A Trickster's Daughter

Chapter 51: Prophets (Ie Chuck) Suck

April-ish 2009, Waynesboro, Tennessee, United States

Morning

Sam and Dean

It'd been a couple of weeks for Sam and Dean since they last saw their little sister—and wasn't that something amazing?—at Bobby's, beaten, scared, and then from Dean's own words and actions, downright broken. When they got to a nearby motel in Sioux Falls, Sam had confronted Dean on what he did to Maya, to their sister. Just like at Bobby's house, Dean hadn't been in a listening mood and argued back just as fiercely. Still holding on to the image he'd created of their father; the grief of his passing, and the rage at someone he had trusted.

Maya had killed John Winchester. Dean didn't care for the why, just that it had happened, and the weight of the Apocalypse was resting heavily on his shoulders. He didn't even get to say hello or at the very least good-bye. Maya had ripped the chance to get his father's help right out from under him.

Dean was absolutely livid with her—it!

His mind stayed closed as Sam pushed to call Bobby at least to get answers on what happened. Dean was sure that the daughter of the God of Lies—and a Winchester—no doubt lied to Bobby and conned him into believing she was the victim.

When Dean had told Sam that, Sam had looked at him like he was an idiot and couldn't comprehend where his brother came up with that idea. Sam then reminded Dean of how Maya looked.

How thin she was. How beaten up and injured she was.

Why would she try to take a lie, a ruse, a trick, that far?

Dean deflected and told Sam to shut up, he was tired. The emotional adrenaline he had been running on was wearing off. It was the same for Sam, but Sam promised that they weren't done. Not by a long shot.

Dean scoffed. Of course not.

So, the argument persisted. Dean refusing to listen and Sam trying to convince him otherwise of the half-Trickster's innocence, well, the theory she-it only did it in self-defense.

The argument had entered its second week mark a couple of days ago and Dean could feel and practically see the wedge that it was driving itself between him and his brother. Sam would not let up that their Dad would treat one of his kids—recently discovered and only half-human or not—like a monster or worse, and that half-Trickster wouldn't default to killing him if it didn't need to.

Dean disagreed and they remained at the dividing impasse. Both getting more and more testy with each other.

It didn't help either that Sam would disappear for a couple hours whenever Dean seemed to turn his back after one of their arguments.

Or that since they left it behind Dean's Hell nightmares started coming back full swing and he knows he's being an especially grumpy asshole. Sam commented on it off-hand, but Dean knew the son of a bitch knew something about it and wasn't telling him. Bastard.

Sam's face was set into the constant frown that he seemed to wear constantly these last couple of weeks as he followed his brother into the Golden Comics shop in Waynesboro, Tennessee. The bell above the door chiming their entrance. They were following up on some report of some sort of ghost activity in the store. When he'd thought back, the details were a little fuzzy regarding the case.

Sam shook his head and cast a side glance to Dean. Despite the steadily growing curtness between them they still had a job to do. No matter how much Sam wanted to punch him after another short argument they had a few minutes ago in the impala. Fuzzy case details forgotten.