memento vivere - supernatural & criminal minds

chapter 20

Chapter 20
Home On The Range

A lot had happened in the Winchester family circus since the last time Jude had seen them.

While on a seemingly ordinary hunt, the boys came across a woman named Meg whom Sam already knew. With a stroke of their family’s award-winning luck, it turned out she was a demon. Meg captured them as bait for John, which went array and she ended up tossed out a high window of a building. Jude had decided not to pry for details.

The bait, however, had worked because John arrived soon after. He informed them of a weapon called the Colt that could give them the upper hand in the fight against Mary’s killer. Jude had read about the gun before and knew its importance - it could kill almost anything. His acquisition of this weapon put him in deep shit with, surprise, Meg. Now the boys were on the hunt for their father who had just gone missing for a second time.

Jude reviewed her notes on all of this during her hastily booked 3 AM flight to Sioux Falls, South Dakota to meet the boys at Bobby Singer’s house. She spent those five and half hours stretched out across three seats, since the flight was blessedly empty, and nibbling on tiny flavorless pretzels. The sound of the plane hummed in her ears, bringing some comfort, and was only occasionally broken by the shuffling of cards. Her flight was so comically empty that the flight attendants were playing Go Fish up front.

Now she was squinting into the morning light as she sat on a bench waiting for her ride to Bobby’s place.  Fleetwood Mac twinkled through the warm breeze and a pale blue 1965 Ford Mustang screeched to a stop in front of her. A champagne-colored swirl of lace and satin sprung from the driver’s seat and barreled towards her.

“Judy, my love!” Jude nearly stumbled as Lydia Harper crashed into her, enveloping her in the scent of cinnamon. As Jude’s one friend from high school, Lydia was the only reason besides Bobby to maintain links to her old home. Jude and Elliot had purged the Harper house of a poltergeist in their freshman year and the lack of secrecy in their friendship was part of the reason why Jude cherished her so much. “God, it’s been forever.”

Jude laughed and untangled herself from Lydia’s auburn waves. “We talked last month.” She picked up her bag and tossed it in the backseat.

“Not the same,” Lydia called over the car, sliding into the driver’s seat. She turned down the music and passed Jude a parchment-wrapped package. “Here, Jocelyn made those mocha brownies you like. She would’ve come, but someone had to watch the shop.” Lydia and her girlfriend Jocelyn ran a crystal shop called This Other Eden in town.

“Tell her thanks for me,” Jude smiled, reaching around her seat to tuck the bundle into her bag. “How’s she doing?”

“Joce’s great. She started running jewelry-making classes at the shop on Friday nights.”

Jude looked away from the various runes and charms dangling from the rear-view mirror. Half of them were gifts from Jude herself. “Oh, when you’re doing tarot readings?”

“Yup. We wanna do more of those types of things since they’ve helped business a lot. If you have any ideas, toss ‘em my way. So,” she reached over to squeeze Jude’s leg, “you already explained the Winchester situation - holy shit, by the way - but how are you doing? How’s work?”

“Can’t complain,” Jude shrugged. “I mean, I could, but there’s not much to nitpick about. I love it there, thank god. My team’s great. Penelope says hi, by the way.” Lydia had joined one of their girls’ weekends a few months back. “I said I was visiting you this weekend.”

“I wish that’s why you were here.”

“Me too, believe me. I promise I’ll stop by when we get a handle on this.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that.” Fifteen minutes later, they pulled into the oddly welcoming dump that was Singer Salvage Yard. Through her cracked window, Jude breathed in the scent of gasoline and pine trees. It smelled like home to her. Lydia’s wrinkled nose said otherwise. “This is where I leave you, my dear. Say hi to Bobby for me.”

“Of course,” Jude leaned across the seat to pull her into a hug. “Thanks for picking me up, honey. Drive safe!” she called as she slung her bag over her shoulder and watched Lydia drive off, Rhiannon fading with the speck of blue.

Barking behind Jude turned her head. Rumsfeld, Bobby’s ancient rottweiler, was tugging at his leash where it was chained to the porch. Jude dropped her bag and sat on the porch to pet him, unbothered by the slobber dripping into her jeans.

The screen door squeaked open behind her and she looked up. “Well, at least one of us is happy to see you,” the man who was practically her uncle grumbled from the doorway. 

Jude gasped dramatically and rose, “I’m wounded.” Bobby wore the same tattered vest and baseball hat he’d worn as long as she’d known him. If not for the extra grey in his beard, she would’ve thought time had stood still in her absence.

Bobby’s forced frown cracked. “It’s good to see you, Judy.” She smiled and stepped forward to hug him, refusing to let go until he gave her a reluctant pat on the back. The only thing that broke through his crotchety facade was the hand that stayed on her shoulder as he stooped to grab her bag. He groaned a bit as he stood, reminding Jude that time had, in fact, passed. “You can let him in for now,” he gestured to Rumsfeld. “He’ll throw a fit otherwise.”

Jude unhooked Rumsfeld and he trotted happily at her heels into the house. Her feet followed their familiar path into the living room, carrying her to the worn red couch she’d spent hours reading on in high school. Rumsfeld sat on the ground beside her and propped his head on her thigh.

“You beat the boys here, but they shouldn’t be long,” Bobby informed her, sighing heavily as he sank into his desk chair. The bookshelves behind him were packed with supernatural lore, the volumes spilling out onto the floor. His mantel was decked in protective charms and medallions, much like Jude’s, except he was less subtle about it. Bobby wasn’t one for having company over. “They’re in some deep shit.”

“Clearly,” Jude scoffed. “They’ve got the whole team assembled here. And they wouldn’t have called me if it wasn’t serious. Sam especially, he’s insistent that I stay out of hunting.”

Bobby raised a brow. “He knows that never works, right?”

“He’s living proof. Have you done any hunts lately? I know the joints could use some grease there, but…”

“A few here and there, thank you very much,” he jabbed a calloused finger at her. “My foot ain’t in the grave just yet. How about you, lock up any good ones lately?”

“Too many,” she sighed. “Sometimes I think we’re barely making a dent. We get one killer and three more pop up in their place like some kind of hatchet-wielding hydra.” Rumsfeld whined and she continued absentmindedly scratching his head. “It’s a lot like hunting, really.”

“Somebody’s gotta do it.”

“Lucky us.”