/N: I intend for this story to focus more on everyone's personal issues/problems. There will be a case (obviously, from the title of this chapter). This story may go longer than the others I've written. Thanks for reading and enjoy.
O.O.O.O.O.
Chapter Two – The Case
Dean wore a thin, gray sweater and jeans as he sat down at the bar. It was nine o'clock in the morning and he wasn't the first to get up. Sam had been up earlier – and he had nudged Ash from his deep sleep. The two were in the back, both on laptops, clicking and typing away. Dean rubbed his tired face, looking down as Ellen, dressed in jeans and a light blue shirt, put down a cup of coffee before him.
"No Jack before noon," Ellen said, "that's my rule."
"Thanks," Dean said plainly. He took the cup and drank it slowly. Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He went through his contacts and found the first name at the top of the list was Amy's. He was tempted to press SEND and give her a call, but instead Dean just dropped his cell phone on the counter.
Ellen looked strangely down at the phone, picked it up, and glanced at the name highlighted.
"Amy…" Ellen mouthed. "This your girl?"
Dean looked up quickly; Ellen nodded her head toward Sam – signaling that he had told her about Amy.
"Umm," Dean thought. "She was…I'm not sure how things are now."
"Call her. Ask," Ellen said simply. Dean looked up at her, giving her a sarcastic grin, and shook his head. "So c'mon," Ellen crooned. She poured herself a cup of black coffee. "Tell me about her."
"You really are a nosey woman…first you want news on demons and now about the females in my life?" Dean chuckled.
"I'm a woman," Ellen said proudly. "Let it out, Dean. Could be helpful. Besides, demon talk gets old."
He took a large gulp of his coffee.
"I've known her since birth, apparently," Dean began. He seemed miserable talking about it. "Our parents were best buds with hers. We grew up together, that sort of thing…"
He trailed off, imagining the way she looked, and smiled gently. "She's beautiful," Dean mentioned. "Not like other girls I've…" He coughed. "She's different. She's simple. But difficult. Tough. Fragile, at the same time. She can't cook…Smart. Boy, is she smart. She skipped class as much as I did and her SAT scores were great. She could have gone anywhere…but I guess she felt like she needed to stay close to home…" Or close to Sam, Dean thought.
"She loves art. And movies. And books. She's your average girl…" Dean sighed. "With psychic abilities too. Not exactly like Sam. She's a…normal psychic…"
"This girl sounds special…" Ellen noted. "Now why don't you call her?"
Dean shook his head sadly, the grin faded away. "She's better off."
"Oh c'mon Winchester," Ellen snapped, "it's been almost a year, hasn't it?"
"It's difficult…" Dean finished. He said nothing else. He drank his coffee in silence and Ellen was left staring down at the phone with Amy's number still highlighted.
O.O.O.O.O.
Friday afternoon meant Martini Parties. Amy's friends created the custom shortly after the "jerk of a boyfriend" left town after Amy's close friend was killed in the fire.
KC and Dana sat with Amy and Isabella, drinking pink martinis, while the other girls were ordering more drinks. The bar they were at was meant specifically for women only. Any female who could order alcohol usually came here to have a good time with friends, or drown in sorrow.
Amy was doing both. She was on her fourth martini; laughing with an equally drunk KC. Isabella was still on her first drink, chatting with Dana. Rochelle, Violet, and Erin returned to their usual table, on the second floor of the bar, with a tray of fresh drinks.
"Here ya go ladies," Violet announced.
Isabella denied a second glass, keeping a careful eye on Amy.
The subject: Dean. Of course. Girls get drunk and they bring up the "jerk of a boyfriend."
But it wasn't a negative conversation. KC had brought up how "cute" Dean was. The others were deep in conversation on the same topic – Sam was a main topic too.
"He's the prettiest man I've ever seen," Amy grinned, leaning on her elbow, tipsy-drunk. "He was a little odd looking as a child." Everyone laughed. "But maaan…when he got older…he got sooo cute. And now…he has the prettiest eyes…and if you look close enough…you can see freckles underneath his eyes…he used to blame it on the time we would go to the beach…my family always took Dean and Sam on our beach trips…but wow…and his lips…" All the girls moaned and giggled as their eyes glazed over and they were imagining Dean's face. "He has these adorable, pouty lips…" Amy sighed. She took another sip of her martini. "I miss those lips," she whispered – no one else heard the comment but Izzy.
"And that brother…" Rochelle grinned, drinking her martini, "what a cutie…"
"Oh I know," Amy smiled, "he's always been a cutie. He and Dean have the same level of handsomeness I think…only Sam is the good, innocent-looking one…and Dean was always the badass…"
"Mmm…" Violet savored the imaginary moment. "Both boys equally cute…"
Rochelle: "And adorable."
