serafina20 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
serafina20) wrote2006-10-28 11:29 am
serafina20) wrote2006-10-28 11:29 am
Entry tags:
Fic: Picking Up (5/?)
Title Picking Up
Author![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
serafina20
Fandom SPN
Pairing Dean/OFC
Rating Mature
Summary Dean and Rachel search for Sam.
Series Captured Soul, Kitsune, Another Kind of Trap, and The Greater Good.
Spoilers In My Time of Dying, Everybody Loves a Clown
"He's here?" Dean said doubtfully as he cut the engine on the Impala.
Rachel ran her hand through her hair. "Yeah." She felt just as doubtful as Dean sounded.
He unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to face her. "You're telling me that dies, Sam freaks out that he's going to kill the two of us, books it to Ohio, turns back around to Wisconsin all to go to a fucking carnival?"
"Looks that way."
"Unless you're wrong."
She leaned her head back against the seat and smiled at him. "Well. I often am."
The corner of his mouth quirked upwards. "Say it ain't so." He leaned forward. Brushed his lips lightly across hers, then stiffened and yanked back. "Uh, so..."
Rachel cleared her throat. Looked out the window and tried to push down the feeling of disappointment that welled in her. Because there was no reason to be disappointed. If Dean wanted to pull back, that was great. Really.
"So." She licked her lips. "Why do you think he's here?"
Dean shrugged. "Maybe he wanted some cotton candy."
She snorted. Then there was a flash in her brain. "Hey, do you think he's here because of those murders?"
"What murders?"
Right, he hadn't read the paper that morning.
Rachel reached behind her, to the backseat where she'd tossed that morning's paper. "There's this article in here about a few murders. One happened just a few days ago. Parents killed, ripped apart to tiny shreds. Their kids say a clown did it."
"A clown."
She held the paper out. "That's what it says."
Dean's eyes scanned the article. The skin between his eyes wrinkled in a frown. "This definitely sounds like something we'd hunt. But there's two problems with this."
"What?"
"One? Sam wouldn't go hunting on his own. Not now at any rate. Maybe he'd go after the demon, but anything else? Not really."
"Okay, and two?"
He grinned. "Sammy's afraid of clowns."
Rachel laughed. "No."
"Cries like a little baby at the sight of them."
She smacked his arm. "Anyway, afraid of clowns or not, he's here. For the first time, we're in the same place at the same time. You wanna go find him, or you want to sit in the car and look at each other?"
He reached out and combed his fingers through her hair. There was a sad, wistful expression on his face. It made Rachel's stomach twist and body to go hot.
"We better go," he said, fingers still in her hair.
"Yeah." She pulled his hand and held it. "Let's go."
And still they didn't move. Just sat there, holding hands, looking at each other.
Dean looked about as sad as she felt.
"Okay," he said after she didn't know how much time had past. "Let's go." He leaned over her and grabbed something from the glove compartment. Then he left the car.
Rachel reached into the back again, this time for her backpack. She transferred her EMF, notebook, camera, and bottle of holy water into her purse. Then, she opened the door and climbed out.
"You planning on hunting?"
"Dude, I just saw you grab your home made EMF reader."
He smiled. Smugly proud of that stupid thing, still. "Yeah, but, it's what I do."
"As long as I'm with you, me to." She slipped her arm through his and tug. "Now let's go win me a teddy bear."
They walked in silence for awhile. The carnival was crowded, full of families carting around candy-sticky kids and hormonal teenagers out to find a dark nook to neck. The ragged workers with the glazed look of indifference on their faces and secret smiles they threw each other, speaking of inside jokes and lives separate from the mundanes that surrounded them.
Both Dean and Rachel kept vigilant, looking for Sam. Or, at least, Rachel tried to look for Sam. But she was tired and everyone sort of faded into one monstrous, many-headed person. And her mind wandered. It didn't help that she and Dean were still walking close together, and that their hands were brushing, and that he smelled really good this morning.
She had to distract herself.
"I don't get clowns," she finally said.
"What?"
"Clowns," she repeated. "I don't get them. Modern clowns, I mean. Circus clowns. Like, historical clowns? The Fools and jesters? Those I get. They were political. They had a philosophy. They were the oracles of their age. I mean, they held up a mirror to the oppression that was going on, and even though, yeah, they didn't always affect much change, they still ... you know. *Did* stuff." Rachel ran her hands through her hair. She felt warm. "What do modern clowns do? I mean, they're not funny, they're not clever. They rely on big floppy shoes and little flowers that squirt water. Comedians are our modern day Fools. Clowns? They're kind of stupid. Even the ones that mime... what?"
