Supernatural: One Year Gone

by Rebecca Dessertine

  “For the record, I agree with you. About... me. You think I’m too weak to take on Lucifer. Well, so do I. I know exactly how screwed-up I am. You, Bobby, Cass—I’m the least of any of you,” Sam said earnestly. They’d had this conversation multiple times and each time Dean had said, “No.” He wasn’t going to let Sam say “Yes.”

  “Sam—” Dean began, but he didn’t know how to carry on. His brother wasn’t the least of them. He’d just taken one too many turns for the worse over the last two years: he had drunk demon blood, shacked up with Ruby, let Lucifer out of the cage. Dean couldn’t deny that Sam had messed up. But who on Earth could take on Lucifer? Dean just couldn’t bear to see his brother killed.

  Sam continued. “It’s true. I’m also all we got. If there was another way... But I don’t think there is. There’s just me. So I don’t know what else to do. Except just try to do what’s gotta be done.”

  And then Dean had lied to Death’s face; told him he would let Sam jump.

  When Dean spoke to Bobby later, he was surprised to find that Bobby agreed with Sam.

  “Look, I’m not sayin’ Sam ain’t ass-full of character defects. But—”

  “But what?” Dean asked curtly.

  “Back at Niveus? I watched that kid pull out one civilian after another. Must have saved ten people. Never stopped, never slowed down. We’re hard on him, Dean. And we’ve always been.”

  Dean knew that Bobby was right: At his core—his very core where his heart beat—Sam was a good person.

  “So I gotta ask you, Dean. What are you afraid of exactly? Losing—or losing your brother?”

  Lisa had become accustomed to that look in Dean’s eyes. She had deliberately overlooked the history of Salem, the witch trials and all the supernatural activity they promised, when Dean mentioned it as his planned vacation spot for them.

  A vacation in Salem is better than no vacation at all, she reasoned. And a change of scenery is good. He will be okay. This will be okay. She forced herself to ignore the feeling that perhaps Dean wasn’t telling her the whole story.

  “New York State! Just crossed into New York, Ben. Ben, you listening?” Dean said, checking the rearview.

  “Whatever.” Ben glanced up from his handheld PSP. “It looks exactly like the last state.”

  “Ben,” Lisa said, giving him a motherly warning to not act out.

  Ben heeded his mother’s tone.

  “It’s cool. Very cool,” he said, clearly trying to sound more enthusiastic.

  “Good,” Dean said with a smile. “Seven more hours and we’re there.”

  “Seven more? Are you sure you’re okay to keep driving? Shall I take over for a while?” Lisa asked.

  “I’m fine. Better than fine,” Dean said. And he was. The closer they got to Salem the closer he got to finding someone to help him raise Sam. Dean was focused on one thing and one thing only—getting his brother back.

  “Dean,” Lisa chided, “I know you can spend days straight in a car, but Ben and I can’t. We need to stretch our legs and it’s almost nine. Ben needs to go to bed.”

  “I can sleep back here,” Ben offered.

  “A proper bed. Please Dean, can we stop?”

  Dean looked at Lisa. He didn’t want to stop, he wasn’t used to staggering journeys and waiting around. He just wanted to get to Salem. But he had other people to consider on this trip, it wasn’t just him and Sam, driving through the night to another hunt. He was supposed to be on vacation.

  “Sure, no problem. Next town or rest stop, we’ll find a room. Okay?”

  “Thanks,” Lisa said, putting her hand on Dean’s arm.

  An hour later they pulled off the highway and into a little one-street town. Dean stopped the car in front of the only hotel he could see. It had a Western-style feel to it even though they were in western New York State, not Arizona.

  “You check in, I’ll drive park around back,” Dean suggested.

  Lisa and Ben hopped out and Dean pulled the car left, back into the street.

  SCRREEECH!

  Dean stomped on the breaks as a white van careened out of nowhere and past the car.

  “Jesus H. Christ, Sam! You think you could maybe not hit your brother’s car while you’re still pretending to be dead,” Samuel spat.

