Title: Nothing and Everything

Part Two: Retribution

Chapter 38

~~~~~~~~~~

Where to put the journal? It had to be somewhere it’d be found, yet somewhere it wouldn’t be too obvious it had been added.

Castiel roamed the house, trying to find the perfect place to put it. The office was too messy. If he put it there, it might get lost. He couldn’t return it to the box of journals because they knew it wasn’t there. It wouldn’t be believable for them to find it there.

He contemplated the dining table. More often than not, it served as a desk area as well as dining table. There were already a few papers on it. Jo had been paying bills recently. Perfect, he thought and set the journal down beneath a couple papers. Jo would go to file them and find it. She was good at filing and he anticipated perhaps a couple hours before she got to the task.

His job completed, Castiel felt the tension that had been with him long months finally leave his shoulders. He heaved a long sigh and smiled. Death couldn’t claim he hadn’t done what he’d been asked to do, for he had. He’d kept things from his friends until the balance could be restored. The journal would be found soon.

He left earth and returned to heaven.

What he didn’t see was Dean coming in with a tall stack of mail and tossing it across the table, coving the journal with a thicker layer of papers and envelopes. Nor did he see that happen three days in a row or hear Jo declare she was on filing strike and someone else would have to deal with the papers this time.

~~~~~~~~~~

With Atropos occupied, Lachesis took up some of her jobs. She checked off a few things on the list Death had given her in her sister’s place, and smiled softly. Sometimes even a Fate had a part to play in coming events.

~~~~~~~~~~

Gwen returned to find Sophie visiting and Ellen upset, pacing in their living room. She set her bag down. “What’s going on?”

Sophie was watching Ellen pace, her face a cool, expressionless mask, whatever she was thinking hidden. Ellen was crying, shaking her head and sniffing.

“Missing and dead hunters,” Jo supplied. “Several of them.”

“How many,” she asked. By Ellen’s reaction, she thought at least one had been one of Ellen’s friends.

Ellen cleared her throat. “Eleven hunters are gone. Good ones, too, ones who survived the apocalypse. Kit Aston, Anita Frakes, Tommy Jay are three. Bobby’s out checking on a couple we haven’t been able to reach.”

Gwen sent an alarmed glance Jo’s way. Her first thought was that it had to be the soul stealer. He’d implied to Sam and Dean that he was steadily breaching Mick’s mind and if he had access to Mick’s skills and knowledge, she thought he’d definitely start going after hunters as well as monsters.

“Who else, Ellen?” There was an urgency to Sophie’s voice. “Who else is dead?”

“Dom , Randy, Dylan, Jessup.” She shook her head. “I don’t have last names for them. Um…Mandy Amundson, Chas Graves, Victor Wesley, and Joseph Downs.”

Sophie crossed her arms. “It has to be the soul stealer. They were all contacts of Mick’s. He met Kit, Chas, and Victor through me.”

“He’s been taking out monsters, now he’s starting in on hunters.” Dean’s pronouncement was solemn. The stakes had been upped once more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a surprise to find Sophie in town wanting to discuss the soul stealer. Sam had thought they’d discussed all they could over the phone. However, with Bobby checking in that the two he’d gone to find were alive and well and had confirmed it was Mick wanting to meet, they all settled down to an uneasy evening.

He declined to play cards, sitting instead with Sophie. “You can’t get it back, you know.” Sam looked at her, studied her reaction. It was calm, as he’d expected. Even a tiny bit of soul gone affected a person’s demeanor. He wondered if there’d come a point where she’d try to put on the façade of normality for other people, or if she’d decide not to bother. He’d tried to blend in somewhat, but Sophie didn’t give a damn.

A cool nod. “It’s gone, isn’t it? That piece, I mean. He digested it like we do food.”

“Yeah. Near as I can tell. Souls are his food. He’ll rough up a body, gnaw on it and such, but souls are what he needs. He takes the soul and kills the body, or if he’s feeling generous, he lets the person live. I think he does the body work to further torment his victims.”

“What happens to the souls if he’s killed? Figured that out yet?”

“We can’t kill him, Sophie. Don’t even think it. Killing him will do more damage than good.”

“Hypothetically, what would happen?”

