Sam and Dean hurried into the library, conscious of the curious stares of the other students, most of whom had witnessed the little scene between Sam and Parker outside. Sam was quite far from giving a shit about what they thought, but it was still a little annoying to notice them whispering about him behind their hands as though he didn't notice.
"We need to find a private place," Dean said through gritted teeth.
"There's a table near the New Age section," Sam answered, nodding in the direction of the library where Dean had first met Sasha only twenty four hours ago. With a nod, Dean grabbed Sam by the wrist and led him over to the secluded table far from the prying eyes of the other students. Sam sat down heavily and took a deep breath, still mildly shell shocked by how much had happened in the space of one day.
"You okay?" Dean asked him, his gaze worried.
Sam nodded and grinned halfheartedly. "I'll be alright. It's just a little...fucked up how much is happening lately." Dean nodded but still maintained his look of concern. Sam rolled his eyes. He would be the first to admit that all the events that had transpired since he'd had his vision were incredibly hard to deal with in such a short space of time, but he wasn't a little kid anymore. He could deal with this. Besides, they had research to do and the longer they spent worrying about Sam's mental state the farther the killer would get from their grasp.
"Dean, I'm fine, really," Sam said his tone insistent and just the smallest bit impatient. "I wanna catch this son of a bitch before they kill someone else. Kay?"
Dean nodded, but still didn't look convinced. Sam shook his head but grinned slightly. Dean was such a mother hen, though he'd probably never admit to it if the subject was brought up.
"Where do we start?" Dean asked, rubbing the back of his neck. "I didn't exactly get anywhere with the research yesterday."
Sam grimaced. "I'm about as lost as you are."
"Might as well examine the facts." Dean said, pulling out a small notebook and The Encyclopedia of Urban Legends from inside his bag and setting them down in front of them on the table. "So far we've got The Backseat Killer," Dean made a note on a fresh page, "which killed Michelle Mancini. And then there's the Lover's Lane legend which killed Damon." He made another note and shook his head. "This is pretty bare bones, Sam. We don't know a lot."
"We know more than most people," Sam said with a sigh. "I was a witness to the murders, remember?"
Dean cocked his head to the side. "Murders? You were only around for Damon's murder, Sam."
Shit, Sam thought, feeling his heart sink. He hadn't told Dean about the vision he'd had the other night. And if Dean was getting all upset over Sam seeing Damon killed, he'd probably be in full on protective mode if Sam told him about his vision of Michelle's murder. Sam pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. Right now they needed all the help they could get, although Sam could hardly see how having a vision of the first murder would help them in the least.
"Don't get excited," Sam began slowly, "but uh...I kind of...had some sort of weird nightmare vision of Michelle's murder the night before you showed up."
Now I've done it, Sam thought, Dean's gonna have a total bitch fit now. Should've just kept my mouth shut. When he finally chanced to look up at his brother, he saw that his fears were justified. Dean looked both angry and worried.
"Please don't freak out," Sam said quietly.
Dean shook his head. "It's fine Sam. I…I just wish you'd told me earlier."
"I didn't want you getting all mother hen on me."
Dean glowered at him darkly and then shook his head again. "Whatever. I can't help but get all protective on you Sammy. Especially now. If you really did see Michelle's murder then...well..." Dean trailed off and suddenly looked as though he wished he hadn't said anything at all. Sam knew why. The thought had crossed his mind ever since he'd realized one of his friends could possibly be at the bottom of the murders.
"You think I'm the target," Sam said as though it was a throw away statement of no real importance.
Dean shrugged. "It's possible."
Sam nodded. "Yeah. I know."
"How much of Michelle's death did you see?"
"All of it. The gas station, the beheading...everything. It was like a movie or something. Thought it was just a nightmare til I heard the news report."
Dean clenched his jaw tightly and looked intensely into Sam's eyes..
"I don't mean to be worried," He said softly. "It's just...these visions haven't exactly been random things in the past."
Sam nodded again and then sat up straighter in his chair, pulling the book towards him. He opened the cover and looked down at the list of people who had checked the book out previously. It felt faintly odd to see Damon's name on the check out list. A glance over the card showed him that Brenda had checked it out before Damon. He frowned.
"That's weird," He muttered.
"What?" Dean asked, sitting forward.
"Brenda checked the book out before Damon...but she's also in my folk lore class so..." He trailed off and glanced at the date. He chuckled. "Never mind. She checked it out five days ago, which was before Professor Wexler told us we were going to need this book for class." Damn he was getting jumpy.
"What do you think Damon wanted with it?" Dean asked.
