Monachopsis

Chapter VI: Hit The Road, Jack

I took up the rear as Dean directed us to a side door. The busy main street still bustled in front of the hotel, cars and trucks honking and speeding by as if they couldn't possibly see the bright white flare coming through the second story windows.

Dean--still supporting John's weight--led us to the alley where John and I had parked the truck. Now, directly behind it, was a shiny black '67 Chevy Impala. Under normal circumstances, I would have drooled over the sleek body and cooed under the popped hood. But now, while running for my life, I could barely register the beast at all.

"All right, come on," Sam panted, pulling in front of Dean and John to yank open the Impala's back door. "We don't have much time. As soon as the flare's out, they'll be back."

"Wait, wait!" Dean's tone froze Sam in his tracks. I paused to catch my breath, wiping at the blood dripping in my eyes. "Sam, wait." Dean faced John, who was still leaning on him heavily. "Dad, you can't come with us."

"What?" Sam said immediately. "What are you talking about?"

As my adrenaline slowly began to fade, it was replaced with dreadful, quiet acceptance. My heart pounded with defiance against my ribs, but my face was a stone mask. A quick glance inside the Impala revealed my duffel bags illuminated by a shaft of street lamp glow.

"You boys," John said. His dark eyes scanned over the three of us. "You kids--you're beat to hell."

Thank's Pops, I sneered in my head. But my face remained impassive.

"We'll be alright," Dean assured him, breathless.

"Dean, we should stick together!" Sam protested. "We'll go after those--"

"Sam," Dean snapped, "listen to me!" There was a pause before he continued. "We almost got Dad killed in there. Don't you understand? They're not gonna stop. They're gonna try again. They're gonna use us to get to him. I mean, Meg was right. Dad's vulnerable when he's with us. He's . . . he's stronger without us around."

Sam looked on the verge of arguing. I beat him to it.

"Sam," I said. My voice sounded monotonous, even to me. My brother's wide eyes met mine. I shook my head. "Dean's right. I mean, the whole reason Dad brought me along was so that he could take off after this thing without having to worry about us. The four of us being together . . .kinda defeats the purpose. I didn't leave home to fail, Sam."

Sam stared at me harshly for a moment longer before turning to John. I glanced down, meeting Dean's eyes. He gave me a minute nod of approval--or respect, I couldn't tell.

"Dad . . ." Sam's voice was pleading now; desperate. "No. After everything, after all the time we spent looking for you, please. I've got to be a part of this fight."

"Sammy, this fight is just starting," John said. "And we are all gonna have a part to play. For now, you've got to trust me, son. Okay? You've got to let me go."

The finality in John's words hit my heart like a gong mallet. The meaning of them rung true, the pang echoing through my limbs like sonar. I shifted my weight to try and ease the ache, brushing against Dean's shoulder. I hadn't realized just how close the four of us were standing. We were huddled together like a group of penguins, instinctively shielding the others from the blizzard coming our way.

Sam clapped John harshly on the shoulder before dropping his arm, frustrated but defeated. John looked at the three of us for a long time, studying our features as if he didn't expect to see us again. When he took a step forward to leave, my feet stayed glued to the pavement. I was blocking his path, and I knew it. I'd accepted his departure, and ordered my body to move out of the way. But my limbs refused. I was a statue, a stone figure bolted in place. John's dark eyes met mine.

"Gray," he said softly. His calloused hands came up to frame my face. He smiled genuinely at me for the first time in a long while. "Be careful out there. Take care of each other."

Against everything in me, a lump formed in my throat. The corners of my eyes burned. I struggled to swallow, and a traitorous tear dripped down my cheek. John wiped it away discreetly, saving me the embarrassment of doing it myself when he pulled away.

I nodded and cleared my throat, trying to ignore the faint raspiness in my voice. "You too, Dad."

He let go of my face and shrugged around me, not looking back until he got to his truck. My brothers and I stayed frozen in our broken huddle, the empty space our father had left behind echoing with our shared bitterness. When John yanked open his door, he glanced back at us one last time. None of us said anything, but nothing had to be said. We knew what he meant with his faint smile, his dark eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. I tried to swallow the bitter taste on the back of my tongue, the leftover resentment that came with his relentless abandonment. My father had dragged me from my home against my will, and then he dumped me with two men I hardly knew.

I understood why, of course. But it wasn't about that. It was the principle. You'd think after all these years of the same pattern, I'd be used to it. But no matter how many times I tell myself that I shouldn't feel upset, it never stops disappointing me how quickly my father is willing to leave me.

If I could even call him that.

John stared at his kids for a moment, then he climbed into his truck. The engine roared to life. I was alone with my brothers, and now that my adrenaline was gone, the sting of wounds and the aches of bruises permeated my limbs. My entire body hurt down to my skeleton, but I tried to push it aside. Any other time, I'm sure being alone with my brothers would have been awkward and strained. But we were all too exhausted to do anything but climb into the car.

Naturally, I shuffled to the backseat. I didn't mind.

The three of us sat in silence and watched as our father drove away. There was a brief time when he was visible, but then he turned out of the alley, and he was gone. Quiet reigned over the car. Sam and Dean exchanged looks in the front seat before they looked back at me.

I met each of their eyes in turn, and a silent agreement passed between us. A temporary peace treaty, at least until we got to somewhere safe.

Dean switched on the car, and the engine came to life with a purr. The rumble of it infected the leather seats, and the rhythm of it lulled me into a restless sleep as we drove off into the night.