Dean had stopped. Was giving her a look.
"What?" she asked again.
He looked at her for another moment, then shook his head. "You're a freak. Braintrust." He stepped forward and tapped her on the forehead. "Too much information percolating around in there without any place to go, so we get rants about clowns."
She blushed and shrugged. "Yeah, well. I guess that's why you love..." Crap.
Dean looked like he was thinking the same thing. He started to step back, then shook his head abruptly.
Rachel was about to turn away when Dean stepped into her personal space. Took her by the arms, hard. Yanked her up. Kissed her.
She melted. Completely and utterly. Turned into a Rachel puddle, grateful for the hands on her arms, the body she could leaned against. Raised her arms to grab him. Got one hand clutching his shirt, the other behind his head, holding him to her. Kissing him back. Sucking on his tongue and, Jesus fucking Christ, Dean was *so good* at this.
She forgot to breathe. The carnival and dust and smells of junk faded away, replaced with soap and skin.
And the way he was kissing her.... After nearly two days of stand-offish behavior, this sudden... *heat*. Intensity. Made her head spin.
"It's not about that," he said, tearing his mouth away. Dean's hands moved from her arms to her back, holding her against him. "That's not why."
Rachel nodded. Kissed him again. "I know." Her heart pounded in her ears. Her breath came very fast.
"I'm just... with everything right now, I'm just..."
"I understand."
"I mean, I can," he hastened to assure her.
Her cheeks heated. Rachel nodded. "I know."
Dean brushed hair from her face. He looked pained as he gazed at her. Like looking at something he'd always wanted, but couldn't have.
Or maybe that's just the way she was feeling.
"Maybe... maybe we should split up for awhile? Look for Sam."
"Oh."
"Just, maybe then you could focus. Instead of, you know. Ranting about the uselessness of clowns in today's society."
She laughed and blushed. "It's not that I think they're useless. I just think it's sad that this great, noble, art with a long tradition has given way to..."
He kissed her. "Seriously. Shut up, freak."
"Sorry."
Dean kissed her forehead, then pushed her away. "Okay. I'll take the north side, you go south. We meet back here in an hour. Call if you find him."
Rachel nodded. "Sounds good. Watch out for killer clowns." She turned, started walking away, and immediately tripped over a rock.
"Watch out for the ground, brainiac."
"Bite me."
She heard him mumble something, but was too far away to make it out. It had to be either something along the lines of, "promise?" or "never in this lifetime."
Probably not the latter. Not after that kiss. Although, with the way things were going between them, it never would be in this lifetime.
Maybe the next would be safer for them.
She continued to wander the carnival. Without the distraction of Dean, it was easier to keep focused on the people around her. Still, it was like trying to find a Sammy-shaped needle in a stack of... vaguely Sammy-shaped needles. The only real thing she had going for her was the fact he was so freakishly tall.
Which, it turned out, actually helped. That and the fact he was standing on the stairs to the funhouse when she caught sight of him.
Her heart lurched. "Sam!" she called, but was drowned out by the loud ringing of a nearby bell. Throwing a disgusted look at the game, Rachel jogged through the crowd to the funhouse.
By the time she reached it, Sam had disappeared inside. Definitely hunting. Or looking for a cheap thrill.
It was dark inside. Neon lights glowed along the floor, over "fun" mirrors. Things jumped out and mist sprayed and, God, she objected to circus clowns but she *hated* funhouses.
"Sam?" she called, voice shaky.
"Sam, Sam," someone mocked from next to her.
Something tugged her braid. She whirled, only to see two teenage boys running away, laughing.
"Jerks," she muttered. "I can kick your ass," she added. Because it was true. Maybe.
She continued through the mirror maze. It was absurdly simple to navigate, but, then, it was just a funhouse. She'd always wanted to be in a *real* mirror maze, one not designed to get people through quickly to go spend their money outside. Or a real maze. Like Hampton Court's hedge maze. She'd always planned to go there right after graduation and just lose herself in there for hours.
But, plans change. The Winchesters had needed her and she wouldn't be anywhere else.
She left the maze. Passed a beautiful calliope that seemed innocuously placed in the middle of a plywood funhouse, but whatever.
