Title: Nothing and Everything

Chapter 6

~~~~~~~~~~

The sound of crying punched through Jo’s sleeping state, rousing her into wakefulness. She laid still a minute, listening and realizing she was at home and the crying was her baby. Grogginess encased her like an all enveloping cloak. Slowly, she climbed off the bed and went to take a shower. Standing beneath the water and letting it run down her body, she thought it hadn’t seemed possible for her body to ache this much from pushing a baby out of it. She supposed she should have realized it.

She left the bathroom, put on pajamas, and started down the stairs.

Here we go, she thought. Welcome to motherhood.

~~~~~~~~~~

At 12:39 p.m.:

Nose twitching at the faint odor of something utterly rank, Jo unstuck the diaper tabs and opened it. “Dear God! This smells worse than a rotting corpse!” Jo gagged at the smell, her eyes watering. “And why is it green?”

Dean coughed and put a hand over his mouth and nose. “More like the breath of hellhounds and I don’t think I want to know why it’s green.”

“Worse than that.” She went to the window, opened it and gulped in as much fresh air as she could. “Much worse.”

“A combination.”

“Agreed. We need a fan in here to suck the smell away. I’ll go get one.”

As she reached the stairs, Dean called out, “What, you’re leaving me to wipe this off him?”

“Think of it as a bonding moment,” she called back.

At 2:47 p.m.:

She thought she was getting the hang of this now. Jo carefully opened the diaper and was sliding it away when a stream of pee arced over onto the floor. “Oh, come on,” she moaned. “Really?” Her sigh was long and frustrated. There had to be a way to change a boy without getting the ‘pee response’ as soon as air hit him. It felt like this happened every time she tried to change him. Was it too soon for him to be doing it out of a warped sense of humor? “Dean? He just peed off the changing table again. Grab me the carpet cleaner and the paper towels?”

He was snickering as he came in the room.

“You think you can do better,” she snapped. “Change him while I clean this up.” She snatched the cleaner and paper towels away and got down on the floor.

“Who’s daddy’s boy,” Dean crooned to Jack, not putting a diaper on him like Jo wanted. “You are.”

She’d soaked up what she could and was spraying the cleaner when she felt a warm wetness on her neck. “Dean? Tell me that wasn’t what I think it was.” Jo fixed an expectant stare on him.

He pursed his lips and gave a weak laugh. “He’s a natural talent at aiming?”

She sat up and slammed the cleaner bottle down. “That’s it. You clean this and get a diaper on him while I go take another shower.”

At 3:10 p.m.:

She finished drying off and dropped the towel to the floor.

“Mmm. You look good naked.” Dean appeared and leaned against their bedroom door.

Jo reached for a fresh pair of pajamas. “You do remember Doc said six weeks, right?”

His lecherous expression faded slightly. “You’re sure that wasn’t just a suggestion?”

“Absolutely.”

“Damn.”

“I might be amenable to other sorts of recreation after I get some solid sleep though.”

He perked up. “You’re a good woman.”

At 5:55 p.m.:

Jo laid strips of tape across the seams of the garbage bags as Dean held them down.

When they’d finished, Dean sat back with a satisfied grin. “There. Next time he pees off the table, we’re ready for it.”

They’d covered the floor around the table with heavy-duty black garbage bags -- and the wall as well. It clashed with the light, bright décor, but at this point, Jo didn’t care as long as she didn’t have to try to get pee out of the carpet every single time she changed Jack. “The baby book didn’t mention this problem,” she mused.

At 7:35 p.m.:

Jo woke to the sound of a baby crying and stumbled sleepily into the bathroom, nose wrinkling at the gross smell in the room. It was worse than that diaper they’d had around lunchtime. “Dean, what are you doing?”

“Giving him a bath like they showed us at the hospital.” He was carefully holding their child in the bathroom sink.

She yawned. “Another bath? He’s had like three today already.” Though they weren’t baths as such, more like a warm washcloth stroked over his skin, being careful of the piece of cord in his bellybutton.

“Yeah, well if you have another idea how to get the crap off his head I’d love to hear it.”

