Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or any characters affiliated with the show. Now, on to the story!
Chapter 14: Yellow Eyes
Sam had a strange sense of deja vu when the sound of a phone ringing managed to wake him up from the strange darkness he was in.
It wasn't his ringtone though, oddly enough. He frowned, eyes still shut as he rolled towards the sound of...music? Before he could roll all the way over and fumble in the general direction his nightstand should've been, he felt empty space beneath him and paused, throwing out one arm to catch himself just in time.
"What the hell?" he murmured, finally opening his eyes to find that not only was he sleeping on the couch for some reason, but that a very nice phone that didn't belong to him, or Kevin for that matter, was ringing, specifically playing 'Heat of the Moment'.
Oh.
The dark fog in his mind(A remnant of a dream? He couldn't seem to remember now) burned away as he realized that A) Gabe had stayed over, B) He must be sleeping in his bed, and C) Someone from the police was calling, as Gabe seemed to use that ringtone for mostly work.
"Crap," he muttered, scrambling off the saggy couch as he reached for the phone. He wasn't sure why the LPD, specifically Jody from looking at the screen, would be calling at...5:47 A.M, but it had to be important.
Jogging down the hall(or fast walking five paces for Sam; it wasn't a big apartment), he opened the door before he thought twice, and nearly stumbled back in shock.
His room was completely filled with Gabe's aura. He knew it shouldn't have been surprising, since, between the sheer size of it and the small scale of his room, it was bound to happen, but it was still disconcerting to see his room illuminated by warm, sleepy shades of gold and mint, and the man responsible for it curled up in a ball in the very center of his bed, nearly invisible under the covers. The colors flowed off of him and swirled around in a sheen, making his usually dull and slightly depressed looking bedroom look almost likable.
Like this, my room doesn't look half bad.
Sam took a deep breath, and then another before he stepped in. He turned on the light first before reaching out a hesitant hand towards the curled up figure.
The phone stopped ringing as his hand ran over tousled blonde hair. Sam smiled faintly at the softness of it before he pulled the assortment of blankets down, just enough to shake the man's shoulder. It took a good 30 seconds to interrupt the soft snores, and Sam shook the consultant slightly harder as Jody began to call again.
It must be really important if she's still trying.
"Gabe, wake up!" Sam whispered, reluctant to wake the golden-eyed man up rudely, but he was also getting antsy about Jody's call. He didn't want to answer it himself for a variety of reasons, which meant that Gabe had to wake up.
"Wassit, hmmm," Gabe mumbled incoherently, rolling over to face Sam as he tugged the covers over his head. His eyes were still firmly shut, hair half covering his face and the other half sticking up. Sam would've found it funny if it weren't for the fact that Jody was still insistently calling.
"No, wake up you idiot," the Winchester hissed, tugging the blankets down again, and Gabe frowned deeply as he groaned, his aura flashing a faint orange in irritation.
"Noooo," he groaned, and Sam rolled his eyes before shoving the phone between Gabe's ear and the pillow.
That seemed to do the trick. Gabe's eyes flew open at the sound of the ringtone, and he cursed colorfully, sitting up and answering in a heartbeat.
"Yeah?" he answered with a sleep hoarse voice, and Sam stepped back before leaving, golden tendrils of Gabe's aura tangling around in limbs in soft wisps as he walked back into the living room and sat on the couch.
Running his hands through his hair, Sam yawned and fell back against the cushions, ignoring the creak beneath him as he looked up at the barely visible ceiling.
Gabe is in my apartment. When did that even happen?
Sam frowned, still looking at the ceiling as he tried to piece together last night's event. He had been at the Roadhouse, where there had been that situation with Meg, and then Gabe had picked him up...
"And then he nearly crashed the car. Right," Sam muttered to himself as he finally managed to remember. He stood, stretching his slightly sore muscles out before moving into the kitchen. While it was early, he used to wake up at this time to go on a morning jog, so he wasn't terribly grumpy at the impromptu wake up call. He could always catch a nap later since it was Wednesday and therefore he had no pressing priorities.
He had almost turned on the coffee machine when Gabe raced into the kitchen, struggling to shove his legs into his jeans while simultaneously putting on his coat.
"No time for that kiddo, I'll get us some on the way," he said quickly, stumbling over his words just as much as he was stumbling over his legs, "There's another body."
Sam's stomach dropped a bit, even as his heart rate began to pick up.
It's horrible and gruesome, but I'm excited regardless. How fucked up is that?
"Where? Who?" he asked, abandoning the coffee machine in favor of getting some clothes. While he had planned for an action-free day(save for lunch with Gabe), Sam figured serial killers didn't really care about whether or not he had the day off.
Gabe followed him out, his golden aura like a flare in the dim apartment. The light show was pretty, but Sam flicked on some lights along the way regardless to keep up appearances.
"Principal Mitchell of Southview High. He's apparently been set up there."
Sam nearly ran into his door as he turned to look back at Gabe.
Wait, what?
"Principal Mitchell?" he asked in disbelief, and Gabe nodded, tilting his head with interest.
"You knew him?"
The Winchester snorted as he regained his bearings and made his way to his dresser. Gabe's aura lingered, especially around the bed, and it parted gently around him as he moved.
"I graduated from Southview," he explained as he pulled out a random pair of jeans, "Mitchell liked to think of himself as a totalitarian, but in reality, he was just incompetent and-"
"An asshole?" Gabe finished with a faint smile.
Sam blinked, then smiled back.
"A constant in the case," he commented, "The killer set him up at the high school?"
"Apparently. Ready?" the consultant asked, clearly impatient to go, and Sam grabbed a pair of socks before nodding.
The two managed to make their way downstairs in two minutes, which was impressive as Gabe had run down the stairs in lieu of using the elevator(Sam had leapt down the last set in his haste to keep up). Sam didn't think he'd ever seen Gabe move so fast and had to haul the man back when he tried to run out the lobby doors.
