Not a big fan of the begining of this chapter, but I like the end. Hope ya'll enjoy!) Again sorry if there are errors, I just really wanted to type this up quickly and post it for ya'll.
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Mandy Hawkins looked up from her steaming cup of coffee as the doorbell to her house rang. She sighed and stood up, taking her time to answer the door. She looked through the window on the door at two men in suits standing on her front porch. Mandy opened the door slowly.
"Yes?"
The taller of the men gave her a warm smile. "Are you Mandy Hawkins?"
Mandy nodded, opening the door fully.
The man continued. "I'm detective Arthur, this is detective Lance. May we ask you some questions about Joshua?"
Mandy frowned. "Oh..." She furrowed her brow sadly and silently ushered the two detectives inside. Sam and Dean stepped through the doorway and followed Mandy as she led them to the kitchen.
"I just made some coffee, would either of you like some?" Her words were soft and choked with emotion.
Sam smiled dolefully and shook his head gently. "No, no thank you Miss Hawkins."
Mandy returned to her seat. "Please, sit down."
Sam and Dean took seats across from Mandy, leaning forward on the table and clasping their hands in an almost frighteningly identicle manner.
"Did Joshua act...strange before his death? Mention anything about his health or act bizzare in any way?" Sam spoke softly, clearly sensing Mandy's anguish.
Mandy thought for a moment and shook her head finally. "Nothing I can recall."
The slightly older man spoke up after a moment. "Do you know of anyone who might haved wished harm upon your boyfriend?"
Mandy's face twitched a little and she bit her lip. She shook her head, letting out a sigh as she spoke. "No, not that I know of."
Sam and Dean gave each other a quick, disappointed look. Honestly, they both had basically nothing to go on-except Dean's theory-and they would have greatly appreciated any hints this Mandy woman might be able to give them.
Sam took in a deep inhale, looking back at Mandy. "What had Joshua been doing on the night of his passing?"
Mandy tapped the side of her coffee-mug with her fingernails. "Well, Josh was here with me for most of the evening, but it was guys night, so he and his friends went out to a downtown bar."
Dean perked up his eyebrows. "Got a name?"
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Later that night, the Boys made their way to the downtown bar. Sam bit at his thumb nail and looked out the window at the darkened streets as the flew by him.
"I'm begining to think this isn't our kinda thing." Chimed in Dean, breaking through Sam's thoughts.
"People don't just die like that, Dean. This is definitely our kinda thing." Sam paused and shook his head. "But what the hell could this be?"
Sam seemed to be a little more on edge than normal. Dean noticed this and gave Sam a puzzled look. "What's wrong with you?"
Sam fidgeted uneasily in his seat. "It's just..." He really couldn't quite explain it, he just had...a feeling. Sam sighed, not being able to verbalize what was troubling him. "Nevermind, it's nothing I guess."
Dean gave him a slightly worried look. "Ya sure? You're acting really jumpy, dude."
Sam shook his head. "I'm fine." The truth was, Sam couldn't stop replaying what had happened in his vision earlier that day. He didn't know what caused his brother so much pain in it, he didn't know if perhaps the same thing that was causing all these deaths was doing it, he didn't know if going to this bar(Or anywhere for that matter) would ultimately play into the vision coming true. Sam had considered all these possibilities and realized he had no idea what might or might not aid the possible occurence of his visions, and that scared him, leaving him feeling anxious and very alert.
"This is it." Dean broke the silence that had dominated most of their drive through town. He pulled into the parking lot of a bar called Shipley's. Sam's lips curled up a bit in disgust as he got out of the Impala.
"Shady looking place." he mumbled.
Dean's car door squeaked shut. "As long as it has alcohol, it's good enough for me." He grinned at Sam as he walked around the front of the Impala and up the stairs to the entrance of the bar. Sam breathed out a laugh and shook his head, following Dean inside.
