My sisters' car refused to start this morning… It's a good thing I don't plan on writing myself into my stories, I would probably be hit by a falling piano…

Anyway, for those of you still reading, enjoy!


Face the shadow

"Fielding," said Sam calmly. "You mind pointing that thing somewhere else?"

"I don't think so. There is a door to your left. Open it and go inside."

Sam didn't dare argue. The man was nervous as hell. There was a vague tremor in his voice and his trigger finger was probably very itchy.

The gun left his back as he turned to open the door, but he could still feet the man close behind him.

Slowly he walked into the empty warehouse, moving cautiously to make sure the PI had no reason to shoot. His mind was working overtime. He had to find a way out of this one. Preferably without giving the PI another reason to hunt his ass.

"Turn around, hands where I can see them."

Sam obeyed, still moving slowly. The PI was almost comically short. His hair was messy and he had dark shadows under his eyes. Deep bruises were visible around his neck. But despite his ragged appearance, his eyes and hands were steady. Only the slight edge in his voice betrayed how nervous he was.

"So," he said calmly, the tremor very well concealed. "You care to tell me what happened last night?"


Sid craned his neck to study Sam Winchesters face. God, the guy was tall. What he saw surprised him. He had two pictures of Sam. One was from the university database and it showed a serious young man, cautious and withdrawn. The other was his mug shot and it showed a criminal, nothing more and nothing less. With a scowl on his face and his eyes in the shadow he looked dangerous. That was the Sam he had expected to see here, but he was wrong. Sam looked back at him with vague curiosity. His face was neutral, a mask carefully hiding his thoughts. His eyes darted around the empty warehouse, to the door behind him, to the gun and back to Sid's face. And those eyes weren't hard and dangerous at all. They were sad.

"Answer my question." Sid fought to keep his voice as steady as possible. Somehow it became easier. The man in front of him didn't look threatening at all.

"We saved your life."

Okay… That was unexpected.

"From who exactly?"

Sam smiled faintly. "Somehow I don't think you'll believe me."

"I consider myself to be a fairly open minded person."

A soft chuckle. "Fairly probably won't be enough."

"Cut the crap! You were there. There was nobody else. What did you do to me?"

Sid saw his face harden. "I didn't do anything."

"Yeah, maybe it wasn't you." Sid took a deep breath to keep his nerves under control. Sam's face didn't look so calm anymore.

I need a smoke.

"Maybe it was you brother. He's always the one with the violent tendencies."

Something flashed through Sam's eyes. Something that clearly said don't go there.

"I just can't figure out how you guys did it. There was nobody in that office. There was no rope that I could feel…"

"Maybe it was a ghost."

"Does this seem like a bloody joke to you?" Sid shouted furiously. "You killed those people. Robert…" He took a deep breath. "You killed him."

"We didn't kill…"


Sam didn't finish that sentence. He was going to say 'anyone' but that wasn't really true.

"We didn't kill your friend," he said finally. "You have to believe me."

"Believe you?" The PI snorted. "I've seen your police file, smart-ass. I have seen what you are capable of and you expect me to believe you?"

Sam didn't say anything. What could he say? The police file is wrong? Yeah, that would go down well.

"I know all about you, Sam Winchester. I dug up all I could find about you and your family. It's quite an interesting story, I have to say. I have never seen anything like it."

Sam clenched his fists. The gun was still rock steady, pointing straight at his heart.

"It must have been tough, growing up like that. You daddy dragging you all around the country for his 'work'. But you had a way out, Sam. You went to college. Full ride and everything. You could have had a life, a career. I didn't understand why you would give that up. That is, until I noticed something in you file."

Sam felt his nails digging into his palms. Anger was slowly growing in his chest.

"What's that?" he said in a low voice. The PI flinched a little, his hands closing a little tighter around the gun.


Sid nervously adjusted his grip on the gun. Sam was staring down on him, his fists clenched tightly and his eyes hard and cold. While the man had seemed relatively harmless a minute ago, he seemed ready to explode right now. The Sam he had just seen was the Sam Professor Francis had known. That Sam was quiet and calm, but with his enormous posture imposing enough as it was. This Sam was terrifying.

"I… eh…" He saw Sam straighten his shoulders a little. It took some effort to make sure his gun stayed still. "Your mother died when you were a baby, didn't she?"

Sam didn't react. Didn't move. But his eyes grew even colder.

"The fire department claimed it was an electrical short in the ceiling, but they weren't sure. All they knew is that it wasn't arson. There was no accelerant."

Sid carefully raised his left hand from the gun and started groping through his pocket.

I need a cigarette.

"And four years ago, your girlfriend died in exactly the same way. Fire started on the ceiling, no arson. And curiously enough, they found traces of sulphur at both crime scenes. A little too much of a coincidence I dare say."

"Shut up," Sam's voice was low. A warning.

"Hitting a little close to the mark, am I?"

Where is that bloody cigarette?

He searched through his pocket, his gun and his eyes still on Sam.

"My guess is that you followed in your father's footsteps. He killed his wife, you killed lovely little Jessica. She was pretty by the way, I've seen her picture."

Sam's face grew a shade paler. He was trembling with rage.

Sid fought the desire to step back. His fingers closed around the stray cigarette.

Finally.

Or maybe your father did it, or Dean. They wanted you back and she was in the way. Poor girl."
He put the cigarette between his lips and pulled out his lighter. For a split second, he averted his eyes to light his smoke.

Sam jumped forward and slammed the gun away. In a reflex, Sid pulled the trigger. The gunshot echoed through the empty warehouse. Before he had time to think, he was on his back on the floor, Sam's face just inches from his own. A heavy forearm pushed hard against his throat.

"Shut up!" Sam hissed in his ear. "I didn't kill her. I didn't kill your friend. You have no idea what is going on. None. And you can't talk about my family like that."

Sam leaned down a little harder. "Who are you working for?"

Sid glared at him to the best of his abilities. The face leaning over him was distorted with anger. The arm against his throat was easily capable of breaking his neck. Sam was huge, he was strong, he was pissed, he was frightening as hell, but John Sidney Fielding did not beg. Ever.

"Like I would tell you."

"I didn't really expect you to. I'll figure it out somehow. See, I know a thing or two about you as well. I know who you are and what you are capable of. But in this case, you are out of your league." Sam leaned down a little more. "Take one thing from me. If you don't want to die, stay away from the library."

With these words, he yanked Sid's head up and smashed it hard onto the concrete floor. Just before the world grew dark, he saw his cigarette roll away into the shadows. A small splash of blood stained the concrete beside his face.