Whisperings of Angels

By: Tidia

Disclaimer: Ridley is all about The Brotherhood and Kripke is all about Supernatural. I do not profit from either.

SnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsN

Chapter 3/5

Dean waited until lunch to approach Brenda. Although he always reciprocated with a hello, he wasn’t one to seek companionship. When he neared the Goth girl’s crowd they looked at him skeptically. With his short hair, jeans and long sleeve t-shirt he didn’t blend with their crowd.

“Brenda,” he announced himself to the girl. She had her back turned to him. She recognized the voice and turned with a smile.

“You wanna talk?”

He nodded.

“Later,” she told her friends. Dean escorted her to a quiet corner of the courtyard. She squinted against the shining sun’s rays. “So you believe me?”

Dean bent his leg, resting his foot against the cement wall. “Let’s just say I’m willing to listen.”

“Like I said, a boy needs help.” Brenda shifted from foot to foot, pulled on her sweater sleeve, stretching it out so it covered her hand.

The young hunter ignored the nervous ticks. “Do you have any specifics?”

“Yeah, he’s three years old, cute kid with dark hair. Lives over in Evansville. They gave me the address.”

Dean's eyebrows furrowed. It struck him as strange that the angels were so specific. “They gave you the address?”

She shrugged her shoulders and offered her explanation. “Yeah, how else would I be able to help him?”

Winchester accepted the answer, for now, although he would have Sam research angelic messages further. “What’s going on with this boy?”

“Andy, that’s his name. His family hurts him.” She looked down and fiddled with her finger nails.

“Hurts him?” The tone in Dean's voice lowered.

“They hit him." She looked up, her eyes brimming with tears and one escaped. "He really needs help. Can you help?”

The young hunter watched as she wiped the black smudge of the tear away. He allowed her to compose herself before replying. "It's over three hours away," he stated the distance between Darlington and Evansville. He wanted to have time to watch the home and assess the situation himself. "We can go on Saturday."

She nodded. The bell rang signaling the return to classes. Dean walked ahead.

Brenda grabbed his arm. "What are you doing?"

"Heading back to class," he shook off her grip easily.

"I'll leave first and then wait a bit before going." She stepped in front of him, blocking his way.

"Why?" Dean sidestepped her, annoyed at the game she was playing.

"So no one gets suspicious."

"Of what?" He huffed, knowing the warning bell would be next.

"Us," she gestured with her finger at the two of them.

Dean stepped back, re-thinking the possibility he may not want to help Brenda if she thought there was something between them. "There is no us."

"Exactly," the Goth girl seemed relieved.

"Whatever," Dean crossed his arms, waiting for her to leave, and sensing something wasn't quite right. He watched her walk away. She knew just enough about Dean and his family that made him uncomfortable. There was no harm in following her lead for now.

John left on Friday night. He didn't need the boys on the particular hunt—just a simple poltergeist and he would return on Sunday night.

--

On Saturday morning Sam placed a cooler in the backseat with food and drinks for their day trip. He slid into the passenger side, while Dean got into the driver’s seat.

"We're picking her up at the school." His brother announced as he started the engine.

"I did some research on angels. . ." Sam pulled out his notebook, and turned to his notes.

"What did you find?"

“A lot of people think they can communicate with their angels. Most people say that angels have helped them—like the mysterious hand that suddenly saves them from a fall or something that stops their car and they just avoid an accident.” Sam flipped the page where he had taken some notes on historical events. “In the Bible an angel appeared to Joseph in a dream and instructed him to take Mary as his wife and to name her baby Jesus.” Sam glanced at his brother to see if he was listening. “In 1944, the penniless wife of a pastor prayed for food and a few hours later, someone knocked on the door, and there was a young man carrying a basket with the food she wanted.” The youngest Winchester paused.

"So it's possible." Dean interjected.

"It's always possible, you know that, but the thing is the angels are helping people, not people helping angels." Sam bit his lower lip in thought, “unless she’s a saint or something?”