KC: "Hot."
Dana: "Sexy."
Erin: "Just yummy…"
Isabella: "Good men…"
Everyone turned to look at her. They giggled; Amy was the only one who took the comment seriously. She nodded in agreement with Izzy while the others chatted about the "hot" or "sexy" Winchester brothers. Amy and Isabella had a silent toast, tipping their glasses together, and taking a single gulp.
O.O.O.O.O.O.
Isabella had driven the Mini Coop. back. Amy was easy to sober up. The two females came up the stairs, slowly, with Amy leaning into Isabella miserably.
They came to the floor – noticing someone standing by the door.
Dressed in police attire and a concerned look, Officer Blake Evans waited patiently for Isabella and Amy to confront him.
"Ladies," Blake greeted, resting his hands on his belt. He dropped them weakly, noticing Amy's state. "Are you alright?"
"Oh, I'm fine Blake," Amy grinned softly. "Just one of those 'woe-is-me' drinking moments. 'Haven't seen you in a while?"
Isabella got out the key to let everyone in. Blake followed, allowing Amy to go first.
Amy removed her black coat and let it rest across the kitchen counter. She turned to Blake, seriously, and asked, "Is there something wrong?"
He shifted weight nervously. His glance was toward Isabella – who was staring back confused.
"I think we should talk in private, Amy," Blake offered.
Amy turned and laughed. "Oh no. Whatever it is. Izzy can hear. You two remember one another…"
Isabella squinted her eyes at the handsome officer.
"You're one of the officers who were part of my investigation…" Isabella suddenly remembered.
Blake nodded. "Yes…but we really must talk…"
"You can say whatever it is to Izzy and me," Amy repeated, "so, shoot."
Blake took a deep breath and sighed. There was something in his posture and voice that concerned Amy greatly, suddenly.
"I got word from a police friend of mine in Florida…" Blake explained, leaning against the wall, "there was a fire at the Ashley Honor Hospital in St. Augustine. Started in the maternity ward."
"Oh, that's terrible," Isabella whispered.
Blake nodded. "My buddy told me…he got a witness statement – which wasn't printed – and…" He paused, staring at Amy sadly. "He told me that a nurse told him – and him only – that she claimed to have seen one of the patients…" He gulped. And with everything he was saying, Amy suddenly realized what he was about to say… "One of the patients was pinned to the ceiling."
The Demon?
Isabella placed her hand over her mouth quickly.
"According to the current investigation of the fire," Blake continued, "it started in one of the rooms – on the ceiling – the very same room where the woman was seen pinned to the top…"
"Oh my…" Amy murmured. She had her hand placed over her stomach. That nauseating feeling was hitting her hard.
"My buddy only told me after hearing about the fire that happened here…with…" He wouldn't bring himself to say her name. "But…Amy…the statement about the woman pinned to her ceiling won't be printed. No one will find out…I thought I should come and tell you…I know this is sort of your area…" He breathed. "This supernatural stuff."
"Wait," Isabella snapped, "you know?"
Blake bit his lip: "My wife died a while ago…"
Amy finished: "His wife, Penelope…" She sighed. "She came to see me…she needed help…" Isabella suddenly realized what Amy was talking about exactly.
"Amy helped me say goodbye…" Blake explained. "That's why I help Amy out when I can…"
There it was. The answer. Isabella remembered a questioning Dean and Sam on why Officer Blake Evans was so helpful during the Isabella-crisis.
Blake had a folded yellow envelope inside his jacket. He pulled it up, handed it to Amy slowly, and explained: "This is the police report. And the information about the room where the fire supposedly started."
"What happened to the woman…that the nurse saw?" Amy asked.
"Some people were killed in that fire Amy…some were injured getting out…the patient, in that room…" Blake bowed his head grimly. "Hasn't been found. Not even ashes…"
"You're not just going to go to Florida, are you?" Isabella asked worriedly. She was beginning to think-
"No," Amy whispered. Her glance was staring plainly at the envelope. She looked up, staring at Isabella and Blake, and said, "I'm not a hunter. I'm an art teacher."
She left them, but they followed anyway, and Isabella and Blake were led to Amy's bedroom.
She sat down on the computer, removing the reports and other papers from the envelope, and began lay them on her scanner.
"What are you doing?" Blake asked.
Amy typed fast, opening up e-mail, and said, "Giving the case to someone I know who can handle it."
O.O.O.O.O.
Sam joined Dean at the bar counter, drinking coffee, and saying good morning to Ellen. He was fresh out of the shower – jeans, heavy boots, and a black hoodie with a brown jacket over it. It was cold outside – and even colder in the bar.