  Sam had pulled off Route 86 a couple of minutes after Dean. He hadn’t been following him the whole time, but had spotted the car halfway through Ohio. Samuel had said that they should follow Dean and keep an eye on him. If they got to Salem before him, they risked losing him or worse, being spotted.

  “It’s that damn Daddy Caddy. Dean never drove like that in the Impala,” Sam said, scowling.

  He held his course and pulled the van into the parking lot of a park a couple of blocks from Dean’s motel.

  “Let’s get the MREs and hit the road right after them in the a.m.,” Samuel said.

  Sam ate his Ready-to-Eat meal sitting on a picnic table while his grandfather sorted through their equipment in the open back of the van.

  Sam looked out over a buzzing little park pond, he liked doing everything himself these days and he didn’t feel the need for company. As much as he trusted his grandfather, he trusted himself more.

  Sam bit into a hard foil-wrapped brownie. It was tasteless to him, or maybe it was just tasteless. It didn’t matter. The only hint of a feeling Sam could really understand was satisfaction. He liked getting a job done. He thought about Dean only a couple of blocks away. Whatever Dean was after, if they had to get there first and do it better, that was fine by Sam.

  ELEVEN

  The next day Dean, Lisa, and Ben were on the road early. They stopped at a fast food drive-through for breakfast and then were on their way. Four hours later Dean finally pulled off the interstate.

  “Here we are. This looks good enough,” Dean said as he angled the car into a Sunshine Inn parking lot. It was located off a bleak mall and gas station-stuffed suburban thruway.

  “Oh Dean, I forgot to tell you,” Lisa said, with a slight smirk. “I made reservations at this cute bed and breakfast in the heart of town. Here’s the address.” She handed him a piece of paper printed out from the Internet. “I think if you pull out of here, take a right, and then take your next right at Waters Street, that will take us right into town.” Lisa gestured the route Dean was to take.

  Dean stared hard at the piece of paper. Reservations? He’d never made reservations before. For anything.

  “What’s wrong with this place?” Dean said, even though he knew full well the rooms inside were most likely witch-themed, dirty, and smelled of old cigarettes.

  “Dean, please. It’s our vacation. I wanted to stay somewhere nice.” Lisa turned her mouth into a little pout. She hated resorting to female trickery—but she wasn’t going to stay in a flea-bag hotel.

  Dean shrugged. “How can I say no to that face?”

  In the back seat Ben rolled his eyes and slumped further down.

  “Gross,” he mumbled.

  Dean did as he was told and followed the directions into Salem proper. The town was a nice old colonial village with tree-lined streets and lots of federal-style brick houses with flat fronts, colonnade porches, and small windows. But commercialism and chains had grown like weeds and it was clear that the town didn’t shy away from its dark past; in fact it did everything it could to capitalize on it.

  They found the bed and breakfast easily enough, across the street from a big grassy expanse called Salem Common.

  “Is that where they hanged the witches?” Ben asked, putting aside his video player and looking out of the window.

  “No, actually they hanged the witches on a hill on the southwest side of town,” Dean replied. “A place called Gallows Hill, though they’re not sure of the exact location. Of course, none of the people they hanged actually were witches.” Dean’s voice betrayed a slight hint of having too much relish in the topic. Lisa shot him a look.

  “That’s cool. Can we go see it?” Ben asked.


  “Of course. Do you know anything about the Salem witch trials?” Dean asked as he parallel parked the CRV into a too-tight space.

  “Not much, a little in school.”

  “Well then, I have lots to show you,” Dean said.

  They piled out of the car and Dean grabbed most of the bags. He wasn’t used to actual luggage, he and Sam always traveled light, one duffle bag a piece at the very most. Now Dean really did feel and look like Chevy Chase.

  The inside of the inn was tastefully decorated in a display-everything-your-grandma-likes kind of way. But Lisa didn’t seem to mind.

  “Hello, hello. You must be the Winchesters. I’m Ingrid,” the tall middle-aged proprietor chimed from behind the inn’s counter.

  “Yes, we are. I made a reservation for two adjoining rooms,” Lisa said.

  “Aww, I can stay in a room by myself,” Ben grumbled.