"It gets icy," he explained as Gabe reeled back in alarm, "So watch your step."
"Did you have to choke me to make your point?" he asked, rubbing his neck, and Sam shrugged sheepishly as he let go of the man's collar.
"Sorry," he said, and Gabe scowled at him, but the glint in his eyes told Sam that all was well.
It was still dark outside as they made their way to the Beetle(carefully, as Gabe seem to took Sam's warning seriously). A good coating of snow covered the ground, and the college student estimated that around six inches had fallen judging by the neat layer on the car. It sparkled in the light of Gabe's aura, adding an extra light source to the glaring streetlamps and the consultant's aura.
"Crap. Now I've got to scrape off all this damn snow," Gabe hissed, rubbing his hands together as a sharp wind blew down the sidewalk.
"I'll handle it. Just start the car," Sam said, nudging him in the right direction, "I'll get it done faster than you."
"I'd argue with you, but you have a good point," Gabe said with a long glance to his arms, "Snow scraper's in the back."
While Sam began to scrape the windshield clean, the consultant started the car or at least tried to. The engine sputtered but refused to start, and Sam could hear a muffled curse from inside.
Sam frowned down at the hood while Gabe tried again, and again, but each time, the engine stalled.
"Let me try," the Winchester said as Gabe got out of the car, and the consultant threw his hands up in frustration.
"Just what I need. I've never had a problem with the engine before," Gabe exclaimed, his aura quickly turning orange with irritation, and Sam clasped his shoulder in an attempt to calm him.
"Don't worry, I'll get it started," he said reassuringly, "Just scrape the snow off the windows."
Gabe stared at him for a moment with a furrowed brow before nodding, the edge of irritation in his aura softening as he took the snow scraper.
Sam ducked into the Beetle, quickly realizing he would never get his legs inside properly. Gabe had the seat way too far forward for that, so he settled on twisting sideways as he reached for the ignition.
"Come on," he muttered, hoping that the engine would start. Unlike his brother, he only ever had a very rudimentary interest in cars; just enough to learn how to change a tire and change the oil. He knew next to nothing about stalled engines, and he could only hope the car might start.
Twisting the key, Sam bit his lip as the engine seemed to stall, but then with one last cough, it started.
"Yes!" he said as Gabe walked around.
"How did you do that?" the consultant asked, and Sam shrugged, stepping out.
"Luck. Get in, I'll finish up," he said, taking the snow scraper from the confused man before steering him into the car.
Quickly scraping off just enough to make sure they had visibility, Sam ducked inside into the warmth of the car, the sound of the wind cutting off as he slammed the door.
"Let's go!"
...
Southview High loomed overhead in all of its depressing, gray glory. With three stories and multiple additions, it was a conglomerate of buildings that Sam remembered far too well. He frowned slightly as they pulled up into the main entrance, where police cars, an ambulance, and most importantly, a medical examiner's van, were all parked with their various lights flashing. The snow managed to cover the usually yellow grass and pathetic landscaping that framed the school, but it also emphasized the starkness of the building. Sam didn't think Southview ever looked more like a prison than it did in the winter.
Gabe seemed to notice his less than enthusiastic expression as they parked, as he began to chuckle.
"High school wasn't the best?" he asked, and Sam took an aggressive sip of his coffee, which only made the P.I laugh harder.
"It wasn't fun," he confirmed, shaking his head slightly, "It's weird, I only graduated two years ago, but it still sort of feels like I should be heading to homeroom now."
He winced as a particular memory came to him.
"I also met Jess here," he muttered, waiting for the sting in his chest at the thought of his ex. Surprisingly, it was barely a pinch when it used to be agony, and Sam sipped his coffee to hide his faint surprise. Maybe he was finally getting over her.
A hand reached out and clasped his shoulder, and the Winchester looked over to see Gabe offering a reassuring smile, even as his aura rippled with a dark displeasure at the mention of Jess.
Sam smiled back, letting the gold shades wash over his shoulder, and then the moment was over as they both got out of the car.
Inside, the foyer was bustling with activity, more than the school ever saw at this early hour. Sam quickly took in everything with the practiced eye of a former student; the office directly ahead filled with faculty and officers, some of which he recognized from both groups. The double doors down the hall to the right that led to one of the main buildings used for classes were shut, which meant that Principal Mitchell had been set up somewhere down the left. There were too many options down that way, as the cafeteria, gym, auditorium, theater, and music hall were all down that way, not to mention the small wing that held some history classes and-
"It's the trophy cases, isn't it?" Sam asked as they began to walk down the hall, and Gabe glanced over at him.
"Yeah, Jody mentioned something about those," he said slowly, and Sam nodded, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction at the fact that he'd deduced that all on his own without the assistance of a vision.
Speaking of visions, I didn't have one that mentioned Mitchell at all, and I didn't sleepwalk last night either. What's up with that?
"Mitchell was more interested in the athletes than anything else," he explained as they passed the cafeteria, which was on the left, and the closed doors of the auditorium on the right. Ahead, his suspicion was confirmed at the sight of crime scene tape blocking off the two double doors that led to the gym foyer, "He was almost obsessive about it. Since the killer's all about symbolism, it'd have to be something athlete related, and the trophy cases are about as public as it gets."
A familiar blonde ducked under the yellow tape to greet them, but Sam noticed that her aura was different. The usual peach was swirling a darker mauve color in discontent, and instead of greeting them affably, Donna grabbed their hands and tugged them down the smaller hall on the left just past the auditorium that led to the theater and the music wing.
"What's wrong, Donna?" Sam asked, instantly concerned at the sight of the detective. She was always so cheerful, and her aura was usually on the more stable side. Something, or someone, must have really bothered her to make her aura appear like this.
"Talbot's here," she said grimly, doe eyes fixing an apologetic look at Gabe, "Jody tried to stop her, telling her she needed to rest from her flight, but..."
"She's already kicked me off the case. She works fast, I'll give her that," the consultant said with a little laugh.