Sam shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe he lost his copy or something, but I don't see why he would check it back in. Not unless he found it again." He shook his head. This was getting them nowhere. He turned to the dog-eared pages and grimaced when he saw the illustration for the Lover's Lane murder. "Our books don't have illustrations," Sam said with a frown. "The style of these drawings looks familiar." On a hunch, he turned to the table of contents and found where the Babysitter legend was listed. Upon turning to the indicated page, he let out a small gasp.
"What is it?" Dean asked.
"This picture...the whole damn drawing style looked familiar but I couldn't place it until just now. These are the same pictures that Professor Wexler used for the projection slide in class yesterday."
"Did he check the book out?" Dean asked, leaning in and looking at the black and white illustration. Sam checked the index card and shook his head.
"No. The only people who checked this out who are actually in my class were Brenda and Damon."
"Maybe Brenda checked it out for Wexler?" Dean suggested.
Sam shrugged and then looked at the next bookmarked page. It was an illustration of a young woman in dark room, staring in horror at the wall in front of her. Lying on the bed under the wall was another young woman, her throat slit. On the wall in grisly writing, presumably written in the dead girl's blood was the phrase "Aren't you glad you didn't turn on the light?"
Sam shuddered and shut the book. He felt Dean put a hand on his shoulder comfortingly.
"We can stop if you want too," Dean said softly.
Sam shook his head.
"No. We need to keep going."
Dean nodded. "Where should we start?"
"Ghosts," Sam said. "And I guess demons and ancient entities. You never know with shit like this." Dean nodded again and the two of them got to their feet to peruse the New Age section. Since this particular area of the library was small, they didn't find as much as they would've hoped for. Dean managed to procure two books, one about demonic possession and one about ghosts, while Sam found a book on ancient beings and pagan rituals.
It was slow, boring work. Sam honestly wondered if he was going to find anything useful in either book. Most of the stuff detailed in them could probably be found in the contents of his father's ratty old leather bound journal. Usually he loved the research aspect of hunting, but now that this case was taking on a personal twist he just wanted to be out there killing the shit out of whatever was responsible for this.
Once or twice he glanced up at Dean only to find his brother deep in concentration. Sam could almost laugh at how their roles had reversed. Usually he was the one who was burying his nose in the pages of some dusty old tome while Dean was itching to be shooting some kind of dark horror in the face. Shaking his head, Sam looked down at the copy of Entities of the Ancient World and tried to focus on the passage he was reading.
...while the Ancient Greeks feared and respected the Furies, some also believed that they could be harnessed for magical purposes. Some theories suggest that a person seeking vengeance could call upon one of the three Furies; Tisiphone for revenge of a murder, Megaera for revenge of infidelity and Alecto for revenge against one who has angered the summoner. Although evidence is scarce, certain Neo-Pagan groups staunchly believe that summoning the Furies is possible and that they can exact vengeance any way the summoner...
"Find anything interesting?" Dean asked.
Sam stretched. "Nope. Not unless you count the Ancient Greek version of Josie and the Pussycats being summoned by Neo-Pagans."
Dean chuckled. "All I got was pretty much what I already know. Ghosts and demons...it's all elementary school stuff to us."
Sam sighed. "So much for research then."
Dean patted his hand reassuringly. "Don't give up yet, Sam. We'll find something."
Sam smiled faintly but knew that Dean was just trying to make him feel better. He was grateful for that, but at the same time he really just wanted to get out and do something so that nobody else would be killed.
"I wish Dad was here," Sam muttered without thinking. He blinked. Had he really just said that? He looked up at Dean apologetically and was not surprised to see Dean giving him a flat look.
"You don't mean that," Dean said.
"You're right," Sam said. "I didn't. It's just frustrating, y'know?"
Dean nodded. "I know."
Sam smiled at his brother and leaned in for a hug when a loud buzzing filled the library. Sam frowned. That was the signal for an intercom message, which they usually only got in case there was an emergency.
"All students please head to the auditorium for an important message from the dean."
"Oh shit." Sam buried his face in his hands. "Damon. This is about him."
Dean grimaced and helped Sam to his feet. "C'mon," he said, "we might as well go and see what they say."
"What if they really think I did it?" Sam said, feeling his hands begin to shake at the prospect of going to prison.
"They won't," Dean said firmly.
Together they joined the throng of students who, unlike them, were looking puzzled and just a bit worried. Some of them glanced at Sam and muttered to their friends, obviously thinking this was to do with the little scuffle between him and Parker that had taken place in front of the library.
