We Play Monsters

Chapter One: Solo

Even at the young age of fifteen, Sam Winchester had been many places. He and his family drove across the country numerous times and stopped at a lot of unique, interesting places. Montana was his least favorite, by far. There were no interesting things to look at over the long drives; just long, straight stretches of road, trees (a lot of them) and mountains. It was beautiful, to be certain, but after the first six hours of it, he was already bored. The towns weren't any more interesting whenever they actually arrived at one. Because of how unpopulated the state was, it seemed pointless to investigate the state, since there were less people to be saved.

Sam didn't truly think like that; he was just frustrated with the case. His father, John Winchester was always curious about West Kootenai, Montana. For as long as he was keeping a hunting journal, he noticed disappearances in that general vicinity. They expanded over that area with West Kootenai being the center of it all. They visited there five years ago, when Sam was just ten years old, and they found nothing suspicious about the case.

But now there were three hunters in the family instead of two, and he had to try his hand at it. Sam started hunting with his dad and brother four months ago on a case with a girl and her monstrous mother. Since then, Sam became the permanent researcher of the family while his dad and Dean went out and actually killed monsters. A part of him was okay with that; he didn't want to be in danger. But he also didn't want them killing off people just because they were different. He never stopped thinking about Amy, and how even if she was cursed with being a monster, she never hurt anyone. She didn't deserve to die. And if she existed, couldn't others like her exist? What if his family got to them before Same could?

Glancing up at the clock in the silent library, Sam recalled his original purpose. Alright, he sighed in resignation. Finding a pattern with all the victims in the last eleven years. That'll be easy… He already compiled lists from other towns nearby: Midvale, Fortine, Trego, and a little family farm that they passed by on the way.

He laid them out on the library table and glanced around. It was completely empty; the librarian had gone to lunch and there were no patrons. "Okay," he mumbled aloud. "Let's see…"

He set down a picture of a young blonde, age twenty-five. Single. Chubby build. "Susan Elizabeth Jones," he said. "Went missing while climbing a nearby mountain for exercise. Claw marks on trees from a bear, but no bear was ever found." That's not even weird in Montana. Why can't this just be a bear?

He set down another picture. "Shane Parker. Forty-four years old. Taken from his house while his family slept. His wife says that his shotgun was gone with him, and the only reason he would have had it out was if there was a bear."

"Natalia Trvenski. Sixteen years old. Ran away from home. Her car was found at a cabin in the woods with bear claws on the car and the door of the house…."

The only thing that any of his forty-two missing person cases had in common was that there were generally signs of bears and a body was never found. There were never signs of struggle, no animal prints, no nothing. Not even a drop of blood was ever found at any of the missing sites.

He stared at the pictures for hours. He rearranged them in order of how they died. He did an age spectrum. Race. Nationality. Political parties. Occupations. Favorite kind of car. It didn't matter how he organized them; there was absolutely nothing that connected these people. The closest he got was that some enjoyed working out, but in Montana, a place that celebrated the great outdoors and being healthy enough to enjoy the fresh air, that was nothing special.

Dinner came and went. The librarian told him it was closing time, so he compiled his resources and returned to his lonely hotel room. As soon as he sat down on his bed, his cell phone rang. Dean's name appeared on the screen. "Yeah?" he said upon picking up.

"Find anything?" his elder brother asked.

"No."

"Sammy…" he sighed in disappointment.

"There's a reason Dad hasn't cracked this case before," Sam seethed in frustration. "There's no pattern, Dean. Nothing that connects any of these people or the kidnapping style or…whatever is making their bodies disappear."

"I'm sure that's not true…"

"Then you do this case and give me yours."

"Not a chance," Dean said. "The only reason Dad and I are okay with leaving you alone hours away from us is because this is just a research case. No danger involved."

"So you two want me to be a hunter, but you don't want me to see danger," Sam scoffed. Yeah. Right. I'm gonna face monsters again, so I may as well get it over with.

"Not alone, no."

"And besides, does that mean that I'm just wasting my time on nothing so you two have time to kill a monster without me?"

"Sammy, I know you're frustrated, but that case you're on isn't nothing. You're still pretty new at this; it'll take some time to connect some dots."

