REVIEWERS TOLD ME I SHOULD POST THIS STORY IN MULTIPLE CHAPTERS INSTEAD OF ONE GO, SO HERE IT IS! IF YOU ALREADY READ MY PREVIOUS POST, THERE'S NOTHING NEW HERE.
Disclaimer: I'm a french student in music, so do you really believe I could own Supernatural? I'm just borrowing its fantastic characters for my (and I hope your) pleasure.
Warnings: It's my first fanfiction in English, so please be kind (no flames). Concerning the plot, you're good as long as you know who the Trickster is. Possible spoilers up to Episode 6x09.
Summary: Set after 6x09 "Clap Your Hands If You Believe". While working on a case, the Winchesters find an old friend they thought was dead, but he isn't quite the same.
Thanks: Huge thanks to my beta The Dreaded Female. She's amazing, and without her wonderful help I would never have posted this fic. By the way, all remaining mistakes are mine.
"Here's your pie, Sir."
"Thanks, Ma'am." Dean answered gratefully.
The Winchesters were having breakfast in a little family diner near New Castle, Indiana, after a night-long drive. Sam, ignoring his cooling pancakes, was already researching their current case on his laptop. Dean, on the other hand, was enjoying the peace and his massive slice of apple pie. The taste of it almost made him forget the slight resentment he felt at the moment for Bobby Singer.
It had been the Wincesters' first days off in weeks when Bobby had called them about some demon omens in this town, and asked them to take a look. After the sermon they had got during the trap-Crowley-to-get-Bobby's-soul-back affair, Dean was reluctant to refuse, but he really needed some time off.
"Bobby, it's our first break in weeks." He had argued very cautiously. "Can't you take care of it?"
"Rufus wants my help with a coven of voodoo witches in Louisiana, so no, I can't, you idjit." Bobby had scolded. "But hey, we can switch cases if you insist."
Wincing at the mere idea of dealing with witches again, Dean had promptly agreed to check if there was any demonic activity in New Castle. And here he was, eating a surprinsingly good slice of pie in a diner at seven in the morning, instead of lazing in bed.
His musings were interrupted when Sam grunted at his computer screen.
"What?" He inquired, not liking the expression on his brother's face one bit.
"I think Bobby was right about demons omens, but I just found something else." He turned the machine so Dean could see the article. "Two days ago, this Wilkinson guy was attacked by a swarm."
"Don't see anything demonic here. The man just wasn't lucky."
"He was attacked in his car." Sam clarified. "And witnesses said they saw the bees follow him on the road for a mile before they got into it."
"Huh. That's weird. Doesn't fit with demons usual MO."
"That's what I thought, but with monsters getting crazy these times, we can't be sure. My money's on the witches."
"Oh, come on! I took this case so we absolutely wouldn't deal with those bitches." Dean groaned.
"Sorry. Looks like you attract them, though. You should be careful with your dates."
He just had time to dodge the sugar bag Dean threw angrily at his face.
The Wilkinsons' farm was a big property situated just out of town. The farmhouse itself was charming, surrounded by trees and flowers, with a nice little kitchen garden. Sam and Dean knocked twice then waited. They soon could hear the sound of shuffling feet and the door opened to reveal a woman in her fifties, wearing an apron.
"Can I help you?" she asked.
"We hope so Ma'am. I'm Dean Keith and this is Samuel Moon. We're here on behalf of Liberty Mutual."
"My, you boys sure are efficient. I didn't expect you to come so soon."
She moved so that they could enter the house.
"Can I offer you something to drink, or to eat?" She asked when they were seated at her kitchen table.
"That'd be great. Thanks."
"No thanks, Ma'am." Sam answered, giving Dean a look of reproach. "Excuse-me, but could I check your husband's car, please?"
"Of course. It's parked in the garage." She said, giving him the keys.
"So, Mrs Wilkinson, could you tell me what exactly happened?" Dean asked.
"Only what the police told me. Jim was attacked by a swarn on the road while he came back home, and he lost control of his car." She offered him a plate of cookies and he grabbed one, nodding his thanks. "Thank God he wasn't injured in the accident, but he suffered severe stings all over his body, and the doctors wanted to keep him in observation."