As he and Dean headed out towards the building that housed the main theater, Sam felt himself begin to go into panic mode and once or twice had to suppress the urge to grab Dean's hand for support. It probably wouldn't be a very good thing to have this kind of display of affection in public, especially when Sam was sure he was going to be going to the slammer after the assembly.
"I'm gonna stick out like a sore thumb," Dean muttered as they neared the large brick building near the faculty office. "Maybe I should sit at the back."
"You're not leaving me alone in there," Sam hissed, barely disguising the anxiety in his voice. "Nobody's gonna say anything, alright? We've got people who aren't students coming in and out of here all the time."
"Like who?"
"Family. And reporters sometimes. People wanting to see how the school's doing."
They filed in through the big double doors. Sam glanced around and managed to make out the back of Natalie's flaming red hair next to the bushy mass of curls that was the back of Brenda's head. They were too far away for him to tap on the shoulder and were engrossed in a whispered conversation similar to the one Sam and Dean had shared. They probably wouldn't notice him if he called. Besides, right at the moment he wanted to be as close to Dean as possible. He felt safer that way.
The auditorium was packed full of students, all of whom carried similar looks of concern and confusion. Sam noticed Parker sitting near the back as he and Dean came in and avoided the other boy's gaze. Not out of fear. Sam wasn't remotely afraid of Parker, but he'd rather not risk another scene like that one outside the library. He managed to find Sasha, who was sitting near the front row. She noticed Sam and Dean, smiled and waved for them to take the two seats next to her.
Taking his brother's wrist, Sam led them to the seats next to Sasha and sat down.
"I didn't think they'd release the news of Damon's death this early," Sasha whispered, glancing nervously at the stage where the dean and most of the faculty were standing looking grave with several police officers and members of campus security next to them. Sam tried hard not to look at them too long, still fearing every second that he was going to end up in jail because of Parker.
Sasha noticed his anxiety and patted his hand comfortingly.
"Don't worry, Sammy," She said.
"I've been trying to tell him that," Dean muttered.
Sasha grinned bracingly. "As far as I could tell from all Parker's rambling, the cops aren't going to put anybody away until they've collected enough concrete evidence."
"What did they find?" Sam asked before he could stop himself.
Sasha shrugged. "No idea. I don't think they're taking Parker's accusation seriously, though."
"Accusation?" Dean asked, a dark look passing over his handsome face. Sam felt himself go cold. So Parker had told the cops about his being out there with Damon last night.
The blonde bit her lip and glanced back. All the seats in the auditorium were filled with students. The assembly would begin any second now.
"Parker kinda...told the police he thought that Sam was the killer."
"I'll kill him!" Dean spat angrily.
"Calm down muscle man." Sasha said with a small grin. "They investigators didn't really seem convinced. I think they think Parker's just reacting out of grief, although I don't see why. It's not like he and Damon were particularly close, even if they were frat brothers."
The dean stepped up to the podium and dead silence fell over the assembled students.
"It's with a heavy heart that I must announce that early this morning the police found the body of Mr. Damon Brooks in the woods near the Theta Delta Fraternity House."
There were several gasps from the students and a new buzz of conversation began that instantly died when the dean resumed talking.
"In light of recent events," Sam was sure he was talking about Michelle Mancini's murder, "campus security has decided to issue a curfew of ten o'clock at night. Please be advised that this is being done for your safety. Also, the clearing in the woods behind the fraternity house is considered a crime scene so please steer clear of it." The dean's gaze swept to a specific student. Sam turned in his seat and saw the dean was obviously addressing Paul, who already had a look of anticipation on his face.
"I'm sure many of you knew Mr. Brooks," the dean continued, "and our guidance counselors will be available to talk to any of you should you feel the need -"
"Was it an urban legend style murder?" Paul's voice interrupted. Most of the students turned to stare at him. Natalie and Brenda, who were sitting either side of Paul looked mortified.
"That is neither here, no there, Mr. Gardener," The dean replied icily. "Please treat this matter with some sensitivity. Now then...you all have classes to attend. Good afternoon."
For several seconds, the students simply sat, stunned by the abrupt end to the assembly and by the news of another murder. Then they started to stand up and file out of the auditorium.
"Look at Wexler!" Sasha hissed.
Sam and Dean both looked in unison up at the stage where they saw Professor Wexler conversing rapidly with the dean and several of the police officers. He looked uncomfortable and Sam noticed his hands were shaking.
"What do you make of it, Miss Body Language?" Dean asked Sasha, who grinned and then stood with them to join the mass of students leaving the room.
"He's obviously affected by this in a big way," Sasha said. "Though judging from how the dean and the cops seemed to be questioning him, I'm sure they might be worried that he's involved somehow."