“His head?” She stared at him, confused.

“We had a diaper explosion. Butt, back, head…. Still not sure how he got it that high up him.” He gestured to the pile of fabric on the counter. “I’ve seen some nasty things in my life, but that? Putrid. We should just burn the onesie.”

She bent, tucking her hair behind her ears and peering at it. “It’s completely covered in crap.”

“As was he. Amazing. He’s a prodigy.”

“Everyone has to be good at something,” she soothed.

At 10:45 p.m.:

Jo held Jack, rocking him in her arms. “Go to sleep, go to sleep, go to sleep. Mommy’s tired, daddy’s grouchy….”

The infant remained wide awake, fussing just enough that she didn’t want to put him down.

At 1:47 a.m.:

Jo kept her eyes closed and pretended to be asleep as the baby monitor exploded in sound yet again.

Dean reached out a hand and jostled her. “Baby,” he murmured.

She tried to lie still. Would he buy it if she played dead?

He shook her harder. “Baby.”

After several more shakes, she shoved him back and hissed, “I got him last time. And the times before that.”

“Fine.” He sat up, shoved the covers off, and returned a few minutes later. “Sorry, Jo,” he yawned, “but I’m not the one with food in my boobs. You need to get this one.”

“I don’t have food in my boobs. Yet. Give him a bottle.”

“Thought you wanted to breastfeed?”

“I’m rethinking that strategy.”

“How do you expect your milk to come in if you won’t try? Didn’t they tell you to keep doing it?”

She snorted, but got up and went into Jack’s room.

At 3:10 a.m.:

“Oh, for crying out loud! I just changed him half an hour ago! How can such a tiny baby hold so much pee?” Jo was an expert at changing him now, removing the soiled diaper, swiping a wipe over him, and sliding a new diaper on. She put him back in his crib and automatically reached for the paper towels, kneeling before realizing she’d changed him without him peeing over the side of the table.

Her eyes went wide and she ran into their bedroom, jumping on the bed and shaking Dean. “Dean! Dean!”

He opened one eye. “What?”

“I changed him without him peeing on the plastic!”

He opened his other eye. “Jo, that’s great!” He patted her knee and closed his eyes. “I’m going back to sleep.”

Crying began, loud in the monitor. Jo got under the covers and snuggled down. Who would have guessed in a million years that a proud moment for her would be changing her son without pee all over the place? “Your turn,” she sing-songed, basking in her victory. “I got him last time.”

Dean groaned, but got up and left their bedroom. Jo was serenaded to sleep by his off-key rendition of ‘You Shook Me All Night Long’. Not a traditional lullaby, that was sure….

At 6:30 a.m.:

“I thought newborns were supposed to sleep.” Jo moaned, laying her head on the table. “I don’t think he’s slept since we got home.”

“I think he did.”

“When?” She reached for one of the bottles of root beer that hadn’t gotten put in the fridge the night before and opened it, taking a long drink.

“When we were sleeping. We put him to bed and he was quiet --”

“But was he sleeping? I don’t think he was. I think he was waiting for us to go to sleep so he could wake us up. Devious little baby. What about before then?”

“He was asleep when we left the hospital.”

“For how long?”

“Through most of your nap. Until Cas and Abigael showed up to see him. He woke up a little then and woke up right after they left.”

“You mean it’s their fault he’s awake? Freakin’ angels.” At this point, she was willing to slip blame onto them for it.

At 8:00 a.m.:

“I don’t believe it. It’s like…dead baby as soon as the sunlight hit him. What is he, some sort of vampire-like child?” Jo picked up one of Jack’s hands and released it. It flopped against her like it was boneless. Jack’s little back rose and fell with breath and he sighed. His mouth stayed open. She looked up at Dean and shook her head in exasperation. “Dead baby.”

“Tired himself out.”

“And it only took the better part of a day. Great. We have a super baby, able to stay awake for days at a time.” She was exaggerating and knew it, but really did feel like Jack wasn’t sleeping long enough for it to be considered sleeping.

“Don’t forget his ability to cover himself in crap and pee just over the edge of the plastic onto the carpet no matter where we put the edge.”

