mekki (mekkio) wrote,

and chapter six makes half a dozen...yes, another Supernatural chapter

Title: Keep Me Hangin' On (Chapter Six)
Summary: Six months after "Swan Song" Dean has tried to settle into an Average Joe life as best as he can. But thanks to an unwelcome Archangel with a request for him, Dean is finding himself being thrown back into the supernatural fold again against his will.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Still not Kripke. Not even in my wildest dreams. Though in my wildest dreams I was Oscar Wilde.



"Pastor, from where do you know the Winchesters from?" asked Jack.

A strange look came across Pastor Francis' face as if he was not sure what to speak next. "I had an...infestation problem back then. John Winchester, the eldest in the picture, showed up out of the blue and said he could take care of it. And he did. He and the boys stayed with me for a week afterward. Came back twice after that. Both times John dropped off Sam and Dean for a week or so while he did a job." He took the photograph that Jack was still holding. He stared at the young Winchester boys. "I used to make Sam and Dean slave in the shelter. You have never seen two boys work so hard."

He sighed handing back the photo. "I haven't seen them in about sixteen years."

Jack slipped the picture into his back pocket. "Do you have a number where they can be reached?"

Pastor shook his head. "This was before cell phones were everywhere." He snapped his fingers, "But John did leave me a number to call if any other problems came up." Pastor turned to Father Gallagher. "Do you still have that Bible I gave you or did you ditch it?"

Father raised an eyebrow, "Pastor."

"Yes?"

"You are asking a Catholic Priest if he junked a Bible like it was Tuesday's trash."

Pastor thought about that for a moment before coming to the conclusion that what he had said was one of the stupidest statements he had ever made. "Right. Good, then. Where is it?"

"In my office." Father started to make his way through the rows of tables.

Everyone followed. They walked into a large, pristine office where a young priest was manning the phones with one hand and going over the bills with the other. Father nodded at him. The young priest nodded back. Father walked around the last desk in the room. It was sitting next to a gigantic glass window. A bright shaft of light was shining down on the papers, making everything glow with an almost halo. Pastor's Bible was resting on the corner on top of a dictionary of Saints. Father grabbed the book and handed it to Pastor. He took the Bible and began to flip backwards. There were lined blank sheets of paper in the back of the book for notes. Pastor had used those sheets as a make-shift phonebook. He ran his fingers down the numbers.

"Here we go." He put the book down and took out his cell phone. "John left a number to some place called "Harvelle's Roadhouse". Maybe they will have a number to contact him."

He dialed.

Jack broke out a face aching grin. He knew that he had said that he did not care about his past a short while ago but deep down, he was still curious. He looked over at Nobuko, hoping she was sharing his excitement. But she was not. A worried frown wore on her face.

"What's wrong, kiddo?"

Her cheeks burned like lit scarlet. "I want you to find your family but..."

"But what?"

She squished her eyes closed, not wanting to face the man she had grown so close to. In one breath she spat, "You are going to find your family and you are going to leave. And I-"

"Wow, you're silly," Jack interrupted.

The girl opened one eye in shock. She found herself staring deep into Jack's unamused glower. He pried open Nobuko's other closed eye and thumped her gently on her forehead.

"Do you actually think the moment I reunite with who ever is in my past I am going to go, 'So long, Screwy, see you in Saint Louie'?"

Nobuko bit her lip and stared at her polished shoes. She barely made the effort to shrug.

Tossing his head back, Jack sighed. "Give me some credit here." He took the girl by the shoulders, "We may not share DNA but you are my family. Everyone here is family. And I don't know if the past me was the type of dick who just ditched people but the guy who is talking to you right here and now, is not. Besides, kiddo ," he rubbed the Nobuko's belly, "that boy of yours is going to be my Godson. And someone needs to teach him how to have good taste in music because, Nobuko, dear, yours... Seriously, who in this day and age willfully listens to disco?"

Nobuko smacked his chest. "It's not disco. It's electro. There is a difference."

The two shared a smile.