  “Sure you can, buddy,” Dean said, looking at Lisa. Dean and Sam had stayed in hotel rooms by themselves since they were seven. Ben was twelve, he could handle that.

  “No, he can’t,” Lisa said.

  Ben mumbled under his breath, then crossed the foyer to sit in a high-backed chair near the door.

  “Two adjoining rooms will be fine,” Lisa said, turning back to Ingrid with a smile.

  “Great. Would you also like to schedule one of our ghost tours? We offer a full paranormal tour of our inn. We’re the only inn on the East Coast with our own ghosts!”

  “Your own ghosts?” Dean said, eyebrow raised.

  Lisa paled. “Oh Dean, I didn’t know!”

  “We’re the most popular inn on the square,” Ingrid continued proudly. “People come from all over to take our spooky ghost tour and meet our otherworldly residents. There is Sally, the little girl who lost her bonnet. And Captain Chancy, who fell asleep and never woke up. He still thinks it’s 1697 and he’s sailing the high seas!”

  “Great,” Dean said flatly. It was so not great.

  “We can go somewhere else,” Lisa murmured quietly to Dean.

  “No, it’s fine,” Dean said. The spooks sounded harmless enough—if they even existed at all.

  “Real ghosts?” Ben jumped up in anticipation. “Dean, you can teach me how to kill ’em!”

  Ingrid looked at Dean questioningly.

  “He means I can... um... kill ’em with teaching him the rich history of your beautiful inn,” Dean said through clenched teeth. He shot a look at Ben. “Adjoining rooms sound great, the spookier the better,” he added with a forced grin.

  “Lovely. Here are your keys.” Ingrid handed Lisa a set of keys with a clipper ship key ring hanging off them. “Go up the stairs and to your right. Your rooms are the third and fourth doors on the left, overlooking the historic Salem Common.”

  “Thank you so much,” Lisa said. They picked up their bags and trudged up the wide wooden staircase to the inn’s second-floor rooms. Lisa opened the highly polished wooden door with brass numbers on it. She smiled gamely at Dean and walked into the room ahead of him.

  “I think this is pretty. Don’t you?” she asked, throwing open the blue-and-yellow-flowered curtains.

  Dean surveyed the large garish floral bedspread and the ruffled pillow shams. This in fact wasn’t his idea of comfortable, he felt like he was back in Ypsilanti, Michigan, in the Carrigan’s house. They had been pagan gods of the Winter Solstice, and their design aesthetic was similar to the room: like someone just vomited up a quilting bee.

  Dean smiled. If this was what made Lisa happy that he would cope. Besides, he wasn’t here to relax, he wanted to get started searching for a witch as soon as possible. But Lisa had other plans.

  “I’m starving, let’s go get some fried clams and French fries,” she said with a smile. “It’s a gorgeous day. I don’t want to spend a minute inside.”

  What was Dean going to say? As much as he wanted to start his mission, he knew that he had to spend at least a little time with Lisa and Ben.

  “Okay then,” he said.

  Outside the sun was shining. As they made their way through the narrow streets, tourists crammed the brick sidewalks. Dean wondered at all the people enjoying their lives—oblivious to how much Sam and Dean had sacrificed so that they could continue on as normal. Would they even appreciate it if they knew? Dean doubted it. He didn’t get a chance to walk among the masses very often and he was pretty sure he hadn’t missed much as he watched tourists munching ice cream cones and shoving their bratty kids in front of buildings and statues to be photographed. For a moment he wondered why he even cared about saving all these schlubs’ lives. It made him itch to get Sam back all the more.

  “How about here?” Lisa asked.

  “I’m starved,” Ben added.

  They tramped into a fish and chip shop called “Old Clappy’s Clam Shacky.” A wooden sign hung above the doorway: a drunken-looking cartoon sailor and a clam clung to one another in what looked like mid-song.

  At the back of the restaurant a creaky covered porch hung out over the water. The bay was blue and still. They placed their order and then sat down at a brown-paper-covered picnic table. To their right, a couple of old clipper ships bobbed next to an ancient blackened pier.

  “Are those pirate ships?” Ben asked, looking out over the water. “I totally want to go on a pirate ship.”