The room was crowded, sounding with lame, jukebox music and the dull roar of multiple conversations being held all at once. The Boys walked over to the bar, taking two vacant seats. The bartender was a brunnette in her mid to late twenties. She wore a skin-tight black tank top that molded to and showed off her hour glass figure.
"What can I get you boys this evening?" She leaned foward on the bar, resting on the back of her palms.
Dean's first-class-charmer grin was cranked up to the max. Sam rolled his eyes. "And only after being here a little over a minute. Tha'ts gotta be a world record."
"Two beers, please." Sam interrupted the bartender's and Dean's mutual, ogling stare.
The bartender pulled her gaze away and looked at Sam. "Comin' right up." She gave Dean one last grin and went to get their order.
Dean turned to Sam, chuckling. "Ooh man!" He thumped the bar a few times with his fist.
Sam shook his head at him and took a look around the room. "Could you work any faster, Dean?"
Dean looked at him defensively. "I don't work that fast."
Sam laughed and looked back at Dean. "Yeah right. You could qualify for the Olympics. Listen, seriously. We have to try and figure this out."
Dean nodded and glanced down the bar at the brunnette as she uncapped two beers. He looked back at Sam, lowering his voice. "Maybe she was working the night Haroldson went missing. We could ask her, see if she saw anything."
Sam looked quickly at the bartender as she walked back over to them. "Alright, fine." he whispered quickly.
"Here ya go." She placed the beers in front of Sam and Dean. "Anything else I can get for ya'll?"
Dean rested his lower arm against the bar. "Yeah, actually. Did you happen to be working the night of the 29th?"
The woman furrowed her brow a little and put her hands on her hips. "Yes, as a matter of fact I was...why?"
"We're reporters from the local newspaper back in Boise. I'm Dean, this is Sam."
The bartender nodded and smiled. "Hi, I'm Charlotte. What are ya'll doing a story on?"
"The strange deaths that have occured over the past few years, most recently a man named Joshua Haroldson." Dean reached into his jacket as he spoke and pulled out a picture he had printed off. "He was here the night he died. Did you happen to see him?"
Charlotte took the picture, raising her eyebrows a little as she studied it. "Yeah yeah, I think I do remember seeing him. Was here with some friends."
Dean nodded. "That's right. And did he maybe get into a brawl with anyone or do anything strange?"
Charlotte laughed a little. "No. As I recall he just sat, boozing and laughing with his pals." She shrugged. "Sorry, nothing of note really comes to mind."
Dean nodded, looking Charlotte up and down. "That's a nice necklace." He grinned and pointed to the intricate symbol hanging low on a silver chain around Charlotte's neck.
She looked down. "Oh this? Thanks." Charlotte leaned forward on her elbows. "It's a good luck charm." She smiled flirtatiously at Dean.
"Does it work?" asked Dean, flicking up his eyebrows.
Charlotte giggled violently. "It seems to be right now."
Sam gave Dean a disgusted/amused look as he and Charlotte shared a hearty laugh over something of no particular hilarity. Charlotted stifled her giggling as someone down the bar motioned to her. "Oh, excuse me."
Dean watched after her then turned back to Sam. Sam gave him an awkward smile and took a long drink of beer.
"What?" asked Dean, still a little tickled from his previous laughing fit.
"That was painful."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Aw, come on, man. That chick is hot!" Dean clenched his teeth on the last word and looked giddily back at Charlotte.
Dean's energy was officially making Sam uncomfortable. "Alright..." He took another gulp of beer. "This isn't getting us anywhere, let's go."
Dean looked back at Sam, puzzled. "What? We just got here."
Sam had already stood up. "Dean, we don't have anyone to question. We should focus on what's going on here."
Sam started to walk away, Dean hurried after him, grabbing at the sleeve of his jacket. "Wait..."
Sam turned back impatiently. Dean looked back at Charlotte longingly. "...look, here..." He dug into his pocket and fished out the Impala's keys, handing them to Sam. "...Go ahead back. Do some research, hack into accounts, do your thing."