Sam felt his stomach twist sharply as he took in Gabe's words and the faint green-blue colors of disappointment.
Gabe's off the case? But he can't be! What...what do we do now?
"As soon as she heard you were on the case she kicked you off," Donna said sadly, "We'd try to sneak you onto the crime scene, but she's here right now."
For a moment, they were all quiet, until Gabe nodded and smiled. To an outsider, it might have looked convincing, but Sam could see the forced quality to his behind his eyes and in his aura.
"Well, guess that means we should be off. I have other cases I have to get to anyway," he said indifferently, "Come on kiddo."
Donna glanced over at Sam, eyes wide with concern, and the college student nodded slightly before they parted ways. As they left, he looked over his shoulder at the bustling crime scene and thought he saw bloody Enochian painted on the glass of the cases, but it was just a glimpse.
Outside, the sun was beginning to rise, staining the sky in shades of pink and orange that Sam didn't really feel like admiring at the moment. Gabe was uncharacteristically quiet by his side, golden aura revealing nothing obvious. There were subtle shades, but Sam for the life of him couldn't figure out what they could possibly mean, which bothered him immensely. While sometimes minute shade differences were impossible to read, he'd always prided himself on being able to pick up on them. It seemed he'd have to figure this out through talking.
Not my strong suit, but I have to give it my best shot. I don't know what Gabe's thinking right now.
"So that's it?" Sam asked bluntly just before they reached the Beetle, which looked out of place amongst the motley assortment of vehicles.
"Pretty much," Gabe said with a casual shrug, hands in his pockets as his jacket flapped in the wind. Sam, for some reason, had the urge to button it up, much like he did whenever Ben had a piece of clothing on wrong(usually shoelaces; even his genius nephew struggled with those) and pushed it down viciously. Gabe was a grown adult, not a kid.
"'Pretty much'?" Sam echoed in disbelief, stopping on the icy sidewalk. Gabe stopped with him and shrugged again, but this time a bit harder.
"Yes, 'pretty much'. This is the nature of my job, kiddo," he said, and Sam frowned.
"I'm not a kid," he snapped, "So you're just going to, what, walk away from the case? Doesn't it bother you?"
Gabe fixed patient gold eyes on him, the look reminiscent of a parent waiting a child's temper tantrum out. The gaze only served to rile Sam up even more as the man responded.
"There's nothing I can do about it, ki-Sam," Gabe said, seeming to backtrack when he saw the look in Sam's eyes, "Talbot's head of the task force now, and she makes the decisions. If I get lucky, they might bring me back in for some consultation, but probably not. Bela and I never got on well."
The golden-eyed man huffed a laugh at the word 'consultation', and Sam felt his hand clench around his coffee cup, enough to make the paper cup crumple a bit.
A task force that's probably going to get nowhere, just like last time.
"That's bullshit!" he growled, "You can't just-just give up. This isn't like you at all! What if the killer just keeps going and they don't catch him?"
"It'll be all right Sam; the LPD are good at what they do," Gabe said soothingly, and Sam's hand finally clenched into a fist.
Hot coffee dripped down his hand and sizzled on the snow below, but Sam barely winced at the sensation, ignoring Gabe's curse as he reached for his hand.
"No, they're not!" Sam hissed, raking his free hand through his hair, "They fucked up almost twenty years ago with Yellow Eyes, and they're going to fuck it up this time with this Death dude, and I'm not just going to stand by and let them-"
The throaty growl of an engine Sam was familiar with reminded him of where he was, and he abruptly cut himself off as he turned to see Ash's old junker of a truck roll up. Jo was sitting in the passenger seat, and he frowned as she practically flew out, skidding to a stop in front of him.
"Sam! What are you doing here? Oh, hi Gabe! What happened here?" Jo asked, her eyes flicking to the front doors before returning to him and his crushed coffee cup, "And what happened to your coffee?"
"I spilled it," he said shortly, exchanging a nod of greeting with Ash through the window(he looked sleepy, but mostly aware, which was good), "What are you doing here Jo? Didn't they cancel school for you guys because of the snow, or...?"
"They did, but I left my phone charger in my locker," she explained, breath misting in front of her as she spoke breathlessly, "Sam, I need to talk to you about Kevin."
Sam threw away the ruined cup in a nearby trash can and took in Jo's aura with a frown. The crystal teal was darker now, with an anxious edge to it that immediately had him worried.
What's Kevin done to make her so concerned?
"What about him?" he asked, and Jo bit her lip before tugging on the end of one of the braids she'd done her hair in.
"I'm really worried about him," she admitted, "He keeps going out late, and I don't understand why because I know he hates parties and stuff like that, but he still goes anyway. Whenever I asked him about it he always clammed up, but I think it has to do with some of the friends he has that still go here."
"You think they're dragging him into bad stuff?" Sam asked, and she shook her head.
"I think he's trying to help them out of bad stuff. Gang stuff," she said, "Gangs have started recruiting from here a lot more, and I think a couple of his friends have been sucked in. It's getting really out of hand, but the administration isn't doing shit about it."
Gangs again. It always circles back to the gangs.
"Do you think he might get into serious trouble if he keeps this up?" he asked, and Jo shrugged, face crumpling into a morose expression.
"Maybe. When we studied together last week, he had the worst panic attack I'd ever seen him have. I think it's really getting to him," she said, aura almost blue, "He won't let me help him. To be honest, I don't know if I can help him."
"Don't worry, I'll figure something out," Sam said, clasping Jo's shoulder and rubbing it gently, "Go get your phone charger and enjoy your snow day."
"I'll escort her inside," Gabe offered, and Sam nodded before letting the two of them walk off.
He sighed and walked over to Ash's truck, leaning against the driver's door as the man rolled down his window.
"What happened?" he drawled, nodding at the school as he leaned a forearm on the door.
"Serial killer got to Principal Mitchell, but you didn't hear that from me," he responded, earning a surprised huff from Ash.