"Sam?" she called again. She moved across the room, from the calliope to what looked like an alien display on the other side of the wall. It was something in a jar, floating. Reminded her of the cow fetus from "Firefly", when she realized it wasn't even close to that. Just a baby doll with three heads.
Rachel snorted. Stepped around the corner.
Shrieked as something fell from the ceiling in front of her face.
"Jesus!" the figure in the corner swore. It jumped and turned. "Rachel?"
Heart pounding, she tore her eyes from the skeleton dangling from the ceiling to Sam. "Sam!"
The skeleton was actually heavy as she pushed it aside--it couldn't be real, could it?--and rushed to him. "We've been so worried!" she said, throwing her arms around him.
Sam stumbled back against the force of her weight. His arms came around her and he hugged her tightly, pulling her halfway off the floor. "What are you doing here?"
"Looking for you, moron." She clutched at his jacket for a moment. Then she pulled away and socked him in the arm.
"Ouch! Hey, that hurt," he said, rubbing it.
"You're such a jerk!" she said. She punched him again.
"Hey!"
"What the hell were you thinking?"
"I was thinking I had to protect my brother and his wife from getting killed!" he shot back, shielding his arm from her.
"I'm not his wife!" Rachel snapped without thinking. "And we never wanted you to leave. Not to try and protect us."
Sam grabbed her left hand. "What's this?"
"This," she said, yanking it away again, "it's nothing." She could feel the tears pushing behind her eyes. Her hands shook as she fought to get the ring off. "It's nothing, okay? It was just a... a thing to help you and Dean out. That's all, okay?" She finally got it off and just held it in her fist. A tear slipped from the corner of her eyes and down her nose. "But this isn't about... You shouldn't have left."
"What's wrong?" Sam asked. He put his hands on her shoulders. Looked down into her face. "Rachel, what happened?"
She shook her head. "Nothing. It's nothing, okay?"
"It's not nothing." He slipped his finger underneath her chin and forced her to look up. "You and Dean were in a good place when I left. You were sharing a bed. You seemed really comfortable."
Rachel shrugged. "Things change. Anyway. We're here. We came to get you." She slipped the ring into her pocket and grabbed him by the sleeve. "Come. Dean and I have been trailing you for days."
"How did you find me?" he asked, allowing himself to be pulled from the funhouse.
"Like I'm going to tell you. Can't risk you running off again and this time knowing how we can keep track of where you are." She wiped another tear away. "Why are you here, anyway?"
"I got into Dad's voicemail. There was a message from this woman, Ellen, saying she could help. I went to check it out."
She raised her eyebrow at him. "And decided to stop at the carnival why?"
He ducked his head, blushing. "To, uh. Tohuntaclown," he mumbled.
Rachel rolled her eyes and pulled her phone from her pocket. Thumbing it open, she dialed Dean.
"Found him?" Dean answered.
"Yeah. And he's hunting clowns."
Dean snorted. "Where are you?"
"By the Ferris Wheel."
"I'll be right there."
She hung up. "He's on his way."
They waited in uneasy silence. Rachel didn't want to talk. It felt like she had a hole in her chest. Her hand felt naked. She felt naked. And Sam?
Sam was just looking at her. Through her. Like if he watched her long enough, she'd break. Or, worse, he'd see right through her and find it all out.
Rachel looked away. Crossed her arms and hugged her body.
"Hey." Dean came up behind her. Put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed, but she could feel his entire attention was on Sam.
Sam flushed and ducked his head. He looked guilty. "I'm sorry."
"Yeah, well. That don't mean a whole lot."
"I was trying to make sure you didn't get hurt."
"So you said."
"Dean..."
"What are you doing here, anyway?"
"I'm hunting."
Rachel felt Dean stiffen. His hand tightened on her shoulder.
Even though it was broad daylight, and it was Dean, and they were outside and it was nothing like... like *then*, Rachel's stomach suddenly twisted in panic. Dean was behind her, and she couldn't see him, but he was holding her and...
She yanked away from him, panting. Moved so she could see him, cold sweat gathering at her temples, slicking her palms.
Dean gave her a glance and a frown. A question.
Rachel just shook her head and tried to get control. And here she had been so proud that she'd gotten through something akin to sexual assault without it affecting her life.
"You're hunting," Dean said, attention focused again on Sam. "That's interesting." So much anger in his voice.
