Mass Hysteria

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

Feedback is welcome and appreciated

Part 10

Dean woke up at 9:34am. Four hours of sleep was his normal so he wasn't surprised when he looked at the clock to see that just over that had passed. He rubbed his eyes and coughed as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. Looking across the room he found Sam looking back.

"Morning," Sam said.

Dean grumbled under his breath, not really forming any words, just making noise. He scratched his hip as he made his way to the bathroom.

He finished in there and then came back out to see if Sam wanted to shower first.

"Not really," Sam said.

"But, you're going to because I need food and I can't go out until you're done. Don't want to come back to find your ass on the floor. "

"I don't need a babysitter."

"No, you need me. I'm just awesome that way."

"Dean."

"Common sense, you have a concussion and you lost a lot of blood yesterday. Just get in the shower so we can get out of here. You'll miss your window at the school if we don't."

Sam scowled as he climbed out of bed. He limped more than walked to the bathroom but he didn't look like he was going to fall over.

Waiting until he heard the shower start, Dean opened up the laptop. He started checking old newspaper articles looking for unusual deaths or cadaver desecration. If the Aswang was hunting locally then there should be evidence, especially if children were involved.

About fifteen minutes later, Sam emerged with a towel around his waist. He hobbled over to his duffel. When he lifted it, he scrunched up his eyes and drew a thin line with his lips but he didn't say anything. After a quick search, he pulled underclothes out then toddled back to the bathroom to dress. Dean noticed that he didn't grab jeans, which was smart, since he'd need to re-bandage his legs.

Not having enough time to do a thorough search, Dean closed the lid on the laptop and dug around in the first aid kit for fresh supplies.

Sam came out again, this time half dressed.

"Have a seat," Dean said.

"I can do it."

"Bet your ass," Dean agreed.

Sam sat on the bed beside the first aid kit. Before he covered the stitches, Dean looked to make sure the skin was pink, not red, and with only slight swelling. He was satisfied there was no infection as Sam taped new bandages in place.

"You better get showered," Sam said. "We can grab breakfast while we're out."

"I'm hungry now."

"You won't die."

Dean frowned but knew Sam was right about the time. If they didn't head out soon then the whole trip would be for nothing.

SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN

Sam barely ate anything at breakfast. When Dean pointed it out, Sam blamed a headache and the pain meds that weren't helping. But, Dean knew his brother. The fidgeting and the soulful staring out the diner window gave him away. Sam was nervous about going back to the school.

As they drove Elm Street because Main was closed for the Memorial Walk, Dean described his field trip the night before.

"It was strange, dude," Dean said. "It was quiet but it looked the same. I just, I don't know, I remember Dad walking with me and being excited about quitting school and then there was that girl bleeding all over the place."

"Claire," Sam said.

"Right. Claire Webber. The first victim. Her name is on this massive banner-thing they draped across Main Street. All of their names are on it."

"That's nice, I guess. I can't help wondering about the other kids in the room though. What happened to them? Other than Beth Aldridge, of course. The school closed for a month and then it re-opened. Did they go back?"

"You know, Sam, you can probably find out from the internet. We could go down to County Records and pull out names if you want. You're not going to learn anything by going back to the school."

"Going back, seeing it again, it's not about information, it's about…it's about knowing that I can do it."

Dean shook his head. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"Try me, Sam. Really, I want to know what's going on with you."

Sam looked out the passenger window. He wiped his palms on his jeans then winced, probably touching the wounds there. Dean waited, hoping that Sam would finally explain himself.

"I'm afraid to go back there," Sam admitted, softly.

Dean remained quiet, afraid that if he pushed or said the wrong thing then Sam would shut down.

Another moment passed as Dean hesitated at a "stop" sign then drove through the intersection. In another minute they'd arrive at the school.

"If I go in and look around then maybe I can stop being scared of it."

"Sammy…"

"No, don't say it, all right? Don't tell me that anybody would be afraid and don't remind me that with all the monsters we've dealt with that I should be able to get passed this."

"Okay, first of all, I wasn't going to say either of those things," Dean replied, irritably. "And second of all, what I was going to say is that if you need to go in there to make peace then we'll go in there. You don't have to be a bitch about it."

Sam smiled as he looked out the passenger window.

Dean pulled into the parking lot of the school. He stared across the courtyard just as he had the night before and put his hand around the gun in his pocket. He looked across the seat to his brother who was now rigidly watching out the windshield.

