22. A Crack in the Armor

I gasp as my eyes shoot open again. I could see it all so easily: his emaciated frame darting out into the road, trying to get to the other side; me holding his sister back so she didn't follow his example; my voice the loudest thing in my ears as I see the accident before my eyes; his sister's panicked cries as the scene intensified.

I should have gone in there, I should have been there with him as he died. But I didn't. I hid, with his sister, like a coward. I could have comforted him, but my fear of people stopped me. Fear, again, won over me.

I pull my arms tighter around Sophie, trying to give her some warmth. We're both shivering. At least she's asleep. She's content against my side, something she adopted since I saved her and her brother. They're both my children, adopted children of course. I've never been around kids much, wasn't fond of them. It's one thing to be around siblings, because they're blood. Other children, that's a different story. Now all I want is to protect Sophie, shield her from the dangers of the world. We lost Emmett, I can't lose her too. I'll be back to my lonesome self if I lose her.

I can't lose Sophie.

I can't leave her side to go fetch something to help us. I can't leave her defenseless again. I can always carry her with me. Pursing my lips, I gently rouse her. She groans softly.

"Come on, Sophie," I whisper. "I need you awake for one second."

"W-what are we doing?"

She helps me (very little) as I gather her in my arms. "We're going to find some place warmer." I have her head on my shoulder. She nestles against my neck, dirtying herself further under my blonde locks. "Maybe if we're lucky we'll find some place temporary."

"I saw them, Maxi."

"Who?"

"Emmett and Mommy." She yawns. "We were back in our old house, with our own toys and rooms and everything. We were happy."

It takes all my will power to not cry as I carry her out of the alley and onto the sidewalk. It's late at night, so few wanderers will be out and about. Less chance for someone to attack us. What would they want, anyway? All we have are the clothes on our backs and each other. We have nothing of tangible value.

"I miss them, Maxi."

"I know you do, baby." I smooth the back of her greasy head. "I know."

"Will I ever see them again?"

The lump catches in my throat. I don't want to lie to her, I really don't. But she's far too young to understand death as a concept, a fact of life. She hasn't hit double digits yet for Christ's sake!

"M-maybe," I say thickly. "We'll see."

Once Sophie falls back asleep, I let the tears fall and hope that she, along with anyone else that I encounter, don't see them.

***

Son of a bitch, I think sorely as I'm roused from my sleep. I rub my eyes that definitely feel sleep deprived.

This is my first attempt at sleeping ever since our case with the Greek titan, Prometheus (yes, I kid you not). Originally the case was investigated as a zombie case, but the man had got up and walked away as though he hadn't just got killed. It'd been just about Prometheus until his son, Oliver, somehow got the curse that Zeus originally bore on Prometheus. Oliver had been the only hard part about the case for me, he'd reminded me about the kids. And when he had died...I removed myself briefly for a time until he (like his dad) came back to life.

In the end, we had to kill Zeus so the curse could be broken. Now, here we are, back at the bunker in Kansas, taking some time to recuperate. Unfortunately, recuperation time for me equals nightmares. More like horrid memories of the life that is still a part of me.

Groggy, knowing that I won't sleep anytime soon, I force myself out of bed and take a zombie-like stroll through the bunker halls. I don't wander towards anywhere specific, I let myself get lost in my absentminded wandering. I'll find my way back, whether I do or one of the Winchesters finds me and guides me out of the maze.

I don't realize where I am until I hear his voice.

"Cas, you got your ears on?"

Huh, I found my way to Dean's room. I groan internally. Ever since that...kiss in my bedroom following my recovery from the demon attack, Dean and I have been acting as though nothing happened. He started that method first. I played along, but I've been losing my patience with it. It hasn't been addressed yet. If it weren't for the Greek titan case, I would have confronted him about it long ago.

But that's at the back of my mind right now, I'm interested about this "Cas" Dean's addressing. Is he calling someone? Is someone here and I don't know about it? I decide to slink along the hall and keep a considerable distance away from the doorway, close enough to listen in.

