Chapter 13: Wish you were here

So, so you think you can tell
Heaven from Hell.

And did they get you to trade
Your heroes for ghosts?

How I wish, how I wish you were here.
We're just two lost souls
Swimming in a fish bowl,
Year after year.
Running over the same old ground,
What have we found?
The same old fears.
Wish you were here.

Pink Floyd – Wish You Were Here

"Oh, come on!" John yelled, punching the steering wheel. Sam grunted something from the backseat and pushed himself groggily upright. Dean's mouth hung open a little, as if he had trouble processing what was happening in front of him.

John pulled over and all three Winchesters quickly got out of the car. A few people were watching the police officers and paramedics. None of them spoke, one woman was crying silently. The atmosphere made Dean a little nervous.

"What's going on?" John asked quietly. The man next to him answered without taking his eyes off the scene.

"They found another body," the man shook his head, "They wouldn't tell us who it is, but I'm pretty certain it's Kathrine Eveland. Her parents arrived about half an hour ago. They were the only ones allowed on the crime-scene. Apart from the doctors and officers that is."

"Who's Kathrine?" John whispered towards his sons. Sam shrugged, Dean looked confused.

"She's in my science class…" Dean mumbled, "But it can't be her… I mean… she's not a cheerleader."

"She's not?" John frowned. Dean shook his head.

"She was the head of the school paper," Amy had let him read one of Kathrine's pieces. She'd been pretty good.

"Maybe it's someone else then?" Sam said.

"Someone else who's dead?" John wondered, "but then why would they let Kathrine's parents on the crime scene?"

"No, no…" Sam shook his head, "Another killer. Maybe a coincidence? Or maybe even a copycat?"

"A copycat," Dean snorted, rolling his eyes. But deep down, he knew that that was indeed a possibility.

There was commotion at the front doors of the school. They opened and a screaming woman was led outside by a crying man. Kathrine's parents, most likely. The woman stumbled and when her husband tried to catch her, she punched him in the face and stumbled farther away from him.

"No!" she screamed in a broken voice, "No! That's my daughter! That's my Kathrine! No!"

The man threw his arms around his wife as her knees buckled and they could hear her sobbing as she hid her face in her husband's neck. The man cried harder, shaking his head, as if he couldn't grasp the thought that he would never see his daughter again. A paramedic guided both of them towards an ambulance, when the doors opened again and a stretcher was rolled out. There was obviously someone on the stretcher, but the body was hidden under a white blanket. It was stained with something that could have been blood, but that Sam suspected to be the girl's melted organs. The spectators craned their necks to get a good view.

When the stretcher rolled past them, one of the wheels got stuck behind a stone, and the stretcher wavered. For a moment, Sam though it would turn over, but then the paramedics were able to stabilize the thing again. A pale arm floppily fell from under the blanket. The slightly chubby fingers and manicured nails pointed towards the ground, as if there was something there that they should check out. Sam's breath hitched in his throat when he saw Kathrine's bare arm. A long text – or at least, what looked like a text – was written over her arm and hand in a thick black marker. He couldn't make out what exactly it was that was written there, but he didn't think this was an entirely different murder. This was either a copycat, or the same killer. He hoped it was the same killer. Then he would have been wrong about Susannah, but at least they wouldn't have to deal with two psychopathic supernatural killers. He shook his head.

"I've seen enough," John said, "C'mon boys, let's go."

John guided his sons back to the car. All three of them were silent while they drove back to the motel. If this was the same killer, then why would he have suddenly changed from cheerleaders to girls who worked for the school paper? If this was a copycat, then they had a serious problem. A second killer would mean twice as many dead bodies in a short time. This was getting out of control.

John left his boys in their room and went to his own. The morgue files wouldn't be online yet. Maybe tomorrow morning. He'd seen the text on Kathrine's arm as well, and he wanted to know what it was that was written on it. It could be a clue. Maybe he should break into the morgue. Seeing the body for real was still very different from seeing pictures of it. He could leave Sam here, the boy was still a kid. But Dean should probably come. He could learn something from it, and two pairs of eyes were better than one.

None of them slept much that night. It was starting to get time they could catch this monster.

When Dean drove Sam to school the next morning, things were still awkward between them. Both boys refused to speak to the other one, and Dean had yanked up the music so he wouldn't have to hear the uncomfortable silence. When Dean parked the car, Sam had the door open before the engine was off.

