Spreading Roots

It took Dean longer than it should have to collect himself after Devon left. In a hunt he could handle anything—ghosts throwing him up against a few walls, sure… but when it came to family drama Dean had never been much for it. Especially when it wasn’t his own family, and especially when Sammy wasn’t the driving force of it.

What the hell he was doing in middle of this he had no idea. He couldn’t understand nearly anything that went down between Marilyn and Devon. All the kid wanted was a couple of answers which Marilyn sure as hell could have easily given. For the thousandth time, Dean wondered why Marilyn was so freaking cold when it came to Devon.

And he witnessed what she almost did, what Devon just barely managed to block. That was what pissed him off the most. He might’ve had his fair share of fights with his brother… but this? This was different. ‘Cause as much as she’d love to have everyone believe otherwise, Devon was a fragile kid. She was fine-boned and scrawny and the day Dean caught her in the basement, he worried he might have snapped her arm in two. He was sure she couldn’t take anything close to a damn beating and at that point, he wouldn’t put anything past her mother.

Marilyn just seemed to ignore the fact while Dean couldn’t fathom why she’d want to hit a kid, much less her own. Jesus… what the hell did he get himself into—since when was it his job to break up family feuds? He was only in town to hunt a ghost, or at least that’s what he thought. After the cemetery visit he sort of had been able to piece a little something together. He just didn’t want to believe it.

Since he started eavesdropping on the conversation between Devon and Marilyn, he hadn’t been able to think about much else. And with what he just heard he had a little digging to do when he got back to his motel.

For right then, however, he unfortunately had to deal with the train wreck in the kitchen. Funny how it always had to be Marilyn. In an effort to keep himself calm, he took a deep breath and set his jaw before he headed back to the kitchen where the old lady was still mumbling to herself.

It took all he had not to roll his eyes. To tell her exactly what he was thinking, that it wasn’t Devon at the root of all this. It was her. She stood facing the counter, one hand on the edge of it to steady herself while the other pinched the bridge of her nose before she finally turned around to face him. At the sight of what she was trying to pull, Dean can’t help but let a weary sigh slip. It was turning out to be a long freaking day.

“Goodness, Dean. That child needs a reality check. I can’t believe the way she’s been acting lately.”

He pretended to ignore what she said, but he heard. It only served to fire him up even more... something that wasn’t good for the con stood in front of him. “Look, lady. I don’t know what the hell your problem is and I really couldn’t care less. Because personally? I think you’re freakin’ delusional.”

Upon hearing that first sentence alone Marilyn’s withered, upset stance went out the window. She straightened and set a glare on nothing but Dean. He didn’t so much as flinch. It shut her up, which was what Dean aimed for. He could see the fear start to brew behind her steely, cold eyes. The fear that he was going to up and leave her alone to deal with all this. While he wished like hell he could, he knew it just wasn’t possible. After what just happened he was in this mess up to his neck.

She thought she had everyone fooled when in reality it was the complete opposite. “Basically the only reason I’m still here is because of the kid. Just in case there is some truth to all this and you’re not completely off your rocker. I’m sticking around for Devon.”

Feeling as if that was all he could get out without saying something Marilyn might kick him out for he scoffed in her direction and turned for the door, not caring in particular to see her reaction. With a hand hovered over the door handle, he paused and almost tensed.

“Where is she?”

A simple question, and one Marilyn better have been able to answer.

The stutter in reply had another bout of rage surging through him. Dean just barely managed to keep himself in check. “W-what?”

“The kid,” Dean snapped, once again unable to help himself. He didn’t have the patience to deal with her stupidity. “Devon. Where—did—she—go?”

What killed him was that Marilyn had to think about it for a minute. Dean almost couldn’t even believe what a crappy ‘parent’ she was, and he used the term loosely. Looking back on his own experiences, maybe growing up with John Winchester for a father wasn’t so bad.

No matter where in the country they happened to be Dean always, always knew the places his brother would go when he had to cool off. To see that Marilyn didn’t even know such a small piece of information about her kid made him puzzlingly sad.

Another moment passed and Dean had all but given up on her. Then she finally stumbled with a response. “The park. Try the park.”

The moment Marilyn stopped her stammering was the moment Dean was out the door and headed straight to his Impala. He almost didn’t want to believe her—Devon didn’t seem too into nature and he couldn’t see her freezing her ass off out there. Off in the woods on her dirt bike somewhere maybe, but the park? More and more he thought about it, however, and the more it made sense. It was the one place you wouldn’t expect her to be.

Lake Crystal was comprised of just one park, and thankfully Dean knew exactly where it was. Just a few blocks from Marilyn’s house, he could see why Devon liked to frequent it. Hell, even he did during his short time spent in town as a teenager. But he couldn’t think about that.

On the way over there, Dean tried to tell himself it was only to see if he could get anything out of Devon. Figure out where exactly the job strayed off and where the crazy began. She would be emotional and hopefully more likely to spill the beans on whatever family secret she might have known about.

The chances of her knowing anything were slim after bearing witness to what happened back at the house, however, and Dean knew it. Even he wasn’t even capable of fooling himself to such an extent.