"Has anything like this ever happened before?" He asked, taking a bite of the cookie.
"No, I don't think so."
"Now, this may seem like a strange question, but do you know anybody who might want to harm your husband?"
"Oh, no. I mean, we've had some little quarrels with neighbors here and there, but nothing serious."
Sam came back from the garage with a shake of his head, suggesting he hadn't found any hex bag in the car.
"Well, thank you for your help, Ma'am." Dean said as he stood. "I think we got all we need. And thank you for the cookie. It was delicious, you're really a great baker."
"Oh, that's nice, but they're from Sweet and Sweeter. It's a great candy and pastry shop in town." She escorted them to the door. "Thank you for your visit, Sirs. I hope I could help you."
On their way back to the car, Sam explained the results of his inspection.
"No hex bags, no signal on the EMF. Not even sulfur, so it has nothing to do with the omens Bobby discovered. There were just some dead bees on the seats and in the vents."
"Nothing else with the wife. Just some neighborhood quarrels, but nothing that'd justify a murder attempt."
"So we got jack squat." Sam sighed.
"Couldn't have said it better."
The rest of the day was spent researching in their motel room, a police scanner droning on in the background. It wasn't until the next morning that Dean found a new lead in a local newspaper.
"Hurry up, Samantha." Dean yelled through the bathroom door. "I got something here."
Sam exited, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist, his still wet hair dangling in front of his face.
"What?"
"Two water polo players almost drowned during a game yesterday."
"And what's the connection with our case?"
"Before they were transported to the hospital, they said something had dragged them to the bottom of the pool and wouldn't let them go. It took four people to drag them out."
"Good enough for me. Just give me five minutes."
When they arrived at the hospital, it turned out that the two players were in fact twin brothers, Tim and Paul Jones. Sam and Dean, disguised as FBI agents, were authorized to ask them a couple of questions.
The young men confirmed that at the end of the game, they had tried to join their team-mates on the side of the pool, but a strange and invisible force had then dragged and kept them under the surface. They would have died without the help of the life-guards who had managed to pull them out of the water.
The Winchesters then decided to go to the high school, in order to question some of the students present at the game. They all seemed pretty upset and shocked by the incident, but they couldn't give the brothers any relevant information. Sam and Dean thought they wouldn't find any more lead than they had with Mrs Wilkinson, until they overheard a conversation between a seemingly nerdy guy and his girlfriend.
"You don't think what happened yesterday was awful?" The girl exclaimed indignantly.
"Yes, I do. I'm just saying, they had it coming." The boy explained.
"Excuse-me, who had it coming?" Dean interrupted.
The students tensed a little when they saw the brothers, but the student answered nonetheless.
"Hum, Tim and Paul Jones, Sir."
"And why is that?" Sam joined the conversation.
"Because. Everyone here knows that they're the worst bullies of the school. Keeping new players of the water polo team under water is their favourite pastime, when they're not hanging around Sweet and Sweeter with their 'buddies'."
"Geez, this school is getting weird." The girl reflected. "First that thing with Mr. Beckett two weeks ago, and now this. It's starting to freak me out."
"Who's Mr Beckett?" Dean inquired.
"He's the Gym teacher." The nerd answered with a pout.
"And what about him?"
"He suddenly became mute during one of his classes." The girl explained. "My friend Maggie was there. She told me that one minute he was yelling at her and the next nothing. He couldn't make a sound or open his mouth. The doctors have no idea what's wrong with him and he hasn't been back to school since."
Sam and Dean exchanged a knowing look.
"Thanks, guys. You were very helpful."
When they were far enough away from the kids, Dean elbowed his gigantic brother.
"So, Pinky. Are you pondering what I'm pondering?" He asked with a smirk.
Sam sighed, dismayed by Dean's poor imitation of a megalomaniac lab mouse.
"Yeah, but I need to check a few things." He answered, getting into the Impala.
"Bingo." Sam exclaimed joyfully, startling his brother in the process.
They had been back at the motel for less than a half an hour. Sam had hopped on his computer as soon as the door closed, not even bothering to change.
"What?" Dean asked.