The older hunter snorted. “She’s no saint, Sammy.”

The younger boy agreed as they pulled up to the front of the school. Sam noticed the girl dressed in black smoking a cigarette. The youngest Winchester wondered what type of statement she was trying to make. He crinkled his nose and all he could think of was, 'freak.' She slowly walked to the car. Sam rolled down the window.

"This is my brother, Sam. This is Brenda." Dean made the introductions.

The sickly smell of cigarettes permeated her clothes. Sam did not give up his seat in the front. He had always been relegated to the back, doing this adventure was a fair trade. Sam hoped his brother had a strong enough air refresher, because if their father picked up the scent of cigarette smoke in the car then Dean would be in trouble.

She got into the back set and pushed the cooler over so she could stretch out her feet. She was quiet, and the youngest Winchester found it unnerving. They had three hours together, and Sam didn’t want it to be unpleasant. He was inquisitive, and was looking for an opportunity to learn. “What does it sound like when the angels talk to you?”

There was no reply at first. Sam turned around. Brenda had her eyes closed; she was chewing on her hair. She spoke softly. “Like feathers caressing my ears so soft, sweet –it’s melodic, like a daydream.”

The youngest Winchester was confused. His brother had told him the so-called angels spoke about people needing help. “But they tell you terrible things.”

She opened her eyes, crossing her arms as if she was trying to warm herself. “Yeah, but gently and I can help-somehow it makes it bearable.” She stopped rubbing her arms. “Funny, you can’t see them?”

“No, why would I?” Sam sat back in the passenger seat, and rolled his eyes at his brother in silent communication stating the girl was strange. He started laughing when he heard the soft snoring coming from the backseat. “Wow, she makes our family look normal.” The thirteen year old whispered to his brother.

Dean grinned in response, and turned on the radio to his favorite station, WKHY.

Somewhere between the gas station and entering the city limits of Evansville, Sam had fallen asleep. Dean was prodding his shoulder to wake him.

“Come on, I need you to look at the map and find the street for me.”

Sam shook his head, attempting to wake up. He fumbled for the map book. He had folded over the Evansville page earlier. He noted where they were, and directed his brother to Tamarack Court.

They found the house, and parked at enough of a distance to have the home in their line of sight.

“Now what?” Brenda asked from the back seat. She had woken up and was tapping her foot.

“We wait,” Dean replied. “We have to make sure something is happening before we can do anything. . .”

“You don’t believe me,” she hissed, hitting the back of the front seat.

“Hey!” The older Winchester brother turned around. “We’re here aren’t we? I need to make sure-chill.”

Sam watched the confrontation, which ended with Brenda giving a nod, and then dropping her head. "I need a smoke."

"Not in this car." Dean replied, giving a side long glance to his brother.

"Fine," she opened the car door and exited.

Sam peered over his brother to see what the Goth girl was doing. She had sunk down, leaning against the Impala out of view. The smoke from the cigarette mushroomed above her and then dissipated in the air.

“What’s with her? And the black clothes?” Sam wanted to convince his brother to leave. If they left now, they could be home in time to go to the movies and get a bite to eat.

“Everyone has their issues, Sammy.” Dean stated. He turned around and got the cooler out, bringing it to the front seat. He opened it up, and handed Sam one of the bologna and cheese sandwiches.

Sam took a bite, and fished out a can of Coke, wiping the condensation on his jeans. Brenda entered the car once more. The younger brother had packed her a sandwich too, and handed it to her. "You know nicotine doesn’t make you calmer."

"Works for me," she pulled the sandwich from the plastic bag. She studied it for a moment before taking a nibble.

“Hey," Dean said, his voice muffled by the food in his mouth. Outside the garage door to Andy’s house opened. A tall man, who Sam assumed was the boy's father, came out with a bicycle. On the bike was attached a toddler seat. A short haired brunette came out next also pushing a bike. Andy toddled behind her, blond, smiling and talking with his mother.