"That bastard's dead? Bad way to go, but it's about time," he said frankly, "Can't tell how many times he tried to get me arrested for smoking weed."
"Ever hear him do anything really shady besides the usual rumors?"
Ash ran a hand over his mullet and fixed him with an inquisitive look.
"Not really. Whatcha doin' out here anyway Sam?" he asked, and the Winchester shrugged, scuffing his boot at the ice-covered asphalt.
"Just curious. Don't smoke here," he said, noticing the blunt sitting in the cup holder with a frown.
"I have my flaws, but i'm not that much of an idiot," Ash remarked, "And I don't smoke with little Jo in the car. Ellen would skin me alive, and then how would I sleep on my favorite pool table?"
The two laughed at the running joke before they exchanged goodbyes. Sam went to the Beetle to grab some napkins, as his hand was quickly growing sticky from the coffee, and managed to clean himself up more or less by the time Gabe and Jo exited from one of the nearby side doors.
After struggling to start the Beetle for two minutes(with it eventually starting under Sam's control), the duo pulled away from the school in silence. It was vaguely uncomfortable, and Sam was embarrassed about his outburst(what a waste of coffee), but he also didn't really feel like talking about it yet. Now that he knew more about what might be bothering Kevin, he had to figure out how he'd approach his roommate, not to mention figure out something regarding the case and-
"Who's Yellow Eyes?"
Sam couldn't help the slight flinch at the name, but he concealed the reaction by rolling his shoulders like he was stretching. He didn't respond, his mind whirling for something to say that didn't involve telling the story.
Please just let it be.
A minute of extremely tense silence stretched on before they were suddenly careening to the side. Sam nearly face planted into the dashboard as they screeched into some random parking lot, and he hissed as his knees slammed painfully against the compartment in front of him as Gabe braked hard.
"What the fuck?" he asked incredulously, turning to look at Gabe, who was already looking back with a set face as he put the car in park and unbuckled his seat belt.
His aura was glowing orange, much like it had back on the roof after Sam had chased the killer, though it wasn't as mad looking. It was definitely determined, and with a nervous twist in his stomach, Sam realized that Gabe wasn't going to let this go. The man was far too stubborn and curious for his own good.
"Who the fuck is Yellow Eyes?" he asked, crossing his arms as he scowled. His eyes were on fire, but as Sam watched, the man's aura softened a bit, "And why are you so mad?"
Sam's face twisted, and he looked away, rubbing a hand over one of his sore knees as he looked out the window.
The sun had risen almost completely now, the sky fading from dusky pink to blue. There wasn't a single cloud in sight or an aura that Sam could lose himself in. Just the empty street and the dead trees lining it, and the layer of snow.
Figures. The one time I really need a couple of auras to focus on, there's nobody in sight.
"Sam, you crushed a coffee cup," Gabe said, sounding impossibly soft. Sam could feel the man's own anger bleeding away, but his own was still wound tight with the tension he felt on the topic, "I just want to know so maybe I can help."
That was all Sam could take. His hand reached out before his brain caught up with what he was doing, and suddenly he was outside in the cold, slamming the door behind him hard enough to make the car shake slightly.
He walked away a few paces, breathing hard as he looked around for anything, anything at all, to focus on besides stupid Yellow Eyes or Gabe or just murder in general.
There was nothing though, and he ran both of his hands through his hair before he kicked at a lump of ice. It shattered, spraying across the ground, and Sam stared at what remained of it, suddenly not angry at all as rationality kicked in.
Why should he have been? Gabe didn't know what had happened; couldn't have known. Yellow Eyes was nearly twenty years ago, and he didn't come up often these days in regular conversation, though sometimes whenever there was a particularly gruesome murder his name would be whispered. Sam was honestly surprised no one besides Lisa had brought him up ever since the killer had started his rampage. John had always been the bitter, angry one when it came to Yellow Eyes, and while Sam was still angry about it, it was residual anger absorbed from his father. He had been just a baby, and unlike Dean and John, had no memory of his mother. His anger came from the incompetence of the police and the robbed opportunity to know his mother, and had faded consistently over the years as his need for a maternal figure lessened and lessened. If this new serial killer hadn't started his own rampage, Sam probably wouldn't have reacted so strongly to mentions of him.
Sam suddenly felt a hot flush of guilt crawl over him. Gabe probably thought he was acting like an idiot right now, or even a psycho. Who crushes a coffee cup in anger?
Only thing to do now is tell him. Maybe if I tell him he'll understand.
The Winchester nodded to himself and turned around, summoning what nerve he could through the sudden ball on anxiety he had wound himself up into.
Gabe's aura was suspiciously normal when he reentered the car as if Sam hadn't done anything weird at all by storming out. Sam couldn't find any anger or confusion in his face; just the man's usual open face with a bit more patience than usual. It seemed he was content to wait for Sam to speak, and the Winchester leaned back against the seat with a sigh, looking straight ahead so he didn't have to look in Gabe's eyes. He didn't know what would come out of his mouth if he looked, and he wanted to tell the story his way.
"Yellow Eyes was a serial killer centered in Lawrence almost twenty years ago," he started, "He got his name because one of the two people that saw his face said that he had yellow eyes, bright yellow eyes like he wore contacts. Hence the name."
Sam could feel Gabe's aura shift to that persuasive air the man sometimes used, but the consultant didn't say anything. It was more like the man was encouraging him to keep going in some silent way.
"He killed five women. At least, it was assumed he did; their bodies were never found," Sam explained, "All of them were blonde and somewhere in their twenties, but that was all that they shared. They all had different occupations and different backgrounds, and they were all taken from different places."
"Mary Winchester was his last victim."
The shift in atmosphere was almost palpable. A sense of empathy washed over him, so strong that Sam had to look at Gabe.
His face was still the same, but his eyes had changed, sharper now that he understood. Sam sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he momentarily lost his train of thought.
Gabe always finds a way to do that to me.
