#sorry for soam i do have more of these but i will hold off for now

[nagaruru]

[winchesterbrotherstan]

Supernatural- Route 666 (1.13)

Pairing: N/A, Olive Winchester (OC)

Summary: When Dean gets a call from an old girlfriend, Olive is forced to stay at school while her brothers investigate a racist truck. Truths about Dean and Olive are revealed, leaving Sam reeling

Warnings: cursing, racist truck??, uh implication of people having had sex, some gay shit happens

Word Count: 7449

“Okay. I think I found a way we can bypass that construction just east of here. We might even make Pennsylvania faster than we thought.” Sam spoke, tracing the route.

I pouted from my perch on the trunk of the car. Dean was sitting on the hood. Someone had called him, and he needed to take it. It wasn’t Dad though. Sam had the map stretched out on top of Baby. I tugged at it by the corners and he narrowed his eyes at me, pulling it back with a playful smile.

“Dean, you alright?” I looked up, seeing him shut his phone with a sigh.

“Yeah. We’re not going to Pennsylvania.”

“We what?” I asked, sliding off the car.

“I just got a call from an, uh… old friend.” Dean cleared his throat. “Her father was killed last night. Think it might be our kind of thing.”

“Who was it?” I perked up.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetpea.”

“What?” Sam asked, still confused.

“Believe me, she never would’ve called… never, if she didn’t need us.” Dean looked down, pain in his eyes.

I sighed. Cassie.

“Come on.” Dean opened the drivers door and beckoned to me.

I slid in under his arm and made myself comfortable in the middle seat. Sam stared at us, still very confused. I leaned over and rolled down the window of the passenger seat.

“Sams. You coming?”

                                                          ***

“Yeah, whatever, Hunter. We don’t care how you do it. Just get it done.”

“Well why are you guys rushing out?”

“Another case came up. An old family friend. We’ve gotta handle that.”

Hunter snorted on the other end. “Fine. Be safe.”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t tell me what to do. Please don’t get ganked by a monster.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’ll see you around, Olive.”

“I sure as hell hope not.” I snapped before hanging up.

“By old friend you mean…” Sam trailed off from the front seat.

“A friend that’s not new.” Dean’s tone was clipped.

“Oh, yeah, thanks.” Sam snorted.

“It’s Cassie, isn’t it?” I asked.

Dean sighed and glanced down at me. “Yeah. It is.”

“You’ve never mentioned her. Ollie, how do you know her?”

“Her and Dean went out.” I shrugged.

“You mean Dean dated somebody? For more than one night.” Sam was bewildered.

Dean snorted. “Am I speaking a language you’re not getting here? Dad and I were working a job in Ohio.” Dean shook his head.

“One day, Dad and Dean couldn’t pick me up. She was finishing up college nearby, she offered to drive me to the motel. They met, went out for a couple of weeks.”

“And?” Sam looked at me, completely entranced in the story.

Dean shrugged, and I blew a raspberry.

“Look, it’s terrible about her dad, but it kinda sounds like a standard car accident. I’m not seeing how it fits with what we do. Which by the way, how does she know what we do?” Sam’s eyebrows furrowed.

Dean only licked his lips and I tilted my head.

How did she know?

I huffed and looked up at Dean. “How does she know?”

Dean cleared his throat and kept his eyes on the road. I snorted, and Sam shook his head, a frown forming on his face.

“You told her. You told her the secret!” Sam hissed. “Our big family rule number one! Dude, we do what we do and we shut up about it.” Sam scoffed. “For a year and a half, I do nothing but lie to Jessica, and you go out with this chick in Ohio a few times and you tell her everything?” Sam’s eyebrows were knitted together, and he looked angry.

Dean said nothing and I sighed. I had never thought about it.

“Dean!”

“Yeah, looks like.”

I sighed as Dean gunned it, engine roaring. Sam shook his head as he pulled a bitchface on. I sighed and sunk further into my seat. This was going to be a complicated hunt.

                                                          ***

“Two black people were killed on the same stretch of road in the same way in two weeks!” There was a shout from inside the office.

I flinched. Sounded like a hate crime. The boys and I looked at each other, confused. I blinked as Dean slid past the open door. Sam sighed and reached for my hand. I took it and he brought me with him, into the office.

“Jimmy, you’re too close to this. Those guys were friends of yours. Again, Cassie, I’m very sorry for your loss.”

The two men walked away, leaving Cassie to turn around. She came face-to-face with Dean and flinched. She stared at him, apprehensive. Dean broke into his classic, charming grin. I bit back a smile as she looked at him, eyes wide.

“Dean.”

“Hey Cassie.”

Sam looked down at me as I looked up at him, matching smiles on our faces.

“Hi, Olive. You’ve gotten big.”

“Hi Cassie.” I smiled, grabbing Sam by the hand and pulling him forward. “This is our brother, Sam.”

She smiled at us both before looking back to Dean. Dean sighed at her.

“Sorry ‘bout your dad.”

She huffed. “Yeah. Me too.”

                                                          ***

“My mother’s in pretty bad shape.” Cassie spoke as she bumped the door open with her hip.

“Let me help you.” I scrambled to my feet and grabbed two cups off of the tray.

I handed one to Dean, and he furrowed his eyebrows at it. It was empty, but Cassie had a pot of tea on the tray. Sam took a third cup, smiling warmly.

“Thanks, Olive. I’ve been staying with her.” Cassie sat down on one of the chairs, and I took the spot between Sam and Dean.

“I wish she wouldn’t go off by herself. She’s been so nervous and frightened.” Cassie sighed. “She was worried about dad.”

“Why?” Dean asked.

Cassie sighed as she poured the tea. “He was scared. He was seeing things.”

“Like what?” I asked, putting my tea up to my lips and blowing on it.

The fog steamed up my glasses, and I shivered, feeling cold.

“He swore he saw an awful-looking black truck following him.”

“A truck.” Sam repeated. “Who was the driver?”

Cassie shook her head as she poured a cup. “He didn’t talk about a driver. Just the truck. He said it would appear and disappear. And, in the accident, Dad’s car was dented, like it had been slammed into by something big.”

“Thanks.” Sam spoke as Cassie poured his tea. “Now you’re sure the dent wasn’t there before?”

She shook her head and poured Dean’s cup. “He sold cars. Always drove a new one. There wasn’t a scratch on that thing. It had rained hard that night. There was mud everywhere. There was a distinct set of muddy tracks leading from dad’s car… leading right to the edge, where he went over.” She ducked her head, trying to hold it together. “One set of tracks. His.”

“The first was a friend of your father’s?”

Cassie nodded. “Best friend. Clayton Soames. They owned the dealership together. Same thing. Dent. No tracks. And the cops said exactly what they said about dad. He lost control of the car.”

Dean and I looked at each other and he sighed. “Can you think of any reason why your father and his partner might be targets?”

“No.” Cassie sighed.

Sam looked up. “And you think this vanishing truck ran them off the road?”

“When you say it out loud like that… listen, I’m a little skeptical about this… ghost stuff… or whatever it is you guys are into.”

“Skeptical.” Dean huffed. “If I remember, I think you said I was nuts.”

“That was then.” Cassie sighed.

Her and Dean stared at each other, wordlessly. Sam and I looked at each other and I cleared my throat. Cassie blinked and looked up.

“I just know that I can’t explain what happened up there. So I called you.” She whispered.

The door swung open, and the four of us popped to our feet. Cassie rushed to help her mother into the room.

“Mom. Where have you been? I was so-”

“I had no idea you’d invited friends over.” Her mom cut her off.

“Mom.” Cassie cleared her throat. “This is Dean, a friend of mine from… college. This is his brother Sam, and his sister Olive.”