"The number's no good," said Pastor as he shut his phone close. "It's no longer in service."

"And there goes that." Jack plopped down in one of the overstuffed office chairs. "Nice try though, Pastor. Maybe it wasn't meant to be."

"Oh, you are not going to give up that easily, Jack." Nobuko took a seat behind Father's desk. "There's more than one way to skin a proverbial cat. Father, may I use your laptop?"

Father nodded. He unhooked his leather satchel and slipped his computer out of it. He opened the laptop up and pressed a few keys until he was able to get a connection. The machine hummed ready for use.

The girl cracked her knuckles. "Maybe I can find the Winchesters online."

Pastor was impressed. "Do you think you can actually do that, Nobuko?"

"I am a Millennial. We are born Saint Anthony's of the Internet. If it's on the web, I can find it."

Jack grinned as he leaned across the desk. "Then onward Christian soldier. Let's see what you can do."

With a nod and the tip of her tongue sticking out of the side of her mouth, the girl began to click away at the keyboard. She hit "enter" and sat back. She was shocked by the results. "There are over a hundred and fifty thousand hits for these guys. Are they famous or something 'cause I've never heard of them before." She read the first link, "Oh, Sam has a wiki page. Hold on." She clicked on the link and read. Her brow wrinkled in confusion.

"What is it?" asked Jack who got up and went around to look at the screen. He scanned the page. "'The Winchesters are part of a fictional family of...what? Demon, ghost and vampire hunters in the book series, Supernatural by Chuck Shurley, who writes under the pen name, Carver Edlund. The last name, Winchester, which has never been mentioned in the books, was indeed confirmed by ex-girlfriend, Becky Rosen, and confirmed again at the first Supernatural convention in Chicago by the writer, himself." He looked over his shoulder at Pastor who had a disturbed expression on his face. "Did those guys give you a fake name?"

"They couldn't have," said Nobuko as she scrolled up on the page. "The books only started coming out back in mid '05. That photo on board is from '92. It has to be a coincidence."

Pastor was still frowning but he did not say anything. Has someone been writing about the boys? Do they even know about this? He wanted to dive deeper into the books but knew that would only raise more questions from Jack and the others. Questions that he really did not want to answer. Like what exactly had been his infestation problem? How does one even start explaining ghouls?

Jack stood up and scratched his head. "Nobuko, how about looking for them on a social networking site or a forum."

The girl backtracked out of the page. "It's a start." She edited her search and hit "enter" again. The hits went down in half but still there were tens of thousands of pages to search through. She dug into her pocket and pulled out a hair band. Pulling her hair back, she made herself a ponytail. This was her serious look. She scrolled down the result page and began to read off what she had found. "'The Sam and Dean Extreme Fan site. Nope. Supernatural; We are in it for the hot boys. Uh-uh. The Win'cest Mpreg Forum. Now that's deeply disturbing."

"What's 'Win'cest'?" asked Jack.

"What's 'Mpreg'?" asked Father.

Nobuko leaned back, throwing her head up at the two, "For your sanity and my breakfast, don't ask." She returned to the computer. "Ah, this seems promising." She lightly tapped the screen. "Check this out. There's an argument going on about The Winchesters in this one forum. Someone says that they are real and they are...oh."

"Oh?" asked Jack as he looked at the text. "And they are 'douchebags'. Nice. What site is that?"

"Ghostfacers. I think they're sort of like that Syfy show, Ghost Hunters. Should we look into it?"

Father nodded. "It's worth a shot. Anyone that angry at someone might know them personally."

"Yeah, but these Winchesters seem to be into the supernatural and not pest control." She turned to Pastor. "Does that sound like the Winchesters you know, Pastor?"

Pastor pointed at the screen. He really did not want to get into it. "Click the link, Nobuko."

Nobuko obeyed. Everyone closed in around the screen and read the argument. A few people made posts about the Ghostfacers constant bashing of the Winchester brothers in their videos. The commenters, who were fans of the Supernatural books, felt that the Ghostfacers were mocking them unfairly. Heads on silver platters were demanded.

