Roads Untraveled ~ Sam Winchester

Chapter Ninety-Four - Magda

After they'd gone back to the hotel for yet another costume change - the boys opting for a 'cardigan-clad therapist' look and Eden going for more of a 'new-age, crystal-healer therapist who idolises Stevie Nicks vibe' - they went to the Peterson's address.
They parked up by the front gate, where a bright red 'no trespassing' sign sat in plain view. Dean approached the gate, clearly not seeing the gap between that and the bushes next to it as he awkwardly scrambled over the metal railings.
Sam and Eden glanced to one another before walking around the gate.
"Moron..." The girl mumbled to herself.
As they walked through the property, they saw a chopped down electricity pylon, its metal long-since rusted.
"Woah. When they cut the cord, they really cut the cord." Dean commented.
"Yeah, no kidding." Sam replied.
"You boys rely on electricity way too much. It's really not that difficult to live without it." Eden shrugged.
"Yeah, says the second generation Human, first generation Angel of Darkness." Dean retorted, spying a cart over at the other end of the property. "Hey, how fast do you think that buggy goes? Like, top speed?"
"Nine to eleven miles per hour. Maybe fifteen with a couple of decent, pure bred stallions." The girl replied. "Why?"
"Can I help you?" A man in his early fifties approached them from the porch.
"Abraham Peterson? I'm James Morrison, these are my associates Ray Manzarek and Stephanie Nicks. We're your new case workers with Child Protective Services." Sam introduced.
"Pleasure to meet you." Abraham said, shaking Sam's hand, then Dean's and Eden's.
"Pleasure to meet you too." The younger brother smiled.
"I thought you'd be all, you know, long hair, suspenders, big hat." Dean chuckled nervously, earning an elbow to the ribs from Eden.
"We're not that kinda religious." Abraham laughed politely. "Come on in, meet the wife."
The trio nodded, following the man into the house where they greeted Mrs Peterson and sat down opposite them on the couch.
"Mr and Mrs Peterson," Sam started. "We're here because your previous case worker; Olivia Sanchez, has passed away."
Abraham took his wife's hand as they made crosses on their bodies.
"What happened?" The husband asked after a moment's silence.
"We're not sure yet." Dean nodded.
"But the authorities are doing their hardest to get to the bottom of things." Eden added.
"Now, how often did she visit?" Sam wondered.
"Every few months." Abraham replied.
"We liked her better than the other one - that Beth." Mrs Peterson said.
"And what was wrong with Beth?" Sam frowned.
"She hated us because of our faith." The woman told them. "Olivia Sanchez was a Papist but, at least she believed in God. Do you know God, Gentlemen? Miss Nicks?"
"Oh, yeah. Yeah, we're besties." Dean gave a knowing smile as someone else entered the house.
In walked a young boy, about sixteen or so, moving behind his parents' couch to whisper something in his father's ear.
"Oh, okay." Abraham nodded. "I'm a little embarrassed to ask, but do you think one of you boys might help me with something?"
The trio looked between each other, Sam giving his brother a beckoning nod.
Dean got up, following the other two men out to the yard.
"Would either of you like a drink?" Mrs Peterson offered.
"No, I'm fine, thank you." Eden gave a kind smile.
"Uh, sure. Thanks." Sam nodded.
Mrs Peterson stood up, moving out to the kitchen.
Sam and Eden took the time to look around the room, noting a photo of the whole family together, along with their deceased daughter on the mantle.
"I'm not sure how you do it, but you really make the sweater thing work." Eden commented, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Seriously?" Sam chuckled, glancing down at his clothes. "What is wrong with you these past couple days?"
"Honestly, I haven't got the foggiest." The girl replied as Mrs Peterson walked back in.
"Haven't got coffee, I hope lemonade's alright." She said, carrying two glasses.
"Oh, yeah. Great, thank you." Sam nodded, taking one from her as he took the family photo off the mantle. "Happy family."
"No, they weren't." Mrs Peterson replied, taking the picture from him to look it over. "The father was working eighty hours a week to barely pay the mortgage and what little time he did spend at home, he spent in a bottle. Children were on four different kinds of behaviour enhancing medication and barely spoke - could text up a storm, though. And the mother, she was the worst. She was so pilled up, she could barely think straight."
"I'm sorry to hear that." Eden frowned.
"So what happened?" Sam pressed.
"God showed them a better way." The woman replied, placing the photo back on the mantle. "I was in a car accident - almost died. The nerves in the lower half of my body were damaged." She lifted up the skirt of her sky blue, floral dress, revealing extensive scarring on her right calf. "I saw doctors. No one could stop the pain. The best they could do was give me drugs - which helped for a while. But, the more I took, the more I needed and, when I didn't get them... And then, one night, when things were at their worst, I was lying in a puddle of my own sick, I heard a voice. It was God's voice. And he said; 'go. Live a life of simplicity and humility. And all your pain will be taken away.'"
"So, has the pain gone away?" Sam asked.
"I get by." The woman gave a small shrug, moving to sit back down on the couch. "With his grace."
"Mrs Peterson, um, what can you tell me about Ricky Copeland?" The Winchester placed his hand on Eden's back, leading her to sit back down with him beside her.
"The delivery boy?"
"Yeah."
"Comes by once a week, brings us things we can't grow ourselves." She explained. "Why?"
"Well, he's dead too." Sam informed her, placing his lemonade down on the coffee table between the two couches.
Mrs Peterson paused for a moment, her face decorated with a blank expression.
"I see."
"You... See?" Sam frowned. "That's it?"
"God has a plan for us all." She said.
"So, what happened to your daughter? Was that God's plan?"
"Sam..." Eden whispered in protest.
"Yes." Mrs Peterson replied, the muscles in her neck tensing around the word.
"She didn't have to die." The Winchester continued. "She was sick. If you had taken her to a doctor-"
"God has a-"
"God doesn't care what kind of life you live, trust me." Sam argued. "And God didn't kill your daughter - you did."
Eden's eyes widened.
"Mrs Peterson, I'm-"
"I think you three should go." Abraham interrupted her, standing in the archway to the living room with his son behind him and Dean beside him.
Sam cleared his throat, taking one more, harsh glance to the wife before picking up their case file from the table and getting up, following Eden out of the house.