The Winchester's Hope

1.11 Scarecrow

~April 8, 2006~
Sitting up, I stared wide-eyed at Uncle Sam. "Did you say, Grandpa?" "Dad? Are you hurt?" There's a short silence. "We've been looking for you everywhere. We didn't know where you were if you were okay." "Daddy, wake up!" I begin to smack him in the face with a pillow and he peaks open an eye, glaring up at me. "Smalls. Stop it." "Daddy! Grandpa is on the phone!"

He rolls over, looking at Uncle Sam. "Is that dad?" "You're after it, aren't you? The thing that killed mom.... A demon? You know for sure?" "A demon, what's he saying?" My dad sits up, slipping a shirt on. "You know where it is?... Let us help." I look at my dad with wide eyes. "Why not?" "Give me the phone." Uncle Sam ignores. "Names? What names, dad -- talk to me, tell me what's going on." I stand on the bed, jumping on Uncle Sam, rolling across the bed onto the floor.

I smile triumphantly, running to the other side of the hotel room. "Grandpa!" I exclaim. "Brittany. Did you take the phone from Sam?" "Well duh, grandpa. He wouldn't hand it over." Brittany Hope. You watch your tone with me, little girl." I lightly flinch, eyes flitting over to my dad who is arguing with Uncle Sam. "Sorry grandpa," I mutter.

"Give the phone back to your Uncle or father right now or there will be consequences." Tears well in the corners of my eyes and I silently turn to my dad dropping the phone into his hand. He gives me a confused look before turning his attention to the phone. Climbing back into bed, I crawl under the covers and curl into a ball.

Uncle Sam sits on the edge of my bed, softly smoothing down the top of my hair. "You alright flower?" "I'm fine Uncle Sam. Just tired," I mutter into the pillow I'm tightly clutching to my chest. Hesitantly meeting his eyes, I notice the doubt in them, but he chooses not to speak on the matter anymore. "Everybody pack. We leave in 10 minutes." Noticing the soldier-like voice he uses, I curl even tighter into the ball I'm in anytime grandpa gets harsh with us.

--

"Alright, so the names dad gave us -- they're all couples?" "Three different couples all went missing." Silently sitting beside a sleeping Kimmy, I draw in my notebook whilst listening in on their conversation. I methodically outline the shed I was locked in all those years ago. "And they're all from different towns? Different states?" "That's right. You got Washington, New York, Colorado. Each couple took a road trip cross-country. None of them arrived at their destination, and none of them were ever heard from again."

"Well, it's a big country, Dean. They could have disappeared anywhere." "Yeah, could've. But each one's route took 'em to the same part of Indiana. Always on the second week of April. One year after another." "This is the second week of April." "Yep." "So dad is sending us to Indiana to go hunting for something before another couple vanishes?"

"Yahtzee. Can you imagine putting together a pattern like this? All the different obits dad had to go through? The man's a master." Glaring heatedly at the shed I'm drawing, my pencil snaps between my fingers. Uncle Sam pulls over on the side of the road and turns the car off. "What are you doing?" "We're not going to Indiana." "We're not?" Dad and I question at the same time.

Kimmy begins to stir, eyes slightly peaking open. "What's going on?" She mumbles. "No. We're going to California. Dad called from a payphone. Sacramento area code." "Sam." "Dean, if this demon killed mom and Jess and dad's closing in, we've gotta be there. We've gotta help." "Dad doesn't want our help." "I don't care." My eyes are flitting between the both of them like I'm watching a tennis match. "He's given us an order." "I don't care. We don't always have to do what he says." My eyes go wide at Uncle Sam's words.

"Sam, dad is asking us to work jobs, to save lives, it's important." "Alright, I understand, believe me, I understand. But I'm talking one week here, man, to get answers. To get revenge." "Alright, look, I know how you feel." "Do you? How old were you when mom died? Four? Jess died six months ago. How the hell do you know how I feel?"