Chapter Text
Country roads, take me home
To the place I belong
West Virginia, mountain momma
Take me home, country roads
There’s a saying back home, “You can take the girl out of the mountains, but you can’t take the mountains out of the girl.” Truer words have never been spoken, and as I’m standing on the roof of the bunker and looking out over the mostly flat landscape of Lebanon, my heart aches for the rolling hills and deep hollers of West Virginia. I’ve been gone for years, and it’s usually something I can ignore, but this time of year it is especially hard.
One of my favorite parts of growing up in Appalachia, surrounded by mountains, was when September hit. Depending on where you lived the time frame differed, but between September and October the leaves would change and the mountains were painted with bright yellows and burnt oranges and deep crimsons. You could start in the northern part of the state and move south and you’d never see the same patterns twice. One day everything would be green, and the next you’d start seeing the different colors begin to leak through. West Virginia is a painter’s dream. I wish I could describe exactly how it felt to overlook the New River Gorge during peak leaf changing time, but it was breathtaking. Between the white water rapids flowing quickly beneath the bridge, that at one time was the world’s longest single-span arch bridge, and the mountains surrounding the area, it was breathtaking even during the summer months. But fall…it was transformed into a dream.
But I wasn’t in West Virginia anymore. I hadn’t been home for a long time. I never really said that I would never go back; I still spoke to a couple of friends that had remained there, but the opportunity never really showed itself. If I was being honest with myself, I was purposely avoiding it. Since Sam and Dean had found me half dead and alone in the home I’d grown up in, I’d stayed with them. I didn’t have much to go back to, and I’m not exactly the best at confronting my problems head on. But then fall rolls around and my heart yearns for dirt roads and trees the color of flames, and cool, crystal clear streams flowing over smooth, mossy stones.
I took a sip of coffee and savored the bitter liquid as it rolled across my taste buds and spread warmth through me. I have never liked coffee, but after living with Sam for awhile I found that 5 a.m. came early, and if I ever hoped to survive such torture I was going to need the caffeine.
“Y/N?” Sam’s low voice startled me from my thoughts, and I glanced over at him standing in the doorway to the roof.
“Hey, Sam.”
He slowly walked over to join me, “Why are you up here so early?”
I shrugged and looked back towards the sunrise that was painting the landscape in beautiful reds and oranges, “Couldn’t sleep. Might as well get my day started, we’ve got a lot of researching to do.”
I could feel him staring at me as he waited for the real answer, but when it didn’t come I saw him lean his elbows against the high wall of the roof and sigh. “You know you can talk to me, right? You don’t always have to be so….stoic.”
I laughed quietly, “Stoic? I’m not Dean. I just…you guys have enough to worry about, and there’s nothing wrong. Really.”
Sam looked over at me, his hazel eyes dark. It was hard not to just spill out all my feelings and secrets when he looked at me like that. “You need to learn how to lie better, Y/N. Because from where I’m standing, that’s a shitty reason and you know it.”
I sighed. As much as I tried to hide myself from both Winchesters, I had obviously failed. They were too smart for that and well versed in denial and hidden feelings. They could write a book on the subject. I took another sip of coffee, then sat the mug on the wall and wrapped my arms around myself. “I miss home.”
Sam straightened and turned to face me, “Home? I’ve not heard you mention it since we brought you here… Do you miss it that much?”
“I don’t know, Sam. Yes and no.” I sat down on one of the lawn chairs I had dragged up to the roof a long time ago and leaned my head in my hand, “I don’t miss everything, you know? I’ve got a couple of friends that I still talk to back east…I don’t really miss home so much. I miss the mountains, I miss how they look like they’re on fire when the leaves change, I miss walking barefoot in rivers and creeks. I miss having bonfires whose sole purpose isn’t to burn the people we love. I miss things not being so…flat.”
I looked up at the sky as I forced back tears. I’m not sure why talking about it was making it worse, but it suddenly felt like my chest was about to burst. All I truly wanted was to walk the boardwalk through Cranberry Glades or carefully navigate the wooden walkways through Beartown. “I’m sorry…it’s not usually this bad. It’s just this time of year…fall was my favorite thing when I was home.” I laughed, “Haunted houses, especially. How ironic, right?”
Sam smiled and gently put a hand on my knee, “You could have just told us, Y/N. I mean, I doubt we would have done much about the haunted houses, but we could have taken you home.” He paused, his eyebrows furrowed, and took a deep breath, “Do you….do you want to leave? We never really asked you. You know you can go whenever, right?”
