The Winchester Code

Chapter 11 - Summer Holiday

Summer Holiday

Chapter 11

“DEAN!” Kevin yells from the study desk. “SAM!”
I look up at him from the ground where I’m sitting. I press my spine against the wall as I hear the boys come running in.
Dean has a shotgun cocked and Sam is brandishing a knife.
“What?” Dean asks, surveying the room. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Kevin smiles. “I’ve decoded the tablet. Well, some of it.”
“Really?” Sam asks. He looks tired, but I know that the devil hasn’t been bothering him as much this past week because he’s been bothering me. I’m thankful that he only comes at night though. Sam said that he leaves him alone during the day, and so far, he has for me as well.
The boys like to run off early in the morning and come home late at night, so I’ve been hanging out with Kevin. Well, no. I’ve been sitting in the study reading books I found in the library while Kevin reads the rock with the scribbles on it.
“Well, I would’ve had some sooner, but a lot of it has just been pre-history.” Kevin explains. “But, I found something.”
“What is it?” Sam asks. I wonder if either of the boys have noticed that I am here, sitting on the floor under the bookcase. Kevin knows, maybe. He doesn’t seem to pay much attention with his nose buried in his own reading.
“There’s something here that talks about hell.”
“Well it is a demon tablet.” Dean sighs.
“Specifically,” He continues, ignoring Dean. “How to shut it down”
“What?” Dean’s eyes open wide. I’ve been hearing so much about angels and demons and other monsters this past week that I find it surprising that this news is unknown to the boys.
“It talks about closing the gates. Permanently.”
“Like Heaven?” He asks.
“Actually,” Kevin says, “I have a theory about that too.”
“Kevin, you’re a genius!”
“I know.” He smiles.
“So what do we do?” Sam asks.
“Well,” Kevin looks down again. “I don’t know. I’m still getting there.”
“Keep up the good work.” Dean grins. Kevin’s smile widens and he puts his head back down, scribbling down notes.
The brothers leave, nudging each other as they walk away. I turn back to my book, getting sucked into Dorothy’s world as she explores Oz.
“No.” Someone whispers. I nearly miss the sound. “No more, please.”
I look up and jump. My surroundings have changed. I must’ve been really engrossed in my book because I hardly felt the headache that lead up to the vision.
I glance around. It’s still 3:54, just like it had been the last two times I was here. I take the same route to the kitchen, glancing at the fridge. Nothing has changed.
The kitchen table has some letters on it and I look at the address on one of the envelopes.
“Don’t fret.” I hear the man say. I look to the wall. It hasn’t happened yet, but it will. “It will be over soon.”
A calendar is pinned next to a photo of a little boy. The date circled is July twelfth. ‘Henry’s birthday’ is scribbled in the note box. I look around again and notice the dishes piled up in the sink. Bowls and beaters, measuring cups, spatulas; she’s baking.
“No, stop!” The woman sobs. “Please?”
“I’m sorry.”
I walk to the oven, feeling the heat coming from it. I lean down and peer inside. A cake is slowly cooking inside.
“Please.” I hear the woman beg. “No. Don’t!”
I try to block my ears, wake up!
“Forgive me.”
Despite my best efforts to block it, the sound is sharper than ever and I still watch as the woman in the living room dies. I feel the blood splatter on my face and watch her head roll.

