He keeps grabbing hold of me and hugging me right when I'm not expecting it. And, yeah, I'm not exactly Smurf-sized, but the guy is as big as a friggin' house dammit! I'm gonna be counting bruises for a month.
So yeah, we survived the Stull Apocalypse. I think Sam's kinda overly-grateful, although to be honest he's the one we should all be grateful to. Sure, I might have been the one who actually stuck it to the Devil, but I could never have done that if Sammy hadn't done what he did, controlling everyone's power like that. Angel, demon, Einherjar.
When did my little bro suddenly turn into a such a big damn hero?
Maybe I just wasn't paying enough attention. Seems like only five minutes ago he was playing with army men and Lego.
Anyway. Now I sound like a damn girl.
I guess I'm just... happy, I guess. And it seems like such a long time ago I felt like this. Really, truly happy.
I could sleep for a week.
Sammy said that once. Now it feels like it actually might happen.
Of course, we've got some serious celebrating to do before then. And I'd like to spend some time with Dad and Bonnie and my family. It's good to see Sammy with Sarah. I told him years ago he ought to marry that girl. I'm hoping Bobby might come with us to Lynchburg. Wouldn't be a family gathering without the old coot. And I want to introduce him to that Guardian guy - Turner, I think his name is. Rufus Turner, maybe? I think the two of them would get on like a house on fire.
Anyway, I'm yammering on like that girly vamp in that girly vamp TV show yammers on in his girly vamp diary.
Enough of this. I got a bottle of Jack with my name on it. Well actually, it's got Jack's name on it, but if they called it Dean I don't think anyone would buy it. But what do I know? Dean Winchester on the rocks. Shaken not stirred. With Coke. Okay, that's maybe a little girly after all.
We just saved the world.
I'm outta here.
Sympathy for the Devil (Not!) - The Rolling Stones
So while Sam Googles himself senseless, I'm sitting here thinking about dreams.
Not any dream in particular--well maybe that freaky-ass thing I just got front row seats for--but dreams in general. Sure, I dream. About things guys are supposed to dream about. You know? Chicks. And my car. And beer. And chicks with beer in my car. And stuff. But I don't have those dreams. You know, the ESP vision-thing brain-melting doozies Sam gets.
Yeah, those dreams? Totally Sam's thing. Wouldn't wanna intrude on his turf.
So while I'm not thinking about any dream in particular, some dude telling me I felt it (and believe me, ladies, I never felt it), and my damn necklace getting all glowy on me? Yeah. Not freaking me out at all.
And then there's the added complication of my kid brother doing his Psychic Sammy thing and hearing the same damn words in his dream.
No, totally not freaked out about that at all.
Sam wants me to call our hunter contacts and see if they've heard about anything big going down. I see two problems with this. Firstly, it's the middle of the night. And, secondly, most of our hunter contacts think Sam's the Antichrist and I'm Haris' favorite bitchboy. Oh, and did I mention it's the middle of the freakin' night?
I'm so going back to bed. I'm not gonna be Sammy's stool pigeon, not this time.
Dammit, who am I kidding? Where's my goddamn phone...
So Sam's asleep. Finally. I guess it can really take it out of a person being possessed by some red eyed crossroads demon skank from an alternate reality for a couple days. He doesn't seem too much the worse for wear. Apart from, y'know, where I shot him. Twice. And yeah, I totally did not forget that freakin' asylum! I guess payback's a bitch.
Dad's asleep too. Between the two of 'em I figure I get to sleep in the tub tonight. But hey, worse things, right? At least I got my family together. If just for tonight.
I don't get it, you know? Why Dad has to get all secretive like this. Why he has to take off to "get his head together." We could help him get his friggin' head together if he'd just stay. I know something bad's coming. So does Sammy. But it'd be a lot easier to face it head on if Dad were with us. That's all I'm saying.
So now I get to listen to the two of 'em sawing horses while I sit up all night worrying about them and wondering what that crossroads bitch meant about Sam dying and me selling my soul to save him and going to Hell. Was that one of the realities Dad saw when he was trapped in the Stull Gateway? And does he still really think we're not the real Sam and Dean? Or not his Sam and Dean anyway. Its no wonder his head needs getting together when you look at it from that point of view.