He sighed. He had an inkling as to how her mind was working and she wasn’t thinking hypothetically right now, she was thinking her own survival. She knew what she was missing, craved it, and would do whatever she could to get it back. If she thought killing him would get that piece back, she’d do it “They cease to exist, I guess. Nothing I’ve come across says they’re freed. He eats them, needs more to stay strong and full. It really is like us and food. He has to eat and when his fuel is used up, he eats again. You can’t kill him. If you do, it’ll tear up the world worse than it’s being torn up now. His existence was given a supernatural push, making him unnaturally supernatural. It messed up order and compensations were made. To kill him would keep chaos in place. He can only be imprisoned.”

“So I’m going to be broken for the rest of my life. Not whole.” Her lips twisted in a bitter grimace. While still beautiful, she’d aged about a decade in a year.

“Do you see the logic?”

After a moment, she nodded. “Unfortunately, it’s very clear. Logic dictates he’s to be imprisoned. What’s left of my emotions want to kill him and make him suffer.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.”

“I’m still sorry. I know what it’s like to have a missing soul.”

“You don’t act like you’re missing anything, Sam.”

“I’m not now. My situation was different than yours, the circumstances…different. I was able to get my soul back. It wasn’t easy or pretty. You can ask Dean what I was like before, during, and after. Then talk to Gwen. Ask her how I was when we first met. It’s a dramatic difference.”

“I feel like I’m detached from myself. Even when I’m in a moment, I’m not in it, not fully there. I can feel a part of myself is gone and it hurts. It’s a physical, emotional, and spiritual pain all at once. I’m damaged.”

He nodded, understanding completely that sensation of being damaged beyond help. “You know it’s a good bet he ate Mick’s soul.”

“I know.”

“If the creature did and Mick, by some miracle, survives what that thing put his body through…. Best thing you can do to save him is put a bullet in his brain. Trust me. He’ll do more bad than good if left alive, a sociopath. I know you don’t want to see Mick turned into that.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“So you’ll know what to do if the time comes.”

“You mean when, not if.”

“Yeah. If you love him, Sophie, and I know you do, you’ll end his misery.”

She drew in a sharp breath through her nose and looked away, to where Jo, Bobby, Ellen, and Dean were playing cards and Gwen was playing with Jack. “First bullet goes through his brain, the second through mine.”

“Sophie --”

“I can’t live like this much longer, Sam. It’s agony. Each day is nothing but deep pain inside me.”

Reaching out, he put a hand over hers, squeezing a little before releasing it. He wanted to tell her she was stronger than she thought and a ton of other things to convince her not to kill herself the second she’d ended Mick’s pain. Instead, he stayed silent. Now wasn’t the time to try to convince her. She was weary in every way, dying a little more inside every time new reports came in on what the soul stealer was up to.

“I’m so tired.” She licked her lips. “Just when I think I’ve tracked him and caught up, he’s gone. I keep having this feeling that one day soon, I’ll get a break, and it never comes. I’m always one step behind him.”

They sat silent then, watching the card game across the room.

~~~~~~~~~~

Coming home wasn’t supposed to hurt. Home was supposed to be a refuge.

He’d forgotten that hunters never had a true refuge, never had safety. It could always be compromised.

Abraham Bennett noticed something amiss the second he stepped into the cabin. It was too quiet, with none of the usual singing Nic did when she was in the homo. She was here, he knew she was. Her car was out front and her boots and parka still by the front door. He closed the door, a terrible feeling of foreboding working through him.

No. Please no. Let her have escaped whatever is here waiting.

The air was cold and smelled faintly of burned coffee.

He’d had over thirty years of waiting for that feeling of something being wrong and here it was. His life was about to change in a horrible way. He knew it without having to even see the rest of the house.

Today was the day Abraham Bennett died.

He swallowed hard. So be it. If it was his time, then let it come.

He drew out his gun, surprised to find his hands shaking. It had been a long time since he’d been scared and he realized he was terrified to walk through his own house, afraid of what he’d find. Dread at the thought of seeing his beloved wife torn apart worked through him. The silence was as deafening as the stereo all the way up would be. Ham swept the lower level, his training kicking into place. He moved into the living room, seeing nothing out of place, then stepped into the kitchen and spied Nic on the floor.

