As It Was - Dean Winchester

Part 7

It was late July when I saw Daniel's name in the newspaper. My stomach dropped, and I cursed under my breath as I bought the paper during my morning run and hurried back to the motel room John and I were staying at. 

"John!" I slammed the door open, and he looked up from his research calmly. I threw the paper on the table. "Daniel Elkins is dead." 

He grabbed the newspaper and flipped open the article. Sorrow filled his eyes, and I realized he must have known him too. "I'm sorry to hear that." 

"We need to go," I told him, and he looked up at me again. His eyes searched my face for any kind of explanation, but I just ran over to my bag and started packing. "He... He had something of mine. It's important." 

"What's so important you just up and leave in the middle of..."

"Please, please, don't ask any questions. Just trust me. We need to go to Colorado. Now." John stared at me like I'd lost my mind, but he began to pack up his belongings. We were on the road just ten minutes later. 

The New Mexico heat made the car hot, and I cranked up the AC, bouncing my leg up and down in anticipation of getting there. Nervously, I bit my lip, trying to figure out how John would react when he found out what I'd been hiding. 

"Can you step on it?" John did as I asked but looked over with a worried look in his eyes.

"What is it old Elkins had?" 

I didn't answer. I knew he deserved to know, and I'd been looking for a way to tell him for months. I just couldn't make the word leave my lips. The habit of never revealing secrets was too deeply rooted in me. 

"Make sure we aren't followed," I instructed as we came closer to the quarry Daniel lived by. "Don't park by his house." 

We parked the car on a small side road and walked through the woods the rest of the way. Even from a distance, I could see the light of flashlights tearing through the dark in the house, and when I noticed the black 67' Chevy Impala parked upfront, I groaned. 

"Your boys are here," I told John in a hushed tone. A small smile tugged on his lips, and he nodded his head, already noticing. 

We hadn't seen them since Chicago, but the last time John had access to my phone, he had texted Dean about something he described as unfinished business. He didn't say anything else on the matter. That was a month ago. 

We waited until they left before I went inside. John stayed behind, saying he would make sure his sons weren't followed. But in reality, I think he just wanted to look at them for a moment.

I ignored the mess inside and walked straight to his office. I'd been there many times, but that was long ago. Now, the place was wrecked. Blood was splattered everywhere, and glass from a skylight littered the floor. It broke under my feet when I walked over to the safe behind his desk, but I stopped in my tracks when I noted that it was already open. 

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck." I ran my hand over my braids and squatted down for a second. "Son of a bitch." 

I noticed the empty wooden box that I knew for sure had contained a gun once since I was the one who had left the box in the safe. Slowly, I stood up again and looked around the floor, hoping that it had just fallen out, but soon had to accept the fact that the gun wasn't there.

"Find what you were looking for?" John asked once I got out. I shook my head and headed back to the car without waiting to see if he followed. I could hear his steps behind me. 

"We need to talk to you, sons," I told him reluctantly once we got back in the car. He didn't answer, didn't protest, but followed my instructions. I didn't even have to argue with him, and I guessed he could see how wired up I was. He knew I'd never let us go near them if it wasn't necessary, not after last time.