“Well I won’t interrupt you.” Mrs. Robinson scoffed.

“Mrs. Robinson.” Dean started. “We’re so sorry for your loss. We’d like to talk to you for a minute if you don’t mind?”

“I’m really not up for that right now.” She scowled before brushing her daughter off and leaving the room.

Dean and I sighed and Sam and Cassie looked at each other with sad faces.

“Hey, uh… you know any schools around here?” Dean asked after a second.

I flinched, staring at him with wide eyes. He avoided my gaze, so I turned to Sam. He looked down, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck.

“Uh, yeah. Let me just get a piece of paper to write it down for you.” Cassie said as she eyed the three of us.

                                                          ***

“This is bullshit!” I hissed as Dean put the car into park.

“Ol, you have to go to school. We’ve had this conversation before.” Sam spoke softly, but firmly.

I threw my head back with an exaggerated groan.

“Bug, we’re doing this because we love you.”

I snorted. “Bullshit.”

“Can you say anything other than that word for maybe four seconds?” Dean snapped, turning around to face me.

I sighed and let my shoulders drop. “No, I get it. You guys want me to have a good education. Sams, you want me to not be a hunter. Dean, you just want what’s best for me.”

“Which includes not being a hunter.” Sam cut in.

Dean and I both stared at him, the same expression on our faces. He put his hands up in mock surrender.

“I’m just saying!”

I huffed. “Are you guys gonna be okay?”

Dean nodded. “Still have to figure out what we’re dealing with.” A pause, then in a more gentle tone, his hand going for my shoulder. “Are you gonna be okay?”

I sighed again, then nodded. “Yeah. I’ll be alright. Call me if you have any updates?”

Sam nodded. “Of course. Make sure you pay attention though.” He grinned.

I rolled my eyes, despite the smile making its way onto my face. “I’ll see you guys later tonight?”

Dean smiled. “Promise, sweetpea. C’mere.” He grabbed my face and pressed an obnoxiously loud kiss to the top of my head. “We love ya.”

I rolled my eyes again as I opened the car door. “I love you guys too.” I shuffled out of the car and swung my backpack onto my shoulder.

“Oh!” Sam exclaimed, rummaging for something in the bag between him and Dean. “I made you this.”

I popped my head back into the car, only to see him holding a brown paper bag out for me. It had Olive :) on it in his neat boy-cursive. I smiled, feeling my heart warm itself up.

“Be careful, you guys.”

“Always. You too.”

I smiled wider. “Always.”

                                                           ***

I trudged through the hallway, one hand clutching my lunch and the other gripping the strap of my bag. It was an old bag, one of Dad’s. I only used it when I had to go to school, which was the one thing about hunting that I absolutely despised.

Being new sucked, being at a school for less than a week sucked, being there without my brothers, alone? That was the worst part.

“Hey, new girl.”

I looked up from the floor to see a girl my age, maybe older, smiling at me. She was pretty, light green eyes and light brown hair hanging in ringlets. Her face was dusted with freckles. I forced a smile back.

Shit, she’s pretty.

“What’s your name?”

“Olive.”

“Olive.” She repeated. “Nice name.”

I snorted. “Thanks. I think my brother was just hungry.”

She laughed. “Your brother named you?”

I shook my head, a real smile on my face this time. “It’s complicated. And you are?” I held a hand out to her, desperately trying to ignore the sparks on my skin.

“Taylor.” She shook my hand. “So what’s the deal?”

“I’m sorry?” I asked as we moved through the hall, past the lumps of people.

“Why are you here? I mean, nobody just moves to Cape Girardeau, Missouri on a Wednesday.”

I snorted. “Uh, my brothers…” I shook my head. “They have to move around a lot for work. Ya know, traveling salesmen.” I blew a strand of hair out of my face.

She giggled. “So… just brothers? No mom, dad?”

I sighed again. I shook my head. “Mom’s never been in the picture, and Dad is too focused on work. My brothers take care of me.”

She nodded. “Sorry. That seems heavy.”

I shrugged. “I love them, they love me. Could be worse.”

She pursed her lips. “Alright, what’s your first class?”

I giggled at her change of pace and pulled out the paper from my back pocket.

“Oh.” She groaned, nose wrinkling up. “Trig with Henderson.” She giggled. “You’re gonna hate that.”

I tsked, and she shook her head. “It’s okay, though. We’ve got it together!” She squealed, holding a hand out for me.

My heart thumped, and I took it. I felt the tips of my ears heat up as she dragged me through the halls.

                                                          ***

“Hey, bug! I’m outside, ready whenever you are.” Sam was on the other end of the phone.

Sorry, I mouthed to Taylor as I put the phone back up to my ear. “Hey Sams. Where’s Dean?”

A sigh. “He’s busy. But I’m here!”

I giggled. “Alright, I’ll be right out, Sams. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

I flipped the phone shut and turned back to Taylor. “Well, my ride’s here.”

“Sam? That one of your brothers?” She giggled.

I nodded. “Middle child, but he’s pretty great. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

She nodded, a smile on her face. “See ya tomorrow.”

I tried to bite back the smile that was growing on my face as I turned and pushed through the front doors, into the parking lot. Sam was there, in Baby’s driver’s seat. I swallowed, hard. I had known how I felt about girls since I was twelve, and while I had never said a word, Dean had caught on. Now I had to decide whether or not I wanted to tell Sam.

“Hey, bug!” He called.

“Hi, Sams.” I grinned, tossing my bag in through the window before getting in myself, then rolling the window up.

“How was school?”

I shrugged, and he made a face. “You like someone.”

I scratched the back of my neck. “I dunno.”

“Well I do. You definitely like someone. Come on, what’s his name?”

I blew a raspberry and looked at him. His grin was so big, the look in his eyes so pure. I sighed.

“Her name’s Taylor.”

“Oh! A girl.” Sam blinked. “Aw, bug. You didn’t have to tell me.” He pulled me into a bear hug.

I nodded. “I know. But I wanted to.”

“Does Dean know?”

I shrugged. “Not officially, but I’m sure he’s figured.”

He smiled, pushing my hair back. “You’re great, bug. I love you.”

I giggled. “I love you too. But can we please go home? I don’t wanna sit here in the parking lot. It feels awkward.”

He nodded as he pulled back. “Yeah, yeah, of course we can.”

                                                          ***

“Where’s Dean?” I asked Sam the second he came out of the bathroom, drying his hair.

He sighed. “I dunno, bug. He was with Cassie last time I talked to him.”

“Have you called him?”

“Nah. Didn’t wanna interrupt him. He definitely still likes her.” He tossed the towel back into the bathroom before dropping onto his bed.

I huffed. “Yeah, that’s true.”

“Alright, come on. Time for bed. You’ve got school tomorrow.”

I sighed. “Dean said I’d see him tonight.”

“Bug…”

I turned to face the door, my back to Sam. “He promised.”

Sam sighed. “I know. But he’s with Cassie.”

I shook my head. Sleeping would be difficult. I would have to sleep facing the door. It would give me nightmares if I didn’t. Dean normally slept facing the door, which meant I didn’t have to. But he wasn’t here.

“Alright, come here.” Sam patted his bed.

I turned back to him. “Are you sure?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Come on. I’ll face the door.” He smiled softly.

I broke into a smile and slid into his bed, pushing my face to his shoulder and sighing happily as he flicked the lights off and wrapped an arm around me.

“Night, bug.”

“Night, Sams.”

                                                          ***

“Why do I have to wait in the car?” I huffed.

Sam reached over and ruffled my hair. “Because you are a baby. It’s enough that I let you come with me. You should be in bed.”