“Nic!” Ham hurried to Veronica’s body and knelt beside her. She was obviously dead, rigor come and gone. Her eyes were open, sightless, her lips parted, a look of surprise and not terror upon her face. She was in the jeans she usually wore at home and her favorite blue sweater. When she hadn’t answered the phone this morning, he’d thought she’d just already gone out to run errands, but it was obvious that wasn’t the case. She’d been dead awhile, possibly since not long after he’d left. His vision clouded with tears as he touched her face, stroking his fingers along the curve of her jaw like he had just before he’d left. “Love you,” he whispered.

So many years, ended as abruptly as he’d always thought would happen. They’d been luckier than most married hunters though, surviving long past the age most died. They’d had many happy years together.

“It was a heart attack, in case you’re wondering,” came a pleasant baritone from behind him.

He whirled, standing though it hurt his knees and back to move that fast, and raised his gun.

The man, dark haired and tall, was at the fireplace, holding the picture of Sam and Gwen in his hands. Couldn’t be a demon. There was no sign of entry by force and they’d had plenty of symbols up to repel demons and keep them out. “Did you know she had a heart condition? I’ve been thinking it was undiagnosed since I found no medication for it.”

Age related maybe, but not genetic. Her family had no known heart trouble.

“I reached for her and bam, she was gone. I didn’t even have time to take a piece of her. But you know what, Abraham? I’ve decided that’s okay. You’re the one I was after anyway. ” His smile was quick, a flash of white teeth. “Your gun is useless, by the way. All it’ll do is piss me off. I’ve been shot several times since I was released.”

“What are you?” Ham thought of all of the symbols they had up and was very afraid he knew what this man was. Gwen had been here recently to talk about him.

“The same creature that killed your granddaughter.”

He felt faint at the news. Gwen dead? No. Surely Sam would have told them.

“She didn’t plead in that car months ago, you know. I can sort of respect that. She fought me. A lot of people give up and stop fighting, giving in to the inevitable. Not her. She tried to take me with her, but I watched her die and now there’s just you. Imagine my surprise when I went to track down Aaron and found a grave instead. It’s like fate is helping me get rid of you. Him, his daughter, your wife, and now you.” He pointed a finger at Ham.

Relief swept over him. The creature didn’t know Gwen was alive or that she was pregnant. She was safe. The realization braced him for what he knew was coming. She was safe and he wasn’t going to betray that to this creature.

“It’s such a shame, isn’t it?” He held up the picture. “They were a good looking couple. Handsome together.”

“If you’re going to kill me, then do it.”

The picture was set back down on the mantel. “With your side gone completely, I can take my time with them. Stalk them a bit. Enjoy the chase before I kill the Harvelle and Campbell heirs.”

Ham disregarded the creature’s advice, emptying his clip into him, then whirling, hoping to make it to the kit they kept in the kitchen. Maybe there’d be something there that’d help. He doubted it, but Ham would rather go down fighting than stand there waiting to die.

He didn’t make it far, the creature just as fast as Ham remembered reading once. He cried out in pain as his jaw hit the edge of the kitchen counter, tasting blood and spitting teeth onto the tile floor. His left shoulder, the one that had given him trouble for twenty years now, popped out of place as the creature flipped him onto his back. Ham coughed, choking on blood and bile.

“Go to hell,” he managed to bite out.

Gwen was alive, and while he and Nic would never meet their great-grandchildren, Ham was glad they’d gotten the chance to have a relationship, however brief, with Gwen before they’d died. She’d carry on the family line. He held on to that as intense pain washed over him.