"And how are you supposed to get back?"
"Oh, don't worry about me. I'm gonna do a little research of my own." Dean's grin was at subterranean gutter level.
Sam rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. "Dean, I'm...I'm not sure that's such a good idea."
Dean waved the comment away with a gesture of his hand. "Aw, come on. It'll be fine, Sammy."
Sam looked at his brother for a good minute. "Fine." He sighed finally.
Dean grinned, clapped Sam on the shoulders and turned to go back to his seat. "Oh and Sam..."
Sam stopped and turned again, raising his eyebrows at his brother.
"...Don't wait up." Dean finished, grinning and waggling his eyebrows.
Sam shook his head as Dean sat back down and continued shamelessly flirting with the bartender.
"I never do." Sam said under his breath as he turned and went out the door. He drove the good ten minutes back to the hotel and immediately collapsed onto his bed. Sam was exhausted and didn't feel much like doing any research on a subject that he and Dean never managed to discover. Sam had wanted Dean to leave the bar so they could brainstorm on what was causing the local deaths. Yes, they needed to figure that out, but the main reason Sam had wanted them both to leave the bar was because he felt...uneasy. He couldn't stop replaying his visions over and over in his head. Sam wanted Dean to be somewhere nearby...safe. That way he could be damn sure that the look of pain on Dean's face in his vision would never be able to be relived in reality. The only reason Sam had given into Dean's request was because he felt after all that had happened over the past year, and especially the past few months, Dean needed a break of some sort; a distraction if nothing else.
Sam tried to perhaps get some sleep, but he only managed to doze off a few times at the most; tossing and turning the rest of the time. After awhile, he sighed in frustration and rolled over to look at the clock. It was nearly one A.M. Sam gave into the battle that his body was fighting with him to stay awake. He pushed himself up off the bed and went over to his trusty computer, bringing up the welcome screen.
Back At Shipley's
The bar had completely emptied except for Dean and Charlotte. They had chatted all throughout the night with no real plans of stopping. Charlotte was cleaning off some tables and laughing at something Dean had said.
Dean chuckled and looked at his watch. "Oh sorry, hope I'm not keeping you here."
Charlotte smiled and looked knowingly at Dean, resting a bucket of empty beer bottles on her hip. "Don't play dumb with me. We both know what you've got your mind on."
Dean tried to hold back a smile, hopefully along with his confirmation of Charlotte's accusal.
"Don't worry..." Charlotte grinned and walked back behind the bar, dumping the bottles in the trashcan. "...We're on the same page." She arched her eyebrow playfully at Dean.
He grinned and drank the last of his whiskey; he had switched from beer at some point in the night.
"So," Charlotte looked down, cleaning spilled liquor off the bar. "Have you found anything for your story about those deaths?"
Dean shook his head. "Nope. Can't find any disease that fits the bill. Has to be something else." Dean's moderately buzzed state caused him to stare a little into space and muse.
"Any reason to believe a person somehow did it?" Charlotted busied herself with drying off beer mugs.
Dean shrugged. "All I know is, there's something not right about it. Get the feeling they weren't accidents." Dean looked back at Charlotte. She smiled at him a little, looking him up and down slowly.
"Would you like another?"
Dean held up his empty glass, looking at it comtemplatively
"Yeah, one more."
At The Motel
Sam yet again came up with nothing on his searches. He drummed his fingers lightly on the keys, thinking about what search he hadn't tried yet.
"Huh..." He mumbled to himself and typed in the search "Clarissa Grace." A few search results showed up. A news article about an inspirational speech she gave at a local school a year ago, phone number listed on an online phonebook, and a marriage announcement. Sam clicked on the first search result. Absolutely no clues resulted, only a brief summary of her speech and a picture of her surrounded by children. She was a rather cold looking woman, about in her mid fifties. Sam exed out of it and went to the marriage announcement next.
