Mass Hysteria

A/N: This story deals with a high school shooting that includes the death of several teenagers.

Feedback is welcome and appreciated

Thanks again for the kind reviews and to all those who are still reading.

Part 4

Sam stared at the ceiling of their room for a long time after Dean fell asleep. He'd never admit it but he was glad to be sharing a bed. He felt safer having his brother close which was stupid because he wasn't in any danger. The morning at school had passed and so had the threat. In all likelihood, Tim Carroll was sitting in a jail cell or in a hospital psych ward, long past the point of being able to hurt anyone.

Sam knew that it was normal to have some residual fear after a close call. He had been hunting with his family for years, searching for and finding monsters to kill. He had spent more than one night lying awake after some violent or dicey altercation where one or all of them had been in danger. What he was feeling was normal; it's just, it seemed different.

He'd never seen people that he knew being gunned down before. He couldn't call any of them friends but he had been in classes with them, had seen them in the hall or in home room or in the cafeteria. He had seen them alive, with futures, and then he'd seen them terrified and dying.

He shuddered as Dean stirred then turned from his stomach to his side. Sam had to grip the blankets to keep his brother from sweeping them away.

When Sam had walked into the cafeteria for the test, he'd been apprehensive about whether he'd get a perfect score. He knew he'd pass but he wanted a hundred percent. He opened the door to find both teachers and a handful of students milling around. A nervous energy filled the air as everyone prepared to take the mid-term. Gradually more students filed in until about five minutes before testing. Mrs. Snyder told them to sit down so she could distribute the test papers. Tim Carroll walked in. Sam hadn't taken a seat yet when he noticed his purple pencil laying on the floor near the door. Sam had found it a couple of weeks earlier and liked the color so he'd been using it since.

He went to pick it up when he heard a gasp so he turned around to find Tim holding a gun. He was pointing it at the teachers. Sam froze with surprise, the pencil forgotten. He blocked out the scared noises filling up around him. He started assessing just as he'd been trained but until he knew what Tim wanted, he couldn't take action. The squeak of the door opening made his insides go cold with fear as he turned to see Claire Webber. She didn't seem to be aware of the danger when the room exploded with the noise of a gunshot. Sam couldn't stop seeing her stunned expression or the blossoming stain on her shirt as she stumbled backward out the door.

Understanding hit him with cold clarity and Sam started forward, intent on tackling Tim but the noise pushed everyone towards the door. They shoved past Sam like a herd of scared sheep, all of them screaming as Tim opened fire on them. One of the boys fell into Sam and landed near his feet. Sam jumped away from him still trying to get a clear path to Tim but instead, getting pushed further away. He lost his balance and fell on his knees when someone plowed into him. By the time Sam had regained his footing Tim was standing over Marlene and in front of the only exit while she begged him not to kill her. He fired twice more before he swung the weapon up at the others. Like it was choreographed they stepped back, putting their hands up as if that would stop a bullet.

"Get under the desks and shut up!" Tim ordered then noticed Sam standing to one side of him.

Sam held his breath, his heart pounding while he waited to be killed.

"Under the desk," Tim ordered again.

Sam moved quickly, keeping his eyes on the boy and not the gun, looking for any change that might indicate he was getting ready to fire. He crouched at the edge of the line of desks not wanting to be underneath one because he needed some freedom to act. Tim didn't notice as his attention was drawn back to the teachers.

Bridges started talking then, trying to convince Tim to surrender, making promises, trying to appeal to his humanity. Sam wanted to tell the teacher to be quiet but he didn't. Instead he watched and waited, hoping Tim would turn his back completely so he wouldn't notice Sam attacking from his peripheral.

Tim finally fired, knocking Mr. Bridges backward into the glass. The teacher yelled out in surprise as he sank to the floor. All the students exploded in sound while Sam fought the panic building around him. Snyder stepped in front of Mr. Bridges, holding her hands up and telling Tim not to fire again and Tim swung the gun around clipping her in the head. She fell on to Mr. Bridges.

Sam knew if he succumbed to the fear of the other students he wouldn't be able to think so he focused on Tim instead. The boy backed away from the teachers as if wounding them was somehow worse than murdering his classmates.

Tim started yelling orders, telling everyone to be shut up or he'd kill them all and finally, it seemed to sink in because the noise died down to whimpers and soft crying. Sam was relieved and hoped they stayed quiet.

Bridges pushed himself to his knees slowly then put himself in front of Snyder. Tim wasn't interested in them anymore. He was pacing and waving the gun at the teenagers trapped under furniture and Sam knew they were helpless. By having them scrunch themselves under the desks, he had immobilized them. Whenever Tim decided to massacre his victims, he'd be able to without much trouble. He still hadn't noticed that Sam was not under a desk but crouching at the end instead.

While Bridges and Snyder helped each other, Tim looked out the big, glass window towards the outdoor tables where students would have lunch on warmer days. Sam prepared to make his move, knowing that time was running out.