His father called out to him, and the three year old came running. With a leap he threw himself into his father's arm. They both laughed and then Andy was placed in the bicycle seat.

The family peddled leisurely away, out of sight. Dean started the engine. "Great, a bathroom break."

Brenda leaned forward. Sam tried not to inhale the cigarette smoke they stayed stale on her clothes. "Aren't we going to follow them?"

"No," Dean pulled away from the curb as he explained. "I don’t think anything will happen on a public street."

She crossed her arms, and huffed back. She remained silent during the trip to the Sunoco gas station. They exited the car upon arrival. Dean and Sam headed for the men's room, and Brenda heading towards the other bathroom.

The youngest Winchester returned to the car, while Dean went into the attached mini-mart. The seventeen year old came out of the store with a tray. Dean had developed a caffeine habit, but he would not let his brother have coffee. He handed him a cold chocolate milk. "Where is she?" The older Winchester had gotten a coffee for Brenda too.

"I don’t know." Sam was annoyed. He did not have a good feeling about the situation. He was indifferent about Brenda herself. "That family seemed, you know, normal." The youngest Winchester compared every family to his own, and his own always came up short.

"No one's normal, Sammy." Dean took a sip of coffee and grimaced. "Everyone has their secrets."

"My friends are normal.” Sam thought of his junior high friends. Angels, demons and supernatural never came up in conversation.

Brenda exited the bathroom. Her large purse was worn across her body, a cigarette dangling from her lips. She flicked it to the ground and stamped it out. “Are we ready to go?”

Dean nodded and handed her the cup of coffee.

They parked near the house once more, keeping watch. The bicycles were parked outside, so the family had returned.

Dean gestured to his brother to pass him his books. Sam pulled out his literature book, and went to the marked page.

“You’re doing homework?” Brenda snorted from the back seat.

Dean opened his notebook, and turned to the first blank page. “Yeah, some trig and then I need to write an essay about A Rose For Some Woman, I forget.”

“I liked that story. It’s a Rose for Emily and she just wanted something. . .she wanted control. . .” Brenda’s voice drifted off into a whisper.

And Sam knew as different as the girl in the back seat was, she somehow was a kindred spirit. She was saying she was scared. Sam understood. He was afraid to lose control to his family. He didn’t want to abdicate himself. Probably the reason he had been fighting with his father. Turning thirteen had been a turning point, filled with questioning John Winchester.

“What homework did you bring, Sammy?” Dean asked, always taking an interest in Sam’s schoolwork.

“Sam,” he corrected. “I have to memorize a stupid poem.” Sam huffed. He wasn’t fond of poetry. He wanted something concrete that would be useful in the future.

“Which one?” Dean wrote out an equation.

“The Road Not Taken,” Sam glanced at the poem. Thankfully, after this unit was over they would be moving on to Huckleberry Finn.

“I had to memorize O Captain My Captain. What’s crazy is that I still remember it.” Dean paused for a moment. “My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;

My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will. . .” Dean cleared his throat, and returned his gaze to the notebook and his math problems.

“I still can’t believe you do homework on stakeouts?” Brenda repeated herself, in disbelief.

“Yeah, we’re in school, not some cop show.” Dean replied.

Sam laughed. Their best studying time was in the car, while Dad was doing something on a hunt. “Hey, they’re back again.”

Both Brenda and Dean stared out the window. The mother of the family was gardening; her son was playing in the yard with a plastic sword slaying imaginary dragons. They watched them for fifteen minutes. Sam was enthralled at the normalcy of it all. That child would not grow up knowing there were such things as demons.

“Brenda,” Dean interrupted the silence of the car, “the kid seems fine to me.”

“Winchester, the angels say that’s the kid.” Brenda practically growled the words at the hunter. “Anyhow, how would you know?”

“Doesn’t flinch when his parents touch him, for one, and he looks happy.” Dean answered, and Sam wondered where he had learned information about abused children.

“No, the angels…” She pushed at the backseat, punctuating her reply.