"Maybe he's the killer?" Dean suggested.
Sasha shrugged. "Could be."
Sam said nothing. He thought back to what Brenda had said earlier the previous day, about it being odd that Wexler's seminar on urban legends started at pretty much the same time the murders started occurring. Even if Wexler wasn't involved, supernaturally or otherwise, was it so far-fetched to think that perhaps one of his students had been a little too over-eager in their studies?
As Sam, Sasha and Dean left the building, they heard someone calling Sam's name. Sam turned and saw Brenda rushing toward him, her limp seemingly gone and her eyes over bright. She pulled Sam into a tight hug.
"I can't believe it!" She said, suppressing a sob. "D-Damon...I mean, yeah he was a complete douche, but holy shit! This is...oh my God...and that Mancini girl in like less than two days!"
"I know," Sam said, patting her comfortingly on the back. "It's...a lot to take in, huh?"
Brenda looked up at him, her eyes brimming with tears. She looked mildly confused for a moment, her mind seemingly racing rapidly. Sam could almost see her put two and two together. Then she let out a small moan and hugged him again.
"Oh fuck!" She sobbed, "S-Sam you weren't…out there with him last night were you?"
Sam nodded.
"I'm so sorry, Sam! You must be post traumatic by now!"
"M'fine, Brenda," Sam said, starting to feel a little embarrassed. "Really."
She nodded and let go, turning and nodding at Sasha and Dean, who were looking on awkwardly.
"Where's Nat?" Sam asked.
Brenda turned around and peered into the crowd and then pointed to the stairs beside the auditorium. Natalie was sitting by them on a stone bench, her head in her hands, her long red hair obscuring her face. Sam bit his lip and turned to Sasha and Dean.
"Look," he said, "could you guys maybe meet me later? I'm gonna go see Natalie."
They both nodded. Dean lingered, giving Sam a curious look.
"Don't worry," Sam said, hastily. "I'm still coming back to the motel. Just...come to my dorm room when you're ready to leave if I don't have a chance to get to you guys at the library."
Dean nodded again and followed Sasha in the direction of the library.
Together, Sam and Brenda hurried to Natalie's side. The bell for the hour rang out, booming loud and clear from the bell tower over the green. Sam had lost track of time in the library.
Natalie did not look up at them right away. She sat with her head down, breathing deeply. She wasn't crying, as far as Sam could tell, but there was no doubt that something was upsetting her.
Tentatively, he rubbed her back in a way that he hoped would calm her down. After a minute she looked up at the both of them and took a deep breath.
"You okay?" Sam asked.
Natalie shook her head.
"No," She said her voice hoarse and low.
Sam glanced at Brenda, not knowing what to say. The brunette was clutching the end of her necklace, her eyes bright with concern for Natalie.
"What's wrong?" Sam asked.
Natalie took a deep breath again.
"You were there last night, weren't you?" she asked. Sam blinked. Natalie's tone was not accusing. As a matter of fact she seemed to be genuinely curious. Sam looked at Brenda again. She shrugged and then nodded, obviously thinking the truth was better than lying.
"Yeah Nat...I was..." Sam said gently.
Natalie smiled wryly. "Don't be so nervous, Sam. I get what happened with you and Damon. I mean...you're a nice guy and everything but this...relationship...I never really thought of you as a more than a friend."
Sam grinned in spite of himself. At least he and Natalie had been on the same page about their charade of a relationship.
"Was...was it really...an urban legend murder?" Natalie asked her breath hitching.
Sam bit his lip. He saw out of the corner of his eye that Brenda was looking at him intently. She obviously wanted to know too.
"Yeah..." He said. "The Lover's Lane legend. You know...the one where the guy goes to get gas and leaves his girlfriend in the car."
"And she hears noises from the roof," Brenda said softly. Sam nodded. "Jesus Christ, Sam..." Brenda murmured her eyes bright again. "How the hell are you still sane?
"No idea," Sam replied. Natalie said nothing, but stared out over the quad, her eyes distant her expression unreadable. Sam wished he had Sasha's ability to read body language. Obviously these deaths were affecting Natalie more than she was letting on. He thought back to the previous day. She'd seemed incredibly upset at Michelle Mancini's murder, more upset than the rest of them. Sam had attributed that to Natalie being more sensitive than the rest of them, but there had to be something more for her to be acting this way.
"I knew Michelle Mancini," Natalie said in an offhand voice.
Sam felt his jaw drop and heard Brenda let out a gasp beside him.
"Are you serious?" Brenda asked.
Natalie nodded.
"We were friends in high school, both of us on the cheerleading team."
