One
"So get this?" Sam said.
Usually when Sam said those words, Dean knew that they had a hunt, particularly a juicy one, one with some gory creature that needed immediate ganking. He loved those ones. They'd been running in circles trying to stop the apocalypse for the past year that taking any relatively normal hunt was a breath of fresh air for Dean. He knew Sam felt the same way. Bobby Singer, their informant, friend, and practically their uncle had been trying to keep them occupied because he felt their pain. The two brothers were expected to take on the angelic douches Michael and Lucifer as vessels and battle one another to the death of one. It was a less than glamorous future that personally Dean wanted no part of.
"So there's this little town named Newsburg," Sam broke Dean out of his thoughts. "Word around town is that there's been a number of missing children over the years."
"So what," Dean asked, sipping the beer he'd taken from the mini fridge in their latest run down motel digs. "Police never found em? It's probably some serial child molester making his rounds?"
"The children come back Dean," Sam gave his brother a look, typing away again moments later on his laptop. The stickers on the edge of it were peeling. "Some of them do that is."
"You think they're Changelings?" Dean suggested.
"All of the children would come back then Dean," Sam argued. "Just listen. When the children come back they act completely normal and human, except they supposedly go on and on about the place they've been. At least a few parents have reported that to the local paper. They even sent some of their kids to counselors and shrinks, but they still blab on about where they were."
"Anything else interesting I should know?" Dean asked.
"Some of the missing children's cases date back to the late eighties," Sam pulled up a few articles online and showed Dean old newspaper clippings of a young boy in particular. His name was Christopher Rolland. "Those children have yet to return home or be found."
"Seems like our thing," Dean stood up from the table and threw his beer out. He walked over to his bag and started to pack it. "How fast can you be ready?"
"Any time," Sam replied, shutting his laptop and placing it in its proper case. "Anything's better than waiting idle for the angelic morning report."
Dean knew Sam was referring to Castiel. Their angelic friend had been working tirelessly every day to restore Heaven's power. Raphael the archangel, it turns out had been giving the orders instead of Father Almighty. He'd tried to locate his Father, everything from using Dean's necklace as a supposed "God magnet" to scouring every inch of the earth on his own for any signs. Dean felt for the poor guy, he knew what it was like to have an absent father. The Winchester brothers had offered their help in any way, but they'd yet to hear from the angel since the last time Dean prayed to him and that was two days prior.
"Yah ready Dean?" Sam asked from the doorway, his duffel slung over his shoulder and his laptop bag in his hand. Dean picked up his duffel bag and after grabbing the last beer from the fridge and stuffing it in there, shutting the door, and paying the motel owner did Sam and Dean Winchester start out on their next hunt.
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Dean and Sam found a small motel on the outskirts of Newsburg and paid for at least a few nights. They figured this case wouldn't last them too long. Once there, they called the only person they knew for advice.
"Yeah I've heard of it," Bobby Singer said through the phone. "Small little town. Not much going on. It's one of those towns where everybody knows everybody and their brother though. So as much as it's a wealth of information, be careful. I don't know of any hunters nearby or they'd have already taken care of this. Small town folk tend to not take too kindly to our type of work."
"We'll be careful Bobby," Sam smiled; he missed their basically surrogate uncle already. They'd just come from his place. Not only was it a nice place to crash for the night, but Bobby provided food and support even when people didn't want to talk. "Hey can you look up anything on disappearing children? Like lore or monsters involved with it?"
"That's a tall order boy," Bobby replied, taking a sip of his whiskey in a glass. "That could take days."
"C'mon Bobby," Sam chuckled. "If anyone can do it it's you. We'll be scouring the books too."
Dean gave Sam a look.
"Or rather," Sam corrected himself. "I will…"
"Alright," Bobby finally agreed. "I'll do some of the book work, but you fellas are doing all the legwork."
"Got it," Sam said. "That's where we're headed now actually. Keep yah updated Bobby. Thanks again."
Sam hung up after Bobby gave him a gruff goodbye and turned to face his brother, who was busy tying up his nicer shoes. They were donning their FBI outfits and Dean tossed Sam a fake ID, which Sam placed carefully in his jacket pocket. Dean tucked his into his pants pocket. He stood up and adjusted his tie before turning towards his brother.
"Yeah," Dean said. "Why'd you tell Bobby we were both gonna hit the books? That's your job nerd boy."
"Jerk." Sam said and followed Dean out of the motel room to the car.
"Bitch." Dean replied and started up the car, they drove off towards the center of town and the police station.
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A bell chimed when they walked into the local police station. The building was practically deserted, give or take a few people milling about or waiting to be talked to. The cops were all in the back except for one portly cop who was busy reading the local newspaper gossip column and had spilled coffee on his tie. It had left a stain.
"Officer," Dean approached the desk first. "I'm Agent Paul and this is Agent Oates. We're here regarding the latest missing child case."
"About time you feds showed up," the cop narrowed his eyes at both Dean and Sam and Dean swallowed nervously. "Considering this has been going on for oh I don't know, years!"
"Well," Dean said. "It's been on our to-do list."
"Yeah I'm sure it has," the cop rolled his eyes. "Yah asswipes."