"Listen, you know I am not one for praying, 'cause in my book it's...it's the same as begging. But this is about Sam, so I need you to hear me. We are going into this deal blind...and I don't know what's ahead or what it's gonna bring for Sam. Now, he's covering pretty good, but I know that he's hurting, and this one was supposed to be on me. So, for all that we've been through, I'm asking you...you keep a lookout for my little brother, okay?"

My brows crinkle intently. We've both known Sam's been off since the first trial. How severe, I'm not too sure. I can only speculate. I also pick up the earnest tone in Dean's voice. You know I am not one for praying, 'cause in my book it's...it's the same as begging. Somehow, I have a moment of clarity.

Well, I guess it's not far-fetched for Dean Winchester, someone who was born into the world of the supernatural, to be praying to an angel. I have to assume that's what he's praying to at least.

"This is probably biting off more than I can chew, but-you don't know this girl. Her name is Max. Yeah, you've missed quite a bit. She's-we took her in, so she's been hanging around some. And...I don't know what her story is exactly, but...I want you to try and look after her too. I need some help in watching Sam and Max, I'm just one person, Cas. I...I can't do it all on my own."

One hand goes into a fist. I'm flattered that Dean feels the need to watch me like he does Sam, but, I can handle myself. I've looked after myself all those years on the streets. How else am I standing here, in Lebanon, Kansas, in a bunker with two hunters?

The silence is deafening. I'm not sure what Dean's expecting. A voice from thin air? An actual, tangible angel? A sign?

"Where the hell are you, man?" I hear him whisper.

I want to knock on the door and see if he'll let me in. But he might take things the wrong way. Just go back the way you came. Or continue your meaningless walk around the bunker. Pick something. I decide to continue the way forward.

I'm about fifteen steps past Dean's door when I hear it open.

"Max?"

I take a step to spin to him. "You're up?"

"Can't sleep. Wait...is this really Max I'm talking to?"

I smile bitterly. "Shut up. Was I stomping down the hall or something?"

"Just had a feeling."

"Ah, hunter's intuition." I approach him with arms across my chest. "Or paranoia. Your preference."

"What's got you up?"

"Oh, the usual. Nightmares." I shrug.

"Your arms feeling better?"

"Oh, yeah." I still have the stitches and bandages, but the stitches are going to be removed soon. They're close to their expiration date. "No pain to be found." I eye him skeptically. "You okay, Dean?"

"Now why would you ask a stupid question like that?" he teases halfheartedly.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe you're overwhelmed with your brother and his issues with the trials, and me with the demon attack, so overwhelmed that you feel the need to vent to some higher power-"

"So you were listening to me."

"What?" I say obliviously.

"I just had a weird feeling someone was listening. Just wasn't the person I wanted is all."

"Dean, I don't-"

"Maxipad, the first thing about lying to a professional liar is that you can't. There's no point in humiliating yourself."

"Oh, so you're a professional liar now?" I ask smartly. "Your job title must be extensive." I sigh heavily. "Who's Cas?"

"You've never met him."

"Clearly."

"He's an angel that Sam and I know. We've seen him around for a few years. We're..." The hesitance in his voice tells me something's wrong. "He's not a regular around here."

"Ah," I say neutrally. "So...he's on our side?"

"Truthfully, I don't know anymore. It's hard to say with him."

"You rely on him a lot, don't you?"

"When we need him, yeah. He's been MIA a lot lately. Something's been...off."

"You sure he can be trusted?" I ask quietly.

"If you'd asked me that some time ago, I'd say yes. But now..." He rubs his face.

I nod. "Trust must be a luxury to come by." I look around awkwardly. "I better get back to my walking. Maybe I'll wear myself out and collapse somewhere."

I pass Dean, but I feel his arm delicately grab. "You don't have to do that."

"Is this your way of asking me to stay with you for company?"

"Would you rather walk in silence?"

"Maybe." I shrug. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say this is more for you than for me."

