July 9, 2010
RE: Above us only sky
To: bethechange at smartmail
From: riversideblues at smartmail
Sammy, remember Missouri Mosely, that psychic who Dad went to see after Mom's death? She passed away last week. Just thought you should know. Not that you're reading this, but, well, you know.
I got back from having a few burgers with Sid, this neighbor who works at the same construction company as me, and Lisa came out to meet me at the truck, which told me right away that something was going on. She had a weird look on her face, too, and Sid took off right away because I think he thought Lisa was mad at me or something.
Lisa told me that a lawyer had showed up at the house about twenty minutes before I got there, and he was refusing to tell her what he wanted, just that he needed to talk to me. As we were going into the house she said, "He looks like he's one of your people."
I knew what she meant as soon as I saw the guy—he was obviously a Wiccan or something, with lots of random piercings and that 'holier-than-thou-peace-be-with-you-goddess-bless-your-begonias' attitude. (A few days before I showed up at your apartment in Palo Alto, I helped a bunch of Wiccans exorcise a ghost from their compost heap. No, I'm not kidding. Witches, man. White or black, good or evil, there's way too much…drippy stuff.)
Anyways, the guy told me in this snotty voice (no wonder Lisa was pissed) that he was the lawyer for Ms. Gloria Nicola Andretti, and she'd recently passed away and left me some stuff in her will. Just as I'm about to start asking him what his play is, he hands me a business card that lists his name and address in Lawrence, Kansas, and then I wasn't going to ask him what his play was, I was going to go for the salt gun.
He figured out pretty quick that he better start explaining—especially when Lisa came in brandishing the salt shaker at him. He told me that Gloria Andretti was Missouri's real name, and he explained that she'd had a heart attack (he used fancier words) and died five days ago. She'd left me some things in her will, so he'd come to deliver them.
When I asked him how he knew where to find me, he just looked at me like I was an idiot and said Missouri wrote down my address.
Psychics, dude. Creepy as hell with the knowing stuff all the time.
So I asked him to just give me whatever she left me, because now Lisa looked real uneasy, and I was pretty sure Ben was listening in the stairwell, and he shrugged and handed me a wrapped package about the size of a laptop, but lighter and bulkier.
Then he made me sign a whole bunch of papers, because a lawyer's still a lawyer, no matter if he dances naked under the light of the full moon or not, and then I kind of shooed him out the door. As he was leaving he turned to me and said, "She said for you to read the note first."
The note—well, here. Ben taught me how to use the scanner a few days ago for some work stuff. You should read this.
I'm so sorry about your brother, honey. I felt it when the Cage opened—pretty sure every psychic worth their salt in a fifty-mile radius felt it—and I saw what happened to Sam. I'm sure you know this, but I wanted you to know that his last thoughts were about you. He was able to stop Lucifer because of you. I saw his memories of the two of you growing up, and the Devil did too. I'll say it again—you were one funny looking kid.
Those memories managed to pull up whatever tiny spark of decency was left in that decrepit old angel, and he pulled back enough for Sam to take control. I just thought your brother would want you to know.
If you're reading this, then I'm dead. Nothing dramatic—just a string of bad hearts in my family. I knew this was coming for a long time. I'm just glad I lived long enough to see Sam kick that old Devil back into his box.
You shouldn't have been so rude to Alec—he's a good lawyer, and, more importantly, a good soul, even if he is a bit stuck up. Stop making faces at me, boy. By the way—good choice with Lisa and Ben. God knows why that woman was crazy enough to open her door for you, but now that you've been given the gift, don't waste it. Let them help you. You need them more than you think, and more than they know.
I thought long and hard about whether or not to give you this. I know you're grieving, and working to move on, and to fulfill your brother's last wishes, and I know a lot of the time it's a struggle for you to just get up in the morning. I considered tossing it, but I figured I'd held onto it all these years for a reason, and this was it. That, and after seeing your brother's memories of you, I couldn't not give it to you.
I've kept an eye on you ever since your daddy brought you into my office and you sat in the corner the whole time, singing Beatles songs to Sam. You couldn't sing to save your life, but I could feel how much that little baby loved you. A feeling like that leaves a mark, in a good way. You left this in my office that day. It was the last time I saw you until you rolled into town five years ago.
Keep breathing. You can't escape this, and you can't avoid it, you can only go through it.
After I read that, I didn't want to open the package in front of Ben and Lisa, so I lied and told them that it was a bunch of protection herbs that Missouri thought I could use. Then I waited until Lisa went to sleep and came down and opened it. That was about ten minutes ago.
She gave me back your baby blanket, Sammy. Well, really it's my baby blanket. After you were born and everyone came to the house and gave you gifts (Mom said it was a shower, and I kept waiting for someone to run water on you, but it never happened) I wanted to give you something too, so I gave you my old baby blanket. It even has my name stitched in the corner.
Anyways, now I'm sitting here holding the stupid blanket which looks more like a rag than a blanket—the name was the only way I knew what it was—and not crying because I miss you and I'm also sad Missouri's dead.
I miss you, Sammy.
A/N: No offense meant to Wiccans—I just tried to reflect Dean's POV. Email subject line comes from John Lennon's "Imagine."