Mercifully, he blacked out before the soul stealer went in for the kill.

~~~~~~~~~~

After obsessively checking her phone in case she’d missed Ronnie’s call, Gwen tried their home line again. She then tried the cell numbers for both her grandparents, receiving no answer. She didn’t leave a message at any of the numbers. Never did. There was never a need, as Ronnie always called her back.

Except now.

Her stomach clenched, the idea that something was wrong rising up. She couldn’t get that idea out of her mind and got up from the couch, padding in sock feet to the stairs and up them.

Sam was busy at work, books spread out in front of him. While she watched, he ran his finger along a line, then flipped a page in the notebook he was writing in and touched his pencil to it. She could see part of a diagram on the page.

“Sam?” Gwen knocked on the banister to get his attention.

He glanced up and drew off his ear buds. “Yeah? What’s up?”

She waved her phone in the air. “I can’t get Ronnie or Ham on the phone. I’ve been calling and calling and they’re not answering. It’s not like Ronnie. She always answers within an hour and it’s been two days. I talked to her five days ago and she said Ham was going out on a pick up, but that he’d be back in two days. I gave them three in case the pick up took a little longer than they thought. I was going to tell them all about my doctor appointment, but she’s not picking up….”

He stared at her a moment. “You’re really worried.”

“I am. I know they can take care of themselves and have for years, but….” She shrugged a shoulder and glanced away. “They’re the only grandparents I have, hunters or not.”

“You want me to drive out there and check on them?”

“Would you?”

“Of course.” He started marking his place in the books. “We have nothing right now. No new cases. We’ll go now, the two of us.” While he and Ham hadn’t gotten off to a good start, they’d reached a truce and Sam had admitted he was starting to even like him a little.

They informed Dean and Jo where they were going and why and left within the hour, Gwen still trying to get Ronnie and Ham on the phone to no success. The drive itself was uneventful, the clearing the cabin was in quiet and still when they got out of the car.

That peacefulness didn’t last long. As they approached the porch, Gwen saw that the front door was ajar. Sam moved in front of her, fingers giving it a push to open it. The smell of death reached them and Sam turned to face her, grasping her arms. “Can you take the smell?”

“Yeah, I think.” She nodded. As long as she breathed through her mouth, she thought she’d be okay.

“Okay, I’ll take the lower level slow, then the upper.” He drew out his gun. “You cover the doorway and stairs. Make sure no one sneaks up behind me.”

She waited, gun ready, hearing sounds of Sam’s passing through the rooms. At the back of the cabin, she heard the sound of him half-retching and then he was coming back to her, looking faintly green. “Sam?”

“Stay here,” he told her in a firm tone. When he returned from upstairs, he drew her outside and they both took gulps of fresh air.

“What happened?”

“They’re dead, Gwen.”

“How?”

He glanced away, reluctance to tell her all over his face, and she couldn’t help herself, opening the door and hurrying to the back of the cabin.

In the kitchen, where Ronnie had recently fixed her decaf coffee, then opened sparkling grape juice to celebrate Gwen’s pregnancy, were two bodies. Ronnie looked peaceful and very dead. Ham however….

“Oh God!” Gwen threw up in the trash can, her stomach heaving, emptying of everything she’d eaten until she tasted bile.

The body was barely identifiable as Abraham Bennett, ripped up, blood and gore everywhere. His death had not been peaceful. Gwen was willing to bet that his death had been excruciatingly painful. The scene swam in front of her as she realized he’d been gnawed on and that bit of white she saw was his ribcage.

Sam’s arms came around her, easing her back from the cabin and onto the porch. They sat on the steps, Sam holding her. Gwen began to cry. Two people she’d begun to really love and care about were gone. She cried her sorrow of that fact, clutching at Sam with fingers that felt nerveless and icy. He rocked her gently, hands stroking her hair.

The light shifted above them, the sun moving position.

“I’ll start building a pyre,” he said, loosing her from his embrace. “We should get it done in case anyone comes looking.”

No one came looking, even after a cloud of smoke went swirling up into the air, and they set about locking down the house. Sam called and talked to Dean, then Jo, leaving Gwen to wander through the upstairs of the cabin looking for anything she thought couldn’t be left for later.

It was going to take a thorough cleaning and time for the smell of death to leave the cabin. Maybe someday they’d make sure it had the proper cleaning.

She sat on the bed in the master, wiping her tears away with her hands. She couldn’t seem to stop crying. Dead. They were dead. Eventually, her tears dried up enough that she could return to her task.

By the end of three days, the food had been taken to the local food pantry and some of the clothes to a shelter. It felt wrong to clean it out completely right now, so they were going to lock up the cabin and come back when the soul stealer matter was over. They’d do a full inventory then, though from her glance at the papers they’d found in the safe, it looked like either Ham or Ronnie had already done a thorough inventory.

Gwen lifted that heavy packet of papers that had been in the safe, and the small bag she’d packed, and stepped on the porch, and closed the door firmly behind her. She thought she understood now why there had been clothes in the Harvelle storage unit. It wasn’t to remember the tragedy of what had happened, but to remember the people themselves that had passed. She’d taken an article of clothing from each of them, a flannel shirt from Ham’s closet and a pretty lacy sweater from Ronnie’s. She’d put them in a small box and label them, then put them in that storage unit with the rest of the clothes.

Sam waited at the passenger door of Ham’s SUV. It was a good vehicle and Ham and Ronnie had owned it outright. The title was one of the papers Gwen held. She and Sam owned it now and she thought Ham would’ve been fine with that. “You ready?”

She felt numb, like there was no emotion left inside of her. “I think so.” Gwen walked down the steps. “I barely got to know them.”

“But you did know them. It’s more than many of us get. You had almost a year with them.”

“It seems like a waste, you know? All of the things they still had to tell me about hunting, about family. Now I’ll never know.”

He nodded. “I know.”

Sam held her hand as he drove and when they stopped for the night, he held her as she cried once more. He was still holding her when she woke up the next morning.