"I was six months old. I never really knew her," he said with a wry smile and shrug, "No one's really sure what she was doing. She had never told my father John that she was going to take me out to the park, but the assumption was that she had decided to linger outside after dropping Dean off at preschool instead of going straight home."
Sam frowned, "I can't remember anything since I was too young, but the police said that she had probably spotted him before he could sneak up on her because there were signs of a chase. My stroller had been abandoned, and there were tracks through the wooded section of the park she had been taken from."
"You were the second person to see him, weren't you?"
Gabe was leaning forward now, brow furrowed slightly and a slight tint of indecision to his aura, as if he wanted to do something but wasn't sure if he should.
"Yeah. Doesn't mean shit though," Sam muttered, "They...well, he caught her, and for some reason, I was left behind in a little tree hollow. At first, they thought my mom had hidden me, but he'd carved his calling card into the tree, so it had been him. I was in the woods for a while until someone's dog found me. Apparently, I was a quiet baby."
At this, Gabe exhaled sharply, frown deepening.
"That's terrible," he stated, and Sam smiled slightly at the fervor with which he'd said it.
"It was. John was never the same after. None of us were," he finished, "That's why I don't have confidence in the LPD when it comes to this new serial killer. They made mistakes with Yellow Eyes, and I don't trust them not to mess up somehow this time around. I...I can't let that happen, and that's why I'm so...upset about you being taken off the case."
Sam ducked his head, cheeks flushing as he continued, "You're the best person for the case. You're headstrong, smart, and great at what you do. And...I trust you. I know that if there's anyone that can catch this guy, it's you."
For a moment, the car was completely quiet, but then suddenly Gabe's arms looped around him, his hair tickling the side of his face as the consultant leaned over the glove compartment to hug him.
Stunned, it took Sam a moment to catch up, but then he was hugging Gabe back, absorbing his aura like a sponge. No matter how many times he came in contact with the man, he didn't think he'd ever get used to the enveloping warmth or the sense of contentment that his aura left him with.
"You think very highly of me, Sammy. Definitely more than the way I see myself," Gabe said with a faint chuckle, a hand reaching up to thread hesitant fingers through the ends of Sam's ever growing hair. It was an odd gesture vaguely reminiscent of the soothing way Dean used to run his hands through his hair when they were children. Maybe it was weird, and the hug was definitely drawing out longer than a friendly hug in a car should be, but Sam couldn't really bring himself to care.
"That's bullshit," Sam said idly, too caught up in the sensation of Gabe's aura to imbue his voice with the indignation he felt at the man's words, "You're the best detective in Lawrence and you know it."
"Technically I'm just a consultant," the man responded in a teasing tone, and Sam huffed.
"Same difference," he dismissed before reluctantly pulling away.
"You're right though," Gabe remarked, resting an arm against the steering wheel as he gazed intently at him, "We can't just walk away. I was originally planning on just skulking around the sidelines and irritating Bela, but... what if we conducted our own investigation?"
"Isn't that kind of illegal?" Sam asked, and Gabe smirked deviously.
Oh boy. When he gets that look on his face, nothing good can come from it.
"A little, but you forget I am also a P.I," he said, his smirk growing as his aura practically blazed with mischief, "As a P.I, I am up for hire, and I think you'll be my new client."
Sam arched an eyebrow before tilting his head in confusion as he tried, and failed, to see the logic behind Gabe's proclamation.
"Explain," he demanded.
"You, an innocent victim of terror at the WM library, want to hire someone to discover the identity of the person that harassed you so horribly," Gabe said, eyes glinting, "I am the obvious solution of course, and as I am known to be not only relentless in my investigations, but also cunning and under-handed with my methods, us working alongside the official investigation won't raise too many eyebrows."
The Winchester blinked before grinning, suddenly understanding why Gabe looked so smug.
"That's a clever cover story," he admitted, only serving to fuel the consultant's ego, "As long as we don't get into serious trouble it should be fine."
"Awww, you're no fun, kiddo," Gabe pouted, and Sam rolled his eyes before they simultaneously reached for their seatbelts.
The ignition once again gave Gabe some trouble, and Sam shook his head as he had to start the car for the third time.
"I'm taking you to Bobby's," he declared as they drove, "This is ridiculous, and I don't know enough about cars to help."
"Bobby's?" Gabe asked.
"A family friend that runs a mechanic's shop," the Winchester explained, "He'll give you a fair price and get your torture device of a vehicle running in no time."
"Hey! My car is not a torture device!"
"Tell that to my poor knees."
Between the two arguing over the value of the Beetle and Gabe misinterpreting Sam's instructions('I said right here! No, here-Christ I'm going to die!'), it took the duo the better portion of a half hour to reach Bobby's shop, which was located in the southeastern portion of Lawrence in a mostly business area.
"Stay here," Sam requested as he looked at the open shop, "I'm not sure if Dean's working today or not, and I want to check first."
"I can't meet the brother yet?"
The college student looked at Gabe, who was gazing back innocently at him.
"Not after all those stunts you pulled getting here," Sam sniffed, ignoring the strange twisting feeling in his gut at the thought of Gabe meeting Dean, "Now, stay put."
He opened the door and got out before Gabe could say anything, sighing hard enough to make a giant condensation cloud.
Gabe and Dean meeting would be a disaster. They'd butt heads, and Dean is too overprotective to care that Gabe and I have a good friendship. He'd just see a stranger and flip out.
Inside, the small reception area was warm and lit in very yellow lighting. There were a few threadbare, cushioned chairs, a coffee table with magazines, and a water cooler and coffee station all off to the left. To the right was a hall that Sam knew led to a single bathroom, a closet, and the garage, and directly in front of him was the reception area, and Bobby himself poring over what looked like an inventory file.
The man looked up at the sound of the jingling bell and blinked before straightening his ever present baseball cap. His earthy aura went to a more orange shade of surprise, and Sam grinned as the gruff man visibly did a double take.
"Well, look what the dog dragged in," Bobby commented, walking around the desk, "Where have you been boy? I ain't seen you since your brother's birthday."
