'm going with this, so yeah…

 

But no matter what, this story will probably be finished in 2-3 chapters, counting the epilogue.

 

Oh, and by the way, on the subject of Morgan and Sari—they were featured in my story In The Eyes of the Children, so if you're curious, that's where you should go.

 

Now, please review! I'd be very, very grateful!!! I know a lot of people are disappointed in me for all the Supernatural fics I've been writing, but seriously, I have not given up on Yu Yu! I just don't have any ideas…

 

Now, if anybody has a request for a Yu Yu fic, that'd be a different story…