~~~~~~~~~~

The soul stealer watched the woman with the child, smiling a little at how close he was to them and they didn’t realize it. The woman had even spoken to him, though there was something different about the boy. He’d stared right back at the soul stealer, not afraid in the slightest. He didn’t understand that. His stare could make the bravest child cry, but not this boy. This one had no fear. It was a curiosity, he decided, but in time, he’d drink down the boy’s soul. He’d have all of them, the boy, his parents.

He’d set this trap carefully just to show what he could do. He’d tortured information from some of the monsters he’d found, learned what they knew of the Winchesters and their acquaintances, supplementing what he knew already from Mick. He’d waited outside the woman’s house for her to appear and when she had, with the boy nonetheless, he’d followed them to this park.

He paid attention as she played with the boy on the playground. If he wanted, he could take the two now. But he wasn’t ready yet. He wanted them to know he could seek them out, deal with them in his own time. They needed to be fully aware that they weren’t hunting him. He was going to be hunting them.

The soul stealer chose Dean Winchester’s number, using the phone he’d stolen from one of his previous victims and had programmed in certain useful contacts both Mick and Sophie had had. He’d taken several phones and altered them for his use. He had numbers for Dean and Sam Winchester, Jo Harvelle, and several other hunters. He’d discounted the number for Gwen Campbell. He’d watched her die in that crash, seen her body relax in death. She was no longer a problem and with her family line gone, he had all the time in the world to deal with the bloodlines.

Technology was fun and useful. He was enjoying learning all of the little pieces. Mick had been helpful. Unwillingly, of course. He’d tried to keep his mind locked, but little pieces were weakening steadily, information leaking out, like the information on the woman and child.

Ellen Harvelle. Wife of Bill Harvelle (deceased), mother of Jo, and grandmother of the child she was playing with in the park.

“Who is this,” Dean’s voice barked in a no-nonsense tone. “How’d you get this number?”

“Hello, Dean. It’s Mick.”

There was silence for the space of ten seconds. He could practically hear Dean’s frantic thoughts of how to act and what to say. “What do you want?”

“I want you, of course. And your family. Your brother, wife, and child. All of you.”

“You can’t have us, you piece of monster crap.”

“Oh, I think I can.” Taking a picture of the woman and child, he sent it to Dean in a text. “Check out where I am, Dean. I could have someone right now. Two someones. Maybe I will.”

He hung up, set the phone on the park bench, and strode away.

Games were fun. He wanted to play one with Dean, Sam, and Jo awhile.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey there.”

Ellen looked up from undoing the strap that held Jack in the swing. A man stood there at the edge of the swing area, watching them. How had she not seen him walking up? “I help you with something?”

“Cute kid.”

“Thanks.” She lifted Jack. He wasn’t alarmed by the stranger, watching him with solemn, curious eyes.

The man watched back and just when his stare began to grow far too intense for Ellen’s liking, he stepped back, a ripple of confusion on his face.

“You want something?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t want anything.” Turning, he strolled across the park and was gone.