In reality… in reality, he was just worried about the kid.

He may not have had a mother for much of his lifetime, but there was one thing Dean felt sure of. If he had… if his mom had been around, and if she’d said something to him along the lines of what Marilyn had to Devon… well, it would get to him about the same as whenever he let his father down.

So he was going to do for Devon what no one had done for him.

He parked his car down the road from the entrance of the park because he didn’t want to spook Devon away before he even saw her. The cold air felt freezing through his leather jacket. Still he powered on, not one to be deterred by the elements by any means. By the time he found her it was almost sunset and if anything, his only mission was to get them both out of there before dark.

Marilyn might just have been crazy, or she really could be telling the truth. Dean didn’t want to take that chance and especially not when he had a kid to babysit.

The dark-haired girl sat on a layer of fallen leaves overlooking the lake. She looked tense, more likely than not because she heard Dean approach. Unhindered, he continued until he stood next to her before stopped, only glancing at her momentarily before he took his own time to admire the lake. He unwillingly admitted to himself that the sleepy town would have been nice… if so much wacked-out crap didn’t happen there.

“I can’t get rid of you can I, Winchester?” Not much of a greeting, but Dean would bite. He didn’t have much of a choice other than to crack a smile and look down at her. She didn’t sound much like the snarky kid Dean had grown used to.

His reply was almost soft. “Sorry, kid. Looks like I’ll be in town for a while.”

Another few minutes passed in silence and Dean couldn’t help but to fidget uncomfortably. He could see the questions and confusion clearly written across her face. The answers she needed. Today she didn’t even try to hide anything… and for once, Dean couldn’t even force himself to take advantage of it.

It wasn’t Dean’s place to tell her anything about why he was there or how her mom got so crazy. Shit, he didn’t even know the full story himself. But he had to say something… anything, to get the teenager back on her feet.

“Devon… I don’t know what to tell you,” he sighed, ran a hand down his face. This wouldn’t be easy as he decided to be truthful. “But trust me when I say it’s in your best interest that you don’t know—that you’re left out of it.”

Damn, consoling her was like consoling his younger self. Impossible. Devon barely looked up at him through the whole thing. “Your mom means well, she does. She’s just—stressed,” defending Marilyn left a sour taste in Dean’s mouth. He didn’t even like where he was taking this conversation, and Devon sure as hell didn’t either.

With a huff she stood up and focused the full force of her glare on Dean. “Are you trying to piss me off now?” She demanded, taking a ‘threatening’ step closer to him. Dean almost had to beat the smirk off his lips.

“Alright, look. I’m not gonna feed you a bunch of crap. Right now I can’t really say I’m a fan of the—of her, either.”

He’d almost called Marilyn an old hag, and for the first time in a long, long time he cared enough to catch himself from saying something that he might regret. Marilyn might not have been in Devon’s good books at that moment, but she was still her mom. No matter what she’d done or said. He had to at least try and remember that and promised himself to skirt around the subject with Devon carefully.

“I don’t know what else to tell you,” Dean trailed off, mentally belittling himself. All he accomplished since he got to the park was make himself out to be a huge douche. “What I can say is that I know how much death can screw you up. But you get through it ‘cause your family needs you, Devon. Frank needs you and I know you don’t believe it but your mom needs you, too.”

As Dean talked he thought back to the cemetery and to the tears in her eyes and how much it all screwed him up. He couldn’t imagine what the kid felt. He bit back from saying other thoughts out loud. Thoughts like, what family do I have? Once again he was painfully reminded. He had none.

“So you get through it, got it? You get through it. I can see that you’re a tough kid and all,” he couldn’t help the grin that slipped its way onto his features. The words ‘tough’ and ‘Devon’ shouldn’t have been used in the same sentence. “So you can do it. Just—just give it a chance.”

Devon didn’t reply though the look in her eyes said it all. She understood. She recognized the loss and the pain in his words and she understood because he understood. And that? That was as good as it was going to get.

In just a couple of moments, Dean seemed to shake all those pesky emotions off and shot a look up at the dimming sky. “You should get home. It’ll be dark soon.”

He couldn’t help but notice how she bristled at his words and he saw how her eyes widened… almost in fear. What the hell did he say? He knew better than to offer the girl a ride—she got here on her bike and it was more than a little obvious that she would leave it over her dead body.

“Yeah… that’s probably a good idea,” she muttered more to herself. She gave Dean a once over in the twilight before she turned on her heel. “Thanks for the chick-flick moment, Winchester. See you around.”

Not a single reply left his mouth after she said that, not even a simple ‘goodbye’. He was partially shocked at how similar they could sometimes be because that would be exactly what he’d have said. He waited until he heard her dirt bike cough to life off in the distance before beginning the hike back to the Impala, all the while trying to make sense of what exactly was going on.

For some godforsaken freaking reason, Dean felt protective over Devon. That right there could get him in a lot of shit, and then there was the fact that he really did offer up one doozy of a tear-jerker. What the hell was happening to him… did he miss Sam so much he was turning into him?

Dean knew, though. He knew he said the only thing that could’ve made Devon listen to him. It’s exactly what he wished someone would have said to him the many times he faced death himself. Including now.