"Victor Augustus Grace and Clarissa Charlotte Bardon are to be married on June the 29th." The article was from back in 1980.
Sam skimmed over the article, finding nothing of real importance. He scrolled back up to the top of the page and was about the click the "Back" button when the picture caught his attention more closely. Sam froze and stared at the young woman in the picture. Slowly he clicked to enlarge the photo. Sam felt as his heart rose to an alarmingly fast rate until it was pounding almost painfully against his rib-cage.
"Oh my God..." His voice cracked as he spoke under his breath. Sam jumped up and ran out the door to the Impala, leaving the picture of a 28 year old Clarissa Grace to smile out from the glow of the computer screen; a picture of Charlotte the bartender.
At Shipley's
"Alright, all ready." Charlotted looked intently at Dean, smiling a little.
"Alright." Dean grinned at her and downed the rest of his drink, standing up off the barstool.
"So is-" Dean stumbled back a little. He chuckled. "I guess I had more to drink than I thought."
Charlotte smirked at him, still leaning on her elbows against the bar, watching Dean with an amused air. "No. You're no light-weight. You didn't have enough to mess you up like this."
Deank blinked, giving Charlotte a puzzled look as she went in and out of focus before his eyes. "Wha-..what? What the hell are you talking about?" Dean put a hand to his head, he was starting to feel extremely dizzy.
Charlotte sighed, looking at her watch boredly. "Give it another minute."
Even through his increasing dizziness and calling to go to sleep, Dean was able to make the starting realization. "What'd...what...the hell did you give me?"
Charlotted smiled and sauntered out from behind the bar, walking slowly towards Dean. "You really should be careful of who's business you go sticking your cute little nose into." Her face was no longer pleasant and playful, but bitter and darkened by hatred.
Dean backed up slowly as Charlotte neared him. "You did it didn't you." He smiled bitterly. "How?"
Charlotte stopped, face close to Dean's. She gave his chest a harsh shove, tripping Dean backwards against a wall. Dean hit it hard and slid down, coming to sit on the floor. He coughed, the blow knocking the breath from he slightly. Charlotte stepped up and placed her her heeled shoes on either side of Dean's legs, squatting down to come face to face with him.
"You'll find out soon enough how I did it." Her smirk was bitterly terrifying, something unhumane glistened in her dark eyes.
Dean's lips twitched in anger, anger at himself for letting this happen, for letting himself become so vulnerable. He had to fight to keep his eyes open as another wave of dizziness and fatigue hit him. Charlotte laughed deeply, seeing his eyes flutter a little.
"It's nothing personal, Dean...I just can't leave loose ends."
Dean wanted to scream at himself as he finally lost his fight with consciousness, he lost his ability to defend himself, and he would probably loose his life next.
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Sam floored the Impala through all the orange, blinking lights in town, thankful that the hour was late enough that the regular signals had been switched off. His knuckles were ghostly as he gripped the steering wheel. Sam didn't know how Clarissa managed to make herself look like the way she did at 28, but he knew that Clarissa...Charlotte had to be the one who was resonsible for the deaths that had taken place over the last three years, for the murders.
She killed those people, Sam just knew it. And now she had Dean at her fingertips, able to strike again at any time. "Oh God, Dean. Please still be there." Sam raced through the last blinking light before the bar. Shipley's came into view. Sam pushed the Impala to go faster and peeled into the parking lot. He jumped out of the car, not bothering to cut the engine. The bar was dark, all the neon signs and lights inside had been switched off. Sam tried the door, but it was locked.
"Dean!" He peered through the windows desperately. There didn't appear to be anyone inside. Sam ran off the porch and around the side of the building. He came to an alley way around back. Sam desperately looked both ways, calling his brother's name again. He tried the door that led from the bar to the alley he was in; locked. Sam slammed his fist hard against the door in frustration. He stood back, breathing heavily, his heart drumming loudly in his ears. Sam ran his hands through his hair and rested them on the back of his head.