Snyder said something that Sam didn't hear but in the next moment, Tim stalked over to her and Sam pounded after him. If he didn't stop him now, there wouldn't be another chance. Sam leaped the last foot or so and they both went down hard. Tim cursed as they fought, elbowing Sam, trying to shake him off or get the gun around but Sam managed to hold him. Then suddenly, Dean was there.

The battle ended quickly when Dean rapped Tim in the skull with his .45. Sam rolled away from them while Dean wrenched Tim's arms behind him, pulling the sleeves of his shirt until he could knot the ends together. Sam took Dean's gun so he had two free hands to bind Tim.

Somewhere in the back of Sam's mind, he had known that his family would come. He wasn't really surprised when they burst through the door. Even in the midst of the shooting when he was terrified and horrified, Sam never lost his calm. Part of that was training, part of that was confidence in himself, his brother and his father.

SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN

John darted up in bed, heart seizing in his chest. He searched around him frantically, wiping sleep out of his eyes while he gained his bearings. As the motel room came into focus he gasped in relief. Forcing his vision to focus he stared at his boys in the next bed, counting them, watching their bodies move and breathe. He swallowed against a dry throat as he assured himself that there were two sons sleeping peacefully nearby, both safe, both uninjured. It could so easily have gone differently and John thanked God and Mary that they were there.

He pushed the blankets off, shifting his body to the side of the bed and rubbed his face. He jumped, startled when his cellular phone rang. He flipped it open quickly, hoping it didn't wake the boys, and padded into the bathroom.

"Yeah," he said.

"Good morning to you too, John," Bobby Singer said. "Am I crazy or did I just see Sam on the news saying he's the hero in that school shooting?"

"He's what?"

"It's on the national news, John. Name, age, grade, said something about being helped by an unidentified student and an adult male. I'm guessing that's Dean and you."

"Damn it."

"Is everybody all right?"

"We're fine. No one's hurt."

"What the hell happened?"

John gave Bobby a basic rundown then promised to give him more details when they arrived.

"Christ," Bobby said. "Thank God, they're all right."

"Yeah," John said as he leaned against the bathroom sink.

"How are you doing?" Bobby asked.

"I'm all right. There're a lot of parents who can't say that today so I'm grateful. But, those kids were just…they were so young, I just…it's a waste, ya know?"

"I hear ya. It's a terrible thing."

John glanced out the door at his sons and sighed.

"I'm going to rustle up the boys, get breakfast and we'll be on our way. Expect to hit you by night fall."

"Just keep Sam under wraps unless you want to be on the evening news."

"Will do. Thanks for the head's up."

John clicked the phone off. He used the bathroom and started the shower. While the water warmed, he yelled for Dean and Sam to wake up. Dean grumbled as he rolled on to his back then pushed at his brother. Satisfied they would keep moving John went back in the bathroom to shower.

SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN

The drive to Bobby's took about twelve hours. Dean fidgeted from his position in the front seat, killing time by making conversation with his father and by reading old copies of Guns and Ammunition, MAD magazine and a beat up X-Men comic book. Normally, he'd put some time into teasing his brother. Now that Sam was older, he was more fun to annoy because the battle between them was more evenly matched.

For this drive, Dean left him alone though. The kid hadn't slept much the night before and had barely touched his breakfast. Clearly he was still reeling from the events of the day before. He just sat in the backseat reading some geeky book by Charles Dickens because it was listed in the required reading for high school. The only time he spoke was to answer Dad about stopping for a bathroom or needing a drink or a snack.

When they finally arrived at Singer Salvage, Dean practically leaped out of the car, glad for the drive to be over. Bobby greeted them from the porch, wearing his signature ball cap, flannel and jeans.

Dean shivered as he stepped into the frigid South Dakota winter. He waved to Bobby who yelled out that he had dinner on the stove. Dean went to the trunk where Dad handed him his duffle as well as a bag of weapons. Dad gave Sam a duffle also then gathered a few more bags. They all headed up the wooden steps and Bobby led them into the warm house. Dean grinned at the sight of a fire burning in the fireplace and the smell of food cooking.

It was always nice to be in Bobby's house.

Dad told them to take their gear upstairs. Bobby patted Sam's back as he walked by carrying the duffle bag. Dean followed his younger brother to the second floor then down the hall to the room they shared. He dumped his bag in the corner and found Sam leaving his at the bottom of the bed.

The small room held two single beds with a tall wooden dresser at the end of the one that Sam used. A quilt stitched together by patches of autumn colored fabrics sat folded on the top of the dresser. Dean would bet it was homemade. That same blanket was always there and it never made sense to Dean to have a blanket sitting on top of a dresser.

Dean turned his attention to Sam and couldn't help noticing the kid looked like hell with dark circles under his eyes, messy hair and slumped shoulders. He didn't comment on it knowing they'd need more time to talk than the two minutes they had until Dad and Bobby called them to dinner.

"Bobby cooked," Dean said, his stomach gurgling noisily while he grinned.

"Smells like beef stew," Sam said, sounding happy about it.

Before Dean could say anything else, Dad's voice boomed out for them to come downstairs.