"Sam," Dean said. Sam looked over his shoulder, his expression blank, "You can walk home, right? I don't have to wait for you, do I? Because, the Outcasts…"

Sam's eyes flared when he mentioned his friends, but the expressionless mask was quickly pasted on his face again, "Whatever. I'm not a baby anymore."

Sam slammed the door shut with a little more force than necessary and Dean winced. See, he told himself, Sam is a big boy. He doesn't really need me.

The thought that Sam didn't need him anymore, hurt. He closed his eyes for a second and breathed in deeply. He was glad he'd found his friends. At least they still liked to be around him. Sam was just bitchy and high on angry teenage hormones. And he didn't need Dean anymore. Dean pressed his hands against his eyes and sighed. Where was the time Sam needed him for every little thing? But they were right. He had to let Sam grow up; he couldn't baby him for the rest of his life.

Someone knocked on his window and Dean was startled out of his thoughts. Sam? But no, not Sam. Daniel was grinning at him, waiting for him to get out of the car. Dean smiled, feeling that weird, warm feeling flow through him that he usually only had when he looked at Sam. He wondered where the rest was.

"You weren't planning on driving back home and abandoning us, were you?" Paco asked him with a wink when he excited from the car. Dean laughed and shook his head. Since when did he ever abandon anyone?

"Good," Paco grinned and clapped a hand on his shoulder, "Have you seen Alexis and Amy yet?"

"Nope," Dean shrugged, looking around.

"I liked Alexis' dress yesterday evening," Paco said, looking at Daniel, "That girl's got a gift."

Daniel nodded, "Yeah, it looked good on her." He must have seen Dean's slightly confused look, 'cause he added: "She makes her clothes herself, didn't you notice?"

Well, yeah, Dean had noticed that she wore very special clothes. But no, he hadn't thought that she made them herself. I mean, why would he? He didn't pay a lot of attention to anyone's clothes. Except for his own, maybe. According to Sam and dad, he spent too much attention to his own clothes and general appearance. But a guy had to look good, right?

"She made us all a piece of clothing last year for Christmas," Daniel grinned, "That was pretty cool."

Dean grinned as well, but he wouldn't call it 'cool'. Clothes weren't supposed to be made by friends. Clothes were supposed to be bought. Or be like dad's leather jacket that he was wearing. He touched the amulet Sam had given him for Christmas a few years ago. His friends probably wouldn't consider that cool either, but he was proud of it. Maybe this was what they felt about the clothes Alexis had made them?

"Oh shit," Daniel suddenly breathed. Dean looked up in surprise and saw Dan's shocked expression, staring at something in the distance.

"Is that… Alexis?" Paco asked, "That's not good, man… not good at all…"

"Hi guys!" Alexis yelled, and finally Dean noticed her. No, this definitely wasn't good. She had cut off her hair. It was short – shorter than Sam's – and messy and just plain weird. She had had long, dark brown hair with some pink dye in it before, but now it was white. With blue in it. Dean felt his mouth fall open. He hadn't particularly liked her hair before, but now… now he downright hated it. It made her look boyish and… lost. And it made her big nose look even bigger.

"Alexis," he said softly, "What did you do?"

She gave him a big bright smile and touched her hair, "You like it?"

Dean didn't know what to say. It would be a bit rude to say no, but he didn't want to lie to her and say yes.

"No," Daniel said, "Why did you do it?"

She looked at him with a hurt look in her eyes, "I was bored. I like my new look a lot better."

"No, you don't," Paco said with a soft voice and a frown.

She shrugged, sighed, "I don't know… I was so angry! My parents… they kept telling me I had to behave and get the pink out of my hair. Apparently they fear Elior won't marry me anymore if I have pink in my hair. So I grabbed a pair of scissors and cut the pink strands out of it to show them… I don't even know what I wanted to show them… and then I saw myself in the mirror… and I looked hideous… and I don't know, Paco… I just cut the rest of and then bleached it… and I still didn't like it, so I bought blue dye – because the pink one causes the cancel of my stupid marriage – and I dyed my hair blue… and now I look like this…"

She pointed to her head and closed her eyes for a second, "And I hate it."

"It'll be okay, Lexy," Daniel said and he threw an arm around her shoulder, "It'll grow back."

"By the time it's grown back I'll be wearing a freaking wig," she kicked against a small stone and it hit Amy, who was just arriving.

"Oh, Alexis," she sighed and the corner of her mouth went down when she saw what her friend looked like. She shook her head and touched the other girl's cheek, smiling sadly.