Jo grabbed her second bottle of root beer and took a long swig. “Alright, let’s go try to put him down for awhile.”

It’d be a miracle if he remained asleep for more than a minute.

~~~~~~~~~~

Bobby stood with the cabinet doors all open, his arms crossed and a peeved expression on his face.

Sam went to the coffeepot, grabbed a mug, and poured a full cup. “What’s going on?” The night had passed with no screaming from Gwen, though she had thrashed around and woken twice gasping for breath.

His lips twisted in annoyance. “That woman does whatever she damn well pleases.”

“Who, Ellen?” Sam took a sip of the coffee.

“Who else? Not like Jo, Gwen, or Jodie have the nerve to rearrange my kitchen while I’m out working.”

“Ellen has --”

“Balls. She has balls.” He glanced at Sam and shrugged. “Well, she does. Figuratively speaking.”

He had to laugh a little because Bobby was totally right.

“You wouldn’t happen to have any idea where she put my frying pan, would you? It’s supposed to be in the oven and isn’t.”

“Uh….” He gestured at one lower cabinet. “Try that one. She was putting some pans there the other day.”

“What, you sat and watched her?”

“No. She was working on it while Gwen and I were eating.”

He grumbled and was stirring eggs in the pan, having finally found it in the very back of the cabinet, when Ellen let herself in the house. “You couldn’t have put things in logical places, Ellen?”

“I put ‘em all back where they’re supposed to be.”

“I like my frying pan in the oven.”

“Well, I don’t and I’ve been cooking here more than you lately. Suck it up, old man.”

Sam chuckled, filled another mug with coffee, and left to wake Gwen. As he went up the stairs, he heard Ellen and Bobby begin to argue in friendly tones.

The covers were twisted around Gwen and she was already awake, head turned, gaze looking out the window at the clear sky. The sun was out and it was going to be a beautiful fall day.

“I brought you coffee.”

“I need it,” she replied, sitting and taking the mug from him. “I didn’t wake you or Bobby last night, did I?”

“No screaming.” He climbed on the bed with her, back against the headboard. “Did you have a nightmare?”

“You know I did,” she said, casting a sidelong glance at him. “You were right there talking me down.”

“You know…if they get too bad, we could use dream root. I could come in to the dream with you, help you through it.” He’d given this much thought. It wasn’t something he particularly wanted to do, but if it was necessary, if he thought it’d save her somehow, he would.

She thought about that a moment, sipping the coffee. “You really want to walk through my head, Sam?”

“If it’ll help you.”

“I’ll think about it.”

He drank coffee a minute, studying her. “When you’re in it, do you know you’re dreaming?”

“Sometimes and sometimes I don’t realize it was a dream until I’ve been sitting with the lights on awhile and you’re not covered in blood.”

He set his mug aside. “I’ve been thinking about Battle Creek and Mia, the things she said, and the particulars of your dream. The detail. Do you think that maybe you were there when she killed him?” It was a good bet she really had been there, sitting in a carrier or something while Mia disposed of Aaron.

Gwen laughed a little. “Sam, I would have been a baby. A newborn, like Jack. How would I remember that at less than a month old? Not to mention I don’t remember anything else. Earliest memory I have is Neal holding me while Patricia fussed over me wiping my face. I think I was probably about four at the time. I remember the cloth she used and how she made a little game of it. Do you remember anything from when you were a baby?”

“No, but bear with me here. It’s not impossible. There are people who claim to remember being born.” He’d found hundreds of like stories of people remembering things from when they were babies and toddlers that most people didn’t remember. It wasn’t a large number of people, but they were out there.

“Yeah, and they’re whackos. Not all there.”

“Not necessarily. Some of the stories have been proven true and it’s honestly no stranger than other things we know as true. Mia said he claimed you were special, his special girl. Maybe you have the gift of remembering things from when you were really little. Maybe you can access those memories if you need to or the trauma of what Mia did in Battle Creek brought it to the surface.”

“And what good would it do me to recall things from then? I remember drinking formula from a bottle? Ooh, life changing stuff, that.” She drained her mug and put it on the nightstand.

He rolled his eyes. “Was the sarcasm necessary? It’d relieve you of your fears that you’re like Mia if it’s a memory.”

She laughed again and got up, pulling on her robe. “Nice try, Sam, but it’s a ridiculous theory. I’m gonna go with it being a dream and that my overactive imagination that’s fueled by years of hunts is goading it further and making it seem real.”