"Guess who used to be prosecuted regularly by apiarists in the last five years, for using a fertilizer that's well known for its disastrous effects on beehives?"
"Hum, Wilkinson?"
"Right! And who's gotten several complaints from parents and fellow teachers because of his aggressive behaviour towards students?"
"Beckett?"
"Right again! So that gives us a yelling and agressive teacher who becomes mute, a bee-killer farmer attacked by an angry swarm, and two water polo bullies who almost drown during a game. All of them dicks that got their just deserts. And the monster of the week is..."
"A trickster." Dean groaned. "Lucky us, demons omens and a trickster in the same city at the same moment. Just great! How do we find the little son of a bitch?"
"Already thought about that. He must have been in contact with the victims, but there's nothing apparent that links the three of them. So I wondered, what does a trickster love besides messing with people's lives?"
"Sweets?"
"Yes, and then I remembered Mrs Wilkinson's remark about that candy shop in town, the same shop the bad twins like to 'hang around with their buddies'."
"Sweet and Sweeter! That could fit. If Beckett is a client too, that'd be our link."
"Bingo again."
Sweet and Sweeter was really a living dream for any candy lover or sweet-toothed trickster. The shop offered countless sorts of candies, cakes, and pastries. When they entered the store, the customers were assaulted without mercy by explosions of bright colours and appetizing smells. Dean almost couldn't stop himself when he noticed all the different types of pies that were served here.
Sam decided to ignore his slavering brother and went directly to the pretty young salesgirl that was answering a phone call at the counter.
"No, I'm sorry, Mr Burns is away on business. I believe he'll be back in town tomorrow night. Thanks for your call, goodbye." She turned to Sam with a shy smile. "What can I do for you, Sir?"
"Excuse me miss, I'm agent Samuel Townshend with the FBI and this is my partner agent Dean Daltrey." He showed his fake badge. "We were wondering if you could answer some questions."
"Yeah, of course."
"Are Misters Beckett, Wilkinson and Jones, among your customers?"
"Oh, yes." Her face lit up with recognition. "They're very good clients. The Jones twins come here very often, but their parents and the other people you mentionned prefer to be delivered directly."
"And could you, by any chance, tell me the name of your delivery-man?"
"We have three of them, actually, but I'll check which one takes care of these clients. Just a moment, please." She excused herself as she went in the back-shop.
"What did she say?" Dean asked as he joined his brother.
"The victims are all good customers. She's looking for their delivery-man."
"Well, what a cooperative girl. Did you hit on her?"
"Shut up, Dean!"
"There." The salesgirl came back and put down an account-book on the counter. "Your man is... Hey, it's Junior!"
"Junior?"
"Yes. He's a distant nephew of the owner of this shop, Mr Burns. Came here about a year ago, and started to work as a pastry-chef. But he can deliver orders sometimes."
"Can we see him, please?" Sam asked.
"Today's his day off. But I can give you his address. He lives with Mr Burns and his daughter on Columbus Street, near Baker Park." She wrote the address, but thought better of it before giving the paper. "He isn't in trouble, right?"
"No, of course not." Dean assured. "We just have some questions about these customers."
"Okay, then."
She handed the paper to Sam, who nodded his thanks. The Winchesters then walked to the door, but Dean stopped suddenly and came back to the counter.
"Huh, sorry to bother you again," he quickly apologized to the girl, "but could I get a piece of apple pie, please?"
Sam let escape an exaperated sigh, but his brother just shrugged, a sheepish grin on his face.
"So, what? This delivery man is our big bad guy?" Dean asked as he parked the Impala in front of the house.
"Could be. He is the only link we've found between the victims. Stay on your guard."
They got out of the car and crossed a very nice garden before reaching the front door.
"Whatever." Dean sighed. "I still don't understand the connection between this trickster and the demonic activity in this town."
"Maybe the trickster's powers attract them. Maybe they're looking for it too."
"Great! Another competition with demons, then."
Dean straightened his back before ringing at the door.
"Yes?" a muffled voice came through the speaker.
"Mister Burns, agents Daltrey and Townshend, FBI. We have a couple of questions we'd like you to answer."
"Of course, 'm comin'."