I put my hand over his and gave it a soft squeeze, “Sam, I wouldn’t trade living here with you guys for anything in this world. I just think…maybe it’s time I go back for a visit. I’ve avoided it for a long time and I think my heart knows it’s time.” I stood up and pulled Sam with me, “You know, it’s weird…I’ve heard people say that they can feel the sea calling, that it’s just something they feel in their bones, like an ache or an itch that can’t be scratched. I always thought it was kind of silly, but I think I get what they mean.”
Sam shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at me carefully, “When are you leaving?”
“I think I should probably go soon. It’s a long way home. If I leave today, then I can take my time once I’m there.” Sam looked down at his shoes and my heart ached for a different reason. “I’ll come back, Sam. How would you and Dean make it without me, anyway? He irons with beer instead of water, for God’s sake.”
Sam laughed, “Yea…we’re kind of a mess when we’re left alone. We’ll miss you, you know.”
I smiled, “I know. I’ll miss you too. Now come on, I’ll fix us some breakfast before I pack up and head out. Sound good?” He nodded and led the way from the roof, and I realized just how much I was going to miss them both…especially Sam.
I stood and looked around my room, searching for anything that I may have missed that I would have needed. After making sure that I had packed all the essentials, I grabbed my bag and wandered down the hall and into the library. It was empty and eerily silent, especially since that was usually where I found Sam. I sat my bag down on the table and walked up the steps and into the war room; no Sam or Dean. I made my way into the kitchen, “Sam? Dean?” The dishes from breakfast had already been washed and were sitting in the drying rack, the towel neatly folded next to them, but the room was empty. Where the hell were they?
I went back to the library and grabbed my bag, then slowly made my way to the garage. When I’d arrived at the bunker, I had wandered into the garage one day while I was exploring and found an old motorcycle that had clearly been well taken care of and then abandoned when the Men of Letters were no more. I had never ridden a motorcycle before, had no idea how they worked or how to fix them, but I’d immediately been drawn to it. I hadn’t had much to say to Sam and Dean back then; I hadn’t had much to say to anyone. So instead of talking to the people who had rescued me or making myself useful, I had gone online and ordered a book about motorcycles and how to repair them. I had spent the next two months reading and going through diagrams and fixing things as they came up. Once it was up and running again, I had taken it out and taught myself to ride.
I lost count of how many times I came home bloody and bruised, but Sam and Dean never said a word. On occasion, one of them would have to patch me up if I couldn’t reach it, but that was the extent of it. For months I didn’t speak to them; it was just me and my motorcycle. Eventually, I began to open up. We started to have conversations, and I started to tag along on hunts. Rather than always riding my motorcycle, I joined them in the Impala. I still loved that motorcycle, though, and would sometimes take off on my own. Which was why, when I realized that I had to leave, I decided to take the motorcycle. I immediately made a beeline for it when I hit the entrance to the garage and jumped when I heard a voice behind me.
“Just going to leave without saying anything?”
I turned around and glared at Dean, who was leaning against Baby, “That wasn’t my plan, but you and your brother just disappeared. Afraid I was going to steal the Impala?”
Dean laughed, “Nah, nothing like that.” He pushed himself away from the car and walked over to where I stood, my bag balanced precariously on the bike. “Really going, huh?” I nodded but didn’t say anything. “I get it, you know. Back when we were looking for Dad and Sam was having his visions…he said we had to go home. Difference was, I didn’t want to. It didn’t stop that feeling of needing to go, though. I hadn’t spent a lot of time there either, so it’s not like I felt like I was missing anything…mine was more of a ‘confront my demons’ kind of thing. Literally.” He crossed his arms as he stared at me, “You don’t have to go alone, you know. It’s not like anything is happening around here.”
I shook my head, “Dean, I couldn’t ask you guys to do that. It’s a long trip, and you’d be bored out of your mind. What if something came up?”
He shrugged, “We aren’t the only hunters. The best, yes. The only ones, no.” He grabbed my bag and began walking back towards the Impala, “Sammy and I already discussed it, so it wasn’t a question. More of a statement, really. Now come on. You said it, we’ve got a hell of a drive.”
I watched him throw my bag into the back seat and walk around to the driver’s side just as Sam ran up the steps to the garage. He looked at me and smiled, “I brought snacks, and I found this awesome podcast-”
I heard Dean groan from the car, “Come on! And also, no podcasts. Driver picks the music, remember? I’m not listening to some boring dude talk about the ancient Greeks and how they were responsible for how we raise crops in present day, or some shit.”
Sam looked at me and rolled his eyes, then tossed his bag in the trunk, slammed it shut, and climbed into the front seat where he immediately began to explain to Dean why his podcast choices were so important.
Although I couldn’t help but smile and thank whatever fate brought me these two selfless men, I knew that the next couple of days were probably going to be the longest of my life. Thank goodness for headphones.