Chapter Text
Sam followed Dean into town on the same bike he’d used to get to and from Howl’s that day. Dean apparently believed Maryanne’s assurances that her phone tree would net results, although Sam wasn’t too sure.
But then again, this was a quiet area of the world, and a new Cadillac was a noticeable vehicle in this day and age. Maybe they’d get lucky.
Sam knew there wasn’t another choice. Even if there weren’t that many routes in and out of town, there were side roads he could have taken by now, and Jones had a long lead. They would look, of course, but there was a chance they’d never catch up, or that they’d catch up too late.
Maryanne made two calls, giving roughly the same information both times, and then she sighed. “And now, we wait.”
Dean probably would have paced, but his bum leg made that problematic. Sam watched as he fidgeted on the couch next to Cas, who put a reassuring hand on Dean’s knee.
“Maybe we ought to call a few more people in on this,” Cas suggested. “If we’re going after Jones…”
“Who are we gonna get?” Dean asked. “We’re going to have to split up at some point, and nobody around here has the experience we do. They’re all green.”
Maryanne gave Dean a sharp look. “And they went after Angela’s murderer right along with you. Green is as green does, Dean.”
“That was as a group,” Dean replied, not backing down. “We don’t know what we’re facing here. Our first priority has to be getting Casey back. After that, we’ll decide what has to be done, but if we send out a posse, we go out as a group.”
Maryanne snorted, but she didn’t argue, and Sam walked over to the front window of Maryanne’s small, cluttered apartment, looking out over the street below. He could see a few people going about their business, calling out greetings to each other.
Folks in this town got by, Sam thought. People here took care of their neighbors, providing support and aid for the old and sick and orphaned. It was a different world than the one Sam had gotten used to since the apocalypse.
The phone rang, causing Sam to jump. Maryanne grabbed for the receiver—it was an old rotary phone, the likes of which Sam hadn’t seen in decades—and answered, “Yes?”
She nodded, her mouth set in a grim line. “I see. Thank you.” When she hung up, she turned to Dean, “He was on 20, heading west towards the junction at 85. He stopped in Reva for gas, but he didn’t get much. If he gets to the junction before you do, he can go either north or south.”
Sam was impressed, and Dean said, “Damn, Maryanne. That was impressive.”
“Phone trees work,” she said simply. “And now you need to go after that girl. Julia and I will take care of the rest of your brood.”
“Sam, you’re okay on the bike? Got enough gas?” Dean asked. “We can split up when we hit 85 if we both go.”
“I’m good on gas,” he replied. “I’m more worried about you.”
Cas shook his head. “We’ll be fine.”
They had loaded up on weapons and ordinance before they left the house, and Sam checked the clip in his 9 mil as they clattered down the steps to the vehicles. Sam felt the familiar buzz of excitement in his veins as he swung a leg over the bike.
“Dean! Sam!” Maryanne called. “If you need to stop in Reva, ask for Mike Shanahan. He may have a few gallons of gas he can spare, and he’s good with a hunting rifle.”
“Will do, Maryanne. Sam, don’t wait for us,” Dean ordered. “When you hit the junction, go north. We’ll strike south to see if we can catch up to Jones and Casey.”
Sam nodded, revving the bike’s engine.
“And Sam!” Dean called. “Be careful.”
Sam grinned. “You too.”
He didn’t push the bike quite as hard as he could have, mostly to save what gas he could. He might have to stop in Reva, but Sam knew how hard it was to get fuel in this area of the country, and he didn’t like the idea of taking resources that an entire community depended on.
Sam blew through Reva in short order, the bike flying down poorly maintained roads as the sun began its descent. Sam dodged potholes the size of small cars and spared a thought for Dean and Cas, who would have a harder time negotiating the road.
He slowed down as he approached the junction, seeing an old weather-beaten sign announcing that 85 was just up ahead. In the deepening twilight, Sam could just make out the unmoving taillights of a car, and he was torn between speeding up to catch the vehicle and slowing down to avoid discovery. The poor light made his choice for him, though; Sam had to slow down.