Sam had to step in before Dean tore him a new one. He gave Dean a look that clearly radiated "stand down" and looked back at the officer, but before he could speak a man exited the back room. A man who was clearly the police chief.
"Lester," he said. "Don't you have paperwork to do?"
"Yes sir." Lester, the portly cop turned back towards his computer and booted it up.
"Come with me boys," the captain motioned for Sam and Dean to follow him into the back. "You'll have to excuse Lester, he doesn't get out much."
"It shows." Dean muttered, but saying it loud enough so Lester could hear, he had to get his jab in there. Lester glared at Dean as he and Sam followed the police chief into his office. The room was neatly organized, not as bad as the police chief back when Dean had contracted that awful ghost sickness. The most cluttered part of his entire workspace was his desk next to his computer. There were pictures of the chief and his family. His arm was draped around a beautiful woman in most of them and a little boy was in one, popping out in front of them and sticking out his tongue. Sam and Dean sat down in the chairs across from his.
"So," the chief said. "You're here regarding the children?"
"Yes," Sam spoke before Dean could say anything else, the last thing they needed were pissed off cops on their tails. "We understand another child has gone missing Mr…"
"Please," the chief sat down at his desk chair. "Call me Mike."
"Mike," Sam continued. "How often has this been occurring now?"
"The first disappearance was years ago," Mike explained. "The eighties…"
"Christopher Rolland," Sam finished for him, he saw something change in the chief's eyes then it disappeared as if it'd never happened. "The first boy to go missing in this area."
"Sadly not the last," Mike replied. "It's strange though, it's like only some of the children go missing. Some come back, but most of them they stay gone. It's like some portal opened up and swallowed them."
"I hate to ask," Sam nodded. "But you don't think they're…"
"No," Mike stated rather insistently. "No evidence of any bodies has ever been found and no DNA has been found leading to a killer."
"I understand," Sam replied, he knew it was best to change the subject a little. "Not wanting to give up hope even after so long. What about the children that have come back? What have they been saying?"
"Nonsense," Mike shook his head. "That's all it is to me. Just childish fantasy."
"Humor us." Sam insisted.
"Stuff about this magical forest," Mike waved his hand to simulate flying. "Fairies, talking trees, leaves, etc. Stuff like out of a child's fairy tale."
"Really," Dean spoke up. "And they didn't say anything else? No names mentioned?"
"If you're suggesting abduction." Mike said.
"Just keeping all doors open," Dean replied and refrained from saying anything else. "Mike."
"Sorry," Mike sighed. "It's just after having no answers for so long and suddenly some of these children are showing up and others aren't and the children aren't giving us any answers either. It just grates on yah."
"I understand," Sam stood up to leave. "Well thank you Mike and let us know if we can help you in any way. We're sorry we didn't come sooner."
"It's fine," Mike said, Dean could sense tiredness but no bitterness in his voice, thankfully he was nothing like their "pal" at the front desk. "I'll call yah."
Sam handed him a business card for he and Dean's cell phones and the pair exited quietly. Dean didn't make eye contact with the officer at the desk, Lester, but he could the man's eyes boring into the back of his head as they walked back through the front door to the police station and back towards the Impala.
"Any thoughts?" Dean asked.
"Nothing," Sam replied, looking around. "It just seems like a bunch of kids being kids. What with fantasy lands and such?"
"Maybe," Dean looked over towards a bench nearby. There was a little girl who looked about ten year's old sitting on it. Her head was cast down and she was drawing in a sketchpad with crayons. Her mother was inside the post office nearby, it appeared. "Or maybe we should just go right to the source?"
Dean looked both ways and walked across the street when it was clear. Sam followed close behind him as Dean approached the little girl. Her blonde hair was put into pigtails and she hummed an identifiable song.
"That's a nice picture you've got there," Dean smiled and she looked up at him, smiling too, her front tooth had fallen out. "You're quite the little artist."
"Thank you," she replied. "I'm drawing my friend Org and I."
"Well he seems like he must be a pretty special friend," Dean said, looking down at the picture. It was the little girl holding hands with a rather nasty looking troll, but he was smiling none the less. "Where'd you meet this friend?"
"I met him in Somewhere," the little girl explained. "He lives there. It's where I went for a little bit last month. Mommy was worried sick, but Org said I'd be able to see her again. He was right."
"I see," Dean nodded. The bell on the post office chimed and a woman walked out. "Can you tell me more about this friend of yours? Does he have any other friends?"
"Yeah," she nodded. "He does, they're—"
"Sarah Marie," the woman said, stomping over to her little girl and grabbing her by the arm. "Come along and stop telling silly stories. You've already disappeared once this year I don't need that happening ever again. Now come!"
The woman dragged the little girl, Sarah, from the park bench and off down the sidewalk. She clutched to her sketch pad tightly, but her picture slipped out and blew in the breeze towards Dean's feet. It landed right in front of him. Dean picked it up. The corner of it flapped in the wind and Dean stared intently at the crayon drawing of the little girl and a troll. Sam peered over his shoulder. Dean quickly pocketed the drawing and with one final look at the little girl and her mother dragging her along, he and Sam turned tail and drove away in the Impala towards the motel.
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