Anyway, I need to get me some zzzzzs. Having your centuries old necklace that'll kill you if it gets taken off of you taken off of you is no picnic either.
Wonder if they've at least left me a pillow to take into the tub...?
Okay, so, I'm supposed to believe that angels are real, and that the feather we've been using against black-eyed skanks all this time is actually a feather from one.
Right. Well excuse me if I don't buy it.
Some geeky looking dude in a trenchcoat shows up and I'm supposed to believe he works for the big guy upstairs. Not only that, but he and his brethren are actually trying to gank a priest! I mean, c'mon, what is the world coming to?
Oh, and if this Castiel is really one of the harp carrying bozos from up yonder, then why can't Sammy see him? Sammy thinks about that crap all the time. He should be the one seeing things - hell, he usually is the one seeing things...
Oh, and if angels just aren't whacked out enough, me and Sammy found ourselves a real buckets of crazy dude don't at the local looney bin, and a religious deity that likes to chow down on a hunk of flesh every now and again. Well, either that, or a bunch of his followers who have taken to white meat just for the hell of it.
Ain't that just peachy? I hate to think what we'll find if we stick around for the whole week.
Right now sammy is off playing cop at the newest crime scene while I get to go talk to Father Alvaro again. And he says he gets the rum end of the deal! Gimme a dead body to a stuffy old church any time. of course, Sammy would say that's just some inner part of me that's scared of the places, but then maybe I am - let's face it, there not exactly safe if a priest nearly gets offed by one of his own in his church, are they?
Still, maybe the kid will be there again, at least he's easier to talk to...kinda...
Dammit, did I mention I hate this town? I'm telling ya, bad vibes, man.
So we did it. Somehow. Me 'n Sammy. With a little help. We got Dad out of Stull.
He slept all the way from Lawrence to Bonnie's house. Feel like I could sleep all the way to the Moon and back. Seriously. It's like I've not gotten any zzzzzzz's in the six months he's been trapped down there.
I wish I could lose this feeling like it's not really over though. Yeah, he's back, and it's really him. I don't think Mia was messing with us when she told us that. But it's just... he won't talk to us. Won't tell us what happened to him, what it was like. The things he saw. I know some of it must have been pretty bad. That yellow-eyed sonofabitch wearing my face - till I blew it off - can't have been a picnic. And his version of Sammy? Jeez. The way he looked at me. Made my flesh crawl and the hairs stand up on the back of my neck.
So yeah. I know Dad wasn't on the back nine sipping a brewski with Tiger Woods or nothin'.
But still. Just wish he'd talk to us.
Oh Christ. Now I sound like Sammy.
Who's been...almost as quiet as Dad since we got back. Think it freaked him out even more than it freaked me out when he did his whole reflection thing without having anyone there to reflect. Mia was gone, man. No way that was just her he was mirroring.
Who'd o' thought I'd be the only Winchester doing the "Let's talk about this," crap, huh?
Now I need to go to sleep for twenty years. Hopefully Bonnie's got a good stock of the local beverage of choice here in sunny Lynchburg. If not? The Jack factory is only a mile down the road.
So. Enchanted photo album. Dean Winchester, this is your life! In beautiful mind-boggling Technicolor 3-D Sense-o-rama Smell-o-vision.
And it sucked.
Okay, not all of it sucked. Just the fire. And the death. And the drowning. And the demon. And more fire.
And Sam calling me his mom.
Actually, that last part kinda didn't suck. But if you tell Sammy that I'll kick your ass from here to Darkest Siberia, I swear to freakin' God!
Still. Bonnie's real nice. Real nice. I kinda wish...not that anyone could ever have replaced Mom, I just...I wish...I just wish Dad had told us about her. I mean, he didn't have to take us to live with her or anything. Could o' just introduced us. Let us maybe hang out with her and her kids. I was a pretty damn good babysitter for Sam - what am I talking about, I'm still a damn good babysitter for Sam - and I could o' helped her out. Y'know. With her kids. Taking care of 'em. And I could o' helped her around the house if Dad was off hunting. Done chores. Earned mine and Sam's keep. We could o' stayed just for a little while. Maybe Sammy could o' finished out a whole year in the same school. And Lynchburg ain't so bad. Jack Daniels and everything. And not like she'd have been our mom or anything but...Sammy could have had...Sammy could maybe have had something like what I had for nearly five years.