“I could be right,” he called after her as she headed towards the bathroom.

“You could be wrong,” she called back.

He wondered if there was any way to find out if he was right.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Where’s my file?”

Dean went to the bedroom door, still in his towel. “What file?”

Jo was mumbling to herself and flipping through stacks of papers and folders, making the table a bigger mess than it already was. Her pajama top slid low on one shoulder and he reminded himself to do laundry later. She was down to her last pair of pajamas. The rest had been alternately soiled by spit-up and baby pee.

His single goal for the week had been to clean up the table and file away all the case materials. Ellen wanted them to document things. With the mess Jo was making, it’d take him longer than he’d anticipated.

“The flapper dress,” she said, like he should have known which one she meant. “I wanted to work on it.”

“You’ve established a chain of ownership, what’s left right now except to go get it, which you can’t do since Doc hasn’t cleared you to go back to work.”

“I could go get it if I wanted.” She sat in the office chair. “It’s missing. Someone stole it.”

Doubtful it was stolen. More likely Sam and Gwen had taken it so Jo wouldn’t get it into her head to run off on a hunt in her present, less than prepared condition. She was running on little sleep and high, ever-changing emotions. Doc had warned him she might have moments of extreme depression and to keep an eye on that.

“You can’t go after it, Jo. You’re still moving like everything hurts.” Which made him wince in sympathy.

“Everything does hurt. I gave birth less than a week ago. You were there.” Closing her eyes, she sighed. “I’m so tired. I don’t think I’ve ever been this tired before. I can’t…. I can’t think straight.”

He went to her and gently eased her against him. “Gwen and Sam took it. You know it had to be them.” He rubbed her back with a hand.

She leaned against him. “I wanted to be the one to get it. My first job back. I’ve been working on it for weeks. I deserve to be the one to get it.”

Unless something more pressing was brought to their attention, she might have to give up that dream, though he didn’t think they’d taken it to go out and retrieve the dress. “There’ll be other jobs. Always are, one kind or another. Think about this. Right now you’re so exhausted you might get yourself killed.”

She began to cry, big gulping sobs.

Dean waited. He’d had enough experience to know that her mood would change in a minute anyway.

He was right. In about a minute, Jo’s sniffles dried up and she was sitting back. “I’ll start something new, I guess.”

“There you go. Always something else out there.” He got dressed and joined her at the table while Jack slept. As he worked on tidying the table, Jo sipped on her root beer and wrote on a pad of paper. After awhile, Dean grew bored and looked at Jo, watching her work.

Even after all these months, he enjoyed just watching her. Familiarity hadn’t taken the mystery from her as he’d feared it would. He was always discovering something he hadn’t known about her.

“What,” she asked with a glance his way. “Did I miss some spit-up somewhere?”

“Do you know how beautiful you are to me, Jo?”

“I think I can guess.” She shifted a little in her chair, leaning back and arching her back in a stretch.

His attention lowered to her breasts and lingered even when she returned to her previous position. Was it his imagination, or were her breasts actually getting bigger as he watched? He gave that matter his full attention, putting his chin in one hand and air measuring with the other hand.

Yup. Bigger. Definitely getting bigger.

Suddenly, she frowned. Two wet spots appeared on her pajama top and she stared down at them. “That felt really weird,” she said, touching one spot.

“And you thought it’d never come in.”

She shot an annoyed look his way. As if on cue, Jack woke up and began to cry.

“Lunchtime already,” he asked, earning a flick of her fingers against his ear as she passed him.

“Jerk.”

He followed her downstairs, joining her on the couch, one arm around her shoulders. There was something peaceful about watching her breastfeed their child, the sight almost calming to him. Tilting her chin up, he kissed her gently.

The days began to fall into some sort of order. Sam and Gwen had made the right call by making themselves scarce. It gave him and Jo a chance to settle into taking care of Jack without distractions, to discover that, as small as he was, he had a personality.

He was impatient when hungry, a night owl that slept a good portion of the day, yet Dean could see a bit of himself in the boy and a lot of Jo. Jo claimed it was the other way around and Jack was pure Dean all the way. It didn’t matter who he was the most like. He was theirs.

