Mass Hysteria

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

A/N: Time for the boys to grow up.

Feedback is welcome and appreciated.

Posting two chapters today to help ease the transition for the boys. It's not easy becoming grown ups.

Part 7

2006

The ten year anniversary of the school shooting loomed like a shadow around Sam as he drove towards Buena Bruja. He remembered it in the same way he remembered a movie or a regular dream, not like his visions at all. He remembered the sounds and the smells more vividly than the events but it was all in flashes or moments of time. He couldn't rebuild the incident in sequential order. When he tried, his mind seemed to override his intentions and started jumbling up the events on its own.

Sam spotted the newspaper article announcing the memorial and told Dean that he wanted to attend. Dean couldn't understand why he'd want to return to a place with such horrific memories and Sam couldn't explain it. At least not out loud.

He wanted to know how the survivors turned out. He wanted to know how the families of the dead moved on and if the town managed to overcome it.

But, it was more than that and it was something he couldn't say to his brother.

Growing up the way they had, living the life they lived, there wasn't much that Sam actually feared. He respected the fact that most of the things they hunted could kill him but he still hunted. He could take action without freezing up or worrying about the outcome.

The school was something else. For some reason his palms grew sweaty and his heat rate picked up whenever he thought about going inside the school. That's why he had to go back. He didn't want to live in fear of a building when monsters rarely did more than startle him into action.

"The flier says Mrs. Snyder will be making some kind of a presentation at the candle light vigil," Sam said, conversationally. "The current student council did some fund raisers to get a plaque."

"I don't get that kind of thing," Dean said. "Like putting out teddy bears when a kid dies. It's not like it's doing the kid any good."

"People need to do things to make themselves feel better."

"Exactly my point. What about the guy teacher that got shot?"

"Mr. Bridges. He died about a year after the shooting. They said he never really healed from the gunshot wound."

"Huh, I didn't think it was that serious."

"Yeah, well, we didn't have a lot of time to check it out," Sam said. "Anyway," he continued. "There's the presentation and then the next morning there's a procession to the cemetery. Two of the kids are buried there and there's some kind of monument or something to honor all the victims. They're going to do a ceremony."

"Let me guess, there's a lunch after that."

Sam grinned. "How'd ya know?"

They both found it interesting that no matter what kind of event people were having, whether celebrating or grieving, food always became a part of it. For Dean, it was generally the best part.

"The kid that did it. Tim, whatever, he still in prison?" Dean asked.

"Tim Carroll. Uh, no, actually, he spent about three years in the Nash Hospital for the Criminally Insane. He was transferred to prison after that. They let him out when he turned 21."

"Out? Like out?"

"Yeah. Crazy, right? There were petitions from almost every organization in Buena Bruja but he was released anyway," Sam said. "Since he was only sixteen at the time of the shooting, some juvenile rights organization got involved."

"I still don't know why we're going to this," Dean said, sounding disgusted.

"I told you why. Because I want to see the school again."

"That's weird, Sam. It's even kind of morbid."

"Yeah, it's so much more morbid than say, grave digging or burning corpses."

"Hey, that has a purpose. This is just you going back to a place where you almost got killed. There isn't even a job in town."

Sam looked across the car seat towards his brother. "It's something I need to do, Dean."

Dean shrugged. "Okay, whatever. What else you got?"

"Do you remember the principal? A guy named Felix Evans?"

Dean thought a moment. "Oh, yeah, I think he was the one that signed off when I dropped out. Gave Dad the stink eye."

Sam chuckled before continuing. "He dropped dead of a heart attack last year. The obit says it was sudden. Said he was a marathon runner. Wife found him in his study."

"Huh, that's strange. Any other weird deaths?"

"Actually, yes," Sam said, not really expecting that they had a case in Buena Bruja but liking that Dean was interested.

"One of the kids, Beth Aldridge, died last month. She was in the room during the shooting. The paper said she was going to college for an education degree and she was student teaching in Alice Snyder's class."

"What happened to her?" Dean asked.

"She died in her sleep. Just never woke up."

Dean glanced at Sam with a scowl. "What was she, 22 or so?"

"Just turned 21."

"And she died in her sleep? You sure there's not a case here? That's three people connected to the shooting that dropped dead."

Sam shook his head. "Honestly, I didn't think about it. It's been ten years. People do die."

Dean shook his head. "It's weird. You should keep looking."

The two of them continued in silence for the next hour or so before Dean leaned against the passenger window to sleep.

Outside, bare trees lined the narrow road like skeletal soldiers. Patches of snow brightened up grassless dirt. Dark clouds hovered menacingly overhead, gathering together to steal the blue from the sky.

Sam kept his foot on the accelerator and his mind on driving. He turned the radio on, keeping the volume down out of deference to his sleeping brother. Up ahead he caught sight of a figure on the side of the road and he squinted at it, trying to bring it into focus. With dusk falling it was hard to make out details. It looked like a person but there was something off so he eased off on the pedal to slow down slightly. The figure moved out of the small stand of trees and on to the shoulder of the road. Sam continued watching, making sure that it wasn't a child or a drunk intending to dart in front of him.

Just as he passed it, the figure opened its narrow slit of a mouth like it was going to scream. Huge, black eyes filled a round face and one clawed hand swiped out from its naked body. Sam slammed on the brakes, skidding a few hundred feet before sliding on to the opposite side of the road. The car squealed as it spun to the left before finally settling in a cloud of gravel.

"What the hell?" Dean said, looking around as Sam opened the driver's side door and jumped out.

Dean followed. He checked in all directions just as Sam was doing though neither one left the side of the Impala.

"What's going on, Sam?"

"There was something out here. A monster, a, I don't know, something. It must have run away."

Dean spun around, checking the area behind them and in front of them. Sam searched both sides of the road before he started walking back to where he'd seen it. Dean joined him.

"What was it?"

"Aswang," Sam said. "It looked like an Aswang, I think. I only saw it for a second."

"The thing we hunted at Bobby's? Sam, we killed all of them. And it was like years ago. In South Dakota."

"I know what I saw, Dean. "

"They're pretty rare. Any chance you fell asleep while you were driving?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Give me a little credit, all right? It was there."

Both brothers stopped walking. Sam searched the ground for footprints or any other sign of the creature but there was nothing but hard packed ground. Dean crossed the road. When Sam glanced over, he found him crouching under the tree.

"Anything?" Sam yelled.

"Yeah, I'm freezing," Dean called back. "If it was here, it's gone now."

"It was here," Sam said, emphatically.

Dean held up his hands in mock surrender.