Sam could just make out the back end of a Cadillac when he heard the familiar sound of gunfire and felt a bullet whistle past his head. “Shit,” Sam cursed, cutting the engine and getting the bike on its side to reduce his chance of getting shot.
He pulled his weapon and scrambled for cover in the tall grass by the side of the road. “I’m armed!” he shouted. “And I will shoot you.”
Sam heard laughter. “Your bullets won’t kill me!” the man shouted. “Do you hear that, girl? If you don’t come out right now, I’ll kill him, and it will be your fault.”
Sam realized that Casey must have hidden somewhere close by, and the thing out there was looking for her. “Casey! It’s Sam. I’m going to get you out of this!”
“If you come out now, I might let him live!”
Sam heard a whimper close by, off to his right. “Casey!” Sam hissed. “I need you to come to me now.”
She whimpered again. “Come on, kiddo,” Sam coaxed. “Dean and Cas are on their way. We just have to sit tight long enough to get reinforcements.”
The grass rustled and Casey’s battered, dirty figure crawled toward him slowly. She had a bruise darkening her left cheek, and her right shoulder was obviously dislocated, her arm hanging awkwardly at her side.
“Good job,” Sam whispered. “Really good job. Are you okay?”
She nodded, clearly trying to stifle her sobs. “My shoulder hurts really bad.”
“I know it does, but you’re a tough kid,” Sam replied. “You’re going to be okay. I’m going to get you out of this.”
Casey looked at him with such trust in her eyes that Sam’s heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t remember the last time anybody had looked at him like that—like he could save the world. “Okay,” she said faintly.
“Come on out, little girl,” the thing called. “I’m not letting you go. Your father owes me.”
“He’s not going to get you,” Sam said fiercely, putting a hand on her good shoulder. “Nothing is going to happen to you.”
Sam had no idea how he was going to keep that promise at the moment, but he would. He didn’t have any other choice.
~~~~~
Casey had first suspected that something was wrong when her dad headed west, not north, after he promised to pick up her brothers. When she’d asked him about it, he’d said it was a shortcut, but that didn’t make any sense.
She remembered the route they’d taken after her dad had dropped Rich and Cal off with Mr. Arnold and Mr. Beam. At the time, she’d paid attention because she thought she might run away, and she’d need to find them again if she did. Casey had memorized every sign, every major turn, and she thought she could find the farm again if necessary.
Casey had always had a good sense of direction, and she knew that her dad was totally going the wrong way. When she saw a sign for Reva—a town she’d never heard of before—Casey felt panic begin to bubble in her chest.
“I thought we were going to pick up Rich and Cal,” she protested. “We’re going west!”
The hand came out of nowhere, backhanding her across her face, making her bite the inside of her lip hard enough to taste blood. Casey’s head rang with the blow, and she cried out in pain and surprise.
Her dad had spanked her before, but he’d never hit her in the face.
“Shut up!” he snarled and hit her again. “Just shut up! We wouldn’t be here if Jones hadn’t been such a fucking moron.”
She put an arm over her face, trying to protect herself from further blows, the words ringing in her ears.
This isn’t my dad.
The thought came in a flash of insight that set Casey’s mind to racing. If this wasn’t her father, she couldn’t stay with him. She had to get away, to get back to Dean’s house, because he’d help her. Even if he didn’t want to, Dean would help.
The man grabbed her arm and shook her. “Stop that! Just sit still. We need gas, and I don’t want you giving anything away.” He must have seen the look she shot the car door, because he said, “And if you try anything I’ll kill you and whoever tries to help.”
Casey sat silent and still when they stopped to try and get gas. She would have to get away somewhere the man couldn’t hurt anybody else. Maybe if she jumped out of the car and hid, he wouldn’t look for her.
She was good at hiding; she always won at hide and seek when she played with Henry and the others.
The man was angry and muttering to himself as they left Reva, talking about stupid hicks, and how he couldn’t get enough gas in bum-fucking Egypt, and it was ridiculous to even try. Casey kept her head down and her mouth shut, waiting for the right moment, moving her right hand closer and closer to the door handle.