Leading the way, Dean bounded down the steps and into the kitchen where the men were waiting. Bobby handed him a bowl.

"Eat up. Made enough for a small army."

"Or for Dean," Dad joked.

Sam smiled as Bobby slipped a bowl into his hands.

"You feeling all right, son?" Bobby asked with a critical eye.

Dean noticed Dad sitting up straighter to appraise Sam as well.

"Yes, sir," he answered, ducking his head, obviously embarrassed by the attention.

"Glad to hear it. Get some food and we can talk about what's eating folks around here."

Sam filled his bowl from the stock pot on the stove and took a seat next to Dean. Bobby's table was dark wood and rectangular with thick legs. The chairs were blond wood with slatted backs and Dean doubted they came with the table.

Still worried about his brother's lack of appetite, Dean smiled to himself at seeing the stew steaming near the top of the bowl. Dad handed Dean a gallon of milk so he filled his own glass then Sam's. It occurred to him that in a few more weeks, he'd be seventeen. Now that he was out of school and almost legal, he wondered if Dad would let him drink beer with the grown-ups after his birthday.

Once Dad and Bobby sat down the four of them spent several minutes just eating. The stew was thick with gravy and vegetables. The meat was seasoned beef and probably chopped up from a roast. Dean savored every bite. Dad rarely cooked so diners and fast food made up most of their diet. A home cooked meal was a rare and welcome treat.

"Don't be shy, boys, no point in good food going to waste," Bobby said as he passed around a loaf of homemade white bread.

Dean took a couple of slices before passing the basket to Sam. His brother didn't take any before passing it on to Dad.

"All right," Dad said after a few more minutes of noisy eating. "What's going on here?"

Bobby swallowed his food, wiped his mouth off and sat back. He took a long drink from a Budweiser bottle before he started his story. Dean kept eating but he watched and listened, feeling the familiar excitement in his belly at the start of a new hunt.

"Two weeks ago, I got a call from the local coroner telling me that he had a couple of dead bodies. He said one had died a couple of months ago and the other had died a few months further back. Apparently both had been dug up and partly eaten. Not finished off though. I figured maybe some ghouls had nested but usually they like their meat fresher than that. So, I staked out the cemetery for three nights straight but nothing happened. At least not there. When I got home after the last night, I had the deputy calling me. She's new, just moved to town, I think. Anyway, she said the sheriff told her to call me. They'd found a jogger near the main park with his face missing. His liver and heart too. He had a couple of puncture wounds on his femoral artery, was drained of blood and was missing both arms and a leg. Interestingly enough that wasn't the odd part."

"It wasn't?" Dad asked.

"The body was found lying on its back with tree branches laid out around the body like they were replacing the missing limbs. Three branches, one for each arm and one for the missing leg."

"What is it?" Dean asked.

Everyone had stopped eating and was staring at Bobby. The older man scowled at them.

"I don't know for certain. But, I went back to the cemetery to check on the two guys that were dug up. Both of their caskets were empty but the holes in the ground were filled with replacements. Two dead dogs, one in each grave. "

"How'd the cops miss that?"

"They didn't. The coroner just hadn't mentioned it. "

"You mentioned there were other deaths," Dad prodded.

"Yeah. One infant was taken out of its crib. A tomato plant from the family's garden was left behind. No sign of the baby but her bed clothes and blanket were found covered in blood at the base of a tree just off the property. The other victim was a teenage boy. They found his head and a bit of his spine but not much else. Can't say for sure he's one of ours because there was no replacement left."

"Sounds like an Aswang," Sam said.

"Yeah, it does," Bobby agreed, with a pleased smile sent in Sam's direction. "But, they're fair exclusive to the Philippines. I never heard of one around here."

"The replacement parts and draining the bodies, that sure sounds like one. It probably ate the heart and liver of the jogger. Probably ate the rest of him too plus the baby and the teenager. They tend to favor children, right? "

"Someone want to fill me in?" Dad asked, sounding annoyed. Dean figured he didn't like being left out.

"Sam's right. It does sound like one," Bobby said. "The Aswang have a lot of myths around them. They have some vampire qualities like drinking blood and they're shapeshifters. They usually change at night into some kind of animal. Dogs, boars, cats, other stuff. Mostly dogs."

"And they can change into people too," Sam said.

"Apparently they can live in a town and look normal but they tend to be shy or withdrawn. Then at night, they change into an animal, or into their true form. And they're almost always female."

"And you think that's what's here?" Dean asked.

"I don't know," Bobby answered. "It's on the short list of possibilities. If it is one then drawing her out will be the trick."

"We'll have to figure out the hunting ground and then offer her something she wants," Dean said.

"You said it was on a three day cycle, right? You know anything else about its habits?" Dad asked.

"Maybe. If we're all done here, I can show you what I've put together," Bobby said.

"Boys, get this cleaned up, including the dishes," Dad said. "You can give us a hand in the den when you're done."

"Yes, sir," Dean said and was echoed by Sam a moment later.