I sighed and sank into the seat, fighting back a yawn. Sam tsked.

“I saw that.”

“Oh, shush.” I brushed him off.

“Alright, I’m right out there. Don’t leave the car, okay?”

I nodded. “Okay. Wait, wait, take your jacket!” I sat up, struggling to untangle the fabric from my own flannel.

“Bug-”

“No Sams, it’s cold and snowing out. Take it, I’ll be okay.”

“You sure?”

I pushed it into his hand and nodded again. “Go.”

“Okay. Love ya.”

“Love you too.” I made kissy noises at him as he clambered out of the car.

I yawned for real this time and made myself comfortable. I was bound to fall asleep. It was five in the morning, and the day before had drained me. I felt the driver’s door open, but I didn’t bother to open my eyes.

“Did you forget something?”

“Hi pumpkin.”

I spun so fast that my knees smashed into the dashboard, but I didn’t feel a thing.

“Dean!” I squealed, throwing myself at him, arms around his neck.

“Hey sweet girl.” He pulled me out of the car.

The snow landed on my eyelashes, and I clung tighter to Dean. He tightened his arms around my waist and plucked me off my feet.

“Where were you?” I asked as he swung me around before putting me back on my feet.

“Oh, I uh…” He pulled back and scratched the back of his neck.

“You were with Cassie?”

He nodded, a small blush on his cheeks. I giggled.

“Dean’s got a crush, Dean’s got a crush!” I sang.

He rolled his eyes and pulled me into his side, arm hooked around my shoulders. I reached up to my shoulder and held his hand.

“Come on, baby girl.”

“They’re with me.” Sam pointed to us over his shoulder and I pulled away from Dean with a snort as the cop shot us a strange look.

“You didn’t make it back to the motel.” Sam noted.

I giggled again, and Sam grinned.

“I’m guessing you guys worked things out?”

Dean snorted. “We’ll be working things out when we’re ninety.”

“So what happened?”

Sam sighed. “Every bone crushed. Internal organs turned to pudding. The cops are all stumped, looks like something ran him over.”

Dean and I looked at each other and he let out a huff.

“Something like a truck?”

“Yep.” Sam popped the p. 

“Tracks?”

“Nope.”

“What was the mayor doing here anyway?” Dean asked.

“He owned the property. Bought it a few weeks ago.”

“But he’s white. Doesn’t fit the pattern.” Dean tilted his head.

“Wrong road, too.” I sighed. “None of this fits.”

                                                          ***

“Have fun. Love you, cookie.” Sam grinned as I leaned forward to peck his cheek.

“Love you too, bubs.” I blew a raspberry against his temple, and he squirmed away, chuckling.

“Bye, beanie.” Dean grabbed me by the chin and pressed a kiss to my cheek.

“Bye, Deanie.” I rhymed, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose.

He scrunched it up with a smile, and they both watched as I tumbled out of the car and toward the front door.

“Hi, Olive!” Taylor squealed from the door.

“Hey.” I grinned as she came running, reaching for my hand.

I blushed at her as she laced her fingers through mine. She was just being sweet, as most girls were, but I couldn’t help the butterflies in my stomach.

“What’s up?”

“Not much. You?”

She shrugged. “Nothing. How are your brothers? Saw them dropping you off.”

I grinned, and my gay feelings were overhwhelmed by the pride I had for my brothers.

“They’re great.” I giggled. “Dean’s gotten back in touch with an old friend, Cassie. Sammy’s alright. We both love to tease Dean.” I smiled.

She nodded. “That’s really cute.”

I tilted my head as I looked up at her. “Nothing else to say?”

She shook her head. “No. Why?”

“Uh…” I trailed off. “Most girls always come running, talking about how cute my brothers are.”

She snickered. “No. I mean, they aren’t bad looking but I’m not into boys.” She looked me up and down with a smile.

My cheeks began to burn.

                                                          ***

“I’ll see you later?” Taylor squeezed my hand.

“Uh, yeah, I don’t really know when we’re lea-”

“Bug, come on. We’ve gotta go.” Sam came up behind me, grabbing me by the shoulders.

“Wh-what?” I looked at him over my shoulder.

“It’s Cassie. Dean wanted to come get you before we go.”

I nodded. “Yeah, okay. Sorry, Ty, I-I’ll see you later.” I squeezed her hand.

“Yeah, of course. Bye. Nice to meet you, Sam.” She smiled at him.

“You too.” He smiled politely before grabbing me by the hand and dragging me with him.

“So that’s Taylor, huh?” Sam looked down at me.

“We can talk about her later.” I rushed to the car, pulling the door open. “De, what happened?” I asked as I tossed my bag over the bench and slid into the middle.

Dean threw an arm around my shoulders and sighed at Sam as he closed the passenger door.

“Truck came at her.”

“Oh God.” I mumbled. “Let’s go.”

                                                          ***

“Here.” Sam passed a cup of tea to Cassie.

Dean was perched next to her, an arm around her. His demeanor was fierce and protective, and it was like nothing I had ever seen before. He was soft toward her, gentle and calm, but if anything came near her, his head would snap up like a dog’s.

“Maybe you could throw a couple of shots in that.” Cassie spoke as her hands shook, cup rattling.

“You didn’t see who was driving the truck?” I asked, settling on the coffee table in front of them, knees bumping into Dean’s.

He looked up at me, and I could see the worry in his eyes. He was scared. Scared she’d get hurt, scared she’d die. I leaned forward and squeezed his knee, eyebrows furrowed as I glanced from him to Cassie.

“It seemed to be no one.” Cassie shook her head, and Dean glanced at me, upset. “Everything was moving so fast. And then it was just gone.” She looked up to Dean. “Why didn’t it kill us?”

Dean’s eyebrows furrowed in anger. “Whoever was controlling the truck wants you afraid first.”

“Mrs. Robinson, Cassie said that your husband said he saw the truck before he died.” Sam spoke softly, head bowed and eyebrows furrowed.

The three of us looked the same when we made the sad, pitiful expression. Eyebrows furrowed, eyes big and puppy-like, lips pressed together in a pout.

Mrs. Robinson was shaking as she spoke. “Oh. Martin was under a lot of stress. You can’t be sure about what he was seeing.”

“Well after tonight, I think we can be reasonably sure he was seeing a truck.” Dean sighed, shoulders squared and pissy. “What happened tonight, you and Cassie are marked. Okay? Your daughter could die. So if you know something now would be a really great time to tell us about it.” He growled.

“Dean.” I warned, bumping my knee into his, staring at him with a warning glance.

Mrs. Robinson nodded. “Yes. Yes, he said he saw a truck.”

“Did he know who it belonged to?” Sam asked.

“He thought he did…”

“Who?” I turned to look at her.

“Cyrus.” She sighed, getting upset. “A man named Cyrus.”

The boys looked at each other, and Dean dug through his bag. I looked at Sam, confused. He twitched his nose. It didn’t matter.

“Is this Cyrus?” Dean asked, showing her the newspaper.

“Cyrus Dorian died more than 40 years ago.”

“How do you know he died, Mrs. Robinson?” Dean’s face changed as he leaned forward. “The paper’s said he went missing. How do you know he died?”

Mrs. Robinson whimpered and a few tears fell down her cheeks. “We were all very young. I dated Cyrus a while, I was also seeing Martin… in secret of course. Interracial couples didn’t go over too well back then.” She sighed. “When I broke it off with Cyrus and when he found out about Martin, I don’t know… He changed. His hatred… his hatred was frightening.”

“The murders.” Sam whispered.

“There were rumours. People of color disappearing into some kind of a truck.” She eyed me. “Not just black people. Hispanics too.”

