Moving On and Letting Go

Chapter 3

Dean moved into my parents guest house the next day, and we settled into an easy routine. Every morning I would get up and head to the guest house, shake Dean awake, and fix breakfast together. We ate, and then he kissed me on the forehead before I left the house for my classes, and he stayed home to do whatever he did for work. He was extremely secretive about it, but of course, when one works for the FBI, you expect them to be a little secretive about what they do.

Months passed, and soon, I was at my sixth month, stomach protruding heavily. Dean was....perfect, for lack of a better word. For the first few weeks, I expected my constant mood swings, morning sickness and random cravings to make him run screaming. He handled it like a champ though, going as far as to go get me a pack of Oreos at three in the morning because we were out. He truly was a godsend, and I found myself trusting him more than anyone in my life.

Anyway, it was a Thursday morning, and after class, I went to see Dean at the guest house to ask for a flannel. I became used to borrowing them, for when my clothes stopped fitting I found his were much more comfortable. I headed towards his drawers, opening the top one. I dug through them until I found my favorite one, a dark blue and green. Just underneath that however, was a journal. I bit my lip in curiosity, and in a stupid lapse in judgement, I grabbed it, sat on his bed, and began to leaf through it.

Page after page was covered in writings, stories of monsters that only existed in nightmares. I flew through the pages, coming to the conclusion that the journal had been written by John. There were talk of vampires, werewolves, incubus, sirens, demons, all the things that went bump in the night, and how to kill them.

When the door opened I didn't even look up, too engrossed in the writing on the pages.

"Ley?" His voice was guarded, as if he was trying to coax me out of a trance. I pulled my gaze from the book, staring up at him with tear filled eyes.

"Dean....what the hell is this?"

"I didn't want you to find out like this." He looked to the ground awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Me, my dad, even Sam at one point. We hunt monsters. The things in that book?They're real. We're called hunters. We find these monsters and kill them to protect people like you." I stared wide eyed at him, unable to process what he was saying. How did I not notice how unhinged he was?

"You're insane! All of you! This shit isn't real Dean! It's the things in horror stories!" He shook his head, laughing humorlessly.

"I know it sounds crazy, but it's true. I wouldn't lie to you."

"You need help!" He merrily looked at me, defeated as he collapsed onto the chair next to him. I shook my head, looking down at my protruding stomach.

"You can't stay here Dean. I'm not having you around me, or my baby. I can give you money to get where you need to go, but I want you gone by morning." He nodded, not even bothering to defend himself. I left the guesthouse, heading back towards the main house to cook dinner. It was easy to distract myself, easy to pretend I hadn't just kicked out Dean. Dean. He'd been nothing but kind to me, honest and trustworthy, considerate, respectful. He had no reason to lie to me. The least I owed him was the benefit of the doubt. I abandoned the dinner table, leaving my parents confused as I darted outside, hoping that he hadn't left in the two hours it has been since we'd last talked. I swung the guesthouse door open, looking around the small space. My heart plummeted into my stomach, tears springing in my eyes as I looked around the empty house. He was already gone.

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Even more time passed, and soon, I was in labor. My parents were on vacation at the time, and I had been completely alone, sobbing my heart out as the pain and loneliness of the moment washed over me. There was nobody to hold my hand, nobody to reassure me and tell me things would be okay. No, instead there was the doctor reassuring me, trying to sympathize with my pain. He had no idea. This was supposed to be Sam's job. He was the one that was supposed to be here with me, and he wasn't. I hadn't heard from Dean since he left, and no matter how many times I called, how many messages I left, it made no difference. He didn't call back. I was utterly alone on the best and worst day of my life. I had to drive myself to the hospital, check myself in and listen to the endless stream of nurses and doctors tell me how brave it was to be doing this on my own. I didn't want to hear it. So there I was, for 26 hours, in labor, and all alone. In the end though, as I held my son in my arms, I couldn't find it within myself to care. He was all that mattered now.

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The first few months were spent with little sleep and an endless amount of dirty clothes. Every shirt I owned had either vomit, spit, or food all over it. That was okay though. My son became the center of my whole world, my very reason for living. I still called Dean on occasion, but he still never answered. I had a hunch he was still listening to them. The day he turned six months, I decided to leave another message. I lifted the phone, holding Henry in my other arm as I dialed the now familiar number.

"Dean, hey it's me again. Henry's six months old today." I stopped talking as Henry grabbed at my necklace. I gently pulled it from his grasp.

"Henry don't play with that. Anyway, I thought I'd check in. I hope you're alright Dean. I hope to hear from you. I miss seeing you around here. Bye." I hung up, placing the phone back on its port before walking towards the kitchen to make dinner.

-Dean's POV-

Like clockwork, every week, Riley would leave a message. I always listened to them, feeling my heart beat a little faster hearing about her day, or how she was doing. When she had Henry she had cried on that message, telling me how happy she was. This one made me smile.

"Dean, hey it's me again. Henry's six months old today." She was silent for a moment before I heard her laugh.

"Henry don't play with that." I could hear Henry in the background, babbling incoherently in the way most babies do. Then I heard him laugh.

"Anyway, I thought I'd check in. I hope you're alright Dean. I hope to hear from you. I miss seeing you around here. Bye." There was a resounding click as she hung up, and the smile was still on my face, but something was tugging at the back of my mind. Just then, dad left the gas station he'd been in, tossing me a bag of chips.

"Another message from Riley?" He asked, smiling slightly. It was kind of funny how taken he was with Ley. It seemed like he thought of her as a daughter.

"Yeah, Henry's six months old today." The smile left dads face then.

"Get in the car Dean. Now." I learned not to argue at this point, and did as he asked, jumping into the passenger seat. I'd barely closed the door when dad was flooring it and we were speeding down the road.

"Dad what's going on?" He ran a hand down his face, shaking his head.

"The six months you were with Riley, I did some digging on the thing that killed your mother. There were other victims. All mothers, and all their kids had turned six months old the day they died. Henry's a Winchester. So is Riley now. There's a good chance it'll go after her." After that he was quiet, grabbing the steering wheel of the impala until his knuckles turned white. It was nearly eleven now. I pulled the phone from the glove box and dialed her number. I had to warn her.

-Riley's POV-

I had been sleeping when the phone rang downstairs. I shot up from bed, looking over to my bedside clock to see the time. I was almost midnight. I went downstairs, clearing my throat as I answered the call.

"Hello?"

"Riles? It's Dean, you need to listen to what I say alright? You have to get Henry and go to the guesthouse now!" He was shouting so quickly I could barely understand him, but I was wide awake now.

"What? Dean I don't understand." Now he was screaming.

"Riley! Something is after you and Henry. Go to the guesthouse! Now!!" Just then, the lights started flickering, the line becoming overrun with static before it went totally dead. Then Henry started crying. I dropped the phone before running towards the stairs, shouting for my son as I did so. When I reached the landing I was barreling down the hall, the trip feeling ten times longer than it should have. I threw Henry's door open, darting to his crib to see him giggling up at the mobile. The mobile that was moving. I turned it off three hours ago. I pulled Henry into my arms, Deans warning still echoing in my head. He'd sounded scared. I held Henry close to my chest as I left the room, but as I hit the stairs, I stopped, gasping as I saw the man standing there, staring at me. He smiled sadistically, and I gasped as his eyes suddenly flashed yellow. And in that moment I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I should have listened to Dean. And now I was certain I was going to die.