Sam flinched from it. "Look. I found this message on Dad's phone. His voicemail. This woman, Ellen, had called and said she could help. I found out where she was, and went there. Ellen runs a bar called the Roadhouse. Hunters, like us, go there. Like a meeting place. Apparently there's this whole world and we didn't know about it."
Rachel glanced at Dean to see how he took this revelation.
His face was still blank. Stone. "Really."
"Yeah," Sam nodded. "Anyway, I asked her about the message. And there's this guy there, Ash. He took all those papers I had. Dad's research? And he said he'd be able to figure out how we can use it to track the demon's movements. I don't know how, but I gave it to him."
"Awful trusting of you."
"Seriously, Dean, I don't know what to do anymore. We've got to trust someone, we can't do this on our own. Without Dad, we're floundering."
Dean's jaw tightened.
"Um," Rachel stepped in. "I have a bunch of your dad's papers. I was studying them the night you took off, so this Ash..."
"Yeah, I know," Sam said sheepishly. "Sorry about that."
She shrugged.
"That still doesn't explain why you're here?"
"Well, it'll take some time for Ash to put together the data. I was at the bar when I saw the file Ellen had put together on this case. So I decided to check it out, see if I could help."
"Still doesn't seem like you."
"Maybe I've changed."
Dean grunted.
There was a long, uncomfortable silence.
Rachel finally broke it. "Look. Why don't you tell me where this bar is? I'll take the rest of the papers over, give it to Ash. You two stay and try and track down the killer clown."
Sam flinched at the word clown.
She rolled her eyes. "You know, if you're that afraid of clowns..."
"Sometimes, we have to face our fear," he said stoically.
"I'll take your car," Rachel said. "I just need directions."
Dean took her by the arm and dragged her away from Sam. "You running?" he asked, sotto voce.
Rachel shook her head. "No. I just thought, well. You and Sam haven't had any time alone since your dad died. And I'm no good on a hunt, you know that. I can keep an eye on this Ash guy. Check out Ellen. Make sure we can trust them." She put he hand on Dean's cheek. "Talk to Sam. Or beat the crap out of him, I don't care. Just work this out and make sure he doesn't leave again."
"You're an amazing girl," he said. He brushed a stray hair from her cheek.
Rachel blushed and smirked. "Yeah, well. You're not half bad yourself."
Author
serafina20Fandom SPN
Pairing Dean/OFC
Rating Mature
Summary Dean and Rachel search for Sam.
Series Captured Soul, Kitsune, Another Kind of Trap, and The Greater Good.
Spoilers In My Time of Dying, Everybody Loves a Clown
"He's here?" Dean said doubtfully as he cut the engine on the Impala.
Rachel ran her hand through her hair. "Yeah." She felt just as doubtful as Dean sounded.
He unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to face her. "You're telling me that dies, Sam freaks out that he's going to kill the two of us, books it to Ohio, turns back around to Wisconsin all to go to a fucking carnival?"
"Looks that way."
"Unless you're wrong."
She leaned her head back against the seat and smiled at him. "Well. I often am."
The corner of his mouth quirked upwards. "Say it ain't so." He leaned forward. Brushed his lips lightly across hers, then stiffened and yanked back. "Uh, so..."
Rachel cleared her throat. Looked out the window and tried to push down the feeling of disappointment that welled in her. Because there was no reason to be disappointed. If Dean wanted to pull back, that was great. Really.
"So." She licked her lips. "Why do you think he's here?"
Dean shrugged. "Maybe he wanted some cotton candy."
She snorted. Then there was a flash in her brain. "Hey, do you think he's here because of those murders?"
"What murders?"
Right, he hadn't read the paper that morning.
Rachel reached behind her, to the backseat where she'd tossed that morning's paper. "There's this article in here about a few murders. One happened just a few days ago. Parents killed, ripped apart to tiny shreds. Their kids say a clown did it."
"A clown."
She held the paper out. "That's what it says."
Dean's eyes scanned the article. The skin between his eyes wrinkled in a frown. "This definitely sounds like something we'd hunt. But there's two problems with this."
"What?"
"One? Sam wouldn't go hunting on his own. Not now at any rate. Maybe he'd go after the demon, but anything else? Not really."
"Okay, and two?"
He grinned. "Sammy's afraid of clowns."
Rachel laughed. "No."
"Cries like a little baby at the sight of them."
She smacked his arm. "Anyway, afraid of clowns or not, he's here. For the first time, we're in the same place at the same time. You wanna go find him, or you want to sit in the car and look at each other?"