"Why didn't you say anything?" Sam asked her in amazement.
Natalie sighed. "Because for the passed two years I've been trying to forget about her."
"Why?" Both Sam and Brenda asked at the same time.
Natalie inhaled deeply and when she spoke next, her tone was not laden with sorrow or regret. It was bitter and filled with self loathing. "It was before graduation. We were coming back from visiting a friend late one night and we were driving down this stretch of deserted road in my car. Michelle was at the wheel because I'd had a little to drink at our friend's place. She started telling me about this urban legend, about how gangs would travel empty back roads with their headlights off and when the first car that drove passed flashed their high beams to signal to them to turn their lights on they would drive them off the road. Ever heard of it?"
Sam nodded. He'd remembered hearing something like this when he was still living with Dean and his father.
"Well," Natalie continued in the same tone, still staring out over the quad, "we drove on for a few minutes after she told me the legend. Then...we saw another car approaching, driving in the opposite lane. Michelle...she...she looked kinda...crazy. She turned the lights of the car off and kept driving. We were both laughing like hyenas. Fuck, what the hell was wrong with me? I thought it was funny and just about busted a gut when the other driver flashed his high beams. Even when Michelle turned into the other lane and started chasing the car down, I just laughed like crazy. Then...we were getting closer and closer and...I could see his face...he was our age...and he looked really scared...I tried telling Michelle to stop but...she just...she kept going and then..."
Natalie let out a small moan and buried her face in her hands again. Sam slid off of the bench, knelt down in front of her and hugged her tightly as she shook with suppressed sobs. After a moment, she calmed down, thanked Sam and shook her hair out of her face.
"Michelle drove him off the road and his car flipped. He died at the scene. The cops put us on probation because we were still minors. Just a few hundred hours of community service. We never spoke again after that. I thought I'd never see her again and...well...now that this is happening I can't help but feel like...like I deserve it somehow..."
Sam glanced at Brenda and saw that she was staring at her best friend with her eyes wide, her hand clutching her necklace even tighter.
"You didn't do anything wrong..." Sam said, although he didn't really feel what he was saying was true. "You weren't-"
"I wasn't driving." Natalie finished for him, her tone still bitter. "But it was my car, Sam. And I was there. I could've stopped her and I didn't. I mean...I know this is horrible but I wasn't terribly upset to hear about her death, y'know? It's...fitting in some way. But Damon...why couldn't the killer have come for me?"
"Maybe they will," Brenda said. Sam and Natalie gave her looks of surprise. Brenda blinked and shook her head. "Oh fuck, Nat that was awful. I'm sorry. It's just..."
"Maybe you're right," Natalie said thoughtfully. "I wonder what urban legend I'll be."
"Gerbilling?" Sam suggested, trying to cheer her up. "Or maybe you'll find an alligator in your toilet bowl."
Natalie laughed, smiling at Sam. "Damn," she said, "why are all the nice ones into guys?"
Sam chuckled, hugging her once more. "You'll be fine, Nat. I'm not going to let anything happen to you."
"Me either," Brenda said. "I'd like to see that son of a bitch try and get through me. My body is a dangerous weapon."
"Especially when co-ordination is involved." Sam muttered. Brenda punched him in the shoulder but grinned nonetheless.
"Thanks guys," Natalie said quietly. "I guess...I guess I've just got survivor's guilt or something." She glanced across the quad again and suddenly a thoughtful gleam came into her eyes. "Where's Paul?"
"Probably scouring the crime scene." Sam said, rolling his eyes. "Why?"
"I think I should tell him about me and Michelle. It might lure the killer out."
"You're not using yourself as bait, girlie," Brenda said warningly. "I won't let you."
"Tough," Natalie said with a smirk. Brenda glared at Natalie and then shook her head. "Look," she said, "we've got a class in like half an hour and I still haven't had lunch. Nat, let's go get some food. It might make you feel better."
Natalie nodded and stood up. "Wanna join us?" she asked Sam.
Sam shook his head. "No, I need to meet up with my brother and Sasha in the library."
"Sasha's with your brother?" Brenda asked, looking furious. "Ugh. It's not fair!"
Sam shook his head and watched them go, feeling incredibly uneasy. Natalie's revelation had put a whole new spin on the case he and Dean were trying to solve. It made sense to bump off Michelle after what she'd done. But Damon...he was innocent. Unless the killer wanted to get to Natalie through her friends. If that was the case and Natalie was the intended target, then that meant that Sam's theory about himself being the one the killer was after came to nothing and he was in as much danger as anybody else Natalie so much as talked too.