I flinched. My mother had been Hispanic, and while I was raised by white boys, I had picked up a bit of Spanish and I was noticeably of color compared to my brothers.

“Nothing was ever done. Martin and a… Martin and I, we were going to be, uh… married in that little church near here, but last minute we decided to elope. We didn’t want the attention.”

“And Cyrus?” I asked, catching on.

“The day we set for the wedding, was the day someone set fire to the church. There was a children’s choir in there. They all died.” Mrs. Robinson broke into a sob.

Sam and I looked at each other and I sighed. He looked at me, nodding. I sniffled as I took over.

“Did the attacks stop after that?”

“No!” She cried. “There was one more! One night that truck came for Martin. Cyrus beat him something terrible.” She whined. “But Martin, he got loose. He started hitting Cyrus and he just kept hitting him and hitting him.”

Dean sighed. “Why didn’t you call the cops?”

“Dean.” I shook my head at him. “It was forty years ago. And Martin wasn’t white.” I sighed.

“He called his friends, Clayton Soames and Jimmy Anderson. They put Cyrus’s body into the truck and rolled it into the swamp at the end of his land. The three of them kept that secret for years.” Mrs. Robinson sighed.

“Now they’re all gone.”

“So is Mayor Todd.” I glanced at Dean.

“He said you of all people would know he isn’t racist.” Dean shook his head. “Why would he say that?”

“He was a good man.” Mrs. Robinson noddled. “He was a young deputy back then investigating Cyrus’ disappearance. Once he figured out what Martin and the others had done, he… he did nothing…”

“Because he also knew what Cyrus had done.” Sam picked up, and she nodded.

Cassie looked at her mother and sighed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Mrs. Robinson shook her head. “I thought I was protecting them. And now there’s no one left to protect.”

“Yes there is.” Dean sighed, then looked to Cassie.

Mrs. Robinson did the same, looking shaken up. Sam and I looked at each other once more, and I reached over to Dean again, this time grabbing his hand.

                                                          ***

“Ah, my life was so simple.” Sam huffed as he fiddled with his phone. “Just school, exams, papers on polycentric cultural norms.”

I yawned, pushing myself to sit on the front of the car. Dean was pacing in front of us. I held a hand out to him and he took it with a sad smile as he leaned against the car, between me and Sam.

“So I guess I saved you from a boring existence.”

“Yeah, occasionally I miss boring.” Sam sighed.

Dean huffed, and I leaned against him, biting back another yawn. We were staked out in front of Cassie’s house, and the plan was to stay. I probably wouldn’t go to school tomorrow, but I would’ve rather worked a case with my brothers.

“So, this killer truck.”

Sam sighed, this time dramatically. “I miss conversations that didn’t start with ‘this killer truck’. Ahh…” He sighed again.

Dean smiled as he shook his head. “Well, this Cyrus guy. Evil on a level that infected even his truck. When he died, the swamp became his tomb, and his spirit was dormant for 40 years.”

“So what woke it up?” I asked, yawning again.

Dean wrapped an arm around me and pulled me into him. I slumped against him, and the leather jacket warmed my cheek instantly.

“The construction on his house. Or destruction.” Dean shrugged.

“Oh, right. Demolition or-” I yawned again, then sniffed. “Remodeling can awaken spirits, make them restless.” I rubbed my eyes.

Dean hummed, and Sam snickered.

“Like that theatre in Illinois, ya know?”

“And the guy that tore down the family homestead, Harold Todd, is the same guy who kept Cyrus’ murder quiet and unsolved.”

“So now his spirit is awakened and out for blood.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Dean sighed.

“Who knows what ghosts are thinking anyways.” I sighed.

“You know we’re gonna have to dredge that body up from the swamp, right?” Sam turned to Dean, who smiled.

“Jesus. Can we call the Richmonds and get their help?” I asked, looking up at Dean before yawning again.

“Man.” Sam snorted.

“You said it.” Dean huffed.

“Hey.” Cassie called, and Dean stood, moving his hand to my knee as he looked at Cassie.

“Hey. She’s asleep. Now what?”

“Well you should stay put and look after her. We’ll be back. Don’t leave the house.” Dean ordered.

Cassie smiled. “Don’t go getting all authoritative on me. I hate it.”

Dean looked back at Sam and I as we chuckled. He looked down at his feet then back up.

“Don’t leave the house please?” Dean pouted, and Cassie smiled.

They leaned into each other and started to make out, and I squirmed, giggling. It was good to see Dean with someone who made him genuinely happy, not just a passing-by hook up. Sam wrapped an arm around my waist and lifted me off the hood. I squeaked as he swung me around and dropped me in front of the passenger door.

Sam cleared his throat, and Dean snickered as he broke apart from Cassie.

“You two comin’ or what?”

Sam and I looked at each other once more with a giggle.

                                                          ***

“Alright, let’s get her up.” Sam called to Dean.

“A little more. Little more. Little more. Alright, stop!” I put a hand up to Dean.

He was driving a stupid giant tractor, which was pulling the nasty, rusted truck from the water. He turned the tractor off and hopped off, meeting me at Baby’s trunk.

“Nice going, Freckles.” I elbowed him.

“Hell yeah.” Dean grinned, popping the trunk open.

“Now I get what she sees in you.” Sam scoffed.

“What?” Dean looked up, practically elbow deep in the weapons compartment.

I rolled my eyes, and Sam laughed.

“What?” Dean turned back to us, confused, hands on his hips.

“Oh, don’t play. You’re still in love with her.”

“Can we please focus?” Dean glared at me through narrowed eyes.

“Dean, we’re just saying.”

“Hold that.” Dean shoved a canister of salt into my hands, and I huffed.

“Alright, What else?”

“Gas, flashlight…” Dean trailed off, now in business mode.

“Alright, alright, let’s go.” I pulled on his wrist.

Sam chuckled as we made our way back to the car. Dean pushed me into Sam’s chest as he opened the door. An old, rotting body fell out and I jumped back, disgusted.

                                                          ***

“Wait, no, I wanna do it!” I jumped up, reaching for the matches as Dean pulled it up out of my reach.

Sam shrugged, and Dean rolled his eyes with a smile as he handed me the box.

I lit the match and let it fall onto the body, watching as it went up in flames. I shivered, and Dean wrapped his arms around me. Sam leaned over, pushing Dean’s head out of the way to press a kiss to the top of my head.

“Think that’ll do it, De?” Sam asked.

I blinked as I looked up between them. Sams rarely called Dean by ‘De’, but when he did, it was a soft moment between the two.

Dean was about to open his mouth, and then the sound of an engine revving made us jump. Dean’s arms tightened around me and he scowled.

“I guess not.”

                                                          ***

“So burning the body did nothing?” I asked, looking up at Dean, panic growing.

“Sure it did.” Dean snorted. “Now he’s just pissed.”

“But Cyrus’ ghost is gone, right?” Sam was also panicked. “De?”

“Apparently not the part that’s fused with the truck.”

“Gimme your keys.” I held my hand out.

“What?” Dean looked at me.

I grabbed him by the jacket and yanked the keys from his pocket. I turned and scampered away before he could catch me.

“Olive, what are you going?”

“Kid, where the hell are you going?” Dean growled.

“Getting him away from you guys. I’m not white, I burned his body, I’m a good driver. I can lead him away while you guys burn that pile of shit.” I hissed, pointing at the rusted truck.

“Wait, wait!” Dean ran after me. “No, you’re a kid, you can’t just-”

“How the hell are we supposed to burn a truck, Ol?”

“I dunno, figure something out!” I ran from Dean, ducking into the car and locking the door.

“Figure some-something…” Sam trailed off.

Dean hit the window and glared at me as I started the car.