He reached out and combed his fingers through her hair. There was a sad, wistful expression on his face. It made Rachel's stomach twist and body to go hot.
"We better go," he said, fingers still in her hair.
"Yeah." She pulled his hand and held it. "Let's go."
And still they didn't move. Just sat there, holding hands, looking at each other.
Dean looked about as sad as she felt.
"Okay," he said after she didn't know how much time had past. "Let's go." He leaned over her and grabbed something from the glove compartment. Then he left the car.
Rachel reached into the back again, this time for her backpack. She transferred her EMF, notebook, camera, and bottle of holy water into her purse. Then, she opened the door and climbed out.
"You planning on hunting?"
"Dude, I just saw you grab your home made EMF reader."
He smiled. Smugly proud of that stupid thing, still. "Yeah, but, it's what I do."
"As long as I'm with you, me to." She slipped her arm through his and tug. "Now let's go win me a teddy bear."
They walked in silence for awhile. The carnival was crowded, full of families carting around candy-sticky kids and hormonal teenagers out to find a dark nook to neck. The ragged workers with the glazed look of indifference on their faces and secret smiles they threw each other, speaking of inside jokes and lives separate from the mundanes that surrounded them.
Both Dean and Rachel kept vigilant, looking for Sam. Or, at least, Rachel tried to look for Sam. But she was tired and everyone sort of faded into one monstrous, many-headed person. And her mind wandered. It didn't help that she and Dean were still walking close together, and that their hands were brushing, and that he smelled really good this morning.
She had to distract herself.
"I don't get clowns," she finally said.
"What?"
"Clowns," she repeated. "I don't get them. Modern clowns, I mean. Circus clowns. Like, historical clowns? The Fools and jesters? Those I get. They were political. They had a philosophy. They were the oracles of their age. I mean, they held up a mirror to the oppression that was going on, and even though, yeah, they didn't always affect much change, they still ... you know. *Did* stuff." Rachel ran her hands through her hair. She felt warm. "What do modern clowns do? I mean, they're not funny, they're not clever. They rely on big floppy shoes and little flowers that squirt water. Comedians are our modern day Fools. Clowns? They're kind of stupid. Even the ones that mime... what?"
Dean had stopped. Was giving her a look.
"What?" she asked again.
He looked at her for another moment, then shook his head. "You're a freak. Braintrust." He stepped forward and tapped her on the forehead. "Too much information percolating around in there without any place to go, so we get rants about clowns."
She blushed and shrugged. "Yeah, well. I guess that's why you love..." Crap.
Dean looked like he was thinking the same thing. He started to step back, then shook his head abruptly.
Rachel was about to turn away when Dean stepped into her personal space. Took her by the arms, hard. Yanked her up. Kissed her.
She melted. Completely and utterly. Turned into a Rachel puddle, grateful for the hands on her arms, the body she could leaned against. Raised her arms to grab him. Got one hand clutching his shirt, the other behind his head, holding him to her. Kissing him back. Sucking on his tongue and, Jesus fucking Christ, Dean was *so good* at this.
She forgot to breathe. The carnival and dust and smells of junk faded away, replaced with soap and skin.
And the way he was kissing her.... After nearly two days of stand-offish behavior, this sudden... *heat*. Intensity. Made her head spin.
"It's not about that," he said, tearing his mouth away. Dean's hands moved from her arms to her back, holding her against him. "That's not why."
Rachel nodded. Kissed him again. "I know." Her heart pounded in her ears. Her breath came very fast.
"I'm just... with everything right now, I'm just..."
"I understand."
"I mean, I can," he hastened to assure her.
Her cheeks heated. Rachel nodded. "I know."
Dean brushed hair from her face. He looked pained as he gazed at her. Like looking at something he'd always wanted, but couldn't have.
Or maybe that's just the way she was feeling.
"Maybe... maybe we should split up for awhile? Look for Sam."
"Oh."
"Just, maybe then you could focus. Instead of, you know. Ranting about the uselessness of clowns in today's society."
She laughed and blushed. "It's not that I think they're useless. I just think it's sad that this great, noble, art with a long tradition has given way to..."
He kissed her. "Seriously. Shut up, freak."
"Sorry."
Dean kissed her forehead, then pushed her away. "Okay. I'll take the north side, you go south. We meet back here in an hour. Call if you find him."
Rachel nodded. "Sounds good. Watch out for killer clowns." She turned, started walking away, and immediately tripped over a rock.