"You ready?" Dean asked.

Sam flinched infinitesimally then nodded. As he opened the door and stepped out, Dean noticed that Sam was armed as well.

SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN

Crossing the parking lot and passing the office building reminded Sam of his few months at Clifford. He had been there long enough to make a few friends but not long enough to miss anyone when they left. He had received good grades and liked most of his teachers. He remembered being surprised when Dean told him about dropping out because Sam would never have considered it. Even at a bad school, which happened sometimes, Sam always liked learning but this place was a good one. He couldn't understand why Dean wasn't happy going there.

Looking back, Sam knew that Dean hadn't been happy at any school. From the time his brother reached puberty, Dean had just wanted to meet girls and hunt. Nothing else mattered.

Once they reached the entrance to the old cafeteria building, Sam looked at Dean. Dean was looking back at him, obviously worried, so Sam gave him a smile. It felt weak and out of place and judging from Dean's scowl, it must have looked that way too.

Sam pulled the door open.

"It's not locked," Dean said.

"It's a school."

"But, there's nobody here."

"There's always somebody. Custodians, teachers, administrators, there's always somebody."

Determined not to let his fear stop him, Sam stepped across the threshold. The musty odor of people and rubber shoes and winter surrounded him and it was so much like last time that he stopped for a moment. Dean came up to stand beside him.

"Keep going?" he asked.

"Yeah," Sam said.

Assailed suddenly with the memory of walking in, wrapped in a hand-me-down winter coat and pulling red mittens off his frigid hands, he had to blink to get himself back into the present.

Posters covered orange-striped walls. Ten years earlier, the walls had been a dirty gray color with circles of orange and black painted like balloons along the top and bottom. The posters he remembered were all about the upcoming football games and a dance of some kind. The current ones advertised the same activities but the signs looked professional, not hand drawn.

Fourteen year old Sam had been lost in his thoughts as he made his way to the cafeteria "testing room". Reminding himself to read the word problems a couple of times before starting, going through the algebra order of operations rules and wishing he'd eaten less at breakfast because his stomach was churning. He hadn't paid any attention to Tim Carroll who was standing against the wall with his hands behind his back.

"I barely noticed him," Sam said. "But, he was right there." He pointed towards the wall. "Just standing there. Now, I think he looked tense, ready to snap, but then, I just didn't see it. Maybe if I had…"

"You saw him before the shooting?"

"You didn't know that?"

Dean shook his head. "It doesn't matter. There's no way you could've known."

"Do you really believe that? Because Dad had been pumping our heads full about conducting threat assessments. Don't you remember?" Sam went on, mimicking his father's voice, "'just because it seems safe doesn't mean it is.' Look at everyone, every time.' 'Don't assume anything'."

Dean didn't respond and Sam knew why. Dad had taught them but somehow Sam had forgotten on the day that it would have made a difference.

"The cafeteria was right here," Sam said, staring at the wide open room. There was no wall or door except one that led out the back. There were stuffed chairs set in circles and small, round tables like it was some kind of lounge. A vending machine with soda and water was set up in the hall.

Along one side of the room were a dozen computers sitting on an elevated counter with tall chairs in front of them. A sign gave the access code for Wi-Fi and warned against surfing inappropriate sites.

"Mrs. Snyder and Mr. Bridges were huddled over there. Most of the kids were under the tables. The only ones out in the open were on the floor, bleeding out. I just kept waiting for the chance to jump Tim but Bridges was in the way and then Snyder was in the way. Tim saw me though. He told me to get under the table."

"Jesus, Sam."

"I don't know why he didn't shoot me."

Sam felt sick. Much like he did the morning of the test. His stomach churned with the few bites of egg and bacon he'd eaten. His head pounded vaguely, not quite a headache but the threat was there. He hadn't gotten much sleep ten years earlier and he'd been nauseous and fighting a headache then too. Just as he'd done that morning, he attributed his symptoms to anxiety.

"Never question good luck," Dean commented.

Sam looked over at him and stumbled as his brother slid out of focus. Dean caught his arm as the mild pain in his head exploded like it was taking part of his skull off. Sam's weight took both of them to the floor where they knelt together while Sam tried not to vomit.

"Is it a vision?" Dean asked, his tone dripping with fear.

"No, I don't…gosh," Sam muttered as another stab of pain pierced his skull.