She made sure that the lock wasn’t engaged, waiting and watching as he slowed down to read one of the faded signs on the side of the road. The big car hadn’t made good time, and the roads were even worse here than they were around Cypress Grove, so Casey thought she could probably manage to jump.
Seatbelt, door, jump. The litany went through her mind again and again, until it was all she could think of. Seatbelt, door, jump.
And then the man slowed to go around a pothole, and the right side of the car was well over on the shoulder, next to a ditch with tall grass, surrounded by fields with more grass—the perfect place to lay low and hide. If she stayed perfectly still, he wouldn’t be able to find her.
Seatbelt, door, jump.
Casey moved fast, almost in one motion, and her right shoulder hit the ground with an audible pop. The pain left her breathless, but she pushed through, hearing the man’s shout of surprise behind her as she dove into the tall grass by the side of the road.
She choked back her cries of pain, but the tears rolled down her cheeks unheeded. Her bruised face throbbed in time with her shoulder, and she could feel the scrapes and bruises that had come as a result of her headlong dive from the still-moving car.
Casey didn’t want to think about how bad it would have been if he’d been going any faster, but she knew she’d have made the same decision. Somehow, she knew that if she’d stayed with him, things would have been worse.
She slithered through grass and brush as best she knew how, staying just out of reach of the man, even though she couldn’t escape his threats and promises. He alternated between telling her what he’d do to her—gut you like a fish, I’m going to break every bone in your body, make you scream, make you beg—and what he’d do to her father if she didn’t come out of hiding.
Casey resorted to covering her ears as best she could with her shoulder hurting the way it was, even though that didn’t really help.
But when she heard the motorbike coming, the familiar whine of the engine cutting through the man’s ugly words, Casey believed she might get out of this alive.
And when she heard Sam calling to her, telling her to come to him, that he’d take care of her, she thought maybe her mom had been right when she’d told Casey she had a guardian angel looking out for her.
Maybe—just maybe—she’d be okay.
She crawled towards Sam, relieved to see his large, imposing figure in the growing dark. He was huge, bigger than her, bigger than the thing that wore her dad’s face, and he had a gun. He had an eye patch, and his size made him a little scary, but right now that factor was on Casey’s side.
And he’d said she was tough—which she was—and that she’d done good.
Sam half-covered her body with his own, making sure he didn’t jostle her injured shoulder too much, and it felt so good to let an adult take over. He’d promised he’d get her out of this, and Casey just didn’t have the energy to believe anything different.
They both heard the roar of the Willys’ engine long before it appeared, and Sam whispered, “Cover your ears. I’m going to fire off a warning shot.”
Casey stuck her finger into her left ear and ducked down under Sam’s body as he raised his right arm and fired off a shot.
Her ears still rang, and she heard Sam give a satisfied grunt. “Dean’s almost here,” he promised. “It’s going to be okay.”
She believed him.
~~~~~
Dean honestly didn’t expect to catch up to Jones, no matter how much he might want to. The only thing they had going for them was that Jones wouldn’t be expecting pursuit; he would have no idea that Pastor Joe had been going up to check on Casey’s brothers, or that he’d get word back to Dean about Arnold’s death. Jones had no reason to think anybody would chase him down.
He and Cas made good time up until Reva, but Highway 20 was even rougher going west of the small town. The Willys handled the terrain like a champ, even when Dean drove on the shoulder to avoid some of the larger potholes.
They were getting close to 85 when Cas said, “There are taillights up ahead. They aren’t moving.”
Dean frowned. “Do you see Sam?”
“No, and I don’t hear the bike, either,” Cas replied.
Before Dean could formulate a reply, he heard the sound of a gunshot, and he cursed. “Shit, shit, shit.” He had no idea who had fired, but he didn’t like his options.
Cas was already chambering a round in the shotgun, and Dean cut the headlights on the Willys. “Are we going straight in?” Cas asked.
