Snippets Eighty-Three: Surviving an Ice Storm

John spent every day carefully driving ice covered roads and searching for the evil in Oak Island, Texas.  He researched the back copies of the local “Anahuac Progress.”  It wasn’t difficult.  The paper only came out once a week.  He smirked when he was told this.

He discovered that there was an unusual number of teenagers who had died in the small communities in the area.  He couldn’t imagine the county having more than 4 or 5 thousand people.

He finally found a working phone out on Interstate 10 at a convenience store.  He called both Bobby and Pastor Jim with his information.   He promised to call back in the evening. 

Dean spent his time keeping Sammy warm and using the camp stove to heat food and hot chocolate for his brother and himself.  He read to Sammy and taught him more words.

John came in and told the boys he would be gone for the evening.  Dean expected him home and probably drunk, but John did not come home.  Castiel could sense the fear in this charge.  He realized that John had not told them he wouldn’t be home.  It was the not first time the hunter had done this.  Dean was concerned about money in the bad weather.  There was only a small convenience store and it was closed.  The Dairy Queen was not open either.

  

Castiel left the motel and searched for the Impala.  John was staying at a nice motel on the Interstate with a  woman he had met at a bar.  He had the name of what he was hunting and knew what he had to do, so he celebrated. The angel was furious.  The boys were cold and running out of food.  A hot meal from one of the food places on the freeway would have helped them.

John went after his prey the next morning, not knowing that his youngest son was sick.  He came home late that evening, drunk.  Dean was sitting in the only chair in the room, a look of fear on his face, when his father finally came home.

 

John looked at his oldest son.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Sammy’s sick.  We have no food, Dad.  I had no money to get medicine.  I couldn’t find a place.  Everything’s closed, Dad.  He’s sick.  Where were you last night?  We needed you.”

“Don’t talk to me like that, Dean.  Soldiers don’t question their commanders.”

“I’m not a soldier, I’m a boy.  Sammy’s sick.”

John struck his oldest son with an open hand, knocking the boy to the floor.

“Go to bed!”

The older man fell across the other bed and was soon snoring.

Castiel knelt by his charge.  Dean held his face.  There was a look of cold anger in his eyes and the angel felt fear for the boy.

‘Father?’ the angel called as the oldest boy climbed into bed next to his little brother.  He held Sammy close, keeping him warm with his body heat.  A small sob escaped him, but he quickly smothered it.

‘Yes, my Son?’

‘John struck Dean!’

‘It will happen again, Castiel.  Dean has learned a valuable lesson.’

‘What can a small child learn from this?’

‘Not to trust his father.  Dean will rely upon himself from now on.  It will take a lot of caring from others to break his barrier.’

‘Father, this cannot be right!’

‘It is not, my Son, but it is part of being human and having free will.’

‘I still do not understand that.’

‘You will one day, and Dean will teach you.  Right now, love him.  He has so little of that.’

The angel climbed into the bed and placed an unfelt arm around his charge and let his warmth and peace cover the boy and his little brother.