“Olive. Let me in.”

“No! Help Sam.” I hissed.

“Olive Sam Winchester! Don’t be a fucking brat, let me in.” He hit the window again.

I rolled my eyes before leaning over and unlocking the passenger door.

“Buckle up. I’m driving.” I turned the car around before slamming the gas.

“Okay, we need a plan.” Dean scoffed as he looked behind us.

The truck revved, and I pumped the gas, the Impala pushing 80 on the wet road. Dean pulled his phone out and put it to his ear, hanging onto the dash.

“Sam!” A pause. “Well we don’t have a minute! What are we doing?” Another pause.

The truck got closer. I couldn’t see the plates, and his lights were blinding me. I flipped the rear view up and floored it. Baby’s engine groaned, but she sped up to 100.

“Get back to me?” Dean mumbled, disgruntled.

“Dean, I’m gonna run out of road.” I warned, once again pumping the gas.

My phone rang, and Dean dug through my jacket pocket, snatching it and flicking it open.

“Alright, guys?”

“Sams, this better be good.” I hissed, pushing the gas as far as it would go.

She topped out at 120, and the truck was gaining quickly.

“Where are you guys?”

“In the middle of nowhere with a killer truck on our asses! It’s like it knows Olive put the torch to Cyrus.” Dean twisted around to look at the truck.

“Listen to me! This is important. I have to know exactly where you are.”

“I dunno!” I shouted back as the truck inched closer.

“Decatur road. About two miles off the highway.” Dean was sitting completely backwards now.

“Okay. Headed East?”

“Yes!”

The truck backended us, and the tires spun out.

“Fuck! Shit!” I hissed as the wheel spun before letting me take control once more, tires to ice.

Dean looked back at the truck and slid into the middle seat, putting a hand on my knee. “You’re doing great, angel, just keep going.”

“Okay, uh, turn right! Up ahead bug, turn right!”

“Hold on.” I growled to Dean as I slammed the brakes, the car swinging onto the road on the right.

The truck followed, and I pumped the gas once more, bringing her to 98.

“You make the turn?”

“Yeah, Sam, she made the turn.” Dean was trying to stay calm so that I would stay calm, but I could see right through him.

He was scared and angry, maybe more so than I was.

“Bubs, you’ve gotta move this thing along a little faster.” I pleaded, pressing the gas as far as it would go.

“Alright, you see the road up ahead?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Dean and I answered at the same time, and I felt my blood grow colder as I checked the side mirror, only to see the truck gaining on us.

“Okay, you’ve gotta turn left.”

“Wha-left?” I looked to Dean, eyes huge.

“All you’ve gotta do is slam the brakes. He’ll keep going, you can gun it down the road. Okay?”

I nodded, waiting until I was a few yards away from the road. Dean grabbed me by the shoulders and steadied his hand against the dash. I glanced at him and he nodded at me. I slammed the brakes, lurching forward. I slipped from Dean’s grasp, my nose slamming into the steering wheel.

“Are you guys okay?” Sam must’ve heard me mumble a curse under my breath.

“Yeah, we’re fine.” I turned the wheel as far as it would go and turned onto the smaller road.

“Now what?”

“You need to go seven tenths of a mile and then stop.”

I glanced at Dean out of the corner of my eye. “Stop?” I echoed.

“Olive, it has to be exactly seven tenths.”

“Shit. Seven tenths.”

“What are-”

“Point two.”

“When it hits point nine, turn her around and stop.” Dean instructed.

I glanced between the road and the speedometer, and Dean turned around, looking for the truck.

.05…

.06…

.07…

.08…

.09

I went for the emergency brake, and Baby spun around, now facing where we had come from. I put her in reverse and backed her up a foot, now exactly between two posts on the sides of the roads, a broken down wall to Dean’s side. The truck appeared on the road, engine revving.

I glanced at Dean, and he swallowed hard.

“Guys, you still there?”

“Yeah.” I let out a breath, feeling sick to my stomach.

“What’s happening?”

“It’s just sitting here staring at us. What do we do?” Dean asked, reaching for my hand.

I took it and squeezed, adrenaline from the chase still pumping, but I was horrified.

“Just keep doing what you’re doing. Bring it to you.”

Dean and I looked at each other, and my nose began to burn. My eyes welled with tears as I breathed.

“Sammy…”

“Jelly bean, just trust me.”

Dean looked down at me and nodded. “We’ll be okay. I promise you.”

The truck’s tires began to spin in the mud, and it finally gained traction, coming right towards us.

“Dean.” My voice was quiet, and my heart felt like it was burning a hole into my stomach.

“Come on, come on.” Dean whispered as he wrapped his arms around my torso and brought me into him, shielding me from watching.

I hid my face in his shirt and began to sob as he held me tightly. The roar of the truck’s engine grew louder and louder, and I felt Dean squeeze me with one arm, the other now gone.

Nothing came, and the truck’s engine went quiet. Dean let out a huff, and I slowly looked up, confused.

“It’s gone.” He shrugged at me.

“Guys? You still there?”

Dean and I only stared at each other, confused.

“De? Bug?”

“Uh yeah, Sam where the hell did it go?”

“You guys are where the church is.”

Dean squinted, and I scoffed. “What?”

“The place Cyrus burned down. Where he killed all those kids.”

Dean looked around, and I scoffed again. “Not much of it left.”

Sam laughed, “Church ground is hallowed ground, whether the church is still there or not. Evil spirits cross over hallowed ground, sometimes they’re destroyed, so I figured, maybe, that would get rid of it.”

Dean’s eyes snapped up. “Maybe? Maybe?” Dean roared. “What if you were wrong? Olive could’ve died, Sam!”

“Hey, it’s okay.” I grabbed his hands and held them in mine, giving him my best puppy eyes.

“Huh. Honestly, that thought hadn’t occurred to me.”

Dean stared at the phone before hanging up. “Well honestly, it didn’t occur to me.” He mocked, rolling his eyes.

I giggled at the high pitch of his voice and he scowled as he shook his head. “I’m gonna kill him. Now move over, I’m driving back.”

                                                          ***

“Hey.” I whispered as Taylor slipped past the crowd of kids leaving the school and to me.

“Hi. Where’ve you been?” She asked, eyes wide and beautiful under the sunlight.

I sighed. “Um… my brothers needed help with the job… It was a late night, but we got it done.” I shook my head. “I just wanted to come say goodbye.”

Her shoulders fell and she sighed. “Does… does that mean you guys are leaving?”

I sniffled, feeling my eyes well with tears. “Taylor, I’m really sorry. I wish things could be different, but-”

“Can I just…” She cut me off, staring at me with her mouth open.

“What?”

“Can I kiss you?”

My heart went rapid-fire in my chest, and I felt my stomach get tingly. I licked my lips and nodded, and she smiled her perfect, soft, pink, heart-lipped smile before putting her hands on my neck and leaning down to kiss me. I melted into her hold, placing my hands on her waist and inching closer, onto the tips of my toes to meet her lips.

She pulled back, wiped a tear from her cheek, took my hands in hers, then smiled at me. “Maybe one day…”

I nodded. “We’ll see each other again.”

She squeezed my hands. “It was nice meeting you, Olive.”

I grinned. “Yeah. You too, Taylor.”

“Stay safe.” She let our hands fall apart as I took a step back.

I nodded again. “I will be.” I sniffled, ignoring the tears falling down my cheeks. “I’ll see you around, Ty.”

I turned on my heel and let the tears stream down my face, trying so hard to keep my breathing in check. I focused on Dean and Sam sitting in Baby. Dean looked my way, then away, and right back. He pushed out of the car and met me in front of the passenger side.