*************************************************************************************************

I open my eyes and feel my stomach churn. I jump up blindly as the full force of my headache hits me, making me stumble. I run into the back of Kevin’s chair in my mad rush for the bathroom. His protest is drowned out by the sound of blood rushing through my ears.
Somehow, I managed to contain myself until I made it to the nearest bathroom, leaning over the toilet as I throw up.
Each bedroom has an en suite and there is also two extra bathrooms, just in case.
I grip the bowl tightly, even when I stop, trying to remember my vision. There was a cake. There was mail. What was the address? God, I can’t remember!
I feel tears spring to my eyes and another wave of nausea hits me, forcing what little I had left in my stomach into the toilet bowl.
I rest my sweaty forehead on arm as I sob.
I need to remember the address! What was the date again? A kid. There was a kid. Is it even hers? Great, this woman is going to die because I can’t remember! That’s more blood on my hands! How many lives have been ruined because of me? I’ve killed four people. Hell, I pretty much killed my own family! That’s eight, at least – no wait, seven. I DON’T EVEN KNOW!
I look up from the toilet.
Now this woman is going to die because of me. I should just go. I should just leave before anyone else can get hurt. This is my fault. I should be paying for this, not anyone else.
Before I can think of anything else, I hear Sam calling his brother.
I stand up, wondering what’s going on. I flush away my puke wash my mouth and face before quickly running to where Sam is.
“What is it?” Dean asks as I round the corner. Sam is in one of the reading chairs in the library. He looks pale, his long hair tousled as if he had been asleep.
“I know where she is.”
“Where who is?” Dean asks. I lean against the doorframe behind the man.
Sam spots me and frowns a moment before readdressing his brother. “The woman. Her name is Karen and she is going to be decapitated in three days of we don’t save her!”
“The woman. You had another vision?”
“Yes.” Sam answers excitedly, “She’s in Sidney!”
“Sydney, Australia?” Dean gulps.
“Sidney, Nebraska.” Sam corrects.
“Three days?”
Sam nods.
“Alright, let’s get started.” Dean turns to leave and I see him wince in shock as he notices me standing there. It was brief, if I had of blinked, I would’ve missed it. But I didn’t blink and he didn’t know I was there. I had scared him, oh how the tables have turned. I eye him as he leaves, turning to leave as well.
“Zai,” Sam interrupts my exit. I swing back around to face him. “You look like crap.”
“Looked in the mirror lately?” I snap.
“You saw it too,” He asks, ignoring my anger. “Didn’t you?”
I lean back against the door frame and nod slowly.
“You control it.” He says quietly.
“What?”
“The vision. You controlled it. You controlled what you saw, what we saw.”
“I’m pretty sure I don’t.” I say. “I didn’t choose to watch her be murdered. Multiple times.”
“No,” He sighs. “I mean where we go within the visions. What we see; it’s been different each time.” He gives me a long look, as if assessing me. “These have been hitting you harder than me. I come out a little shaken, maybe a bit dizzy, but I’m fine.”
“And you think I’m not?” I ask defensively.
“Like I said, you look like crap.”
Instead of retaliating, I turn around and walk out.
I wind through the corridors of the bunker to my bedroom. I shut the door firmly behind me and lean my head against it. I feel tears prickle in my eyes again, but I blink them away. I’ve done enough crying.
I look around my room. It is bare. I have nothing to fill it with.
The clock on my desk reads 17:47. Dad always used twenty-four hour time, so as soon as I realised I could change the clock from AM/PM to my regular time type, I did.
I walk to the bathroom and look at myself in the mirror.
Sam was right. I look like complete crap. My hair is a mess, my face is white and my eyes are red and puffy.
I run the tap and splash my face again, but the water doesn’t help so I decide to take a shower instead.
After I’ve finished, I feel better. I still look like hell, but at least I’m clean.
I go back to my room and look under my bed. I pull out a small duffle that I remember I shoved under there from Bobby’s. I open it up and start filling it with the content from my near-empty drawers, chucking my clothes in, only half folded. I zip up the bag and sling it over my shoulder, the strap rubbing on one of the burns.
I grab the boots that Sam had brought me and slip them on, not bothering to tie up the laces. Dean had removed the stitched from my foot earlier in the week. There were also long lines on my arms from where Bobby had stitched up the scalpel lacerations.
I race out my room, running down the hall, hoping that the boys haven’t left yet.
For once, I’m in luck! I can hear Dean talking to Kevin in the study. I slow my gait to a walk as I approach him. He has a bag under one arm and a gun under the other.
“Don’t worry Dean,” Kevin says reassuringly. “I’ll be fine. I have your number. All of your numbers.”
“I know.” Dean sighs. “Just make sure to keep checking in.”
“I will.” Kevin sounds irritated.
“We ready?” I ask Dean, taking my usual position against the door frame.
“We?” He asks as he turns towards me.
“Mm-hm!” I nod enthusiastically. I’ve been dying to get out of the bunker, and I want to help this lady! I’ve been seeing her death for a reason, and now I know that these dreams aren’t just dreams, I want to use them!
“You can’t come.”
“Watch me.” I retort, narrowing my eyes.
He meets my glare and we participate in a stare-down, my silvery eyes against his emerald-green.
Seven minutes later, I sit in the back of the Impala and all three of us are heading to Sidney, Nebraska. The sun had already set before we crossed the border.
“So when we get there, we’ll book a room.” Dean explains. “You’ll have to stay there while we talk to the lady.”
“Karen.” Sam says. “Her name is Karen.”
“You going to pose as security system inspectors?” I ask.
“Possibly.”
I roll my eyes. “Why can’t I come?”
“You’re a kid.” Dean says. “It would be an easy way to blow our cover.”
“Because you do such a bang-up job, yourself.”
“What?”
“Never mind.”
Dean grunts. “Anyway, the motel is your new best friend. We’ll put up a salt barrier, you’ll be fine as long as you don’t leave.”
I roll my eyes, although I am grateful that I won’t be attacked. But I still want to help.
“Don’t worry.” Someone says next to me. “I’ll keep you company.”
I jump a little and turn to see Lucifer in the seat next to me.
“So where are we going? ROAD TRIP! ROAD TRIP! ROAD TRIP!”
“Shut up.” I hiss. Sam had told me that Dean doesn’t know about our little friend, and I don’t want to be the one that spills the beans about him.
“Don’t worry.” Luci says. “Dean’s a dick anyway.”
I open my mouth to protest, but I decide against it. Instead, I lean my head against the window and close my eyes.
“There’s a lady who’s sure all that glitters is gold, and she’s buying a stairway to heaven.”
I turn and glare at him.
“It’s a lullaby.” He says innocently. I’m not sure if he’s serious or not, but I let him continue anyway, even though he is not just content singing the words, but also the guitar and drums.