“You got another suggestion?”
“No, although I’d rather not have to replace the vehicle,” Cas replied steadily. “I like this one.”
“You and me both,” Dean replied, thinking of the hours he’d spent restoring the engine until it ran like a dream. “Better to have the shelter, though, and if we kill this bastard, we can take his Caddy.”
“Fair enough,” Cas agreed, and that was all he needed to say.
As always, Cas was right there, backing Dean to the hilt. It was nice to be able to count on someone like that.
Dean sped up, figuring that if the vehicle moved fast enough, they’d be harder to hit. He spun the wheel and hit the brakes as they neared the Caddy, so that it ended up perpendicular to the road with the driver’s side closest, and he heard another shot.
He was familiar enough with weapons fire to know that this was a different gun than had fired the first shot, and he heard a ping as it hit metal. Cas dove out the passenger side door, hauling Dean along behind him, and they sat, their breathing suddenly loud in the ensuing silence.
“You’re outgunned, Jones!” Dean shouted, taking a chance. “I’m giving you a chance to get in your car and drive on.”
He heard wild laughter. “You think you can kill me?” Jones’ voice called. “Bullets won’t kill me, you stupid fuck!”
Dean heard rustling in the grass near the road, and Cas pointed the shotgun in the direction of the sound.
“Dean, it’s me,” Sam said quietly.
Dean breathed a sigh of relief. “Come on out.”
Sam emerged from the tall grasses in the ditch with Casey under one arm. Dean could see the butt of his pistol tucked in its holster, and Sam very carefully kept his left hand away from it.
“Casey?” Dean called. “You okay, sweetheart?”
“He’s not my dad,” she said, her voice hitching on a sob, although she was remarkably calm. “He isn’t. He’s not my dad.”
Dean grimaced. The fact that the thing wore Jones’ face left only one option. “You hurt?” Dean asked.
“Dislocated shoulder, and some serious bruising,” Sam said. “I didn’t want to leave her, and I was afraid of what it would do if we poked our heads out, since there wasn’t any cover.” Dean saw the flash of Sam’s teeth in the darkness. “And before you ask, hand me the silver knife.”
Dean held out the knife, blade first, and Sam closed his hand around it without flinching. That was the confirmation Dean needed that Sam was still Sam, and he nodded. “Good to know.”
“I hope you brought silver bullets,” Sam said, stripping off his jacket and wrapping it around Casey. “Because we’re going to need them.”
“When have I ever come unprepared?” Dean asked, releasing the clip from his semiautomatic and beginning to pop out the bullets one by one. He ignored the next shot that the thing took, trusting Cas and Sam to keep an eye out. Pulling a leather pouch out of his jacket pocket, Dean began reloading the clip with silver bullets.
As soon as Dean had loaded the clip, Sam popped up from behind the hood of the Willys, and fired a couple of shots into the darkness. Dean nodded approvingly; it was a good move since most people couldn’t resist shooting back, and that would reveal the shapeshifter’s position.
The thing lived up to expectations, and Dean heard the shot. The shapeshifter was a lot closer now, and Dean trained his weapon on its last known location. Sam shot at it again, and the shapeshifter once again returned fire. This time it was close enough for Dean to see the muzzle flash.
“Gotcha,” Dean muttered, and took careful aim from behind the hood of the Willys. A split second after Dean squeezed the trigger, he heard a muffled cry. He geared himself up to start the chase, but Cas gripped his arm, preventing him from moving.
“No, Dean, let us,” Cas said intently. “Stay with Casey.”
Dean scowled, but he handed his weapon off to Cas, taking the shotgun in turn. “Move fast, and be careful.”
Dean tried to find a position that would let him look over the top of Willys’ hood without straining his leg too much, but he couldn’t. It ached like a motherfucker, and Dean settled for sitting next to Casey, shotgun at the ready, straining his ears for every sound.
Casey stayed quiet, but Dean could feel her trembling, could just make out the shine of tears as they dripped down her cheeks and chin onto Sam’s jacket.