They heard footsteps and the door unlocked to reveal a man a bit shorter than Dean, with light brown hair, sparkling hazel eyes, and a warm smile.
"Yes, Sirs. What can I do for you?"
The Winchesters stared at the man for what seemed like three long minutes, before Dean managed to stop gaping and forced his lips to move.
"Gabriel?"
The archangel-turned-trickster looked at him, a little perplexed.
"Hum... yes. Sirs, can I help y–"
"YOU SONUVABITCH!" Sam screamed as he punched him right in the face.
Gabriel fell back into the house. Dean could do nothing but stare open mouthed.
Sam just straightened his jacket and let out a heavy sigh of relief.
"God, I've waited to do this for five long years." He said as he entered the house under his brother's astonished gaze.
In the hall, Sam looked around, taking in the details of the little house by pure reflex. It was a typical house in a suburbian area. Nothing menacing in sight.
Following closely, Dean looked past Sam at Gabriel, who had managed to get upright and was sitting with his back against the wall. Something about the scene set off a warning bell in the back of Dean's mind.
"Holy crap!" Gabriel groaned as he propped himself up. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
"Screw you!" Sam yelled at the man. "We thought you were dead, we stopped the fuckin' Apocalypse by ourselves, and we find you playing tricks like nothing happened? What kind of bastard are you?"
Gabriel was still down, cupping his bleeding nose in his hand, and staring at Sam with wide eyes, pretty dumbfounded. And a little... scared, too?
"Look Sir, I have no idea what you're talking about. This must be a terrible mistake." He was lifting his other hand slowly in a protective gesture. "I'm sure we can talk calmly about it, but please just don't hit m–"
"Oh my God!"
A young woman came from the kitchen, terrified, and crouched next to Gabriel when she saw he was hurt.
"Oh God, Gabe! What happened? Who are these people?"
"Don't know, they rang at the door and the big one punched me when I opened."
Sam felt the urge to hit Gabriel again. He took a step forward...
"Bullsh–"
... only to be brutally stopped by his brother.
"What? Dean!"
"Listen to me!" Dean spoke in low soothing tones. "There's something very wrong, here. I don't think he's acting. Look at him, damnit!"
Sam followed Dean's gaze, and looked more closely at the man curled against the wall in front of him. He seemed as terrified as the woman, who was checking him over to see if he had wounds other than his nose. Sam could not remember a single time – not even when he had posed as the trickster or stood against Lucifer – that Gabriel looked as scared as he did right then.
Still appearances could be deceiving. Sam turned to argue.
"But–"
"He's bleeding, Sam!" Dean insisted. "Believe me, a human can't make an angel bleed by just punching him in the nose. I'm telling you, something's wrong, and we need to get out of here."
Just then the woman grabbed the phone and shouted,
"I'm calling the cops and I'll scream for the neighbourhood if you don't go immediately!"
"Clara, just get out of here!" Gabriel ordered.
"No, it's ok!" Dean objected quickly. "We're leaving. My partner made an awful mistake. It was an error, we're leaving now. We're sorry."
Dean dragged Sam out of the house.
"I hate to say it, but we need to go for a tactical retreat before solving this case."
"I'm still not convinced, Dean." Sam opened the passenger door. "There are too many coincidences."
"I know, but... We need to figure this out before we do something we'll regret later."
"Oh, so you're the brains of this team, now?"
"Huh, guys?" a voice called from behind them.
They turned back and saw Gabriel's clone descending the stairs of the house carefully, his right hand still clutching his nose.
"We're leaving!" Dean assured quickly. "No need to call the cops."
"No, no. It's just..."
He hesitated, glancing in Sam's direction with dread. Finally he spoke, addressing himself to Dean.
"Just after he confused my face with a punching bag, your partner said he'd wanted to do this for five years, right?"
"Hum... yes?"
"So, you two... You know me? We've already met before?"
"About five years ago." Sam said. "You know, the university, the Mystery Spot, TVland. Remember, good old times?"
To their surprise, the Gabriel look-alike chuckled bitterly and a sad smile made its way across his bloody face.
"Well, actually, I don't. I can't remember anything at all."
TBC