"College has me beat," Sam said as they exchanged a very manly, gruff hug that involved a lot of back pounding.
"That's not the only thing that has you beat. Where'd ya get that from?" the older man asked, gesturing to the almost healed bruise on Sam's face, and the Winchester shrugged.
"Long story. Is Dean here?"
Bobby's eyes narrowed minutely at the blatant subject change, but he still responded, "Nope. Only showed up once last week. Something's up with him, but I don't know what."
Probably busy protecting Castiel, Sam thought, filling in the blanks, But how much is he protecting him though if he hasn't shown up here?
"That's all right," Sam said with an easy going smile, "I actually brought you a customer."
"A customer?" Bobby asked before his eyes slid past him to look outside, "You're not talking about that yellow monstrosity sitting outside, are you?"
"It's an ok car," Sam argued, earning a disbelieving look from the older man. He sighed, running a hand through his hair, "Look, ignition's having some trouble, and you know me. I don't know jack shit about cars."
"Damn right," Bobby muttered before scratching the scruff on his face, "But all right. Get your friend in here and I'll get someone on it."
"Thanks, Bobby!"
The gruff man waved him away with a grunt, and Sam stepped out to get Gabe.
"Am I allowed to come in?" the P.I asked, sounding a little snippy, and Sam rolled his eyes before popping open the driver's door and tugging the surprised man out.
"The coast is clear," he confirmed, "Now, come in and talk to Bobby. He's a little difficult, but he's like an uncle to me, so don't let him get to you."
"That doesn't sound too hard," Gabe remarked, and Sam gave him a warning look as he opened the door.
"So this is your friend, huh?" Bobby asked as Gabe strolled in. Sam mentally crossed his fingers as the two men visibly sized each other up. "Never seen him before."
"We met recently," the P.I said smoothly before Sam could gripe at Bobby, "Gabriel Milton, private investigator and consultant."
He stuck out his hand, and Sam had to stifle a snicker at the faint look of shock on Bobby's face. Bobby was usually the one that stuck out his hand first in handshakes, and he watched the two shook hands in a grip way more firm than necessary.
Men. Sam thought as he shook his head.
"Investigator? How'd you and Sam meet?" Bobby asked suspiciously as he glanced at Sam.
"The Roadhouse," Gabe answered with a charming smile that Bobby barely reacted to, "Sam said you were the best guy to come to for car repairs, so can you help?"
Bobby studied the P.I with sharp eyes for a second before nodding, gesturing in the general direction of the garage.
"Pull up in station #2. If it's the ignition there's probably a bigger problem, so you're probably going to want to get some breakfast and go along your day on the subway."
Gabe was handed a business card, and then the two of them were herded out of the door in classic Bobby style as the phone began to ring.
The duo stood outside for a moment, taking in the fact that they'd been practically shoved outside.
"Well, I think that went well Samaquatch."
"Let's just get your car fixed."
They dropped the car off in the garage, where a worker Sam vaguely recognized as a part-timer took the Beetle off their hands.
"My poor car," the P.I moaned dramatically.
"It'll be fine. I'm sure it won't take too long," Sam said, clapping a reassuring hand on Gabe's shoulder, "Now, let's go find a subway station. We need to decide what we're going to do next."
"But that requires walking," Gabe whined as they began the long trek(Sam was pretty sure it was just a few blocks, but with Gabe?) to the nearest station.
"Should I throw you over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes then?" the Winchester asked, and Gabe blinked up at him, his aura swirling a bit in surprise.
"No way you could do that," he said disbelievingly, crossing his arms, and Sam smirked.
"I totally could. Want me to prove it?"
"No!" Gabe exclaimed, too quickly for it to be true. Even if Sam hadn't been able to see that green streak in the P.I's aura he'd come to associate with lying, he would've known that. "I'm perfectly fine on the ground-ahhh!"
Sam swept Gabe off of his feet and tossed him over his shoulder in one smooth motion without a second thought. There was one precarious moment when he thought he might slip on some hidden ice on the sidewalk, but he didn't, and then they were walking down the sidewalk as if they had just done a normal, everyday thing.
Gabe's so light. I thought he'd be heavier.
Not only was Gabe much lighter than he'd anticipated, his shoulder was tingling now due to the man's aura. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling, though Sam was sure his arm wouldn't feel the same for the rest of the day.
"-put me down! Sam, ok, you've made your point!" Gabe said, pounding a fist against his shoulder, but the Winchester only hummed and tightened his arm around the man's waist as he kept walking.
"It's easier just to carry you then listen to you complain about walking," the Winchester explained over Gabe's protests.
They walked like that for a few minutes until Gabe seemed to give up, ending his mini-rant with a massive sigh and one final kick of his legs.
"Got that out of your system?" Sam asked innocently, and he could practically hear the P.I's eyes roll.
"When did you get so bold?" he asked as they passed pedestrians, and Sam pretended to think about the question for a second before answering.
"Well, I met this guy named Gabe on my night shift last Tuesday. Ever heard of him?"
"Haha," Gabe laughed sarcastically, "Can I come down now? I have to get us on the right train."
The Winchester paused, then realized that they had arrived at the station. He had walked the whole way with Gabe on his shoulder, and he flushed as his rational mind finally kicked in.
Did I really just do that?
Gabe's cheeks were suspiciously pink when he set him down, but the man only coughed and led them down to a train that would take them to North Heights. Sam didn't say anything about the destination choice, as he was too busy trying to keep his ear from getting too hot from embarrassment. He'd have to stop letting Gabe's aura loosen his inhibitions in the future.
Stupid auras.
In the daylight, Gabe's apartment building seemed even more impressive, though Sam had to admit as they entered that the night skyline from the windows was better than the daytime one. Maybe it was because he'd seen the nighttime view first, but as he looked out at the Lawrence, he was disappointed it wasn't quite the same.