*************************************************************************************************

We pull up outside a motel. A quick glance out the window and I am whisked back to the first time I was in this car – the first time I had been attacked. The first time I had killed anyone.
“Zai.” Sam says, shaking my shoulder. I look at him startled.
“OUR SHADOW TALLER THAN OUR SOUL! THERE WALKS A LADY –”
“Shut up!” I say to Lucifer.
“There walks a lady we all know, who shines…” He sings a little quieter. I block out his voice. ‘Stairway to Heaven’ is a good song, but not when it’s sung non-stop over forty-eight times.
“Are you ok?” Sam asks, his hand still on my shoulder.
“Yeah.” I answer, my voice sounding tired in my own ears.
“Come on.”
I climb out the car, grabbing my duffle from the trunk, and follow Sam inside.
The lobby is basic. The walls are a deep red and the carpet is brown. There is a skinny man behind the front desk and I find it a little curious that this place is open, even though it is closer to morning than night.
“I’d like to book a room, please.” Dean requests as he stands in front of the little man. He looks even smaller because of Dean’s bulk. Sam makes the man (his tag labels him as Wesley) look like an ant. On closer inspection, he isn’t actually short. He has a scrawny frame, but he is around my height.
“How many beds?” Wesley asks, his eyes shifting from Dean to Sam.
“Two.” Dean answers automatically.
“Sure.” Wesley gives a small smile. “Room sixteen.” He reaches under the desk and hands Dean a key. “Turn left at the end of the hall, third door on the right.”
“Thank you.” Sam smiles. I nod and Wesley smiles again before turning back to the computer screen from which he was first distracted.

 *************************************************************************************************

Dean shoves the keys into the door of room sixteen.
I peek around his body and see the room unfold before me. It has the same deep red coloured walls as the lobby and the carpet is navy blue. There are two double beds in the middle of the room and a small kitchen area with only cabinets to separate them. A small TV sits on one of the counters, angled to face the tiny table that would hardly be able to sit two people. There is a small ouch in the other corner and a door off to the left that I assume leads to the bathroom.
Dean walks in and chicks his bag on one of the beds. Sam follows and sits on the second bed. I look between them.
“Dibs couch!” Lucifer yells, stretching out on the tiny sofa.
“Zai, you get the couch.” Sam says.
“But Sa-a-a-a-am!” Lucifer complaints. I take my bag off my shoulder and swing it at the devils head. “Ouch!” He protests as it flies straight through him, hitting the love-red wall.
“Uugh!” Dean grumbles, covering his eyes with one hand, falling back onto his mattress.
“What?” I ask.
“It was an automatic response, it doesn’t mean that you have to go chipping the walls! There are people trying to sleep.”
“Right.” I say, walking over to pick my duffle up off the floor. I dig through it and grab out my tooth brush. I walk through the door near Dean’s bed. I was right; it is a bathroom.
“Uh,” I call back, wondering back to the door. “Did either of you pack any toothpaste?”
Dean rolls over without opening his eyes and digs in his bag. He pulls out a white tube and ditches it towards me. It hits the frame next to my head. I duck a little out of habit and bend down to pick it up. “Thanks.”
The paste burns my mouth and it’s so strong that it makes my gums hurt. My tongue goes numb and I spit it out, unable to handle how it makes my eyes water and my nose run.
I raise my hand to my mouth and test my breath.
Yeo. I’m pretty sure that you could smell my minty-fresh aroma from a mile away.
If there really is a lot of salt in toothpaste, just my breath alone should be enough to repel demons.
I walk back out the bathroom and drip the tube of toothpaste on top of Dean’s bag.
“Are there any blankets?” I ask, putting my toothbrush back in my bag. Neither of the men answer me. I turn back to them and realise that they are both breathing heavily, asleep. I roll my eyes and walk to the set of draws in between the two beds. I turn on the lamp and look between the sleeping Winchester’s.
Dean sleeps on his stomach, hands buried under his pillow. He mumbles something and pouts. I smile to myself and turn to his brother. Sam’s long hair is flopped in front of his face and he see is on his back, spread out over the bed; a great contrast to Dean, awkwardly curled up, trying to take up as little space as possible.
I smile to myself and turn off the main light, relying on the lamp light to get me to the couch. I sit down and sigh as the wooden boards underneath the upholstery jab uncomfortably into my backside.
“Bunk buddy!” Lucifer calls, waving from the kitchen table.
“Piss off.” I mumble, grabbing one of the couch cushions and placing it under my head.
“No need to be mean.” He pouts. “It’s not like you’re gonna get any sleep anyway. I’ve decided on a slumber party! We can stay up all night and talk and play games and tell stories and sing songs.”
“Or you could go back to hell.” I say, closing my eyes.
“Aw, come on. Don’t be like that!” He chides. “This’ll be fun!”