~~~~~~~~~

Bobby’s couch was very comfortable. Gwen had made that observation many times and made it again to herself, stretching a little and looking up as Ellen appeared in the doorway.

“Sam, would you be a dear and go to the store for me,” Ellen asked, drying her hands on a dishtowel.

He looked up from the book he was reading. “Sure. I guess. What do you need?”

She flipped the towel over her shoulder and returned into the kitchen, returning a minute later with a list written on an envelope. She handed it to him. “You may have to go to a couple stores to find everything.”

Sam took it, looked at Bobby, who appeared to be dozing in a chair, the paper on his lap, then at Gwen. She shrugged and turned a page in one of her mother’s journals. Sam cleared his throat. “A couple stores? You know, if you want to get rid of me for some reason, Ellen, just say it. You don’t have to make up a fake errand.”

“Sam, I want to get rid of you for awhile, but the errand isn’t fake. I really do need all of that for my culinary masterpiece. You’d be saving me a trip to the store.”

“Why are you trying to get rid of me, Ellen?”

“Because I’ve a few things to say to Gwen that aren’t your business.” She patted his cheek with a hand. “Take your time, sweetie.”

He grabbed his jacket and pulled it on. “Okay. Whatever. I’ll be back later.”

As soon as he was gone, Bobby opened his eyes. “Let me get this straight, make sure I’m understanding what Ellen told me earlier. You had information that Castiel and Abigael gave you on your birth parents and you burned it? Girl, sometimes you got no more smarts than the boys and they can do some pretty dumb things.”

Gwen accepted the censure with only a mild twinge of embarrassment and stuck a bookmark in the journal before closing it. “It felt like the right thing to do.”

“The right thing to do would have been to hand it over to Ellen for safe keeping. You’ve got a Trickster lusting after your ass apparently because of something about you --”

“I know that! I dug in the fire pit to pull out the flash drive and it was gone. Not burned up, but gone. Someone took it. Maybe it was him. Maybe he had some magic mumbo-jumbo to get information from it after it was melted plastic and metal.”

“Go easy on her, Bobby,” Ellen said, bringing the coffeepot in and refilling their cups. “She’s had a rough week. Besides, all of us in this house have done stupid things in hindsight more than once.” She took the pot back into the kitchen.

“You called the angelic duo down about it?”

Gwen swung her legs over the side of the couch and sat up. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ve been a little busy making sure Jo got to the hospital and that the baby’s room is ready. Jo’s nesting urges only got the walls painted and the other furniture in place. Not to mention that I don’t need the angels fixing my mistakes! This was my mistake, my choice to begin with, and I’ll deal with it. Damn it, Bobby, I thought you’d understand that. I don’t see you crying to the angels to fix everything for you and frankly, I find it insulting that you want me to cry to the angels. Like I can’t do it myself? Maybe it won’t be a quick fix, but I’ll get it done eventually. We figured out Mia without angelic assistance. I’ll bet we can figure out Aaron, too. The information is there somewhere. Abigael found it once. We can find it, too.”

“She had heavenly resources and since you’re not willing to tap those --”

“Maybe not.” Ellen rejoined them. “Castiel was teaching Abby to be human. If his goal was to make her comfortable with doing things the human way, would he really set her loose with the heavenly genealogy section? I’m willing to bet she did it the human way, only with that angelic quickness they have. What would take us maybe months likely only took her a day.”

“Still doesn’t change the fact that we don’t have a starting point.” Bobby pointed a finger at Gwen. “And don’t try to tell me that ‘all that glitters isn’t gold’ is some sort of starting point because it’s not. It’s a riddle. Once an angel, always one. She gave you nothing.”