Ellen dismissed the odd encounter and was sitting in the sandbox with Jack a short while later, getting sand in unmentionable places through her clothes, when the Impala came tearing around the corner, screeching to a halt on the loose gravel of the parking lot. A cloud of rock dust blew across the park.

Jo and Dean got out, running towards them.

“Mom!”

“Ellen, get Jack and get in the car, now!”

She didn’t hesitate, picking him up and carrying him to the Impala. She got inside, watching Dean and Jo search the area. They headed straight for the benches, Dean picking something up and swearing long and loud while Jo hugged herself and hurried back to the Impala. Dean followed her.

Jo climbed in with her and took Jack, holding him so tightly against her that he began crying. She pressed her face to his hair. Up close, Ellen could see tears wetting her face. Jo was terrified.

“Why didn’t you answer your phone,” Dean demanded, joining them in the backseat and wrapping an arm around Jo and Jack.

“It’s in the car. Didn’t want to get sand in it. Why? What’s wrong with you two?”

Dean’s hand was shaking as he held out his phone.

Ellen took it. There was a picture of her and Jack on the screen. She glanced at him in question. “Who sent this?”

“Mick. The Soul Stealer was here, Ellen. He threatened to take you and Jack.”

“Why didn’t he?” That odd encounter came back to her, and how the man had stared at Jack.

Dean was silent a minute, then pressed a kiss to Jack’s head. “He wants us to suffer, to know he can get to us, and wonder when he’s coming for us.” He put his phone away, that hand reaching out to her and grabbing her shirt, tugging her into the group hug.

She followed them home because Dean insisted, keeping a careful eye out for a tail and seeing none.

“Head straight back to Bobby’s,” Dean told her.

“Can’t do that. Got to pick up that present for Bobby you helped me with. It’s back at my house.” She held up her hands. “I’m fine, Dean. I can get in and out real quick and I’ll take all of the necessary precautions.”

“Ellen --”

“Shush. I’ll be fine.” True to her word, Ellen took as many paranoid precautions as she could on the way there : taking a circuitous route, keeping an eye on traffic, and so on. It made no difference in the end. Her house was in flames, the fire department hard at work attempting to contain the blaze. “My house.” Ellen got out of the car. “My damn house is on fire. Son of a bitch!”

Jody was by the trucks, out of uniform, relief crossing her face when she noticed Ellen. She came over, hesitating a moment before pulling Ellen into a hug. “Thank God you weren’t in there. Bobby didn’t know where you were, said you’d taken Jack for a few hours. I thought….” She released Ellen and shook her head. “I thought you were both in there and wasn’t sure how I was going to tell Dean and Jo and then Bobby.”

“I was at the park. Took Jack there to play.” She winced as the roof caved in. “It was such a nice day, I thought he’d like that.”

She nodded. “I’m sure he did.”

Ellen gestured at the house. “Damn it. Now I’ve got to get Bobby another present.”

Jody blinked. “Ellen?” She glanced at the blaze and tugged on Ellen’s arm to turn her away from it. “Your house is on fire and you’re worried about a present you got for Bobby?”

“You’d be too. That thing was expensive. Why is it men always like the fancy weapons?”

Her brows rose. “Is it anything I need to worry about exploding here?”

“Not this time.” That would’ve been her Christmas gift to him. “I moved all the explosives out months ago.”

“Good. Good. I didn’t hear that. Why don’t you head to either Dean and Jo’s or Bobby’s and I’ll keep you updated? You think you can drive?”

“I can always drive.”

She returned to Jo and Dean’s, giving Bobby a call on the way. While his words were almost insultingly not worried, his tone belied that, his relief in hearing from her clear.

“You be careful, El.”

“I’m like a cat.”

“Like I said….”

There was an unfamiliar vehicle in their driveway and she let herself into the house to find Gwen and Sam back. Sam was in the kitchen, his arm around Gwen. Gwen’s eyes were swollen and she looked like she’d been grieving hard all the way back. Ellen would give condolences later. Jo had told her what had happened. “Turn on the news.”

Dean complied.

Ellen crossed her arms. She wasn’t surprised to find her house fire on each news channel. The local news crew loved to cover fires.