"Watch out for the ground, brainiac."
"Bite me."
She heard him mumble something, but was too far away to make it out. It had to be either something along the lines of, "promise?" or "never in this lifetime."
Probably not the latter. Not after that kiss. Although, with the way things were going between them, it never would be in this lifetime.
Maybe the next would be safer for them.
She continued to wander the carnival. Without the distraction of Dean, it was easier to keep focused on the people around her. Still, it was like trying to find a Sammy-shaped needle in a stack of... vaguely Sammy-shaped needles. The only real thing she had going for her was the fact he was so freakishly tall.
Which, it turned out, actually helped. That and the fact he was standing on the stairs to the funhouse when she caught sight of him.
Her heart lurched. "Sam!" she called, but was drowned out by the loud ringing of a nearby bell. Throwing a disgusted look at the game, Rachel jogged through the crowd to the funhouse.
By the time she reached it, Sam had disappeared inside. Definitely hunting. Or looking for a cheap thrill.
It was dark inside. Neon lights glowed along the floor, over "fun" mirrors. Things jumped out and mist sprayed and, God, she objected to circus clowns but she *hated* funhouses.
"Sam?" she called, voice shaky.
"Sam, Sam," someone mocked from next to her.
Something tugged her braid. She whirled, only to see two teenage boys running away, laughing.
"Jerks," she muttered. "I can kick your ass," she added. Because it was true. Maybe.
She continued through the mirror maze. It was absurdly simple to navigate, but, then, it was just a funhouse. She'd always wanted to be in a *real* mirror maze, one not designed to get people through quickly to go spend their money outside. Or a real maze. Like Hampton Court's hedge maze. She'd always planned to go there right after graduation and just lose herself in there for hours.
But, plans change. The Winchesters had needed her and she wouldn't be anywhere else.
She left the maze. Passed a beautiful calliope that seemed innocuously placed in the middle of a plywood funhouse, but whatever.
"Sam?" she called again. She moved across the room, from the calliope to what looked like an alien display on the other side of the wall. It was something in a jar, floating. Reminded her of the cow fetus from "Firefly", when she realized it wasn't even close to that. Just a baby doll with three heads.
Rachel snorted. Stepped around the corner.
Shrieked as something fell from the ceiling in front of her face.
"Jesus!" the figure in the corner swore. It jumped and turned. "Rachel?"
Heart pounding, she tore her eyes from the skeleton dangling from the ceiling to Sam. "Sam!"
The skeleton was actually heavy as she pushed it aside--it couldn't be real, could it?--and rushed to him. "We've been so worried!" she said, throwing her arms around him.
Sam stumbled back against the force of her weight. His arms came around her and he hugged her tightly, pulling her halfway off the floor. "What are you doing here?"
"Looking for you, moron." She clutched at his jacket for a moment. Then she pulled away and socked him in the arm.
"Ouch! Hey, that hurt," he said, rubbing it.
"You're such a jerk!" she said. She punched him again.
"Hey!"
"What the hell were you thinking?"
"I was thinking I had to protect my brother and his wife from getting killed!" he shot back, shielding his arm from her.
"I'm not his wife!" Rachel snapped without thinking. "And we never wanted you to leave. Not to try and protect us."
Sam grabbed her left hand. "What's this?"
"This," she said, yanking it away again, "it's nothing." She could feel the tears pushing behind her eyes. Her hands shook as she fought to get the ring off. "It's nothing, okay? It was just a... a thing to help you and Dean out. That's all, okay?" She finally got it off and just held it in her fist. A tear slipped from the corner of her eyes and down her nose. "But this isn't about... You shouldn't have left."
"What's wrong?" Sam asked. He put his hands on her shoulders. Looked down into her face. "Rachel, what happened?"
She shook her head. "Nothing. It's nothing, okay?"
"It's not nothing." He slipped his finger underneath her chin and forced her to look up. "You and Dean were in a good place when I left. You were sharing a bed. You seemed really comfortable."
Rachel shrugged. "Things change. Anyway. We're here. We came to get you." She slipped the ring into her pocket and grabbed him by the sleeve. "Come. Dean and I have been trailing you for days."
"How did you find me?" he asked, allowing himself to be pulled from the funhouse.
"Like I'm going to tell you. Can't risk you running off again and this time knowing how we can keep track of where you are." She wiped another tear away. "Why are you here, anyway?"