“Hey sweetie.” He brushed my hair behind my ear, face full of concern.

I let out a breath before taking another one in, body shuddering. I closed my eyes and let out a small whimper.

“Hey. Come on.”

“Bug…” Sam opened the door.

I blinked, looking up at them.

“There’s my girl.” Dean cooed.

“Is she upset?” Sam asked me, reaching out for my hand.

I shrugged as I took it. “Who wouldn’t be?”

Dean grabbed me by the cheeks and turned me to face him. I started to cry again, feeling like I was about to get yelled at.

“Listen, pumpkin. If you ever want to stay anywhere, for any reason. All you have to do is say the word.” He put a hand on my cheek and studied my face as I cried harder.

I had forgotten that this was Dean, not Dad.

“Cookie, it’s gonna be okay.” Sam’s hand landed on my back, rubbing small circles.

I sniffed and hugged Dean again, crashing into him with my arms around his middle. We were in the middle of the parking lot, and other kids were definitely watching me sob.

“Ollie, I’m serious. I would put the world on hold for you if it meant you were happy. Do you understand me?”

I nodded, feeling tears well up again.

“You are my baby.” He bent down to catch my eye. “I would do anything for you.”

I looked from him to Sam, seeing pain and pity and sadness on both of their baby-faces. I shook my head.

“I couldn’t do that to her. This stuff follows us around. I couldn’t put her in that position.” I sighed, then broke into a smile. “Besides, I’ve got absolutely everything I need right here.”

Dean smiled, brushing my hair behind my ears as he cupped my cheeks. “So… girls, am I right?”

I broke into a giggle as he smiled wider, pulling me into a hug.

“We love you, baby girl. Wouldn’t trade you for the world.”

Previous Ep: Faith (1.12)

Next Ep: Nightmare (1.14)

[ancientbooshartifacts]