Dean let out a breath when he heard four shots in quick succession, and he stiffened, his heart beating double time.
“We’re okay!” Sam called. “He’s dead!”
Casey let out half a sob, and Dean reached out, drawing her close while trying not to aggravate her injuries. “He wasn’t my dad,” she said, her words almost indistinguishable between the sobs. “He wasn’t.”
“No, he wasn’t,” Dean said. “He was a shapeshifter. He was a bad guy. It’s going to be okay.”
Dean straightened as he heard approaching footsteps, and Sam and Cas came around the front of the Willys. “Shapeshifter?”
“Got it in one,” Sam assured him.
“Where’s my dad?” Casey sobbed out. “Do you think he’s okay?”
Dean met Sam’s eyes, and then Cas’, and he sighed. “I don’t know, Casey. We’ll see if we can find out, but I can’t make any promises.”
“Dean, we should probably do what we can for her shoulder,” Sam said softly. “And then we’ll need to get her to a doctor.”
Dean nodded. At least one of them needed to head back to Cypress Grove to see to the other kids. “Okay, let’s get her shoulder popped back into place. The nearest hospital is in Rapid City. Sam, if you want to put the bike in the Willys, I can drive Casey in the Caddy.”
“What about the body?” Sam asked quietly.
“You and I can take care of it,” Cas told him. “Dean, we’ve got it.”
Dean blew out a breath. “Okay. Casey? You all right with that plan?”
He didn’t want to give her a choice, but he knew how important it was that she believed she had one. She’d been victimized, and it was important that she believe she had options.
Casey nodded, and said in a very small voice, “Yeah, okay.”
“This is going to hurt like a mo-fo, tough stuff,” Sam said softly. “But we’re going to hang onto you, okay? You’re going to be fine.”
Casey nodded, and she looked up at Sam with complete trust. Dean realized that a bond had formed between them, and he asked, “Casey, do you want Sam to go to the hospital with you?”
Casey hesitated, and then nodded. “No offense,” she said quickly, looking back at Dean.
“No offense taken, kiddo,” Dean said. “Sam, you okay with that plan?”
“Whatever you need,” Sam said to Casey. “Okay, hang tight.”
Dean had no idea if they were doing the right thing by popping Casey’s shoulder back into place. He knew the tissues would be swollen, and that they might do more harm than good, but he also knew that the trip to Rapid City was going to be unendurable if they didn’t at least try.
He and Sam had enough experience popping a dislocated shoulder into place that they knew how to get it done, and done fast. Casey let out a little scream and fainted when the joint popped back into place, and Sam pulled off his belt to form a makeshift sling, then buttoned his jacket back around her.
They tucked Casey into the backseat of the car with the blanket from the Willys tucked around her. “Call Maryanne as soon as you have the chance,” Dean ordered. “Please.”
“Will do,” Sam promised. “You’ll let Howl know where I’m at?”
“I will,” Dean said. “Thanks, Sam.”
Sam shrugged. “Hey, it’s the least I can do, right?”
“You’re doing a lot,” Dean replied.
“Hey, Dean?” Sam called as he climbed into the Caddy.
“Yeah?”
“I get it,” Sam said quietly. “I get why you keep taking in all those strays. The way Casey looked at me… You know?”
Dean smiled, feeling a flash of sheer pleasure that his brother understood. It meant more than he could say. “Yeah, I know. I’ll see you. Ask for Mike in Reva if you need to fuel up. ”
“I remember,” Sam called. “See you soon.” He started up the Caddy and headed away.
Cas put an arm around Dean’s shoulders. “Not a bad outcome.”
“Maybe,” Dean said. “But I have to wonder why that thing took Jones’ form and came after his kids. Maybe there’s something else out there that will come after them again. Nothing we can do about Casey’s brothers, but—”
“Nothing is going to get close to Casey,” Cas told him. “We’ll put the word out through Maryanne that something is hunting kids, specifically Casey.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Dean replied. “I guess that’s the only thing we can do.”