The Winchesters were back in high school. It had been a while since they'd worked a case involving students, but at least this time around didn't involve bright red shorts. They were in their FBI digs, and had already spoken to the principal. He had been extremely helpful, even offering to escort them right to the auditorium where the weird stuff had been happening.
Dean took him up on the offer, chatting him up as they walked, while Sam hung back to scope out the rest of the building. He hadn't gotten far when something caught his attention. On a bulletin board in the hallway, there was a boldly drawn pentagram on one of the flyers. He went to look closer, and his stomach dropped. He quickly scanned the rest of the flyer, feeling worse by the second. "This can't be happening," he said to himself, and could barely keep himself from running as he went to find his brother.
The principal had already introduced Dean to the drama advisor, a thin, forty-something woman with short blonde hair. She barely paused long enough to shake Dean's hand, as she was busy flitting around the auditorium, calling instructions to the students as they got ready for rehearsal. She waved her hand at a row of empty seats, addressing Dean. "Please, have a seat, I'll be with you as soon as we get started." He nodded, and made himself comfortable, leaning back and propping his feet up on the row in front of him.
His eyes skimmed across the various teens in the room. Some were painting backdrops, other were milling around the sound booth in the back. A few were dressed all in black and carried walkie talkies. Every one of them was wrapped up in their own tasks. Dean turned his attention back to the front of the room.
The stage was split down the middle by a large moveable wall. To the left of the wall was purposely darkened, but he could see bodies waiting in the shadows. On the other side, the scene was set up like a bedroom, and a girl sat on the edge of the bed. There was something familiar about her. She was reading over a script, and Dean could see her mouthing the words to herself. He frowned as he studied her. Her blonde hair was cut very short, and she wore a button-down flannel shirt and jeans.
"Alright my little thespians!" the teacher announced, and everyone hushed to listen. "We only have two weeks until showtime. Let's not get lazy now, we still need to fine-tune this. Tech booth, that means you; I want to see lights on cue tonight! Alright, let's pick up where we finished yesterday, act 2, scene 16. Places everyone!"
Dean glanced around, and noticed his brother at the side door. He raised an arm until Sam spotted him. The was a look of deep concern all over his face. Dean waited as Sam hurried over and shuffled down the row of seats. "Find anything?" Dean asked.
"Not about the case," Sam said, gazing around the auditorium in horror. "We should get out of here."
Just then the lights dimmed. Dean settled back into his seat. "Sure thing, let's just talk to the teacher first. She'll be over in a sec." The lights brightened over the right half of the stage. The young actress tucked her script under the bed and took a deep breath before she began reciting her lines.
"Cas, are you listening? You know I'm not one for praying, cause in my book it's just like begging. But this is important, it's about Sam. I know he's hurting, even though he covers it well. I don't ask you for much, but could you please... keep watch over my little brother?" The girl sighed, and looked out over the darkened room. "Where the heck are you, Cas?"
Sam risked a glance at his brother. A moment ago he had been worried for Dean's reaction, but now he had a dozen questions he was dying to ask. Dean didn't turn to look at him, but Sam could see his jaw clenching and his shoulders tensing up. Sam swallowed hard before he spoke. "I saw a flyer for the play, that's why I was coming to get you. It's based on Chuck's books."
Dean nodded. "Right, of course," he muttered. "That's perfect." He still hadn't turned away from the scene in front of them. The actress was taking notes on her script, while her teacher spoke animatedly with lots of arm-waving.
"When was that?" Sam finally asked, his voice gentle.
Finally Dean turned to look at him. "What?" Sam just raised his eyebrows and glanced at the stage. Dean sighed bitterly, and scooted down further in his seat. "After the first trial," he answered.
They were both silent for a long moment. "I didn't know," Sam said, so softly that Dean almost missed it.
Before Dean could answer, there was a commotion on the darkened half of the stage as the teacher was calling out more instructions. "Let's keep going! Tasha, do your last line again so tech can work on the cue."
The girl on stage nodded, and when everyone grew silent, she looked out over the room. "Where the heck are you, Cas?" she repeated. The stage went black.
Sam leaned over and whispered to Dean, "should we go?"
"What for?"
"Is there anything… I mean… what happened after that?"
Dean shot his brother a puzzled glance. "Nothing, man! Cas didn't answer."
They stared at each other blankly for a second, then Sam's jaw dropped. "Oh God. Why didn't he?"
Dean shrugged, not following Sam's train of thought. "Um… something to do with that Naomi chick, I guess." Then the pieces clicked together in his mind. "He didn't… I never… you don't think..?"
Now the lights brightened on the left side of the stage. The girl playing Dean now had fake blood smeared on her face and hands. "Don't do this," she begged, speaking to someone off-stage. She walked backward, a look of terror on her bloody face.
Another actress stepped onto the stage, dressed in a trench coat. In their seats, Sam and Dean both sat a little straighter. Both were actually nervous of where this was going. They were so focused, that when the drama instruction spoke right behind them, it startled them badly. "Good, isn't it?" she whispered. "We've got some very talented kids this year."
Sam nodded in agreement. "Very talented," he glanced back, forcing a smile. Dean didn't budge.
The fake Cas on stage had twisted the other girl's arm, forcing her to her knees. Her eyes looked cold and emotionless. With her free hand, she raised a weapon high above her head, ready to strike. Then her expression softened, and she glanced around, her eyes wide. "No, please! Let me go, Naomi."
A third actress joined them on stage, this one dressed in a classy business suit. She smiled at the other two. "I'll let you go... after you practice your lessons," she said sweetly.
Without lowering the homemade angel blade, the girl shook her head, swinging her dark hair. "I can't hurt him," she looked down at the bloody face of the other actress. "Please don't make me."
"You will do as I tell you." She practically shouted her next line. "Now finish this."
Trench coat girl swung her blade down in a pretty convincing-looking stab to the chest. After she lowered the body to the floor, she looked again, then gasped and fell to her knees. "Dean!" she sobbed.
Behind them, the other girl paced. "Better, but still too much hesitation." She smiled. "Let's try again, shall we?" She snapped her fingers, and the lights went out.
Sam realized he had been holding his breath, and let it out loudly. He rubbed a hand over his face. The whole thing felt surreal, but he believed that what they had just seen was the truth. "You okay man?" he asked his brother.
The lights turned back on over the entire room. Dean's seat was empty.