Dean had dressed too: jeans, the thin gray sweater, and leather jacket. He rubbed his face tiredly, it was three in the afternoon, and neither of them had done anything, but play cards, research, and drink coffee.
"You boys look bored," Ellen noticed, after serving drinks to two older men sitting on the opposite side.
"Bored, no," Sam grinned. "Jittery, yes."
At that point, Ash, in a sleeveless, red flannel shirt and jeans, walked over, carrying Sam's laptop with him. He placed it before Sam, running his hand through his mullet, and said, with a tired Southern accent, "Here ya go, Sam." His voice was slightly hoarse. "Looks like you got some mail."
Sam, thinking it must be another one from his friends back at Stanford, looked at the screen.
His eyes widened a bit.
"What is it?" Dean asked, taking a sip from his third coffee in the day.
Sam looked at Dean, then back at the screen. He used his left hand to move the cursor around and explained: "I got an e-mail from Amy…" Dean grew still. "The subject says: MYSTERISOUS FIRE – ST. AUGUSTINE, FLORIDA."
"Well open it…" Dean ordered.
Sam did as he was told.
Had it been the fact that Amy sent the e-mail, or the subject that had Sam and Dean worried?
"Whoa…" Sam breathed, staring at the small paragraph Amy had written, below were attachments of documents she had scanned. Dean gave another annoyed look and Sam continued:
"Dear Sam and Dean,
Officer Blake Evans gave me this information.
St. Augustine, Florida – Ashley Honor Hospital – Fire on maternity ward – Cause of Fire Unknown.
A statement taken from a police friend of Blake's says that a woman was pinned to the ceiling of her room while the fire occurred. Statement was taken from a nurse named Virginia Dye. Some were killed, many were injured. The woman, in question, who was seen on the ceiling, was not found after returning to the damaged remains of the ward.
Police report, hospital report, and other documents attached.
Good luck.
-Amy"
Dean sat back in the stool, amazed and wide-eyed, and pursed his lips.
"The Demon, you think?" Ellen asked.
Sam and Dean looked at one another. Obviously, it was.
"We're getting our gear together, now," Dean instructed. He got up from the stool and ordered Ash, "Go through the documents Amy sent and print it out for us, alright?" Ash nodded. "And see if you can gather up any more info before we leave."
"Gotcha Chief," Ash saluted. He was taking the ordering-around better than before – if it involved The Demon, it was a situation meant to be taken seriously.
O.O.O.O.O.
Dean threw rifles and other guns into his duffel bag, turning around, and watched Sam gather his things too. They were alone in the backroom, Ellen was going to make a phone call to the hospital to gather any useful information, and Ash was doing his thing getting the documents.
"You think Amy's there?" Dean asked.
Sam turned, stuffing some clothes into his bag, "Not sure. You think?"
"She's left us a similar message before, maybe she'll meet up with us there…" Dean suggested.
"Hope not."
"Yeah, same."
The brothers remained silent. Sam stuffed a T-shirt roughly into his bag, ignoring the look Dean gave him, and continued to pack.
"I can't believe there's just been another attack…" Sam snapped, throwing the bag onto the floor. Dean knew this was coming. He turned, angry, upset, frantic, "I didn't even have a vision this time…"
"Dude, don't start." Dean warned. "I know you're pissed as well. I am too. But you can't have a vision about all of this."
"Of course, Dean!" Sam shouted, throwing his hands in the air. "I have visions – most of them Demon-related!" He paced the floor. "First, I couldn't save Ava! Now this! PEOPLE DIED IN THAT FIRE APPARENTLY, DEAN! AND THE WOMAN IN THAT ROOM!"
"HEY, LISTEN TO ME!" Dean shouted. Both of their faces were red; necks and fists clenching. "We're figure it out, okay! And if we're dealing with the demon – then we handle it!"
"We haven't dealt with it since-"
"I know…" Dean muttered gently. He kept his hands on his waist. "So maybe now's the time. Maybe we have another showdown…"
"Are we ready…" Sam asked. He was worried. Dean was too. Was this the time Sam would face his supposed destiny? Did the Demon finally want him…
"We're always ready, Sammy," Dean assured. "And if it's happening now…and if it's meant to end now…then it will…not get your crap together…we're on the road in five."
Dean shoved one last gun into his bag, slung it over his shoulder, and left the room. Sam was left alone, still pacing, rubbing his temple.
The Demon. They would face it again…
And the outcome would be final one…
Hopefully.
O.O.O.O.O.
A/N: Reviews/Comments appreciated. Will update ASAP.
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