"Man," said Jack, "you do not want to cross those Supernatural fangirls."

Nobuko hushed him as she read on. The Ghostfacers counter argued, swearing that they were not talking about the book Winchesters but the real ones. They had met the pair and had worked with them on a ghost hunting case. Though in parenthesises, one of the Ghostfacers sneered, "All they did was get their asses kicked. We saved them!"

To which another Ghostfacer commented, "Well, it was actually Corbett who did it."

"Dude, he is one of us," came the reply.

"Was one of us."

"Fine, was one of us. And still is in the great beyond."

"R.I.P. Corbett."

"We're pouring a 40 in your honor, dude."

"Totally."

Jack stood up. He made a face. "Are these guys morons?"

"Morons or not," said Nobuko as she clicked on one of the Ghostfacer's profile. "They do seem to know the brothers." A picture of a man in glasses wearing a smoking jacket while sitting in an overstuffed chair by a fireplace came up. To the right of the picture was his name; Ed. "Still, this guy is wearing an ascot. So, again, he probably is a moron."

Nobuko scrolled down the profile. There was a blinking icon at the very end indicating that Ed could be chatted with live at the moment. "He's online. Should I contact him?"

"Yes!" shouted Jack. He took out a candy bar from his pocket and stuffed it into his mouth, trying to quell his excitement. "Go for it."

With another click, the girl opened a chat window. Under the name "anon102" she wrote, "Hello."

A moment later Ed wrote back, "Hello, fellow Facer."

Everyone in the room let out a little cheer. Nobuko's hands began to shake, "What should I write? What should I write?"

Pastor scratched his chin, "Tell him who you are and that you are looking for the Winchester family."

"But tell them that you are not another book fan," added Father, "You are actually looking for the real Sam, Dean and John."

"And tell them about me," said Jack as he patted the girl on the shoulder.

Nobuko waved her arms, clearing the air. "Gentlemen, one at a time. I can only type so fast." She stuck her tongue back out the side of her mouth and began to write. "I am looking for The Winchesters. The real ones. Not the book ones. My name is Nobuko Watanabe and my friend needs their help. Do you have any way I can reach them?"

She cleared her hands from the keyboard and rested them on her belly. All eyes stared at the window waiting for a reply.

A minute passed when Ed finally wrote back. "Is this a joke? Did Tim put you up to this?"

Jack groaned. "He thinks we're pranking him. Great. He's not going to help out."

Throwing an arm behind her, Nobuko covered Jack's mouth and hushed him. She nibbled at her lip. "Father, do you have Skype? I thought I had seen you used it when you were talking to Archbishop Naumann last month about the new church blessing up north."

"Yes. I do."

"Awesome." She leaned back towards the keyboard. Her belly rubbing against the desk. She typed, "Do you have Skype? I'll prove to you who I am."

Ed wrote back that he did and gave her his Skype name. Nobuko brought up the page and connected. A moment later the man who was once sitting by a fire while wearing an ascot was now staring at her while wearing a Fight Club t-shirt with a Twizzler hanging out his mouth. Another young man, dark haired and in a black jacket covered with band and sci-fi pins sat next to him.

"Holy crap, it's actually a girl and not some naked dude again," said the young man. "A pretty girl. Hello, pretty girl with..." he looked at Father and Pastor in their vestments. His face went milk white. "priests. I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to flirt. I mean..."

Ed removed the candy from his lips and smacked the man in the chest. "Shut up, Harry." He turned back to the screen. "It's not every day men of the cloth ask for help from me and my crew. So, Padres," he pressed his hands together, making a temple with his fingers, "you are looking for the Winchesters. May I ask why?"

Jack raised his hand. "It's for me. I think the Winchesters may know who I am."

Ed arched an eyebrow. "And why should that matter?"

"Because long story short, I've lost my memory and I need it back."

