Burn It to the Ground

Maura’s POV.

I’ve come to realize that there is a huge difference between what I plan to do and what I actually end up doing. For instance, I set out with every intention of getting into a bar fight and taking out my frustrations on some drunk asshole, or maybe two. Thankfully I decided it wouldn’t be a fair fight and figured following up on the case would be a better and more productive plan. I poked around the mess of printed papers under the passenger seat for any leads and my quest takes me to the warehouse that Michael Taylor’s ex-father-in-law owned, back before he kicked the bucket shortly after the tragic plane crash killed his only daughter. It was a long-shot lead, but I figured that creeping around an abandoned warehouse at un-godly hours of the night would be a safer choice than going back to the motel to listen to Sam Winchester’s Therapy Hour. And then it ends with me running across John Winchester. I couldn’t decide whether that made me a genius or an idiot.

I had been creeping around, trying not to step on rats, when I heard a sound much louder than one a rat could make behind me. I spun around and stupidly started shooting, leveling my pistol straight ahead and nearly hitting the person standing there. He did a very ungraceful dive out of the way just in time, the last bullet going just over his head. I was just about to fire another round when, remarkably, I recognized the man as John Winchester.

“What the hell?” Was the first and only thing I could say, looking at him as if he had three heads and wings. He, at least, looked about as surprised as I did. I admit, I was pretty damn impressed at how little he had changed in the roughly twelve years it had been since he and my father had had one of their little super-secret-revenge-seeking-meetings.

“Maura Valentine?” He asked cautiously, eyeing me suspiciously. I thought about what Dean had said back in Cheyenne, about not being sure whether he was dead or alive; how he just sort of disappeared one day on a hunt. And nine times out of ten, if a hunter disappears for that long…

“Christo.” I muttered. I‘d said it in conversation with strangers I felt were acting suspiciously a million times, but it never stopped making me feel like an idiot. Nevertheless, he didn’t even bat an eye as I said it, which only made me feel stupider. I let my imagination, and the fact that I was sleep deprived and still slightly tipsy, run away with me and wondered what would happened if I stunned him and captured him; maybe brought him to his sons for a cash prize. ON THE OTHER HAND, I could hold him for ransom! Though my ideas were pretty pointless, considering I had serious doubts as to if I could overpower him. Plus, you know, I had probably been in enough fights-to-near-death for the night. “Your sons are in town.” I said matter-of-factly, feeling awkward in my sudden confusion and talking as casually as though I was telling a stranger I found their wallet.

His eyes widened slightly, setting his jaw for a brief moment before recovering from what was probably the closest thing to lack-of-composer that the man had ever experienced. “Here? Sam and Dean?”

“No.” I replied seriously, “Phil and Steve.” He gave me a disapproving look and tried to peer past me, further into the dark creepy room we stood in. I had given up hope of getting any further in the case that night, obviously the universe was completely against it since everything that could possibly happen to prevent it, had happened. “Where’s your father?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at me as if I were a five year old left unattended in a hardware store.

I scoffed. “I’m twenty-five; I don’t follow him around like a puppy anymore you know.” I stated defensively, noting in the back of my head that if my sister were around she would disagree with a snort and give me a ‘Really?’ look. Well, she would have back before our little brawl.

I heard the sound of running feet and suddenly, in a true ‘Speak of The Devil’ moment, a figure appeared behind John and stopped dead, two others nearly colliding into her in their haste to get in the room; everyone with a gun.

Small world.

Absolute silence followed, it seemed like even the faint dripping noises of rain sliding down the decaying roof paused for a moment. I’m sure my eyes were the size of saucers, realizing that the odds of what was happening actually happening were one in a million. I turned my attention back to the mysteriously appearing John Winchester, it becoming apparent that there was not any danger- only a very dramatic family reunion about to take place; Sam and Dean looked like they were seeing a ghost even before John turned around in curiosity at the sound of new arrivals.

“Dad?” Both of them gasped. They looked like they were choking, wide-eyed taking shaky breaths, I was a little afraid that someone would faint. It was strange, because under normal circumstances, I would have laughed at such a stupid expression, but the look on Sam’s face somehow managed to take me back to the night I stood on the front lawn of a burning two-story house with my crying baby sister in my little arms. Seeing the look on my father’s face as he appeared on the steps, an impossible mixture of relief and hurt, hope and fear. And suddenly the situation in the warehouse became a lot more serious in my book.

“Sam, Dean.” He acknowledged.

“Are you alright?” Kassia asked slowly, still looking about as confused as I did and her previous anger appearing to be temporarily forgotten in the surprise. I was just waiting for our father to appear, complete the bizarreness. Hell! Grandma and Grandpa could join the party too. “I’ve only been gone like an hour.” I muttered, though thankful I wasn’t alone anymore, realizing I probably would have just continued to stand there and stare. I didn’t take surprises well.

_______________________________________________________
Sam’s POV.

You would think that nothing could surprise us this much anymore, with our lives being what they are, but it was like seeing Big Bird in a biker bar; you just don’t know what to do, or if there’s anything to do. Or if you should just quit drinking for the rest of your life.

“Isn’t that…?” Kassia asked, trailing off as she stared wide-eyed at my father, who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but where he was. Maura nodded, crossing the room to stand beside her sister off to the side, giving us at least the illusion of privacy.

“I gave you an order not to try to find me.” He reminded us rigidly, though I could see the relief in his eyes that we were at least safe. He was a hunter, yes, but he was also a father. And I think I was a little relieved to see that he still knew that.

“We weren’t trying to find you.” Dean defended, it being the most he has ever stood up to our dad. “But we did.” I couldn’t help cutting in, smugly. In a way it was funny, the fact that my brother had finally convinced me to give up on helping dad find and kill Yellow Eyes, and now here he was. We didn’t even have to try.

“I did.” I heard Maura clearing her throat, followed by a smack and a muttered ‘ow.’; I assumed Kassia had punched her.

“Look, I don’t care who found who here.” He began “You two need to get out of here, and take them with you.” He said, nodding towards the girls who were arguing quietly among themselves now, though at least it wasn’t an all-out fistfight this time. Dean looked ready to leave right then, but after living with the whole ‘sir yes sir!‘ for the better portion of my life, I was getting damn tired of it.

“Whatever it is, we can help.”