Gwen drank her coffee, considering her next words and knowing they were a bad idea before she voiced them. “I could…ask the Trickster for help.”

“Excuse me?” Bobby’s eyes narrowed. “You take a stupid pill this morning? You really want to put yourself in his debt knowing what he wants from you?”

“I don’t want to do anything with him, but I don’t know that what he wants from me is what I think he wants. Besides, he knew Aaron --”

“What’d he say,” Bobby challenged.

“Started off with saying he wasn’t there to harm anyone.”

“Big words considering his mere presence causes chaos. You can’t do a deal with a Trickster any more than you can a demon.”

“Well, you can deal with demons, it’s just not a bright idea.”

“Bingo.”

“He sent Abigael away, made his usual noises about wanting me and veered the conversation towards…” She licked her lips and glanced at the door, but Sam wasn’t back. “He talked about the archangel breeding program, tried to convince me I should make something with him and not ‘angel meat’ with Sam.”

Bobby and Ellen shared a long stare. Ellen sat down. “Gwen, you’re not able to have vessels. Sam said Castiel told him that. Made him happy.”

“Yeah, well, it’s looking like Castiel lied to him. Castiel as much admitted my genetic predisposition for it as truth right after Battle Creek. He never came out and said it, just strongly implied.”

Bobby swore under his breath.

“My thoughts exactly.” Gwen agreed with him. “Castiel said I was special to and for Sam. Vague as can get, yet still implying the one meaning.”

Ellen shook her head. “Castiel could’ve been vague with you by habit. He is an angel. They’re not known for their ability to get to the point.”

“Exactly,” Bobby said.

“Doesn’t necessarily mean he lied,” Ellen countered. “The Trickster could be lying. Dean did say he was Gabriel’s template, meaning Gabriel spent time with him, enough time that Gabriel could pass for him. They likely talked and maybe Gabriel told him about angels and the vessel lines. However, if it’s the truth, I bet he thinks he can use that genetic ability somehow, turn it to his favor.”

Gwen gripped the edges of the couch, shoulders hunching. “And if it’s not? What advantage would it give him to say that if it wasn’t true? Why say I’m able to if I can’t?”

“If he’s aware of Sam’s feelings on the subject, it’d be a big advantage. All he’d have to do is let it slip to Sam somehow that you could bear vessels and that’d be it. It’d put doubt in Sam’s mind. The boy is so set on not carrying on the vessel line that he’d destroy his own happiness to keep it from happening. Whether it’s true or not, it’d give him an edge over Sam, however brief, before Sam started coming to his senses and realizing he was probably being lied to. That creature is fully capable of manipulating both you and Sam to get you where he wants you and at present it looks like it’s having little Tricksters, though I’m not sold on that idea.” Ellen sighed. “I think we need to back up. Forget Aaron a minute. You need to tell us about Samuel trapping him and what happened there.”

What had happened? It had been a surprisingly easy hunt, that’s what had happened. Emotions had been high, Christian at his condescending worst, Mark going along with Christian like he always had, and Samuel being smug, haughty, arrogant, and over-protective in a way she’d never had to deal with before from a parental sort of figure. He’d taken it to a new level. Had he, even then, known about Mia and sought to keep her safe as a contingency plan? Or had it just been how he was?

She’d been frustrated, angry, and seriously considering walking away, doing her bit of guard duty with those thoughts swirling in her mind.

But then the Trickster had started in with the quips. He’d made Samuel look like a fool and, truth be told, had given Christian a little comeuppance as well. She’d laughed and not just a polite laugh hidden behind a hand and masked as a cough. Her laugh had been loud and long, one that got the men thoroughly pissed with her for nearly a week after the Trickster was gone.

“Look, I laughed at a couple of his jokes. It was nothing. He was funny and seeing Samuel look like a fool right then really made my day. My week. I despise being treated like a dumb, helpless woman. I laughed, he started calling me ‘darling’, and it turned out it was his avatar we’d trapped, not him.”