The sound of wheels pulled the reluctant Winchester away from the windows to see Gabe pushing out the whiteboard he'd seen on his first visit.
"You're lucky I haven't erased this yet," the golden-eyed man remarked as he rolled board into the living room before flipping it over.
At the top of the board was 'The Crucifier/Death?', with a doodle of what looked like a mad face next to it. Directly beneath that was what looked like a timeline of the victims, and beneath that seemed to be a free for all of questions, more doodles, and phrases. They were all in different colors that Sam suspected were somehow color coordinated, but if there was a method to Gabe's madness, he couldn't immediately discern it.
"This is...crazy," the college student said, struggling to find as he stood to read the board more thoroughly, "Impressive, but absolutely crazy."
Gabe flashed a smile, "My specialty. Anything stand out?"
Sam gazed at the board for a minute, eyes skimming around until they landed on a single question underneath the point on the timeline that simply said 'The Chase'.
'Sam saw a ring. Important?'
An image flashed before his eyes of the killer in the alley, then in the WU library, with the same ring.
Sapphire, gold, an evil stone.
"This," Sam said, pointing to the question written in blue(and the little ring doodle next to it), "The ring. It's big, noticeable. This guy, he's been good at not leaving prints or any other sort of forensic evidence, and he doesn't show up on camera. Why wear the ring then when it's a strong identifier?"
"But you can't place the ring?"
Sam shook his head in frustration, "No. Maybe it's a family heirloom or something."
He continued reading the board before the word 'gang' popped out at him.
"Meg said that the gangs had been getting Enochian messages for a while before the killing started," he murmured, "I wonder what they said. Probably warnings and threats, but still. If he graffitied them, that'd require venturing into gang territory."
"Up for the challenge?" Gabe asked with a light in his eyes, and Sam shrugged.
"If we're quick and inconspicuous, it should be fine," he said nonchalantly. Truth be told, the gangs didn't really scare Sam too much. Thanks to John, he knew how to defend himself, and if push came to shove, he was confident in his chances to gain the upper hand if the situation took a bad turn.
"Keep thinking. I'll whip us up some breakfast," Gabe said, brushing his fingers along his elbow as he walked past.
Sam shivered slightly as gold colors swished past, but he kept his focus on the board.
First thing we should probably do is see if we can find any of that graffitti...maybe Meg knows a few places we can look, but she might not be so open to talking now that she's with Benny. Questioning someone in the gang would be the easiest way, but there's no way that'll happen...
Sleep washed over Sam like a wave, and he stiffened slightly as he swayed.
Dammit. Here, and now?
He managed to stumble back and sit on the couch just as his eyelids drooped shut, and then there was-
...
A pitch black night sky, devoid of light pollution. They were out somewhere far, far away from Lawrence, with crisp mountain air so fresh it burned in his lungs and the scent of pine so strong it was almost cloying.
They?
Sam's hands, smaller than he ever remembered them, tightened in familiar leather. It felt like he was watching from outside and simultaneously acting out the memory at the same time, and the resulting double vision effect made the edges of the image distort more than the fragile memory already was.
His head scratched against a stubbly face as he buried his nose in the leather jacket to keep it from getting frostbitten. Someone's hand bumped his forehead, and he peered around the neck of the person that was carrying him to see familiar green eyes, bright against the dark backdrop of the night.
Dean.
Freckled and young, his brother shot him the reassuring, lopsided grin he always gave when he thought Sam was afraid. If Dean was being carried as well, that meant they were with John, which felt right, since it smelled like him, and this was his old jacket, wasn't it?
Why was he with John though? And where were they?
"You're good boys, remember that," he said roughly, voice echoing as if he was speaking from a distance, even though he was right there, or here. Sam's head swam as the words faded, muffled like the crunch of thick snow beneath John's feet and the whisper of the wind through the boughs of the pines that loomed on either side.
Sam turned his head away from the crook of his father's shoulder, rubbing a red nose as he gazed at the cabin at the end of the path they were walking. The windows were yellow squares, illuminating the outside of the wooden walls. Where a door was supposed to be was just an opening showing the same yellow light, and a heat so intense he found it hard to believe there was still snow intact around the cabin.
Time seemed to slow as they approached, his father's voice fading to a whisper as Dean reached out a hand to tangle in Sam's scarf. He was trying to reassure him, to be the fearless older brother, but Sam could tell by the quiver in his jaw that he was scared too.
The light seemed to pulse, voices whispering now that weren't his father's. Sam pressed against the solid weight of John, cringing away. He didn't like the voices, as they weren't making sense, and they were making his head hurt.
"Daddy, I'm scared."
"Don't be, Sammy," a voice answered from far away as the heat reached out. They were almost at the cabin now, "Everything will be ok."
The scene melted away as the yellow light burned everything out of sight. Sam wasn't falling, but it was something close to the sensation as the memory was swept away under the bright onslaught. Remnants of it still lingered though, long enough for him to pick up on traces of it.
It isn't a good idea, but it's the only one-
Protection, at least until they're adults-
They shouldn't remember anything-
They all burned away though, and the memory was lost again. Now, it was just hot, and his chest itched madly as heat coursed through his bones. It was like something was crawling beneath his skin, maddening enough to-
"Stop it!"
Sam gasped as the voice broke through his mind. Hands were tugging at his, which were poised over his chest, which was...bare?
"Sam, are you awake?" Gabe asked, gold eyes wide as he kept Sam's hands apart. He sounded almost panicked, and the Winchester gulped as he looked down at his chest.
There were large welts on his chest as if he'd been clawing at his ribs and heart. Thankfully, he wasn't bleeding, but he had a feeling it would've been a lot more serious if Gabe hadn't been around to stop him.
Shit. What did I do that for?
"I...what happened?" Sam asked, confused as he looked around. He was standing in Gabe's bathroom of all places, and the sink was running. Now that he was becoming more and more aware of his surroundings, he realized that his hair and face were wet.