“Mom?” Jo turned and looked at her. “Your house is on fire?”

“Yup. When I got there, they were starting to just try and keep it from spreading. Nothing more they could do.” She moved to the table and sat before her wobbly knees could give out on her. Glancing down, she saw that her hands were shaking and she laced her fingers together. Strange. She felt calm otherwise.

“I’m guessing you didn’t get Bobby’s present out first,” Dean asked, earning a smack on his arm from Jo. “What? It’s a valid question. That thing was expensive and a pain in the ass to get. Do you know what we had to do to smuggle it into the country?”

Jo rolled her eyes and went into the kitchen. “Good thing you were mostly moved out,” she commented, coming back out after a couple minutes and setting a cup of coffee in front of Ellen. “Here mom. Drink this.”

Ellen took a drink and grimaced. Jo had put enough sugar in it that it was like coffee with booze flavored syrup. Good for shock, but not too tasty.

Am I in shock, she asked herself, slowly realizing that she must be.

“I think all that was left might’ve been pots and pans and some out of season clothes.” Jo pulled out the chair beside Ellen and sat down. “Even the family photo albums are all out at Bobby’s or here.”

“I was gonna rent the place out, make some extra money. Damn it.”

“You still have the land,” Jo consoled.

“Fat lot of good that’ll do me. First the Roadhouse, now this place. Damn. No one is gonna want to sell to me if every place I have keeps going up in flames for one reason or another.”

“He was there.” Dean’s voice was firm. “For this to happen after he snapped a pic of her and Jack? Had to be him. It’s not coincidence. He set the fire.”

“How did he find me?”

Gwen appeared in the kitchen doorway, leaning against the doorjamb. “The baby shower. Sophie was there, remember? Mick was her boyfriend. He would’ve known the address because she shared it with him.”

“Which means he really does have access to Mick’s memories now.”

Sam reached through the doorway into the kitchen. When he straightened, he was no longer holding a cup of coffee. “He knew to come to Sioux Falls. Did he know our address? Or Bobby’s?”

Jo shook her head. “I don’t think so. I never gave him either and Sophie sure as hell didn’t know where Bobby lives. Our phone numbers are listed under WHC Investigations and DJ Marlowe. No connection to the house.”

Dean went very still and quiet for long minutes. The struggle going on inside him was reflected on his face. He was thinking long and hard about the afternoon. “Jo, pack a bag for us and Jack. We’re not staying here. Sam --”

“No. Not this again. I thought we settled this. I don’t think he knew our address, Dean. He would’ve been here already if he did. If you absolutely have to leave, Gwen and I’ll stay here, keep a watch out.” He came to the table, standing at the opposite end Dean was standing.

Jo crossed her arms and sighed.

“You have to come with us.” Dean’s jaw clenched.

“We don’t.”

“You’re gonna risk your unborn child?”

Sam flinched and shook his head. He placed his hands flat on the table and leaned on them. A precariously piled stack of papers wobbled but didn’t fall over. It looked like they hadn’t been opening mail in over a week. “I don’t think we’re in danger here at the house. Not a lot of people really have our base address.”

The disagreement deteriorated into an argument over who was right. Ellen drank the coffee Jo had set before her and watched Jo and Gwen decide to just follow the men in their lives, both choosing to wait until later to speak on the matter. Dean got his way about Jo and Jack and Sam got his way about himself and Gwen. Neither was happy in it.

She left awhile later, when the alcohol was out of her system. It wasn’t until she was standing before Bobby in the kitchen that she realized how close she’d come to death again. How close she and Jack had come. Ellen stared at Bobby, trying to hold back the tears. Her chin trembled.

Bobby took a glass from the cupboard and poured in a healthy swig from the nearest whiskey bottle. “You eaten anything?”

“No.”

He added another swig, set the glass on the table, and dragged out a chair. “Sit down before you fall down.”

“Jo already gave me whiskey.”

“Drink it anyway. I’ll cook dinner. You want the usual on your pizza?”

Ellen nodded. Bobby reached for the phone and kept a comforting warm hand on her back the entire time he ordered. By the time the food actually got there, she was going to be blitzed if he kept pouring the whiskey with such a generous hand, but Ellen didn’t care. She let Bobby take care of her in his own way.