"I'm turning in for the night," Sam declared. "Goodnight." He pushed a red button on the phone and dropped it on the bed. He was so angry that he was afraid he'd explode at Dean. Whenever he exploded at his dad, he and John just got into a screaming match and nobody won. With Dean, they kept their voices lower and insulted each other. Sam was already feeling insulted with Dean calling him incompetent on a case that even their father couldn't solve. In his heart, Sam knew that the only reason he was stuck researching was so he'd be safe while real work was done.

He turned on the TV all night and watched terrible infomercials instead of sleeping. He was too angry to do anything but steam the night away. By the time morning light came around, though, he was getting showered and dressed to go back to the library. Whether he liked it or not, he had to do work on the case, or his dad would be pissed.

There was a case four years ago of a man's daughter being taken. That incident had briefly made the news, because this girl was going to try out for the United States Olympic Team for cycling. She probably wouldn't have been good enough to make the team anyway, so the story quickly fell into the shadows.

Sam approached the address and knocked on the door. A clean-cut man with graying hair opened it. "Yes?"

"Mr. Walton?"

"Yeah, that's me…"

"I'm sorry," the teen said. "My name's Sam. This is probably crossing a hundred lines, but I'm seeking a career as a detective and I like to practice with unsolved cases. I was wondering if I could ask you about your daughter…"

Instead of the man being offended, he looked amused. "You're already serious about a career and you're….what, thirteen?"

"Fifteen," Sam corrected. He tried not to be too bitter about it; he knew that he was pretty small for his age.

"Still, impressive. Come in," Mr. Walton said, stepping aside from the doorway. "We can talk over some sodas."

*…*…*…*…*…*

Dean Winchester was pissed, but mostly scared out of his mind. He knew he accidentally offended Sam last night on the phone, but that didn't give the kid any reason to not pick up the phone today. Sam may have been new to taking on hunts, but he knew that whenever Dean or their dad called, you picked up. No matter what feuds or problems you were having, you picked up the phone.

Sam broke that rule. Dean tried calling him three times that morning already and he hadn't picked up a single time. Maybe it just ran in the family, since John was also terrible at picking up the phone. Dean tried to call him multiple times to alert him that Sam was MIA, but John let everything go to voicemail. Whatever Dean was calling about wasn't as important as what John was working on. It was a mentality Dean was used to, but if John knew about Sam, he'd realize this was a big deal.

So, unable to get a hold of either family member, Dean hopped into his Dad's impala and started the three hour drive to West Kootenai.

Half an hour into the ride, his phone began to vibrate. He opened it and sighed when he saw the caller ID. "Sammy, why haven't you picked up the phone?" Dean barked into the receiver.

"Sorry," Sam said on the other side. "I was interviewing somebody about a missing family member. I couldn't pick up the phone."

"Your interview was two hours long? You sure you weren't just avoiding me?"

"I know better than that, Dean," Sam said with irritation in his voice. However, he squelched it and continued. "I was talking to him for a long time. I think I finally have something."

"What is it?"

"I don't want to say until I know for sure. I'm walking back to the hotel now. I'm gonna piece together everything one more time."

"How long you need until you know for sure?"

"I don't know…A couple hours, probably. I wanna look into as many people as I can."

"You need me there?" I'm already on my way, so…

"I've got this," Sam said confidently.

Dean smiled on his side of the line. "See how it's a good idea to stick with a case even when you're frustrated with it?" You may have figured out a case that Dad couldn't, Sammy. I'm proud…

"Shut up," Sam said, though Dean could hear that he was smiling as he said.

"Alright, get to work, Sammy. Call me in…three hours, just for me to see where you're at."

"Okay, I will."

Dean hung up the phone and swung back towards town. If Sammy was right, then he'd be turning around in a few hours to go wrap up the case with him. It would have been smarter for him to just keep driving to him, but he didn't want Sam getting the impression that he didn't trust him.

If he had known exactly what could go wrong in the span of three hours, he would have sped to that town faster than an Indy car. But he didn't know. None of them could have known except for Sam, who put the pieces together too late.