A/N tw for child abuse.
He turned off his laptop, stood up, stretching and yawning loudly, before letting his arms fall to his sides with a grun.
A beer.
Just one beer before bed.
He shuffled through to the dark kitchen and opened the fridge, light pooling round his feet as he bent forwards to grab a bottle.
A tiny movement in the corner of his eye made him glance up.
Nothing.
Standing up straight he slowly closed the fridge door and stood in the silent house, straining his hearing to see if there was some tiny sound, something that would betray an intruder.
The hairs on the back of his neck stood up to attention and he shivered, gripping the bottle tightly.
Don't be a pussy.
He huffed out loud and shook his head.
It was only natural that he was in a state of heightened alertness.
Tomorrow was, after all, going to be amazing. He hadn't done anything like this for months. Hell, he'd been afraid to, but now?
Now everything was perfect.
Turning to go back into the living room he saw her standing in the doorway and screamed shrilly in alarm.
"Shit! Oh God!" He grasped at his chest and laughed. "Hell Kari! You scared me half to death! What on earth are you doing here? It's like two in the morning!"
She didn't say anything, just shrugged.
"Well… so you want something to drink?" He let his breath out and smiled, his heart already slowing after the shock. "You wanna beer? I'll bet you do!"
She smiled and nodded, watched him as he turned back to the fridge.
Only the dog across the street heard him scream.
Heard the gurgling, blood muffled cries for help then the splinter of bones as those cries were abruptly cut off.
The dog was usually a barker, but this time he was silent.
This time he pressed his tail between his legs and padded into the back of his kennel, curling up into a tight ball.
Dean fished through the glove box for his FBI badge.
"Third this month." Sam said, flicking through the newspapers he had spread out on his lap. "So far nothing's linked the vics."
"All the same MO though?" Dean asked before making a small noise of satisfaction as he found the badge and stuffed it into his inside pocket.
"Yeah. Ribcage bust open. Heart missing…."
"Werewolf?"
Sam pulled a face and shook his head. "You ever hear of a werewolf that ate gentiles?
Dean shivered and grimaced. "That's just nasty."
"You ready?"
"Yup."
"I'm special agent Ripley, this is special agent Dallas…." They held the badges up for the old woman to peer at through the crack in the door. "If we could just have a moment of your time." Sam smiled down at her slightly hostile frown.
"I already talked to the police. They're sending boys round in the morning to clean the apartment…"
"That's why it's important for us to take a look now ma'am, before the crime scene's contaminated." Dean said brusquely, throwing a smile in there for good luck.
"Well…. I suppose you should come in then." She shut the door and they waited while she fumbled with the security chain before shuffling back to let them through.
"So… Mr Collinwood was your tenant?" Sam asked, pulling out his pen and pad.
"Yeah. Nearly five years. Good tenant too. Paid his rent, was quiet and clean, kept to himself."
"You didn't hear anything on the night of the attack?"
"No." She turned her head and tapped her hearing aid. "I take it out at night. Can't hear a goddamn thing without it."
Dean pointed up the stairs. "His place up here?"
"All the way to the top."
Stepping under the police tape Sam pulled on a pair of latex gloves and began opening drawers., looking through the letters and papers inside.
Dean tiptoed over the large blood stain in the kitchen. "Gross." He muttered to himself. "I hope for this dudes sake, what ever chowed down on him started with the heart and not the …." He made a vague gesture to his crotch and Sam shook his head.
"What, are you? Nine?"
"Shuttup…. Just creeps me out that's all. You find anything interesting?" He wandered over to the fridge and glanced at the pictures and notes pinned to the door with magnets.
"Nothing so far. Just bills and circulars."
Dean stopped and frowned, stepping his weight back on his heel.
Sam looked over at him, raising his eyebrows. "You got something?"
"Not sure."
Crouching down, he pulled back the large rug and, taking a knife from his pocket, prised at the floor board he'd been standing on.
"Bingo!"
The board popped up, revealing a space underneath, from which Dean pulled out a small plastic box.
"Ugh. Is it too much to hope that Mr junkless wasn't screwing around with witchcraft and this box isn't full of nasty?"
"Give it to me." Sam snatched the box from his hands and walked over to the small table on the other side of the room.
"Well?"
"It's a bunch of flash drives."
"Better than entrails and cat bones I guess. So, we heading back to the motel to take a look?"
"Yeah. Makes you wonder what needs to be kept secret so bad that you hide it under a freaking floor board."
Dean slapped his brother on the back and made his way towards the door. "Guy probably had some nasty fetish…. Come on, I wanna grab food on the way."
"Sick son of bitch."
Dean threw his burger down in disgust, all thoughts of food dispelled by the images on the screen.