"Sammy?"

"No, no, it's not a vision."

"Come on, buddy, we're getting out of here."

Dean shoved Sam's arm around his shoulders and lifted so they were both standing. Then he started walking, pulling Sam with him as they started towards the exit. The closer they came to the door, the more the headache declined and when they burst out into the fresh air, Sam could barely remember what the pain was like. The nausea remained but not as intense and Sam didn't think he would be sick.

"Wait, wait, Dean, I'm okay. I'm okay."

Sam stopped them walking any further. Dean started studying him and touching his face to check for fever.

Sam recoiled away from him. "I'm okay."

"That was not okay. That was like one of your freaky visions."

"Without the actual vision, yeah, I know. Except, it wasn't. I mean, not exactly."

"No vision."

"Besides that. It didn't feel exactly the same. Not better or worse just different, I guess."

"Well, whatever, let's get out of here."

Sam shook his head. He'd known Dean would demand that they regroup but he wasn't ready to leave.

"I want to go back in."

"Why?"

"I want to see if the same thing happens. There might be something supernatural in there, Dean."

"Where did you get that from?"

"My sudden blinding headache in a building where a bunch of kids got killed. All those unexplained deaths. It warrants a second look."

"Sammy," Dean started.

"No, you do not get to pull the 'Sammy' card. We need to make sure."

Dean was practically vibrating with anger and worry. Sam hated doing that to him but sometimes it was necessary. Their father had placed too much responsibility on Dean to protect Sam and it was almost like a sacred pact now that Dad was dead. Sam couldn't let that stop them from doing what needed to be done.

"Excuse me."

The arrival of the new voice startled both of them and Dean swung around to see who was approaching.

The skinny newcomer looked about Sam's age. His thin brown hair hung about shoulder length. He was dressed in baggy jeans and a green parka that hung to his knees. About the same height as Dean, his oversized clothes drooped off his frame. With thin, straight lips, narrowed eyes and pale skin, he looked like he might be strung out on something. But, his pupils were normal and he wasn't fidgeting so Sam thought he might just be sick or something.

"What do you need?" Dean asked.

"Did you just come from inside the school?"

"Yeah, why?"

"I just wanted to know what it looks like. Do they still eat in there?"

In the instant of recognition Sam surged forward, pushing past his brother.

"You're Tim Carroll," Sam said, tightening his hands into fists.

Dean darted up a step and moved between them.

"I just came for the memorial. I can be here," Tim said.

"No," Sam said, "You can't be here. No way are you allowed anywhere near a school."

"I just want…"

"You want to keep breathing, you walk away."

"Whoa, take it easy," Dean said, planting himself in front of Tim Carroll and putting his back to Sam.

"It seems unreal now," Tim said. "But I remember them all." He looked over Dean's shoulder. "I remember you."

Dean shoved him in the chest with both hands, knocking Tim back and making him stumble several feet before getting his balance back. Tim straightened up. Other than a moment of breathlessness he didn't react to the attack. He looked towards the old cafeteria building.

"It's like a dream now," he said.

"I don't know what your problem is and I don't care," Dean said. "But, it's time to go."

Tim reached a hand into his coat pocket. Sam tensed feeling Dean do the same. Tim tugged a brown ski cap out and put it over his head, pulling it down to cover his ears. He nodded at the two of them, almost expressionless, and walked towards the wooden tree line. He skirted the edge and then turned towards the student parking lot. A few moments later he appeared behind the wheel of an older model Cavalier and drove off the property.

Sam let out a long exhale and paced away from Dean. He stalked back and forth fighting the rage pumping through him. Minutes passed before he could speak again.

"Should've killed him."

"We don't kill humans, Sam."

"We should've made an exception."

"Yeah, well, calm down. He's gone and we'll drop a dime to give the cops a heads up. Does he still live in town?"

Sam shook his head. "No. He lives in Texas. With his mother."

"I'm betting he doesn't want anyone to know he's here."

"Why would he come back?"

"Looked like he was getting off on it if you asked me. Guy needs to be locked up somewhere."

Sam closed his eyes for just a moment before he turned towards the school again. He knew he needed to push his anger at Tim Carroll away. It only muddled his thinking.

"Come on," he said. "Let's try this again."

"Sam…" Dean protested.

"Are you coming or not?"

Dean glared at him so Sam softened his tone.

"It'll be okay. If I start to feel sick, we'll leave until we can come back with the EVP detector."

