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"You got any pictures of the other vics, Sammy?"
"Dean… Aren't you gonna talk about what just happened? You fainted. That's fucking serious."
"Give me the pictures, Sam." Dean warned sternly.
Sam heaved a sigh and went to his computer. He exited out of the window with the picture of Phillip Jacobs and handed the computer to Dean. "Their info's saved in the folder on the Desktop."
"Right." Dean opened the files and drew in a sharp breath. Sam was quick to his side and placed a warm hand on his shoulder.
"Dean? What is it?"
"Sammy, I know these guys. How in the hell..?"
"What do you mean, you know them? How's that possible?"
Dean paused, closed his eyes, and drew in a breath. "The last time we were here. You must not remember it since you were only a kid then." Dean's voice was quiet, like he was willing to recount the tale, but to no one's ears.
"I remember the last time we were here. There was an apartment complex just on the edge of town and we stayed there while Dad hunted something a few hours from here."
"Poltergeist."
"Right, a poltergeist. What about it?"
"He was supposed to be gone for a week; just one week, Sammy." Dean's voice quivered and Sam sat down carefully on the bed next to him. If it wasn't for vigilant eyes, he would have missed the way Dean flinched at his movements.
Sam nodded in remembrance, "Dad was gone for over a month. It was summertime and hot as shit so you'd take me to the library to read books and rent movies to watch on our busted up VCR."
Dean smirked a sad smrik. "Yeah, it was a piece of shit"
"Dean, I know this isn't about some crap VCR Dad got at a yard sale. What happened?"
"We were running out of food, Sam. Hell, we did run out of food. Dad didn't leave any cash and there was only enough food to last a week and a half at best. I stretched it out as much as I could, but… I was too afraid to steal. If I got caught like that last time, with no number to contact Dad or anybody else, what was gonna happen to you? Who'd take care of you if the cops got involved like before and CPS showed?" Dean's eyes were glassy and he swayed on the bed ever-so slightly. Sam kept a steadying hand to his shoulder, squeezing slightly to urge Dean to go on.
"Dean?"
Dean's Adam's apple bobbed up and down in his throat as he swallowed rapidly before the words came tumbling out. "So I went to this bar instead and these three guys were playing pool for money. I'd seen Dad hustle the pants of people since I was old enough to pay attention and I knew I could pull it off, too. And I did, Sammy. You should've seen their faces. This 14 year old kid going on about wantin' to impress his Daddy with his pool skills…They thought I had sucker stamped on my forehead.
But they got pissed and I walked away. I should've run. I don't know what the hell I was thinking – just strolling on in the summer wind. Fucking idiot. They caught up to me a few buildings down and didn't have my weapons because I blew out of the apartment in such a hurry and fuck if I was gonna leave you without anything to protect yourself. No, fuck that.
I took out two of 'em, Sammy. Punched one so hard in the ear, the file says his hearing was never right after and I shattered the other asshole's nose from here to Tuesday. But…Phillip. Fuck, he was strong as an ox, man. He got on top of me and banged my head so hard on the ground that I couldn't think straight. I couldn't fight him off, Sammy."
Dean stopped talking and his breathing became erratic. Fists clenched the thin sheets on the bed and he shut his eyes, seeming to try and calm himself down. "That's why you came back with all those bruises that night. You thought I didn't see it but…I didn't ask what happened. He beat you up because you beat him at pool?" He took in a deep breath, "maybe it's a good thing that something is killing these assholes off."
Dean chuckled grimly.
"What?"
"I blacked out for a second and when I came to, I was on my stomach with this guy just on top of me. He was fucking on top of me. Inside of me. All for 200 lousy fucking dollars." Sam's hand dropped away from Dean's shoulder as he jerked away and turned to face him. "200 fucking bucks. Bastard didn't even buy me a drink first." Dean's joke was wrong; the timing was off and his face held no confidence.
Sam blinked, pushing down nausea and looked sadly down at his brother's hands and saw slight trembles dancing up his arm. Dean's eyes flickered away from Sam when the joke left his lips and stared at an empty spot on the motel wall while his chest heaved in deep, heavy breaths. Words of comfort flew threw Sam's mind; words that he needed to get out to Dean.
But between the tightness in his chest and the rising lump in his throat, the words were stuck there, hanging in his mind like anchors. He reached a shaky hand to Dean's shoulder and while he was sure that Dean wasn't paying him much attention, he jumped up from the bed, muscles tense enough that his body shook slighty.