"There must be thirty kids on here." Muttered Sam. "Jesus…" He slammed the laptop shut and yanked the flash drive out throwing it across the table as though it was contaminated, and unconsciously wiping his hand down the front of his pants.
"So. Our vics not so much of a vic after all. You think some kids Dad found out and ganked him?"
"Could be. But would a parent be careful enough to leave no prints? You saw the apartment Dean, it was a mess. If this was just a regular murder there would have been something in the police report. And, it doesn't account for the others?"
"The other vics?" Dean shrugged and took up his burger again, his stomach happier now that he couldn't see the kids in the pictures. "Maybe it's a kiddie porn ring? A couple of vigilante Dads set off to go Charles Bronson on their asses…. Nothing to do with us. More power to 'em."
"Yeah maybe. We should probably take a look at the other guys houses."
Dean grimaced unhappily, the food turning to ashes in his mouth.
"Fine. I'm not looking at any more pictures though."
"Oh George was lovely! I still don't understand who would do something like that." Georges neighbour dabbed at her watery eyes with the sleeve of her cardigan ad sniffled. "He was so quiet and helpful. Only last year he came over and cleared my guttering for me, wouldn't hear of taking any money from me… So sad."
They walked across the lawn to the victims house, letting themselves in with the spare key she'd given them.
"You ever wonder why it is these guys are always so nice and quiet and helpful?" Dean muttered as they walked through the house. "Normal people aren't like that. You ask a neighbour and there'll always be one thing, one little gripe they have. They play the music too loud, they don't rake their lawn enough, their kids are noisy. But these guys are so whiter than white it's creepy."
Sam didn't answer him.
Something about this case made him feel wary. He hadn't felt like this in years, that sick feeling in the pit of your stomach when you know something awful is about to happen but you're not in a position to do anything about it.
"Sammy?"
"What…"
Dean clicked his fingers in front of his brothers face and frowned. "You ok?"
"Yeah. Yeah I'm fine…. So… ah… look for files? Flash drives, video, pictures, anything like that."
"Hey …" Dean started towards the kitchen, pointing at the fridge. "Hey I've seen that before."
Sam followed him through to find him plucking a photo off the fridge.
"Is that the same picture?"
Dean shook his head. "No. but look." He pointed at a girl sat in the middle of the group of smiling kids and adults. Solemn faced with long dark hair that spilled out of her hoodie, almond eyes that stared seriously ahead. "She was in the picture on the other guys fridge. And both are in this one. Wanna bet the third guy here is vic number one? "
Sam took the picture and studied it. "I didn't see her on the flash drives." He turned the picture over and read the scrawled handwriting on the back.
Helping hands drop in centre.
Grabbing the yellow pages sat next to the phone, Dean flipped through till he found it.
"It's a charity for kids of working single parents. Like a youth centre for kids who have no where to go between school and home." Dean tossed the phone book down with a grunt of disgust. "Perfect hunting ground for a sick bastard."
Sam pushed the picture into his pocket and walked towards the door. "We should go check it out." He muttered, not waiting for Dean to follow. Something dark and almost forgotten twisting in his heart.
The receptionist frowned at the picture and shook her head.
"I knew George of course, but the other two men? No. I'm sorry. Perhaps they were part of the volunteer team that took some of the kids camping last spring?"
"What about the girl?" Dean tapped the picture.
"I don't recognise her. But that don't mean a thing. Lots of kids come only a few times and we're not a day care or anything, just a place for the kids to come and hang out or get homework help. Sometimes we organise trips and things in the school holidays so they have something to do, but it's not a tight ship." She shook her head sadly. " We don't get the funding we need really. If it wasn't for fundraisers and volunteers we'd have closed long ago."
"Thank you for your time." Sam smiled softly.
As they walked across the lot to the impala Sam couldn't shake the feeling on being watched. He glanced behind him just as a small group of kids, no older than 11 or 12, ran past them, shouting excitedly at each other as they pushed through the double doors into the building.
Stopping to watch them he couldn't help but feel nauseous at the through of someone preying on these children.
Kids who probably didn't have anyone to talk to other than the adults who worked here. To think that the people they trusted would turn on them in the most vile way possible.
He gripped the side of the car and doubled over, clutching his stomach.
"Whoa! Hey! Sammy…. What's wrong?" Dean was at his side, holding him up, his faced etched with concern.
Sam held his hand up, waving him away.
Then he saw her.
Stood at the edge of the lot.
The little girl from the picture, just standing there, watching him.
"Dean." He gasped, pointing at her.
He hesitated, then went to trot over to the girl, but as he moved she turned and ran away, across the scrappy strip of land that separated the lot from the buildings beyond.
"Shit." Dean watched helplessly as she disappeared into the distance, then turned back to Sam, still holding onto the car, pale and shaky. "OK… Come on… Lets get you back to the motel big guy."