"At which point, I'll be going in by myself. If some angry spirit is roaming around in there targeting you then we're not taking any chances."

Sam wasn't going to have the argument about their next visit until it became apparent they needed another visit. Two minutes into walking through the door that task became undeniable. The pain hit him so fast, Sam nearly passed out. He fell to his knees with a groan as he felt like a layer of his skull was peeled back. He could hear Dean swearing as his brother grabbed him again and dragged him back outside.

Overwhelming exhaustion flooded Sam as the pain left him. Clearly, his body had not enjoyed two sudden rushes of blinding agony and churning nausea. He leaned against Dean because his brother was the most solid thing near him and he knew that Dean wouldn't let him fall. As the memory of the pain faded, Sam thought he saw movement in the parking lot.

He straightened and stared out across the courtyard to where the Impala sat waiting for them. Standing on two legs by the passenger side door, a large dog sniffed at the edge of the window. Sam couldn't tell what kind of dog it was.

"Dean, look at that dog," Sam said and his brother followed his gaze.

"Oh, crap, it's going to scratch the paint," Dean complained. Then he whistled and yelled.

Maybe a Husky or a German Shepherd, Sam thought it was female as she dropped back down to all fours and looked in his direction. Dean's noise didn't chase her away. She stood, as if immobilized, and watched them.

"Come on, we got to chase that thing away. Can you walk?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, pain's gone."

"Awesome, nothing creepy or weird about that."

Sam put his hand on Dean's arm, stopping him. "It could be the Aswang."

"It's daytime," Dean countered.

"Yeah, well, they turn into dogs and that dog is giving me the creeps."

Dean looked back at where the dog stood, feet still planted, still staring in their direction. Her bushy tail was up. Her black and gray ears were cocked in their direction.

"Okay," Dean agreed.

Sam took the gun out of the small of his back. Dean took another one out of his pocket. The gray, moisture-filled clouds took that moment to start sending snowflakes from the sky. The small, barely formed ice crystals soon turned thick and heavy, making real progress in covering the frozen ground.

Sam shivered while they walked but he kept his eyes on the dog. As they drew closer, he could see the muscles rolling under fur. She growled low in her throat, almost silently but Sam could hear the menace. He also felt like her total focus was on him.

"She doesn't like you," Dean commented.

The dog moved her front paws up and down but didn't approach or run away. The small movement had turned her body so she was facing Sam directly.

Dean brought his gun to bear and Sam followed his example. If the dog made an aggressive move, she wouldn't last long.

Stopping at the edge of the parking lot, Sam felt a tremor pass through his body. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing up. His heart pounded wildly in his chest. The dog screamed threat to him with every instinct he possessed.

Dean's hand on his arm stopped him from firing.

"Police," he said.

Sam glanced up for just a moment to see a blue and white cruiser pulling into the parking lot. When he looked back, the dog was gone.

"She ran into the trees over there," Dean said as he put his gun back in his jacket pocket.

Sam did the same, wanting to keep the police from seeing it. He didn't want to get arrested or have to try and talk their way out of awkward questions.

The cruiser pulled up in front of them and the solitary officer rolled down his window. A fifty something with thinning brown hair and a round, white face peered out at them.

"School's closed," he said with just a hint of good, old boy in his accent.

"Yes, sir. We're just looking around," Dean answered.

"Got a call from the janitor and he said you doing more than looking. Said you were inside one of the buildings."

Sam schooled his features to appear embarrassed. "Oh, yeah, sorry about that. We came in for the memorial and I guess we got curious about where it happened."

"That's a bit ghoulish, don't you think?"

"Yes, sir, I guess it is."

"Speaking of ghoulish," Dean said. "We saw Tim Carroll a little while ago. The kid who shot up the place."

"I know his name," the officer said, sitting up straighter. "You sure?"

"I was a student here. I know him."

"Did you see a weapon or anything?"

Dean shook his head. "No. But, he was real interested in the building. Might want to keep an eye out."

"Yeah, think you're right," the officer said. "How about you move on out of here, huh, boys? The memorial is just about to reach the cemetery. If you want to pay proper respect to the children, that's where you want to be."

"We will," Sam said. "Again, we're sorry. Thank you."

The officer nodded and rolled up his window.

Dean and Sam headed for the Impala and climbed in. Sam noticed the officer remained parked at the curb as they left the property.