Title: The Fairer Road
Rating: Teen
Spoilers: At least until the end of season 1. None from season 2, I don't think.
Disclaimer: Don't own anything, not being paid
Warnings: Character deaths
Genre: Gen, with mentions of Sam/Jess, Dean/OFCs and John/OFC
A/N: Written for a 'five' request from lunardreamed. Thanks heaps to lunardreamed and Cha Oseye Tempest Thrain for the beta. Thank you also to the helpful people at sciencebeta on Live Journal. Title taken from The Road Not Taken.
Summary: Five lives they had because John didn't start hunting.
"Dad, who's that?"
John looked over at Dean as he kept on walking. "Missouri Mossely, local psychic." There was quiet disdain in his voice. "She tried to tell me that something killed your mother. I- I wasn't thinking right, almost believed her for a minute. The woman's certifiable."
Dean glanced back at the black woman as they crossed the road and got back to the Impala. She was watching him intently and a chill went down his spine.
"What time are Sam and that girl meant to get here?" John asked.
Dean turned back to John and rolled his eyes as he opened the driver's door and got in. "It's Jess, Dad, and around five." John slammed his door. "I've never gotten why you don't like her."
As expected, he didn't get any answer from his dad. John's dislike of Jess had never been explained. He was polite to her face but Sam had told Dean that Jess was quite aware that the man didn't like her. There had been a couple of times when Dean had thought that Sam was going to hit John for his behaviour, but it hadn't happened – yet. There was always a first time.
"Just give her a chance, Dad. The way Sam talks about her...I think she's the one."
John grunted in reply and Dean rolled his eyes.
"Fine," Dean muttered. "Be a cranky, old SOB then."
"I heard that."
Dean grinned. "I fully intended for you to."
"Well, that was fun. Just like old times."
Dean sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. "Sam..."
"I know, I know: don't start, I'm only home for a few days, I can keep my mouth shut for that long." Sam grimaced.
"You know, he didn't like my girlfriend either."
Sam raised an eyebrow. "He wasn't the only one. She was a bitch, Dean." Dean showed Sam what his middle finger looked like from the back. Sam sighed. "Sorry. He just frustrates me so much." Sam stood up and ran a hand through his hair, before gesturing in Dean's direction. "I mean, he doesn't even give a reason for not liking Jess, just ignores her."
Dean frowned as Sam paced. "Are you really that blind, Sam?"
Sam stopped in his tracks. "What?"
Dean looked down at his tightly clenched hands for a few seconds, before forcing his muscles to relax. He returned his gaze to Sam, before speaking softly, "Jess looks kind of like Mom, Sam."
"No... She doesn't... She doesn't, does she?" Sam started pacing again. "I mean, Mom was blonde, but so are a million other women." His movement suddenly ceased. "Why didn't he say anything?" He gestured expansively. "God, Dean. Why does he never say what's going on in his fucking mind?"
Dean shrugged. "That's just Dad. Mom-"
Sam shook his head as he interrupted. "It's not an excuse, Dean. She's been dead a long time."
"He's never gotten over it," Dean said gently.
"It's not fair. He has us. He should be living for us."
"He is."
Sam snorted. "Not enough."
Dean stood up. "And on that note, I'm going to bed. Thanks for the merry-go-round ride, Sam; it was fun. We should do it again some time."
"Dean," Sam called to Dean's retreating back. Dean raised a hand in a 'whatever' gesture. "Good night."
"Night, Sam."
"Jess."
Dean paused with his jeans half way down his legs. Sam's voice had come through loud and clear, which implied a bellow rather than a call during something more intimate that he didn't particularly want to think about.
"Jess, no!"
His voice was louder and scared and Dean quickly pulled his pants back up, rushed to his door, opened it and sprinted into the hallway. He opened Sam's door to heat and Sam lying on the bed, looking up with horror on his face.
"Jess!"
Dean looked up and Mom was pinned on the ceiling, her stomach slashed open and there was fire all around her. He staggered and clutched the doorway for support as the air heated – and wasn't the ceiling further away than that, and shouldn't there have been a crib, and he never saw his Mom on the ceiling – and the fire devoured the woman. "Mom?"
There was a bellow behind him. "Mary!"
And Dean knew what he had to do – he had to take Sam and get outside, don't look back. He pulled Sam off the bed and towards the door, and Sam was still yelling and struggling – little Sammy couldn't speak yet, how could he yell, and who was Jess – and his Daddy was yelling and the flames were crackling and everything was too loud. His Daddy was blocking the doorway and there were tears running down his face... and Dean suddenly knew who Jess was.
Sam was still fighting him, trying to get back to Jess. "Dad, a little help here!" He could feel his back getting hot and his father was just staring at the ceiling still crying. "Dad!"
When he didn't move, Dean knew that Sam was right, merry-go-round and all. It wasn't enough and never would be and Dean wasn't strong enough.
The smoke was getting worse as he pushed Sam past their father, down the stairs and out the front door. Sam tried to stop on the stairs and their doorstep, but their dad didn't sweep down like an avenging angel and Dean knew better this time. He continued pushing until they were on the sidewalk and collapsed in a heap with Sam.
The flames burst out the front door as bewildered neighbours left their own.
"Jess!" Sam called hoarsely, tears running down his face, as he made an attempt to get up off the ground. Dean kept his grip on Sam's arms, making sure he wouldn't go running back to the house. He could hear sirens, but it was too late.
Dean stared at the woman who answered the door.
"I'm so sorry, Dean," she said. "So sorry."
He clenched his jaw, before speaking, his voice still hoarse from screaming, and crying, and smoke. "Dad said that you told him something killed my Mom."
Missouri nodded. "You better come in." She held the door open and put her hand on his shoulder as he passed. "Oh, honey; it wasn't your fault. There was nothing you could have done."
Dean shrugged her hand off and went into the house. "Tell me how to kill it."