The Even Stranger Tale of the Crack Fox

Author: PlanetBanjo

Year: 2008

Rating: NC-17

Characters: The Crack Fox

Thud. Thud. Thud. The rubbish bags land heavily somewhere above, waking me. Vermin. I sigh heavily, switch on my cine-film projector and sip some cat’s blood. Artic foxes fuck and flicker across a make-shift screen. Soon I’ll make you wear a little dress and hurt you. Soon. ^~*~^ Elderberry Wood bored me rigid today. Dante drove me to distraction with his incessant ranting. Yesterday, he shot a man clean out of a tree just for ‘looking a bit ginger’. I warned him that we can’t have humans taking an interest in a badger, especially not one with racist leanings and a rifle. OK, so there was the horrendous incident with the shovels but no matter how much Dante attempts to justify his actions, I shall always decline to agree with him. And there’s dear Nicholas with his fixation with tennis. I admire his tenacity and dedication to the sport yet his unwavering determination that a rodent will play at Wimbledon is becoming a little repetitive and grating. Poor misguided Nicholas. His habit of continually pissing himself plays havoc with his tennis whites. All so dreadfully dreary. I can’t shake off the feeling that life elsewhere is so much more interesting. ^~*~^ My cousin, Jack Cooper, sent me a letter! Jack’s an urban fox. He often tells me stories about London Town and the people he meets there. I must say, those town fellows sound rather over-familiar types. He once told me about an experience he had whilst staying in a peculiar-sounding place where animals are held captive so that humans can come and look at them. Jack said there was a tall, shifty-eyed chap with a moustache who worked at this odd place and that the man had tried to touch his cock. When this chap said he just wanted to clean him up, Jack said ‘no’ and tried to bite him but then he was given something that sent him into a deep slumber. Jack says that he doesn’t recall what happened afterwards but he was sure it was very bad indeed. He said the moustached fellow often passed by his cage and gave him a sinister sideways glance that made his hackles rise. My cousin is now free of the animal prison and lives on the streets of Dalston. He says he’s happy there and that his diet is better than the one he endured in Hackney. He advised me that a diet of fried chicken, false nails and crack pipes leads to acute tummy shame. However, Jack’s letter only served to increase my feelings of general ennui. Life here is dull dull dull. ^~*~^ Today I took a ride on my penny farthing along Leafy Lane and decided to rest a while on a grassy knoll. As I cast a disinterested gaze around me, I caught sight of a discarded magazine lying in a nearby hedgerow. Its glossy coloured pages fluttered in the breeze, sending out waves of a curious smelling perfume. I leant across and reached into the bush, tugging it free. Upon wiping the dirt from the cover, I saw that the magazine was called CHEEKBONE and so I sat down beneath a willow tree to read it. It is not like the usual magazines that I find tossed into the bushes. There are many photographs of people inside its pages and they talk of restaurants and nightclubs and music. And they are all wearing very nice clothes. The magazine is very exciting. I have already read it several times, over and over and over and over. I think I would like to go to London Town, one day. ^~*~^ I am on a train to London! Dante and Nicholas were resolutely against me going away. They said: “Jerome, this is a big mistake. You’ll be back here in a fortnight with your sorry tail between your legs.” Dante hit me hard with the butt of his rifle, as if to change my mind but I insisted that I want to see more of the world and that I must take this opportunity to sample the lifestyle I have seen in CHEEKBONE magazine. I told my friends that if I spend one more afternoon punting along the river through Cambridge Town then I would eat my own ears in pure frustration. After all, if all the stories Jack has told me are true, the life of an urban fox will be far more stimulating than an existence spent entirely in Elderberry Wood! So, I have new clothes, which are just like the ones worn by the people in CHEEKBONE and I have applied a little of the perfume contained inside the paper flap on one of its pages. I assume all people in London smell this way? ^~*~^ Oh, this situation is quite intolerable! I have visited all the labour exchanges in this part of town and yet there are no vacancies! Do these humans not recognise a hard-working fox of good breeding and intelligence when they see one? If my cousin were not an urban fox, I would blame those grubby town creatures for giving my species a bad reputation with their nightly rattling and scattering of dustbins and their yapping and yelping in back gardens. Should I wrap myself in plastic carrier bags and wear rotting fruit on my head? Would they employ me then? Would that be more acceptable? And Jack was right - the edible pickings here are atrocious. A young fox cannot survive on a diet of saturated fat and sticky sauce sachets. I must have freshly-made cucumber sandwiches and drinking fresh spring water, not this abomination on the taste buds! Isn’t it enough that I have to battle with the rancid humans that live on the street for the best scraps? They scuttle around in their filthy blankets like common vermin, scurrying amongst the rubbish, which means I often miss out on obtaining the better take-away leftovers. These people are thoroughly unpleasant and they smell nothing like the paper flaps of my magazine. This really isn’t cricket. ^~*~^ Three weeks in London now and nothing. Trying to survive on wits and wile alone is proving arduous, even for a fox of my calibre. Winter is drawing in and the nights grow colder. There are no snug burrows to retreat to when the black frost creeps across the pavements. I spend my days wandering aimlessly, growing increasingly grubby and despondent and sleeping under railway arches until I am shoo-ed rudely away by the Street People. My clothes grow filthy and worn. I pawned my monocle to pay for a few nights in a hostelry. The people there gave me hot soup and blankets. They found my copy of CHEEKBONE and told me that the people in its pages were immoral. They said a young fox shouldn’t believe everything he sees in fashion magazines and then they showed me some pamphlets. The pamphlets were filled with brightly-coloured drawings of a man with a beard and a flowing gown. He had light coming out of his hands and people looked up to him and smiled. My copy of CHEEKBONE magazine, constantly in my pocket, is now tattered and torn. Where on earth do I find the people inside its pages? ^~*~^ Finally, my fortunes have changed! Whilst sifting through the meagre pickings at the rear entrance of ‘Dixie Fried Chicken’, my eye fell upon a scrap of local newspaper that carried the following advertisement. ‘WANTED – FURRY FRIENDS FOR SELECT NEW CLUB’. Well, I’m furry! And I’m seeking a select club! So I spruced myself up a little and went along to the address to see what it was all about. The gentleman running ‘The Tufty Club’, Mr. Soames, was very hospitable. He warmly welcomed me into his office and gave me some freshly-cooked chicken and clean water, which I devoured hungrily. There were pictures on the office walls just like the ones in CHEEKBONE! He was a little evasive when I pressed him on the matter of wages and hours but I expect this will all be worked out as we go along. Then he provided me with a small cash advance, gave me instructions about the kind of clothes I will be expected to wear and told me that I could start tomorrow. Apparently I am exactly what the club is looking for! I’m still not sure exactly what I’m going to be doing there but...I’ve got a job! ^~*~^ What a night! There were lots of flashing lights and lots of smiling people and loud, loud MUSIC! At first I was a little wary about what I had to do. Lots of men with moustaches and white vests stared at me. Was this the place Jack had told me about in his letter? One of the men approached me and he held out a little glass pot, telling me to sniff it. He said it would help me work better. Well, I pressed my snout cautiously to that little pot and - WWOOOOOOOO!!! I felt really fine and the world was full of colours and the man span me round and held me in his arms and I was dancing! I danced all night and into the morning in my little white vest! And there were lots of other men who also danced with me and Jack shouldn’t have been so scared of that man with a moustache because he didn’t want to hurt me! He helped me feel good with his sniffy-pots! All I have to do is dance on a little podium and shake my tail around and let the men stroke me! Ha ha! These are fun-fun times! ^~*~^ Mr Soames pays extra attention to me. He lets me sleep in a nice warm cupboard in his flat. He says that he has a special job he would like me to do, and that he will pay me twice my hourly wage if I do it. I am not sure what my hourly wage is – there has been a cash-flow problem, apparently, which has resulted in a slight delay in my payment – but he assures me it will be easy work and that the money will be very good indeed. He is a kind man. I am happy to perform any extra tasks he has, especially if it pays well. Who knows? One day I might have enough money to have my own flat, and then Jack and I shall have dinner parties for other sophisticated intellectuals. We shall be proper urban foxes about town! ^~*~^ This evening, Mr. Soames showed me the job he wanted me to do. He invited me into his office after my shift. He said it wouldn’t take long. He asked me to remove my trousers and then told me to stand on all fours on top of his desk and face the wall. I was a little cautious but he had told me the job would pay well, so I complied. As I faced forward, I heard him undo the belt on his trousers. He gently took hold of my tail and pressed his large warm belly against my haunches. I tensed a little as I felt the hot, wet tip of something long and hard rubbing against my fox-anus. I gave a startled yelp as he pushed the hot wet thing – which I rapidly released was his man-cock – right inside me, sliding it in deep with a groan. I struggled against him but he held me fast, stroking my fur, telling me to be quiet and not to worry. Then he pushed himself against me, back and forth, making lots of grunting sounds that reminded me of Nicholas playing tennis. I dug my claws into the desk surface and gazed up at the people in the photos around the office walls, concentrating on their smiles, trying to bear the pounding at my rear, telling myself this job would pay well. After a few minutes, Soames gave a gargled scream. He tugged his cock out of me, hurriedly refastening his trousers, tossed 100 euros on to the desk and left the room. I delicately stepped down from the desk, hitched up my garments and collected the money. What a very interesting experience this is turning out to be! ^~*~^ The stupid creature screeched as I grabbed and twisted its neck, its front paws scrabbling frantically in mid-air, claws protruding sharply. I gritted my fangs and smashed its head hard against a brick wall. The cat’s body went limp in my grasp, its eyes rolling shut. With my syringes, I slit its throat and watched its blood begin to trickle slowly from the wound. As I licked at the warm viscous liquid, I noticed the tag around its neck read ‘Puffin’. Puffin shouldn’t have taken what wasn’t his. ^~*~^ Last night after work, Mr Soames introduced me to another man who wanted me to do a special job for him, too. I told the man that I felt a little weary after a night’s podium dancing and that I needed to rest. He laughed and said he had something that would help me stay awake, adding that he would pay me 200 euros if I went to his flat right away. The man gave a wide smile from beneath his large moustache. He reassured me that all I would have to do was wear a little dress and dance for his friends. It sounded easy enough. ^~*~^ if I have an entire paw of needles then I can take more drugs and I can forget about the cold and the wet and the terrible hunger because I’ve eaten nothing but old bottles of shampoo and squeezed-up tubes of toothpaste and pieces of shit for the last four weeks I’m not proud of it but when you’re hungry and you’re on the streets and you’ve got nothing to eat but handfuls of human faeces and a fox has got to do what a fox has to do and the Street People talk of a drug that’s so powerful that a single drop can make you King of the World and everyone will do your bidding but I don’t know because they are bombed out of their tiny minds for most of the time and what a ridiculous idea a drug that can give you special power over everyone and everything and who the hell would want power over those shambolic filthy creatures who spend all day gulping their electric soup and having fights and is this really what mankind has become it would be so easy to get them to do anything I wanted them to do ^~*~^ I can’t...I can’t do this anymore. The men never stop. They give me their special powders and they pound at me for hours and... They never stop. So I’m running away. Back to the streets. I can’t go back to Elderberry Wood. Dante and Nicholas will laugh at me and constantly remind me they were right. ^~*~^ The green-toothed man in the filthy blanket had it coming. His neck...it broke...beneath my claws. It broke...so easily. As easy as a cat. Then I plunged my syringes and pushed them deep into the veins of his throat and I watched in fascination as he screamed and struggled beneath me. I felt the pulse in his neck gradually fade away. A misty vapour formed around his mouth as he gave his last breath. FIDDLE-DEE-DIE. I see now that Dante was right. Humans are vermin and must be destroyed. Why didn’t I ever listen to him? ^~*~^ Thud. Thud. Thud. I watch and I listen. And I see the small man put the large glass bottle into his special cupboard and he locks it away. Then he gives the key to the pretty man who looks like a lady. I will rule these pathetic creatures. I will command them. So I wait. My time will come. I watch and I wait.

[sweetsunrayssr]

Max, the stray cat

“Many men have played a role in Nassau's story, but none have been able to break the cycle of brutality and failure. Your granddaughter came as close  as anyone before or since. But at the end of the day and despite her best intentions, there was one truth even she was unable to see. That at some point, progress cannot begin and suffering will not end until someone has the courage to go out into the woods and drown the damned cat.” (Max to Grandma Guthrie, XXXV, 4x07)

We know what Grandma Guthrie did with Richard Guthrie’s tomcat. And certainly 4x07 had the plot guns veering into the direction to aim for Flint. But is that the sole cat in focus, or is there another stray cat who was saved by a Guthrie so many times? There is: Max.

Remember those fairytales where an envious friend/sister/chambermaid abused the trust and generosity of a female lead character, procured her posessions, status and power, displaced the trusting soul by manipulating her? Right at the end of the story this social climbing deceiver is asked by a powerful ruler who suspects her of wrongdoing how she would punish someone who committed such crimes. And after the deceiver answers with a death sentence, she is demasked and executed in the manner she offered.

