The Assassin's Tree

25

I awoke staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling, my eyes were dry and my vision blurred. I blinked rapidly, reaching up and rubbing my eyes. I was laying on my back. In a bed. My eyes took in the dimly lit room. I was finally able to start processing my surroundings. I was in the master bedroom of the lakehouse. Alone. I sat up slowly, looking around to confirm.

Yes, we are alone.

Where was Dean?

I picked myself up out of bed, moving towards the door and listening for any sort of noise. I pushed the door open a crack, peeking out before stepping out into the hall. As I approached the stairs, I heard the crackle of a fire from the living room. I had no idea how much time had passed.

I took the stairs slowly, trying not to make too much noise. One of the final stairs creaked under my feet, causing me to jump a bit. I poked my head into the living room. The fireplace was ablaze, and Dean was stretched out on the couch, a book in his hand. He hadn't seemed to notice me yet.

I approached the back of the couch, calling out to him once I got closer. "Dean?"

I startled him, his head whipping around to look at me. "Jesus, Leon! You're going to give me a heart attack sneaking around like that." He closed his book, setting it on his lap. The title read 'The Outlaw of Torn'. The cover was ratty and the binding was falling apart. "I hope you don't mind that I moved you upstairs. I figured you could use some rest and the bed would be better for you. You'd wake up sore as hell if you slept upright like that."

Why does he care?

I leaned against the back of the couch, looking down at him. "I don't know why you care... but, thanks, I guess."

Don't thank him.

"Yeah. No problem. Uhm, your Mother called your phone while you were sleeping. I talked to her a bit. Told her I'd have you call back tomorrow." Dean drummed his fingers against the cover of his book. "I let her know you're safe here with me and resting, so she won't have to worry about you anymore. But you can call her tomorrow, if you want to. Reassure her some more."

Why should we?

"Why should I?" I echoed the voice. My vision wavered.

"What do you mean? I was under the impression that you wanted to speak to her." Dean sat up, raising an eyebrow quizzically. "Here, come sit." He patted the spot next to him.

My body moved against my will, and I sat next to him, leaving a comfortable amount between us. "Well... I don't know."

She never cared.

"She... God. She didn't worry about me for five years. Why should she care now?" Dean's face blurred. I began to feel nauseated. I closed my eyes. "Why... why should I care?"

"Well, what about how your relationship used to be? The years before the divorce? Surely she cared at some point, she's your Mother, Leon." Dean didn't sound too confident in his own words.

None of his business.

Be quiet.

"I wish I could remember more from before the split. But she erased herself from my life. She made that choice, not me. I was a child, what was I supposed to do?" I ran my hand through my hair, trying to steady myself. I felt my hands shake. I tangled my fingers in my hair, trying to give them something to do. Stop shaking. Stop.

"She was always so busy, too. Before the split. Her and Father both. Father was always traveling and Mother was always at the hospital. And their relationship was never... fantastic. They were young and stupid, certainly not soulmates, hardly even friends by the end." I let my hands fall to my lap again.