"You fell asleep on the couch," Gabe said, tugging down on his hands until they were standing with their hands clasped together. The consultant didn't seem too aware of their position, and Sam was too out of it to comment on it, "And then you got up, and I thought you'd just taken a nap, but you were sleepwalking. You came into the kitchen and stared at me, and it was almost like you were awake, but you weren't."
"How'd I get here?" Sam asked, shivering slightly in the cool bathroom.
Gabe blinked before reaching for a towel and handing it to him as he shut the faucet off. The man's aura worked to warm him up, lighter than usual colors filling the bathroom and chasing away the tense feeling the sleepwalking episode had left him with.
"After you stopped in the kitchen you came in here. I followed to make sure you didn't hurt yourself, and I thought you wouldn't," Gabe continued, face pale as he fumbled through the cabinet beneath the sink, "You turned on the water, and just-just stuck your head beneath it before you began scratching yourself!"
He pulled out a container of ointment, and Sam finally moved to towel dry his hair.
"I'm sorry if I scared you," he murmured quietly as he read Gabe's aura and the wavery, pale ivory that stained it.
Gabe's mouth pressed into a thin line as he began to spread ointment on his chest, soothing the angry welts with soft sweeps of his fingers. Sam held still and let him work, the sting in his chest dulling under the man's care.
"That's not it, Sammy," the golden-eyed man responded with a slight shake of his head, "I-well, it was more violent than I was expecting, but I'm more worried about what you experienced in your head more than anything. Do you remember anything?"
You're good boys, remember that.
"A memory," Sam whispered after a moment, voice echoing strangely in the acoustics of the bathroom, "A very old memory."
Gabe's hand paused in its soothing motion on his chest, right over the black pentacle on his chest.
"A...traumatic one?" he asked, voice stiff, and Sam shook his head, quick to ease the man's assumption by nudging his shoulder in what was supposed to be a casual, teasing manner. Instead, his hand lingered, fingers moving of their own volition to tangle slightly in the fabric of the shirt Gabe was wearing.
"No, just...something I didn't remember before," he said, furrowing his brow. He could remember bits and pieces of the strange memory; the strong scent of pine and Dean's freckly face.
And the cabin. Why were we brought to a cabin?
"I don't want to hug you, or else I'll just waste all your handiwork," Sam said suddenly, breaking the quiet of the moment they'd fallen into.
Gabe startled, fingers curling slightly against his tattoo before he huffed out a short laugh.
"You have a point," he said, sounding almost...wistful as he stepped away. Sam didn't understand why he'd sound like that, but he shrugged the thought aside(and his now red ears) as he reached for his crumpled shirt on the ground.
A cabin that we were both brought to when we were young...but I don't remember being brought to a cabin ever in my life.
"I should probably go," he started awkwardly, and Gabe shook his head, jutting his chin out stubbornly.
"No way, not after-that," he said with a slight wave of his hand, "You'll eat the breakfast I made, and-"
"The breakfast you burned?" Sam asked as a new scent made itself known, and Gabe cursed before running out of the bathroom.
Sam followed to see a faint trail of smoke coming from the stove. It wasn't too serious, but the smell of burnt food drew him out of the last of the strange fog his sleepwalking episode had left him with, leaving him with far too many questions and a desire to be by himself to think. Gabe was a great listener, but he wasn't ready to talk about whatever he'd seen yet with him, not when he himself didn't understand what he'd seen-remembered. Sam wanted to think it out first, but he couldn't do that here.
I have to go. That memory-I can't have made that up, which means I either have to talk to Dean or...John.
The mere thought of seeing John made Sam's tongue bitter and his stomach flip, but he couldn't just ignore this. If he couldn't reach Dean, then maybe...
As a last resort, if I can't figure this out on my own or through Dean.
"Dammit!" Gabe swore as he turned off the stove and waved a towel through the air to disperse the smoke.
"I have to go," Sam said suddenly, and the P.I whipped around. He looked ready to protest, but his mouth shut as he looked at him. Here, in the kitchen, with the winter sunlight streaming in through the living room, it looked like there was a halo of light around his head.
His aura swirled quickly in furious thought, and for a moment, Sam thought he'd protest further, but Gabe did something he'd never anticipated.
"Send me a text or something so I know you made it back home alive."
The Winchester blinked, taken aback at how easy that had been, and Gabe sighed as he tossed the pan into the sink.
"Arguing with you would be pointless now," he reasoned, though his face was slightly disappointed. It was obvious he wanted Sam to stay, if only for a while, "So I won't. It'll just draw this out, and you'll go anyway. I guess you have to think or ruminate on what you may have remembered-which, by the way, I expect to be told about-so I'll just let you go now."
Gabe sighed, running his hands through his hair as he leaned against the counter, and Sam stared at him for a moment before stepping forward.
The hug was quick but fierce. Sam was pretty sure he had knocked Gabe's breath from his lungs and had lifted him up a few inches off the ground, but he didn't care. He didn't care that his shirt felt sticky with ointment from his chest, or that his hair was still damp, or that he must seem like the most problematic person in the world. Gabe's aura was comforting, and he breathed it in like he could somehow take a piece of it with him when he left.
One, two, three-that's enough Sam.
He pulled away, avoiding looking at Gabe's face as best he could as he left. He could feel the surprise in his aura from the hug, but there was something else there he couldn't figure out, and he knew if he looked in his face he'd want to stay to figure out the puzzle.
Their eyes met for a brief second though. It was a silent goodbye, and Sam left with the knowledge that Gabe had become a better friend to him in the past week than some people he'd known for years.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
I'm back with a Tuesday update! This chapter took a bit of an angstier turn at times than I expected, but I like it anyway.
Plot-wise, I think things will pick up in the next few chapters. I already have some dramatic moments planned, and another possible Gabe POV chapter in mind, because I definitely want to revisit his POV.
Regarding updates, my weekly Saturday schedule has been shot to hell, to put it bluntly. I'm playing it by ear right now honestly, but we'll see. Until the next update!