The whole scene between Grandma Guthrie and Max has that same foreshadowing vibe. The entire focus is on Max revealing bit by bit something about herself, including her unwillingness to answer certain questions that are dangerously close. It appears that Grandma Guthrie is not unsympathetic towards Max, but I would wager it is pure appearance alone. Grandma Guthrie is doing needle-point the entire conversation, something that visually connects her to Eleanor who was learning in 4x01 to look the part, to play her role. In other words, Grandma Guthrie is pretending here, playing a part, playing a role, including being sympathetic to Max. Eleanor was taught needle-point by her spying chambermaid. Grandma Guthrie was spying earlier in the day, when Rackham sought an audience with Grandpa Guthrie. She is observing and assessing Max in the later scene, like a spy.

Now let’s inspect some very relevant and pointed questions from Grandma Guthrie

“So, Richard would feed the tomcat  and Joseph would flog him for disobeying,  kick the tomcat for instigating. But the next night, the tomcat would return,  and on and on and on it went. See, none of them was capable of changing. The cat a slave to his hunger, my son to his decency, my husband to his rage. [...] Suppose the question is in Nassau's story, which of these roles do you play?” 

Grandma Guthrie stresses that none of them was capable of changing their nature. One can grow, one can pretend to play a role, but the nature to hunger to be given power/wealth, the nature to rescue and the nature to rage is an unchangeable instinct that returns over and over. And in Nassau’s story, Max was a stray cat, while Eleanor was repeatedly her savior: from Charles Vane, from Mr. Hammond and his colleagues, Woodes, Berringer, the pirates.

What was Max’s response to this? She blamed Eleanor for the Ranger crew raping her and remained with her rapists. She stole leads and gave them to Ned Low. She got her hands on Eleanor’s business.

Not so coincidentally Eleanor’s needle-point scene has Max being alarmed how much they are changing, with Eleanor responding that nothing important or fundamental would change quickly. And it did not.

Max managed to manipulate Eleanor into holding Vane’s trial on the island, to manipulate her into believing Nassau was lost and that Eleanor and Woodes alone were to blame for it, to guilt trip her into Max losing everything (though she arrived with nothing and all she owned was Eleanor’s business she had undermined and bought cheaply). And Eleanor kept feeding her stray cat Max.

Max never answers Grandma Guthrie’s question about the role she played in Nassau’s story. But notice how Grandma said the cat was a slave to hunger. That was a deliberate word choice of hers to a woman who obviously had some slave origin.

Richard and Eleanor’s roles in Nassau’s story of Black Sails were those of saviors. In Richard Guthrie’s office in 1x01 Billy eyes a painting strangely: it’s a painting of beheaded John the Baptist, the man who heralds the coming of the savior who ends up on the cross or martyred. Richard is found murdered by Vane on a cross in S2, where earlier Ned Low was beheaded by Vane. Eleanor pretty much dies as the villified martyr, majorly because of Woodes’ choice, Woodes who also had Blackbeard beheaded. 

Grandma Guthrie: “So, how exactly does one rise  from a slave plantation in the French West Indies to a library in Philadelphia, trying to remake the world?” 

Max: What difference does it make?    

Max’s evasion and Grandma Guthrie’s dagger look suggests that it makes quite a lot of difference. Eleanor’s grandmother is on to Max, or very soon will be.

What reason could Grandma Guthrie possibly have to “drown Max, the cat”? Woodes Rogers gives us a hint earlier in the episode.

“Eleanor turned her guns on me. Eleanor betrayed me. Surrendered Nassau out from under me. None of that sounded like anything that would ever occur to her to do. Not her. Not after everything we'd been through.  But if it had occurred first to someone else [...] Someone standing so close to her,  who could and would manipulate her to secure their own survival.”  (Woodes to Mrs. Hudson, 4x07)

Ding-dong! Not Mrs. Hudson, but Max was close to Eleanor. She throws a pity-party over all she lost, blames Eleanor and Woodes. Eleanor apologizes and makes emotional amends by revealing she loved Max enough that she wanted to say yes in 1x02.

“I truly am sorry. For all of it. If there was a way I could make things right here, I'd do it.” (Eleanor to Max, 4x04)

Shortly after Woodes Rogers appears in the bay with the Man O War and Eleanor beames with love and relief. And she gives Lieutenant Utley the orders to move the guns in the direction of the beach.

And then Max decides to remind Eleanor of what she is willing to do, to make it right again for her.

Afterwards, Eleanor sends an invite to Flint and Silver and proposes the fated cache-exchange deal.

Eleanor obviously saw it as a way for Woodes to repay his debts, rather than give it to Spain. Spain and England are at war. He could have legally regarded it as a war prize. Woodes suspects Mrs. Hudson and Eleanor had a deal. But Eleanor needed no such deal to relieve Mrs. Hudson, and Mrs. Hudson would have helped her regardless her plan. There was a deal between Max and Eleanor: Eleanor promised to give a portion of the cache to Max.

When the Spanish fleet arrives, Eleanor is at the beach at the other side of the island to retrieve the cache. While the rest of the council is unwilling to try and retrieve Eleanor, Max flies to the site with ONE HORSE, not two, not a cart, but ONE HORSE for HERSELF. More importantly, as self-sacrificing it seems of Max to ride to Eleanor’s rescue and Eleanor’s whereabout is all that Max is interested in when she finds Rackham on the beach, she easily abandons Eleanor to her fate and boards the governor’s sloop that Rackham captured. Something is very off here. It just doesn’t add up at first sight.

The key is that Max is not phased, not disturbed about Eleanor in the interior during the discussions between Mr. Frasier and Mr. Soames on whether to defend themselves or surrender to the Spanish, until Lieutenant Utley informs them that the lead ship just sent the governor’s signal and ordered them to stand down.

And she shows signs of extreme nervousness and fear the moment Mr. Soames decides they will follow Woodes’ orders.

So what about it being Woodes behind the Spanish fleet coming upsets her more than the Spanish fleet arriving without Woodes? It meant that Woodes intended to give that cache to the Spanish. On top of that Berringer had accused her of treason, and while Eleanor might have protected her from Berringer, she would be unable to protect Max from Woodes, especially since her closest associates Featherstone and Idelle were with the pirates. It was game over for Max, and she raced on horseback to Eleanor to get her portion of the cache at least, hoping to inform Eleanor of Woodes bringing Spain and hide in a cave or take a boat, likely with the intent to convince Eleanor into leaving with her.

Max did not go to the beach for Eleanor, but herself, for the cache, so she would have something “to show for”. And so when no Eleanor, no cache, she joined Rackham to the ship, making no effort at all.

In a way, Max is likewise responsible for Eleanor’s death. And this is something that Grandma Guthrie would not like.

Which brings us to the last question by Grandma Guthrie to Max:

“But there is one question remaining  that you will have to show me you can adequately answer. What will you do when the cat fights back?”

As Grandma Guthrie has not yet made any demand here about Flint, the cat can be seen as Nassau, but certainly Woodes. What happens to Max if Woodes is arrested and taken to Philadelphia and learns of Max’s involvement? What happens if Woodes fights back, connects the dots and accuses her of putting ideas into Eleanor’s mind that forced him to get Spanish help and all her “treason” before that? Hence, Max pronounced her own demise to Grandma Guthrie when she suggested to drown the cat.

ETA: I’m not trying to point out that Max does not mourn Eleanor. I’m not saying she does not care for Eleanor. But that there is far more self-interest (and a material one at that) in Max’s motivations and behavior, especially in S4. I don’t think ill of Max looking after herself more than the ex-lover wedded to another. I’m only pointing out that Max did manipulate Eleanor into choosing to do more for her than she was wiling to do in return, and it set recent chain reaction events in motion with deadly outcome. I don’t see Grandma Guthrie particularly shrug that off plot-wise, especially when Max uses the emotional angle of “revengeon the person that got your granddaughter killed.” Grandma Guthrie proved to have a larger scope than just the obvious link to Eleanor’s death by wanting Flint taken out.