I wish Dad had told us about her.
I'm gonna kick his ass when we drag it outta Stull.
Sammy looked such a dork at his graduation though.
I left Bonnie my cell number. And my e-mail address. Maybe I can call her every now and then. Y'know. When I've got nothing better to do.
So, we're stuck in some creepy house with some even creepier guy off the TV - just what I need!
Of course, Sammy seems to actually like this freak, Jane, so maybe that's a good thing. Maybe it will keep his mind off 'Moonie' and what she did to that kid.
Sam still has forgiven himself for that, even though I keep tellin' his sorry ass it was the spook to blame. He didn't kill the girl. Hell, he was trying to save her. But well, if you know my brother, you know he ain't likely to let that little detail get in his conscience's way.
Me, I'm more worried about how we get outta this joint in one piece and away from the psychic wonder boy that is Patrick Jane. I swear the dude is so annoying I'm gonna swing for him soon. I mean, c'mon! Him and his CBI buddies set this whole whacked out trap up and now we're all stuck in it.
Way to go Feds....
Ugh, gotta run, looks like everybody's favorite dust cloud just dropped in for a visit, and she ain't looking too happy....
Yeah so this place sure don't get any luckier for the Winchesters.
You know, if I never see Lawrence again in my lifetime, it'll be too soon.
And yet, I can't leave.
'Cause Dad's still here.
And Winchesters never leave a man behind.
I gotta get him outta there. I don't know how. But I ain't leaving him to rot in no alternate whatever for five months. I know that for damn sure.
Sam wants to leave, I know he does, and I get why, I do, but I just can't. Not with Dad still...
I hate this freakin' place. But I can't leave.
And Sammy? What do I tell Sammy? I trust you, I don't think you're evil, you're not gonna go like that yellow-eyed sonofabitch you put down with the power of your mind? Is that what I tell my little brother? The little brother who froze me so I wouldn't go running after Dad?
And yeah. I know it was stupid and Sammy probably saved my life. Did save my life. But... he's never done that before. Used his psychic mojo on me. I wasn't lying when I told him I trust him. I do. But seeing your baby brother doing something like that with the power of his mind? Stopping me in my tracks? Killing another version of himself? Well that's some effed up crap right there and I'm kinda struggling to know how to deal with it. I love the kid. He's my best friend. I'd do anything for him - I'd die for him. And I know that other me sold his soul for him. And I'd do it. In a heartbeat. But... it's hard to see someone you love kill someone else - someone else who looks exactly like him - just by thinking about it.
But Sam? He may be a mirror, but he only reflected what was on that freak's surface. He only reflected his face. Deep down? Not every Sam Winchester is the same as every other. I gotta believe that. I do believe that. Because Sam and that yellow-eyed monster? The only thing they had in common was their name and their meatsuit. The Feather trusts Sam. And I trust the both of them.
It's gonna be okay. We're gonna watch each other's backs, just like whatever was telling us to. And it's gonna be okay. And somehow? We're getting Dad back. We just are.
I was hoping for a little bit of peace and quiet... yeah, right, as if... especially after nearly being buried under a mountain of rock while being swarmed over by a gazillion demons straight out of some portal between Heaven and Hell...
Can you say Twiight Zone?
I've woke up the last couple of days with a pounding headache and wishing that it was from too much tequila... but its not. And if I say that watching my brother 'reap' demons didnt bother me... well, I might as well be saying that "I'm fine."
Still, I guess after all this time, I'm not really THAT freaked... after all, once again, Sammy save our skin... my skin.
But hey, the day hasnt been totally filled with bad news... Bobby told us that Sid Morrow was found dead. No one's for sure how, but considering our line of work and SId's less than friendly personality... my bets that the list of possible suspects covers everything from a pissed-off spirit to the waitress at some back roads diner. Face it- the guy made enemies...
So I guess I wont be shedding any tears over his demise... but then, Bobby tells us that he's not the first. Which DOES make me sweat just a little, makes me wonder where that demonic little she-bitch, MIa is right now. I havent stopped looking over our shoulders since we left Tahlequah, expecting to see her behind us, stalking us, just biding her time... I know we're not done with her...
but at least, there's one less piece of trash we have to worry about... Good riddance Morrow, hope you rot in hell.