Dean’s eye’s flashed at someone mistreating the car. He turned, but in a second calmed down and spoke from level headedness. “Can be wrong, maybe a crossed wire or something? Maybe it was a premonition about something else.”

Sam sensed the energy around Brenda had become charged. He added some words of comfort. “We’re not saying we don’t believe you. . .” Although internally Sam had doubts, and a glance at his brother verified Dean was also of the same inclination.

She looked at them both, and quickly pulled the handle to the door. She was out, and walking past the driver’s side door.

“Where are you going?” Dean hissed out the Impala’s window. He had opened it a bit so they would be able to hear what was happening at Andy’s home.

“To save him!” She called out. She pulled up her hooded sweatshirt, covering her dark hair.

“Dammit!” Dean hit the steering wheel in frustration. He glanced at Sam, and opened the car door.

“Dean!” Sam exclaimed, and grabbed a fistful of his brother’s flannel shirt. “Wait,” he suggested. Dean got back into the car, and they both watched the drama unfold, unsure on how to proceed.

Brenda had crossed the street. She walked up the front lawn, and bent down near the child. “Hey, Andy, do you know who I am?”

Andy’s mother was at the side of the house. Her view obscured by a hedge she was weeding around.

“No,” the child shook his head and backed away. Brenda stepped forward, and Andy called out, “Mama?”

The brunette peeked from around the bush with a smile, planning on reassuring her child she was nearby. The smile changed to a dark expression. “Andy! Come here!”

“You need to come with me. . .” Brenda reached towards him.

“No!” He stated and ran to his mother, who enveloped him in her arms, and covered his head in protection.

The father came from the backyard in a sprint. He stopped in front of Brenda, his hands ready to eliminate any threats. “What’s going—Brenda, get away from him!”

Dean and Sam looked at each other in confusion. “What the hell?” Dean said out loud, knowing his brother didn’t have an answer either.

“Janice, take Andy inside.” The husband ordered his wife, placing himself between Brenda and his family to allow safe passage.

Brenda attempted to get around the man, who held steadfast. “No, that’s my son! Uncle Leo, I want him back.” She beat on his chest with her fists.

Brenda’s uncle held her fists and pushed her away. “Leave before I call the police!”

She crumpled to the ground at his feet, “No!” She used his legs to climb back up and pushed him.

“You gave him up!” He took a step backwards, his face twisted with wrath. “You’re sick, Brenda-look at you! Heroin addict! Leave! You’re not fit. . .”

“Heroin?” Sam mouthed. “Dean?”

The older Winchester brother looked behind him, hearing the sirens. The neighbors exited their homes, congregating to investigate the commotion. He started the engine, glanced at Brenda and pulled away from the curb.

“Dean you’re leaving her?” Sam turned all the way around, watching the distant drama until he could no longer see the home. “You said that angels talked to her. . .she said. . .and then she knew about that fire. . .and us.” The youngest Winchester rambled, trying to make sense of the situation.

"I know, Sammy." Dean glanced in the rear view mirror, paying attention to the car behind them then making eye contact with his brother.

"Did she make it up?" Sam knew not everything involved the supernatural, but they had never had an incident where it was something outside of that realm. Their father had warned them of it, but they had feelings of immunity, knowing there was something else out there only a select few were privy to.

"I don't know." Dean sighed and shook his head. "I just. . .look Sammy, I couldn't risk it- you're too important."

"Dean, I'm fine..." Sam didn’t want to be blamed for leaving Brenda behind, maybe their father’s military instruction of leave no man behind was rubbing off on him.

"Not if the police came. I'd be in trouble, you would be in trouble and then we have to explain. . ."

“We would have been screwed.” The young teen admitted. They needed to make a get away. His only concern was their father. “We’re not telling Dad.” Sam made the statement as one of support to his brother. He would go along with whatever Dean wanted.

“Hell, no,” Dean replied. They drove into the dimming daylight with the radio on low, and their thoughts running high.

SnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsN

Onto Chapter 4

Home



Uploaded by Majs