Heaven And Hell{Sequel to "Born to Be a Hunter"}

Bonding With A Father I Never Got To Know

    I woke to the smell of cherries, but they were not normal cherries. Cherry pie, I thought unmistakably. I lifted my heavy eyelids and saw a slice of fresh, steamy cherry pie with a silver fork sitting next to it on a decorative plate. I threw my weak legs over the side of the bed and stumbled over to the nightstand. I lifted up the plate, cut a piece of the pie, and scooped it into my mouth with the fork.

    I walked out of the room and started to explore. I made my way down hallways as I ate more pie until I found a large kitchen. Dean sat at a table, typing on a laptop, and looked up smiling as I walked in with my mouth completely full of pie.

    "You son of a bitch." I mumbled. Dean gave me a hurt look, but I made a crooked smile. "Where in the . . . hell did you learn to make this delicious piece of goodness?"

    Dean laughed and nodded, "An old family recipe. My mom, your grandmother, used to make it for me when I was little."

    I swallowed my bite, "I wish I could've meet her." Dean looked down at his laptop and smiled, lifting up an old picture.

    "She would have loved you." He said. I open and closed my hands, silently asking to see the picture. It was in sepia tone and there was two people in it: a woman and a child. The woman had long, blonde hair and dark, blue eyes. The child had ear-long, golden-brown hair and a skinny chin.

    "Who's the kid?" I asked, showing him the picture. He took a quick look and looked back at his computer.

    "That's me." Then I noticed the kid's green eyes, my dad's green eyes, my green eyes. We weren't so different after all, the two of us.

    "You were so cute," I squealed, looking at the picture then back at Dean. "What happened?"

    "Aha – aha – aha." He joked, emphasizing every laugh with a nod. I chucked under my breath and ate the last piece of my pie. "Jerk."

    I laughed, "Bitch." Dean burst into laughter as I walked over to a sink and started to clean my plate.

    "You seem well-rested. You were out for two full days." I nodded.

    "It was more than I got uh . . .  down below." I said, trying not to think about my time. I closed my eyes and put my hand over my forearm where the demons used to carve that symbol into my flesh.

    "How long?" he asked out of nowhere. At first, I was going to tell him the truth, but knowing my dad, I knew he would blame himself for my many years.

    "Four." I said, letting my plate and fork drop into the metal tub with a clang. I heard Dean blow a sigh through nearly closed lips.

    "Bull." he said, standing and walking to the sink to meet me. He leaned over the counter at my left and turned his head to look at me, grilling me for my truth.

    "Like I said, four." I repeated, walking to the middle of the room. My dad was getting angry, he needed to know.

    "Jack. When I was in Hell, time passed differently out here. Sam told me I was gone for four months, but in Hell it was forty years." He met me and stood in front of me, getting in my face. He paused, expecting an answer from me. But when I refused, he continued. "Just tell me. I can handle it."

    "It's not that you can't handle it. I just don't I can handle seeing the guilt on your face." I nearly yelled. His expression changed, it showed shock.

    "What the hell does that mean?" He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms.

    "You carry all this crap that you don't have to and if I add on to it, you're going to blame yourself for it." I snapped back. "You've done it before and you'll do it again."

    "Just tell me how long you were in Hell!" yelled Dean, shuffling closer. There was great anger in his voice, but fear as well.

    "You don't need any more on your plate!" I fumed. His top lip started to twitch and he grabbed my arms, keeping me in front of him.

    "Jackline!" His green eyes fluttered from my left and my right. He really needed to know and not-knowing would hurt him more than knowing.

    "Four . . . hundred  . . . years." I cried. His face shrunk and his grip on my arms loosened. Tears spilled out of my eyes and my dad's hands made their way to my cheeks.

    "Did you torture anyone?" he asked, his voice shivering. I shook my head and he glanced at his feet, but brought his eyes back up to mine.

    "I did something much worse." I cried. The hope in my dad's face vanished almost completely. "I couldn't take anymore, so I made a deal with Crowley."

    "What was the deal?" he whispered, his jaw setting. I let another tear fall and looked up at him. Nothing showed on his face now. All he was thinking was that his baby girl had made a deal with the King of Hell and he could do nothing about it.

    "In order to get myself off the rack, I had to put future ones on." I cried, unable to look him in the eye.

    "You were a crossroads demon." Dean said as realization set in.

    "I didn't know what else to do, Dean. I didn't know what else to do!" I sobbed as I fell into his arms. He wrapped his arms around me and rubbed my back soothingly. My arms remained pinned between my chest and his as I said, "I did it for four years. The body count was in the thousands."

    "At least you stayed up that long." He whispered to himself, but loud enough for me to hear. He sounded relieved to my surprise, but he seemed caring, nonetheless.