The two Ghostfacers stared at the screen with screwed up faces that screamed with disbelief. Nobuko jolted up with eyes as wide as moons. "Guys, the baby just did a Highland jig on my bladder. Pregnant chick has got to go." With the grace of a drunk, she rose from her chair with the help of Pastor and Jack. Ed and Harry watched as her belly came on screen and swallowed up the entire picture. Harry felt even worse having flirted with her a few minutes ago.

Nobuko waddled out of the office. "Take notes, fellas. I will be quizzing." She made her way down the corridor. Her eye caught a homeless man standing in the hallway reading a bulletin board. He looked over at her. Their gazes locked. A shiver raced throughout the girl's body but she did not understand why. Quickly, turning her head, she went into the ladies' room trying to leave the image of the grizzled man in the dirty coat behind.

Out in the hallway, the man grinned his snaggled tooth smirk. He shuffled back in his worn out boots to the janitor's closet. After knocking twice, he snuck into the tiny walk-in space. The other homeless person that he had been with in the dining hall was sitting on the floor. He had his arms around the waist of a woman janitor. Her throat had been sliced open and he was milking her for every drop of blood he could squeeze out. The thick, frothy liquid dribbled into a chalice that was resting between his thighs. The last drops trickled out as the matted hair man shoved the corpse off of him and under a pile of toilet paper. He closed over the chalice as his green eyes became choked in black. He spoke the words that linked him to the other side and held still for a response.

A voice, sweet and cold, began to swim around in his head. Caressing his thoughts and whispering into the deep pit that the demon hid within the Human shell.

"We have located the girl and she is still with the child," the matted hair man said.

The voice was pleased. It whispered on.

The man nodded. "I understand. No harm will come to the girl until you are able to return here. But we will make sure she does not leave the building." A frown came over the man, "However, the girl lives with a pastor and she is watched over by a priest."

The voice growled and continued.

"No, I have not seen any signs of Angels or Archangels near here. Perhaps they are not aware of-"

The voice snapped.

The man cast his eyes away from the chalice in shame. "Yes, Lord. We will be careful."

The voice vanished. The matted hair man shook his head clearing the lovely fog from his mind. His black eyes gave back to green. He looked up to his companion. "You understood that one sided conversation from Harut, right?"

The bearded man snarled. He kicked the corpse making the body spill rolls of toilet paper all over the floor. "Yep. It's going to be a long day."

Jack ran his hand through his hair out of frustration. "Look, we are not fanboys. We have not even heard of this books series before ten minutes ago. And besides, are you calling a priest and a pastor a pair of liars?"

Harry began to wave his hands in front of him in defense. "No, we're not doing that at all. Come on, I don't want to go to Hell here."

"I don't think they would send you to Hell just for calling a priest and a pastor liars," said Ed. "At least I don't remember that lesson in Sunday school."

Father rubbed his eye and sighed. "No one is going to Hell. All we want is a way to contact the Winchester family. A simple yes or no to the question, can you help us, would be greatly appreciated."

Ed and Harry grew quiet. They shot glances as each other. Ed leaned into Harry's ear and whispered something. Harry shook his head and leaned back into Ed's ear and returned whispered.

Jack rolled his eyes at the ceiling. He had never met anyone so mind numbingly headache inducing as these two yahoos. He was about to click the call out and cry defeat when he remembered the picture in his back pocket. He slipped it out and brought the photo up to the laptop camera. He whistled.

The two Ghostfacers broke away from their private conversation and gave their attention to the photo. There was something familiar about the family in the picture but they could not place their finger on what it was exactly.

"Who are they?" asked Ed.

"A Polaroid of the Winchesters from '92. No common fanboy would have this. Only someone who knew them personally." Jack smiled trying to build trust. "Guys, we are not fans. Just some old friends who have lost touch with them and are trying to track them down."

Ed and Harry burst out laughing.

"Look at them!" Ed wiped a tear away from his eye. "They were geeks!"

"And if that is Dean because he still wears that dumb-ass necklace then that must be Sam." Harry clapped his hands in glee. "God, what a wimp he was. I could kick that kid's ass easy. Hey, Ed, couldn't I kick that kid's ass?"