“I don’t think it was nothing. I think he saw you right then as someone who’d appreciate his subtleties.”

“Not a leap to get there,” Bobby commented. “Tricksters love their jokes, especially the deadly ones, and if you laughed…. Might be everything there is to it right there. May have been enough to put you in his sights.”

“Fine. So is he really after me or was he trying to teach me something by showing up the other day?”

“He showed no interest in Jo and the baby?” Ellen crossed her arms.

“None. Aside from the initial congratulations and gift, which really is a receiving blanket, he ignored her. He claimed he was there to pay his respects, that it was what Gabriel would have wanted, then as soon as Abigael was gone, he started in about me and him together. When I stabbed him, he got mad, admitted he’d read my journal, and said Aaron wasn’t what I thought he was. Acted like he’d known him. Called him a pain in his ass and said Aaron had managed to do something very few people ever have over the centuries.”

“It’s never a good thing when the monsters talk about family that way,” Ellen interjected. “Means a ton of bad in some way.”

“I realize that and he hated Aaron. He did. I doubt even he could act that much hate.”

“Begs the question as to what Aaron did to piss him off. Must have been something unexpected.” Ellen chewed on one thumbnail.

“There’s another option you’re not looking at.” Bobby sighed and tossed the paper to the floor.

“What’s that?” Gwen reached for her coffee.

“He’s a damn Trickster.” He said it like they’d ignored that fact and shook his head. “He’s yanking your chain on all of it just to sit back and watch you run around trying to figure out what he wants, why, and what may or may not have happened between him and Aaron. He’s playing a game for his own amusement. It’s one thing they do. Right now, my money is on that. The times you met him before, he never gave any indication he knew anything about your daddy. Why start now unless he knows it’ll get you riled up? You say he mentioned having read your diary? There you go. He’s trying to toy with you. You mention Aaron in it then?”

“A lot. I had to get all of that out somewhere. Sam suggested I write it down, like the dreams.”

“There’s your explanation. He read about him and decided to play with you about it.”

“What if he did know him, Bobby?”

“So what? Doesn’t mean a damn thing and not certain he’d even tell you the truth about him. Lotta hunters and helpers get around in the world. If Aaron was as good a researcher as Neal’s journals indicate, it’s not out of the question that they tangled once or ran across each other. Forget making some deal with the Trickster for information he probably doesn’t even have, Gwen. Go the other route.”

“He was really angry, furious. I still have the bruise on my neck from his fingers,” she pointed to her neck. “I think he knew him.”

“Big freakin’ deal.”

“It creeps me out that he’d been watching us. I mean --”

“Not for long,” Bobby snorted. “If he’d been there long, he would have had you so turned around you didn’t know if you were coming or going, especially since he’s interested in you. Things would have been going wonky right and left. I don’t think he was at your house for longer than it took to flip through a few papers, read your diary, and figure out where you were. He wasn’t hanging around, he was looking for you. He hadn’t gotten to the hanging around part yet.”

“You think?”

He nodded. “I do.” He got up from the chair. “Are we done thinking of contacting him?”

Gwen nodded. “I wasn’t serious.”

“Good. He’s bad news any way you cut it.” He headed to the door, pausing beside Ellen. “Keep talking sense into her, will you? Smack her upside the head if you gotta.” The outside door slammed behind him as he left the house.

“What do you think Aaron did to him,” Ellen asked.

“Wish I knew. So….” She picked the journal back up, ran one thumb across the cover. “Where do I start, Ellen? The journals aren’t going to tell me anything about him. I’ve found the ones from the three years before I was born and so far, there’s little mention of him at all. I’m skimming what I can, but Patricia talks about other things.”

“I don’t know. You could try Neal’s journals.”

“Sam’s going through them.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t, too. Or, you can set it all aside and work on other things awhile. Aaron isn’t going anywhere, Gwen. That puzzle will be around.”

“In other words, get your ass working on current things, Gwen. It’ll all eventually come out.”

Ellen chuckled. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

Gwen dropped the diary in with the rest and shoved the box she’d found them in to one side, then turned on the computer and set to work finding a job to go on.