  Dean smiled smugly at Lisa as if to say, “I told you so.”

  “Sure are. You and your mom can take a tour of them this afternoon if you want,” Dean said.

  “What about you?” Lisa asked.

  “I thought I’d... you know, look around town and find fun things to do. Plan the rest of our trip,” Dean said casually.

  Minutes later, toasty piles of fish, clams, and chips heaped in paper baskets were placed in front of them by a young girl who looked to be a little older than Ben.

  “My name’s Perry. Just let me know if you need anything else,” she said with a smile directed at Ben. Ben blushed.

  “Thanks,” Lisa said with an edge.

  Perry bobbed a little curtsey and returned to her place behind the ordering counter, Ben’s eyes followed her.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Lisa said gently as she squeezed ketchup onto a plate and dragged a fry though it. “She’s five years older than you.”

  “She’s not five years older. She’s like fifteen,” Ben said.

  “How do you know?” Lisa asked.

  “I’m twelve, Mom. I know,” Ben retorted. “Besides, she was just being nice. You’re always saying it takes a special person to make a lot of friends. Right?”

  “Kid has a point. I’ve heard you say that,” Dean said, grinning at Lisa as he teased her.

  “Whose side are you on?” Lisa asked, poking Dean light-heartedly in the ribs.

  Dean dug into more of the food and enjoyed the moment. He liked looking out across the water. He and Sam had never spent much time on the coast.

  Ben polished off his food in minutes.

  “I’m still hungry,” he declared. “Can I have five bucks to get some more?”

  “Oh, now you want more clams?” Dean smiled, reaching into his pocket and handing Ben a five. “I can see why. She’s cute.”

  Ben blushed again.

  “Naw, I just want some more fries. What’s the big deal?”

  “Just act casual. Like you haven’t even noticed that she’s good-looking,” Dean confided.

  “Really?” Ben asked.

  “Absolutely. Pretty girls hate when people fawn over them. Just act natural. Like you couldn’t care less about her.”

  Ben nodded earnestly and went up to the counter.

  “Are you teaching my son to be a player?” Lisa asked half smiling, half serious.

  “Kid has to know how to flirt. I’m just teaching him the basics. We haven’t even begun the master class.”

  “Master class, huh?”

  Ben came back with a large smile plastered across his face.

  “We’re going to the movies,” he
said proudly.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear a question in there,” Lisa said.

  “Can I go to the movies?” Ben rephrased, rolling his eyes.

  “Wow, that girl sure moves fast,” Dean said, impressed.

  Ben and Lisa went back and forth about whether it was a good idea for him to go to the movies in a strange town with a strange girl. Ben accused his mother of once again being overprotective.

  Dean decided to sit this discussion out. Instead he watched the girl as she chatted affably with other customers. The teen kept stealing glances at him, like she was appraising something. She gave off a much more sophisticated air than a regular teenager. In that respect Lisa was right, Dean thought. But he figured Perry was a savvy, towny chick who regularly asked boys out in order to get a free movie and some popcorn. No harm in that.

  They left Old Clappy’s Clam Shacky and wandered around the square before following the throngs of people down one of the touristy little street, crammed with gift shops and cafés.

  “Witch museum? We gotta go there.” Ben pointed out a tall, large, stone-faced building towering above them, with a stream of people queuing out the door and around the corner.

  “Looks popular. Yeah, you guys should definitely do that,” Dean said.

  “Dean, I thought we were here to spend time together?” Lisa said quietly, out of earshot of Ben. “We didn’t come all this way so you could wander off alone.”

  Dean knew she was right, and he didn’t want to upset her. But he had come to Salem to raise Sam, and he had to find a way to do that without Lisa finding out his real motive.

  “Lis, I’m just saying,” Dean said gently, “I might want to go off and do a little exploring myself. Like boring stuff. You know I’m a big history buff. They have some great historical reference libraries in town. I might want to hit those.”

  “You’re a big history buff?” Lisa looked at him skeptically.

  “Yeah, totally. Ask me anything about the Bible—I bet I know it,” Dean countered.

  “I’m not going to a library on my vacation,” Ben chimed in.