"It'll be for the both of us, then."

My walk is done once I follow Dean inside his room. I feel a little more comfortable with the door left open. If I need to make a getaway for some reason, I can without making it look disastrous.

"I gotta ask, Max," he says as he's sitting on the bed. "That whole thing with Oliver...I didn't think you had a soft side."

I half shrug. "I've got a soft spot for kids. You have a knack for them too."

"I didn't seem like I saw a ghost, though," he says cautiously. "When he...you know."

"I, I know." I look down at the floor.

"Were you married?"

"No."

"One night stand and abandoned?"

I look up, offended. "Do I look easy to you?"

"That's a trap question."

"I was around kids, yes. I...I grew up with younger siblings. But nothing happened to them...not that I'm aware of anyway." I keep my hand against my arm, feeling the familiar itch in my fingers. "It was months before I tried to steal the Impala. I...If I hadn't stumbled onto them, they wouldn't have lived. Their mother was already dead when I found them. To my knowledge, the man hadn't killed her. She looked like she slept and never woke." I begin to pace. "The man was a douche, an extremely territorial douche. He had no sympathy for those children, he was going to kill them. He was out of his mind.

"I couldn't just let them die, so I stood up for them. But the creep wouldn't stop. I made him stop, Dean. I had to."

"So you've killed." It doesn't sound accusatory when he says it; it's more like a careful confirmation.

"I've seen people be killed. And...yes, I've-I've killed." I meet his eyes somberly. "But at the time, I killed for good reason. That man didn't deserve to live, he was scum."

"Is that what the demon was talking about?"

"It's the only thing that I can think of." I feel the tears gather in my eyes. "I know I killed for good reason, but I don't think it's enough to...to justify that I committed murder."

"Max. Sometimes the situation justifies the kill. Sammy and I have had plenty of instances like that."

"But it doesn't bother you?" I stammer. "Innocent or not, I still killed someone."

"You did what you thought was best. It was in self-defense anyway."

"I never said it was."

"I have to assume it was, you don't seem like the first-punch kinda girl."

I quirk a smile. "You're right, I'm not."

"Hey, stop that." He removes my hand away from my arm. "You were doing so well with that too."

"Old habit," I mutter, trying to ignore my galloping heart. "You can guess how the story for the children ended."

"What were their names?"

"Emmett and Sophie. They didn't deserve it, Dean. They didn't have a shot in Hell."

"You did the best you could, Max."

If I had just gotten to him faster. If I had woken up sooner. If, if, if. I close my eyes and control my shaking. Instead of backing off, I burrow as Dean puts me into his arms. We stand in the somber silence as I try to suppress my emotions further. I did it for so long, hid what I felt from Emmett and Sophie. I tried my hardest to cloak my worry, my frustration, my anger, my pity. Somehow, I had done it for some time, with cracks in my armor every now and again.

I feel a crack now in my armor, a crack that only Dean has seen. Or maybe he's the crack in my armor, the only person who will somehow make me open up. I swear if he pity-kisses me again...

But he doesn't.

"It's okay to let it out, Max. I won't tell anyone, promise."

I squeak out a laugh. "Always with a joke, Winchester."

"Always with a retort, Barton."

Through my hiccupping sobs, I smile. It's small, but it's something. A light through the dark cloud hanging over my head.

**So, I know Max's backstory has been kinda on the back burner a little bit throughout this journey, so I figured I'd sprinkle in some details.

Yes, Max is not lying. Emmett and Sophie were never hers. Like in her dream/memory a few chapters back, she saved their lives when they couldn't do it themselves. And, unfortunately, both didn't make it. They were the "he" and "she" or "they" that she mentioned very early on in the story.

And yes, despite their kiss, it's not 100% awkward avoidance.

P.S. I don't know about you, but I like the chapter title.

Oh. One more thing: This marks the end of Part 1.

Have I converted you to Dax yet?

Great job, folks. Kudos to you for enduring this long Part.

You think you're ready for Part 2?**