"Oh, there's no question. And that guy in the back must be big bad Daddy Winchester." Harry stopped laughing and cleared his throat. "Now he looks like he could kick my ass."

"He is an ex-Marine," said Pastor with a bit of grit in his voice. "And he's real handy with a rifle."

Ed started to cough in shame and horror. Harry tried to avoid the gaze of the camera as he straightened out the things that sat around his computer. He moved to fiddling around with the pins on his jacket, overly polishing one that read, "FRAK THIS!"

"So," he began dropping the pin and the jacket behind. "I think we have a number you can use to get in touch with at least the brothers."

Jack put away the photo. "Thank you," he sighed dropping his head in release.

Grabbing a Sharpie, Harry scribbled down a number on his palm. He held it up to the screen. "Can you read this?"

Pastor snatched up a pen and a memo pad. He nodded as he jotted down the number.

Harry dropped his hand back down. "Honestly, I don't know how good that number is any more. We haven't used it in a while. See, Sam gave it to us to call if we came across anything big and bad that we couldn't handle."

Ed snorted. "Like they are so much better than us." He leaned into the camera. "Anyway, we kinda spam his voice mail with inappropriate sound bites from certain...movies."

"Casa Erotica and its sequels," interrupted Harry.

Ed closed his eyes and winced. "Thanks ever so much for that." He opened them again, "Like I said, we did that for a few weeks."

Harry grinned. "It was fun."

Tired of the quips, Ed seized the arm of Harry's rolling chair and pushed him off camera. The hooded Ghostfacer sailed out of sight. Only the sound of his wheels spinning could be heard. Then came the crash. It was loud, glorious and involved shattering glass. Ed made a face at the scene that Pastor, Father and Jack could not see.

"Hey, are you alright?"

"I'm good," Harry whimpered.

Shaking his head again, Ed continued. "So, again, given the beating we gave to his mail, that number may or may not be good. But it's the only one we've got."

Pastor held up the newly written memo. "We'll take it." He came close to the camera. "Thank you for your help, boys."

"No problem, Padre. Anytime we can fight the good fight, right?

"I think you are misquoting Angel now," said Harry who was still off camera.

Turning to the disembodied voice, Ed threw a paper clip, "I am not." He went back to the computer. "Bye." He closed the window ending the Skype conversation.

Pastor, Father and Jack stood in silence for a moment before Jack hit his forehead in a groan.

"Can you believe those guys?" He shook his head trying to free their stupidity from himself.

Pastor took out his cell phone again. "At least we have a number." He hit green and began to dial.

The number went through and a voice began to speak. "This is Sam. Leave a message and I will get back to you." Pastor blinked in shock. Sam sounded remarkably like his old man.

An electronic voice followed telling Pastor to press one if he wanted to leave a message. He did so. The recording started. "Sam, I don't know if you will remember me but this is Pastor Francis of The Church of the Resurrection in Leafwood, Kansas. I know it has been over fifteen years since your family and I last met but if you could, please call me. I need your family's assistance again. Thanks."

He ended the message and slipped the phone back into pocket. "I hope he answers back."

Jack crossed his arms and sighed. "You and me both, Pastor. Now, I've got to get back to the kitchen. Someone needs to chop those vegetables."

Pastor threw an arm around Jack's shoulders. "I'll lend a hand since you are down a man with Nobuko. When my sister was preg-"

Pastor's cell phone rang.

The two men looked at each in startled amazement. It couldn't be, both their minds spoke in sync. Pastor had only made that message a moment ago.

"Answer the phone!" shouted Father.

With shaking hands, Pastor took out his cell. He read the number calling. It was unlisted. He pressed the green button.

"Hello?"

"This is Sam Winchester. Is this Pastor Francis?"

"Yes." Pastor's voice cracked.

"Pastor, yeah, I remember who you are. How can I help you?"


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Tags: fanfic, fiction, supernatural
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