Chapter 22: The Rivers
Connor didn’t know what the demon was talking about. Lucifer was supposed to be back in his cage. That was the last he and Lindsay had heard of him. Had something happened that had led him to escape? He shot a worried, terrified glance at his wife. Her lips were set in a hard line. Her eyes were stony.
Did she know about this?
Dean stepped forward and the demon closed his eyes. Without another word, he plunged the strange knife into the guy’s chest. A sickening crunch sent shivers up Connor’s spine. The orange, electric fire that flickered and died as the demon was extinguished was worse, however. For some reason, Connor didn’t think he deserved it.
Although, if the demon was right, what would Lucifer have done to him once he realized that he’d let Haven’s soul go, just like that, without a fight? Dying by Dean’s hand was probably what the demon had preferred to being tortured.
The demon’s empty shell dropped to the ground.
Connor listened. The Hell Hound had stopped growling. He didn’t smell its horrid breath anymore either. Was it gone? A quick glance around the group told him that it was. The blond woman was smiling. Haven popped her head around the tree, and when Dean gave her a thumb’s up, she ran at Lindsay and nearly tackled her to the ground.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she cried again and again. Hot tears were pouring down her cheeks.
Connor felt for her. All Haven had done was try to save anyone who knew about that strange house. She had wanted to be the hero. Before her disappearance, she had hunted with him and his wife often. Haven was good but she was never the one to make the spectacular saves. That was usually Lindsay. And she never accepted the credit. She’d brush it off and say that Connor always thought of her that way.
Because he always did.
“No more deals, got it?” Dean ordered Haven halfheartedly.
Haven gave him a weak smile as she stood, her arm around Lindsay’s waist.
Connor breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe now they could go on that honeymoon they never had time for. Since Haven was back. Connor was never irritated with her disappearance because he loved her almost as much as Lindsay did, but it had irked him from time to time. His wife had been so consumed with finding her sister that she was almost unrecognizable at times.
At least his dreams had stopped.
Connor smacked his forehead. The impact echoed in the still night air. “Holy crap!” he breathed. His eyes found Lindsay’s curious stare. “I know what my dream is about!”
All eyes turned to him.
“You’ve finally figured it out?” Jenna asked him.
That cut his explanation short. “What do you mean?” he asked.
“You know how Jenna is,” Lindsay replied.
Connor frowned. Had she seen visions of him? It was usually Lindsay who starred in them, but she hadn’t gotten a call from Jenna in a long time. About the visions, at least. Why hadn’t she called if she’d seen him?
“I didn’t know who’s they were,” Jenna clarified. “I just thought they had to be someone’s.” She pointed to the group as a whole. “That’s why I wanted to help find Haven so bad.”
Jenna looked at her feet.
Connor shook his head. “But I figured them out,” he repeated quickly. “You said we went to the Jacobs’ house before and we killed some vampires with Sam and Dean,” Connor had turned to Lindsay, and her eyes grew wide, “but that the case hadn’t been real. I think my dreams were trying to tell me exactly that.”
“Sounds almost like Jenna’s gift,” Sam added.
Connor shrugged. He didn’t think that dream was a vision per se, but at least he didn’t have to stress so much over it any more. And maybe it would finally go away after tonight.
“What did the demon mean, Lucifer was going to kill him?” Dan asked.
A stifled groan escaped Dean’s lips. Connor hadn’t missed it. “It’s too long of a story to explain now,” he said, avoiding the question. “We should get out of here before anything else happens.”
“What else would happen?” the blond woman wanted to know.
“You never know,” Lindsay seethed suddenly. “Things could be left undiscussed and then a surprise could cause one of us to roll some heads.”
Connor knew that anger. He could feel it radiating off of her. Lindsay was terrified; she was also beyond words. Sam and Dean had not only betrayed her and left her to her own devices for years, it seems that they left one huge secret stuffed under the rug, where they intended to keep it instead of warning her, as any big brother should have.
“Aw, jeeze! Lindsay, we can roll some heads later, okay?” Jenna complained. “We just had shit go down and I for one want to go home. I’m tired and I need a shower. Please, talk to them later about it.”
Connor saw the daggers his wife shot at her friend. But Lindsay surprised him when she sighed.
“Fine.” Lindsay turned on her heel and faced Dan. “How did you know to call them?” She jerked her thumb at Connor and Jenna, walking in the direction of the hill as she spoke.
Connor followed her. He slipped his hand in hers. She squeezed his fingers lightly.
“I found your emails to Sam in the bunker,” Dan admitted.
“Oh, right, the Men of Letters bunker,” Lindsay muttered, irritated once more.
“You went through my computer?” Sam demanded.
“Only a little.”
“Men of Letters?” Connor asked, trying to defuse the sudden tension.
He’d heard of them. He wasn’t new to hunting, but the Men of Letters was just a story. Stories involving the Winchesters, though, were rarely just stories. Mostly they were facts. So Connor didn’t say anything when Dean replied, “We’ll fill you in later.”
“And me,” Lindsay amended frostily.
She wouldn’t get over what they did to her. Not really. But maybe Connor would be surprised. Lindsay was a hard-ass sometimes, but when it came to the brothers she always had a soft spot. Maybe she would forgive them. If they let her drive the Impala, read as many records as she could get her hands on, beat them up to her heart’s content... Maybe she’d forgive them.
"Oh, and by the way," Lindsay said, her tone indicating that her anger had not yet faded even if her sarcasm had struggled through, "what's your name, Collector?"
The group turned up the hill and began the much-longer climb to the vacant and inevitably bloody Jacobs' house.
Connor raised an eyebrow at Dan. Would he tell her his name? He must know that Connor would tell Lindsay later anyway. Or would he cast a memory charm or something, to keep him from remembering it?
"Dan," the Collector said, holding out his hand.
Lindsay shook it mechanically. "Thanks for saving our asses," she said. She hadn't let go of Connor's hand.
"And I guess I should introduce myself as well," the blond woman announced. She turned and faced them, walking backwards up the hill. "I'm Mary."
"Holy. Crap." Jenna's realization stopped her dead at the top of the hill, just inside the Jacobs' garden.
"We can shmooze over introductions later," Dean interrupted.
Connor smiled at Jenna's irresistibly cute glare. He could tell she still held the torch for him, even if she'd been married a few years now. And that was another thing. Connor tilted his head to the side. Where was Christopher?
Jenna saw the question in his eyes. "He has a murder case to solve back home," she told him without a pause.
"Ah." Connor had started to wonder if something had separated them. It was a silly assumption. Jenna and Christopher were made for each other.
Dean had opened the Impala's driver side door by now. He was half-way seated when he said, "How about lunch? I'm starving."
All of them had literally looked over the fact that there were streaks of blood and footprints leading away from the front door and into the Jacobs' tower.
"You're always starving," Lindsay and Mary accused together, smiling.
Connor nodded---Jenna and Dan enthusiastically nodded as well---and dug his keys from his pocket. He climbed inside and Lindsay took the seat next to him. Jenna sank into the back seat, already smiling at the thought of food, and Haven hopped in next to her.
They'd all have a lot to talk about, and a pot of coffee and some beer was a welcome thought.
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