"I got into Dad's voicemail. There was a message from this woman, Ellen, saying she could help. I went to check it out."
She raised her eyebrow at him. "And decided to stop at the carnival why?"
He ducked his head, blushing. "To, uh. Tohuntaclown," he mumbled.
Rachel rolled her eyes and pulled her phone from her pocket. Thumbing it open, she dialed Dean.
"Found him?" Dean answered.
"Yeah. And he's hunting clowns."
Dean snorted. "Where are you?"
"By the Ferris Wheel."
"I'll be right there."
She hung up. "He's on his way."
They waited in uneasy silence. Rachel didn't want to talk. It felt like she had a hole in her chest. Her hand felt naked. She felt naked. And Sam?
Sam was just looking at her. Through her. Like if he watched her long enough, she'd break. Or, worse, he'd see right through her and find it all out.
Rachel looked away. Crossed her arms and hugged her body.
"Hey." Dean came up behind her. Put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed, but she could feel his entire attention was on Sam.
Sam flushed and ducked his head. He looked guilty. "I'm sorry."
"Yeah, well. That don't mean a whole lot."
"I was trying to make sure you didn't get hurt."
"So you said."
"Dean..."
"What are you doing here, anyway?"
"I'm hunting."
Rachel felt Dean stiffen. His hand tightened on her shoulder.
Even though it was broad daylight, and it was Dean, and they were outside and it was nothing like... like *then*, Rachel's stomach suddenly twisted in panic. Dean was behind her, and she couldn't see him, but he was holding her and...
She yanked away from him, panting. Moved so she could see him, cold sweat gathering at her temples, slicking her palms.
Dean gave her a glance and a frown. A question.
Rachel just shook her head and tried to get control. And here she had been so proud that she'd gotten through something akin to sexual assault without it affecting her life.
"You're hunting," Dean said, attention focused again on Sam. "That's interesting." So much anger in his voice.
Sam flinched from it. "Look. I found this message on Dad's phone. His voicemail. This woman, Ellen, had called and said she could help. I found out where she was, and went there. Ellen runs a bar called the Roadhouse. Hunters, like us, go there. Like a meeting place. Apparently there's this whole world and we didn't know about it."
Rachel glanced at Dean to see how he took this revelation.
His face was still blank. Stone. "Really."
"Yeah," Sam nodded. "Anyway, I asked her about the message. And there's this guy there, Ash. He took all those papers I had. Dad's research? And he said he'd be able to figure out how we can use it to track the demon's movements. I don't know how, but I gave it to him."
"Awful trusting of you."
"Seriously, Dean, I don't know what to do anymore. We've got to trust someone, we can't do this on our own. Without Dad, we're floundering."
Dean's jaw tightened.
"Um," Rachel stepped in. "I have a bunch of your dad's papers. I was studying them the night you took off, so this Ash..."
"Yeah, I know," Sam said sheepishly. "Sorry about that."
She shrugged.
"That still doesn't explain why you're here?"
"Well, it'll take some time for Ash to put together the data. I was at the bar when I saw the file Ellen had put together on this case. So I decided to check it out, see if I could help."
"Still doesn't seem like you."
"Maybe I've changed."
Dean grunted.
There was a long, uncomfortable silence.
Rachel finally broke it. "Look. Why don't you tell me where this bar is? I'll take the rest of the papers over, give it to Ash. You two stay and try and track down the killer clown."
Sam flinched at the word clown.
She rolled her eyes. "You know, if you're that afraid of clowns..."
"Sometimes, we have to face our fear," he said stoically.
"I'll take your car," Rachel said. "I just need directions."
Dean took her by the arm and dragged her away from Sam. "You running?" he asked, sotto voce.
Rachel shook her head. "No. I just thought, well. You and Sam haven't had any time alone since your dad died. And I'm no good on a hunt, you know that. I can keep an eye on this Ash guy. Check out Ellen. Make sure we can trust them." She put he hand on Dean's cheek. "Talk to Sam. Or beat the crap out of him, I don't care. Just work this out and make sure he doesn't leave again."
"You're an amazing girl," he said. He brushed a stray hair from her cheek.
Rachel blushed and smirked. "Yeah, well. You're not half bad yourself."
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I like the way you're weaving around the season 2 eps, and yet keeping them as is mostly. Will the fic continue in this vein? I'm such a sucker for Dean angst...
Thanks for the update. Still loving it :o)
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yay! sammy's been found.