"Don't touch me." His voice was small and heavy with heartache. Sam blinked at the transformation before his eyes; not even a second ago when Dean jumped off from the bed, his shoulders were square and tense and his jaw tight. Now, though, his posture slacked and his eyes were wide and child-like.
And then the dusty lamp on the bedside table flickered on and off and a chill breeze blew through the closed-off room.
"Dean?" Sam was standing now, too, facing his brother with concern engraved into his features and worry making his voice soft but thick. "What's happening, man?"
"'was only a kid." Dean shook his head no violently and mumbled as he spoke. Tears flowed down his cheeks unchecked and he brought a finger up to his mouth to bite at the nail. "Why'd they do that to me, huh? 'just playin' baseball."
"Dean, that's – that's not what you were just telling me a second ago. Dean?"
"Stop callin' me that!" The child like voice was gone when Dean roared. The bulb in the lamp shattered, as did the overhead lights. "That's not my name."
Sam blinked. The flickering lights, Dean's total and complete change in demeanor – he was possessed. What the actual fuck? "O-oh. Ok. How about you tell me your name? I'm Sam."
"J-Jack." Dean's posture slacked more and he averted Sam's gaze like a timid child.
"That's a nice name. Do you know what's going on?"
"I-I," Dean blinked and scrunched his nose in frustration. "I was playin' baseball. Mommy said I didn't have to be back into the street lights came on."
"Your mom sounds like a nice lady, Jack."
Dean's eyes blinked. Jack blinked and nodded. "He was gonna give me a ride home."
"Who?"
"Mr. Jacobs."
"And then what happened?"
"I got in his car." Jack's nose (Dean's nose?) scrunched again. "It smelled funny. Like beer." Jack stopped talking then and looked up pleadingly at Sam. "Can you help me? I just didn't want to be late coming home. Mommy would've been so mad at me."
"Jack – "
"I-I know I'm not alive anymore. I just want to stop now."
"Stop what?"
"It's not fun anymore."
"What's not fun anymore? Jack?"
"They were bad men."
"Who?"
"The men in those files – the ones you came to see about. They weren't nice people."
"I know."
"Then why are you here? Do you want to help them? They were bad people!"
"Jack, I know. The same man that hurt you – he hurt my brother when we were kids."
"I know. It's why I was able to come into him. So why are you here?"
"We didn't know what was causing the disappearances. We didn't know who these people were, what they were. If we had – "
"Would you have come if you had? Come to see about saving them?" The air in the room grew cold again and there was a tightness in Sam's chest. Jack – Dean – glared at him with rage-filled green eyes. "Some people can't be saved, Sam! I couldn't. Dean can't!"
"That's not true." The words lacked any weight to them under Jack's stare and influence. Sam clutched a hand to his chest and steadied himself. "Dean can be saved. He's alive now. You can be saved, too."
"I'm dead, Sam. What can you do?"
"We can help you find peace. We can put you to rest." Sam blinked rapidly in an attempt to keep the motel room and Dean in focus. Dark spots began to pepper his vision and he teetered on his feet.
And then, Jack blinked and the tightness was gone. Sam inhaled deeply, not taking his eyes off his brother only a few feet away from him.
"I don't want peace anymore."
"You said you were tired."
"I was – am. But I'm not done yet."
"What do you mean?"
"They all should pay. They should've saved me but they didn't."
"Who?"
And then Jack blinked. Only, when his eyes opened again, it was Dean staring back at him under a haze of confusion. He swayed on his feet before reaching a hand out to the wall beside him and sliding down to the floor. Sam stood and watched, frozen in place, as the room went back to normal temperature and the lights stopped flickering.
Dean shuttered in the corner and slammed his palms into his eyes and groaned. Sam took a tentative step towards Dean but stopped and wondered if the first outburst was Dean before Jack possessed him or Jack just after. When Dean's groans gave way to whimpers and his shoulder began to shake, Sam closed the distance between them anyway and placed a reassuring hand on Dean's tense shoulders.
Dean was too out of it to hear the rumbling of a car outside their motel room. Sam was too caught up with trying to make Dean snap out of it to hear the motel door opening. Neither of them were too deep in thought to hear the thunder of a familiar voice behind them: "Boys, what's happened?"
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