"What now? What the hell do I do now!!!" He looked down, something catching his eye on the ground. Water trickled into a small puddle where the asphalt caved a little. Sam walked over and bent down, reaching to pick something out of the puddle. He pulled out a black, retangular piece of fabric with a pointed end and a lone button on it. Sam studied it carefully. No doubt, it was from Dean's black jacket he had been wearing that evening, one of the flaps that buttoned down on both shoulders. Sam swallowed hard, not helping but think that perhaps this piece had been accidently ripped from Dean's jacket in some sort of struggle.
"Gah..." Sam choked on the emotion that was begining to bubble up in his throat. "...Dean."
He stood up, putting the fabric safely in his pocket, and ran back around the side of the building. Sam's head was killing him as he slowed to a fast walk towards the Impala. He shook it off and reached for the door handle.
An all too familiar flash of light stopped Sam dead in his tracks. The voice of his brother screamed in his ears. "Leave him alone! No! Sam!" Sam's vision blacked and as if on cue, the stab of pain vibrated of his back, more intense this time, causing Sam to fall against the Impala, gasping. Before he could recover, the excruciating pain penetrated his stomach.
"Gah!" Sam slid down to the pavement, barely able to brace himself against his hands. The pain twisted inside him, jerking him onto his side to writhe against it. Sam gasped for air, tasting his own blood in his mouth. A flash of light ended the pain and brought Sam the view of Dean, chained by his bleeding wrists to the ceiling, silently crying out in pain as Charlotte stood in front of him, holding some kind of doll. Flash: the doll was right before Sam's vision, a needle imbedded in it's chest. Flash: Blood gushed out from between Dean's clenched teeth, his face softening after a few moments and his head falling forward onto his blood-stained chest. Flash: A dimly lit room, perhaps a basement. Flash: A street sign. Sam's vision whitened, his brother's voice calling, his own name echoing through his ears, then all was silent.
Sam was left staring up at the stars from his horizontal position on the ground as the Impala's engine rumbled right next to him. Sam's chest rose and fell quickly as he scrambled to sit up. His vision was blurred with tears, his cheeks and temples wetted by one's that had already fallen. Sam grabbed at the top of the Impala's driver's side door, pulling himself up shakily. He ran his shaking hands over his face, horrified by the vision that had just plagued him.
"No no no no..." Sam mumbled, shaking his head. He should have made Dean leave, Sam knew something hadn't been right, he had felt it. He got into the car and slowly put his hands on the wheel, lost in thought. "Damnit, what had that street sign say? What the hell was it?" Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, resting his elbow against the window, desperately trying to remember. After a moment, his eyes flew open. "Clearview Road. That was it!" Sam reached over and pulled a map out of the glove compartment, searching for the street name. Sam's fingers stopped on the name.
"Son of a bitch..." The street was way out in the country, a relatively far drive. Sam put the car in reverse and squealed out of the parking lot, most likely leaving black marks on the asphalt. Sam twisted his tight grip on the steering wheel. "Voodoo.." The bitch had been using voodoo dolls to kill those people. Sam could have kicked himself for not thinking about it earlier, all he signs were there: No harm done to the outter body, inner body beat to hell. Sam carefully reviewed his vision again. "It has to be voodoo. She had a doll, she was using it on De-" A sick feeling of panic caused Sam to feel nauseous. He took in a shuddering breath. "Oh please, God. No...no"
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Dun dun dun dun dun duuuuuuuuuuuuuh!!!!!
Ok, so Hurt!Winchesters rejoice(Especially Hurt!Dean) Cause there is gonna be A LOT in these next few chapters. Along with Protective!Winchesters as well.
Not really sure how many more there will be, but I'm thinking 5? 6 altogether? We'll see what happens.
Reviews are always good, like to know where I need improvement and what ya'll think.
Thanks for reading!!!!
Lil