"I'm fine," Alexis said, swallowing hard, "Really, I'm fine. I've had worse."

"Like that time you dyed your hair pink," Daniel said, carefully teasing.

"Shut up, Dan," Alexis shoved him, but a small grin tugged at her lips.

"Or that time you got a tattoo," Daniel grinned, "And then another, and then another."

"Shut up," she shoved him harder, and her grin grew bigger, "I hate you."

They entered the building and were greeted by a wall of whispering and pointing students. Alexis blushed and cast her eyes down. Amy took her hand and gently squeezed it. Paco realized it wasn't because of Alexis they were being pointed at.

"Cute brother you've got," he said in a mocking voice, looking at Dean. He pulled a colorful piece of paper from the wall and held it up in front of him. It wasn't until now that Dean noticed the colorful papers were everywhere. And everyone seemed to have read them.

"Oh God," Dean groaned when he read what was on it, "This isn't happening."

Amy looked at the text and grimaced, "Yeah, it is."

"Shit!" he swore, stomping his foot and ripping the offensive thing in his hands, "Why does Sam always have to embarrass me like that?"

When Sam had entered the building about 15 minutes earlier, people had been pointing and laughing at him as well. He looked away from them and hunched his shoulders. They were laughing out loud, not even a little ashamed, and yelled offensive names at him.

"You'd do it for free, right?" someone asked him loudly and Sam looked up at the guy, confused. Do what?

That's when he saw the pink sheet, lying on the floor. He noticed with a shock that it had his name on it, so he stopped death in his tracks and slowly picked it up. It looked like a small news article; with a head, some text and a picture.

Sam Winchester sucks cock.

That's what the title read. It had a picture of him su- … Sam felt his eyes grow big and the blood drain from his face. He had not, and would never do something like that. He didn't understand how they got the picture, since he was 100% certain that that had never ever happened. It was gross and disturbing and he could feel his heartbeat accelerating as he looked up and saw the hundreds upon hundreds of colorful pieces of paper. Each of them with a horrible lie on them, and a picture of him. Pictures of him doing things he'd never do, so he didn't understand…

The laughter of the people around him grew louder and he started sweating. It was like the image was too bright, almost unreal. He staggered forward and his vision swam and he couldn't breathe. This wasn't happening… this couldn't be happening… he'd never done things like that, and yet there were pictures of him doing it.

"Like the Photoshop, loser?" Peter Barcus from his PE class asked with a laugh. Sam couldn't grasp it. He heard the words, but they didn't make any sense and Peter's voice was all kinds of wrong and he still couldn't breathe. He pulled the flyers off the walls, and threw them in the trashcan without it even registering to him that he was doing it. Not only his hands were trembling, but his whole body was shaking and there was a weird tingling in his fingers. He dropped the papers and doubled over. He could hear himself breathing, so why did he feel like there just wasn't enough oxygen in the air?

He felt lightheaded and when he pushed himself up again, a wave of dizziness crashed over him and he stumbled away from the laughing, pointing people. They were everywhere. Everyone had read the lies and believed them. He locked himself up in a bathroom stall – again, he thought vaguely – and he cried out in pain and shame, pulling his hair with his shaking hands. He was choking and he tried to pull his collar away from his neck so he would finally be able to breathe.

He banged his fists on the wood and sobbed, making strangled noises. But he barely even heared them, didn't realize it was him making those animalistic sounds. If only someone could shut that person up, he was making Sam crazy. He screamed again – a hoarse, breathless scream – and gagged and realized with a jolt that he was going to be sick.

He fell to his knees and retched, but nothing came up. He retched and gagged and spat strings of saliva into the bowl, but his stomach contents stayed down. He wished he'd just hurl already and get this over with. He still couldn't breathe and there were dark spots clouding his vision and suddenly, he wasn't so sure anymore if he was going to be sick or just faint. He tried to clutch the seat, but his fingers didn't do what he wanted them to. He moaned softly, wishing Dean was here. But Dean wouldn't be able to make things better again. Even Dean wouldn't be able to solve this.

He was on his own.

I've been really sick this week, so I hope the chapter makes some sense ^^

So... college started again and it's looking good ^^ I have to write a bunch of papers and give a presentation and I'm going to have SO much work this semester -_-'

I was planning on updating every Sunday from now on, but the chapter was finished so I wanted to give it to you :) I hope you liked it!

And just some random thought: Wish you were here was one of the first Pink Floyd songs I knew ^^

- Lune x