God's Gift of Hope (Supernatural Fanfiction )

Scene 19

"This one..." Hope pointed at the picture of a young man in a file in front of her, "only he was much older when he came to me..."

Sam picked up the file and read aloud as he flicked through the pages, "Aaron Dara. He was twenty-five when they recruited him; had a lot of confirmed kills..." Sam went quiet, reading to himself, before continuing, "He was pretty good by all accounts. Hurt seriously... only once! Returned to work though. Left the order, when he was thirty-two, to marry his childhood sweetheart, Areena, after being reunited with her on a case..."

Sam stopped speaking as he read on through the file, when he got to something interesting, he blurted, "Ha! She saved his life on that one. This Areena was pretty badass herself. Apparently, she had been hunting for a few years after vampires killed a friend of hers. There is a note here, just can't..." Sam moved the files pages around so that he could read the note clearly, and then he added, "The men of letters suspect the two continued to hunt without their authority and they had been told to stop it a number of times.

"Good for them..." Dean commented, "I like this Areena chick."

"Well, now we know who... but it still doesn't get us anywhere..." Hope sighed.

"I don't know. Maybe Areena is still around; if she was hunting with her husband, then there is a good chance he told her about you. I'll look her up." Sam went to get his computer from his bag, which he had left at the foot of the stairs.

As he got there, he heard an alarm going off in Hope's bag. He returned to the table carrying his laptop and Hope's bag, which he handed to her, "An alarm is going off like crazy in that thing."

Hope reached into her bag and pulled out her chunky little computer, which was still beeping away.

"What is it?" Dean asked. He was sitting at the table to Hope's right, leafing through the Dara file – reading the fine print that Sam had left out.

"I wrote a program to alert me to any potential stories that were similar to the murder-suicide. This way we would know if it happened again." Hope replied, as she opened the computer and started typing away.

Dean and Sam were both invested now; Dean dropped the file and Sam completely forgot what he had been doing, both leaned forward to hear what Hope's beeping computer wanted to tell them.

"So..." Dean pushed impatiently, "did it happen again. Is the sheriff and everyone alright?"

"I don't know...." was all Hope said.

"Why not?" Dean asked.

"Well... It's not in Sioux Falls... for a start..."

Dean got up and walked around the table to stand behind Hope; as Sam moved to do the same, he read the title of the page aloud, "Eight dead. Apparent murder-suicide near Manhattan, Kansas... Why do you think that is related? That kind of thing does happen. More often than we would like to think."

Hope's fingers flew across the keyboard as she tried to find whatever had set off her alarms. Finally, she sat back and said, "This..." motioning at the screen.

Dean and Sam leaned in to read the tiny screen, "Looks like we might be taking another road trip to Manhattan." Dean claimed after he had read the eyewitness report from the girl who had found the scene; eyes and faces scratched up, blood everywhere and a crowbar had impaled one of them.

"It will take us three to four hours to get there, we should sleep here first and then hit the road first thing in the morning," Sam stated, as he looked to Dean for confirmation. Dean nodded and Sam turned and walked out of the room, calling over his shower, "Don't stay up all night – you two..."

"Drink?" Dean asked Hope, "Beer; Scotch?"

"I don't drink."

"You don't drink?"

"That surprises you..." Hope said, a smile creeping up on her face and reaching her eyes.

"Well yeah... You, of all people, would deserve a drink." Dean cursed at himself mentally when he saw the shocked look on Hope's face, "I'm sorry... I just meant that what you've been through, would be enough to make anyone drink. I'm making it worse... aren't I?"

"No..." the smile bounced back into Hope's eyes, "It's not that I'm adverse to it – just that I don't... It's hard to access sometimes when you're running..."

"Hot chocolate then..." Dean tried to salvage the situation. Hope agreed readily and the two made their way to the kitchen.

Dean was pretty apt in the kitchen, it was after all one of his favourite places, not that he had a lot of time to spend there. He quickly made the pair, hot chocolate, even managing to scrounge up some marshmallows to float on top. He sat down opposite Hope after handing her the mug of steaming cocoa.

"Sam adores you..." Hope declared to the room.

"Sammy... ?" Dean let out a small scoff.

"Yeah... Sammy... It's so obvious. He would do anything for you. He looks up to you, his big brother."

"Yeah, well... we've been through a lot." Dean admitted, "Him and me... a lot of bad stuff..."

"No good stuff?" Hope asked quietly.

Dean thought about that for a moment, it seemed when you look back and reflect on what has been, that the time was full of bad stuff – too much to mention. Yet, if you really sift through it all – there was a lot of good stuff in there too. Good times, good people, good memories. "Yeah... there was good stuff... Lots of it..." Dean signed, "How is it you knew that I needed to think about that – right now?"

"I don't know. It just felt... like you were stuck... Like, you're worried about what comes next?"

"I guess I am... It just seems like we didn't even get a minute to be..." Dean paused, thinking about the word he wanted to use, not sure, if it was strong enough, "happy..." he concluded.

"Hmm... but that's life, right? It keeps moving on whether you are ready for it or not... We can be happy in amongst all that is happening. Worried too... I am worried, even if it has been nearly fifty hours since... you know... I will still worry, about it coming, about potentially losing this..." Hope gestured at Dean and everything around her as she spoke, "but that doesn't make me not happy. Happiness happens, just as much as crap happens; we just have to make more of an effort to see it – in our line of work."

"So, that's your role in all of this... our family..." Dean asserted.

"What?"

"The Protector, INFJ."

"I'm surprised you even know what that is, Dean."

"What... why? Are you saying I'm shallow... Come on! You've only known me – what... fifty hours or so – give or take..."

"Hmm... shut up and drink your cocoa..." Hope exclaimed.

"Yeah, well... maybe I will..." Dean sipped on his hot chocolate, the smile that lit up his eyes, warmed his heart. All was good in the world; right here, right now... and he was ok with that.

Fade Out