Author's Notes: Ok, I've been working on this one for days now and seriously thought about posting it in sections, but I guess that wouldn't make much sense. (I think you'll all agree after you read it too) Anyway, since I haven't updated this one on so long, I guess it's only fair I dump a really long one your way. Sorry if it's too long and droll. Thanks to everyone still reading and in my haste to get this up before going out for the evening, I probably didn't proofread as well as I should have, so sorry for any mistakes.
Chapter 28
With no windows and no doors to shed any natural light anywhere, Julia really had no concept of time whatsoever. It could be morning, it could be noon, or it could be night for all she knew, having no real idea of how long she had been sleeping. Well, not really sleeping but driven into mindless unconsciousness by the stark raving lunatic lying in the bed right beside her that was softly snoring in her ear as her head rested against his lightly rising and falling chest. Memories slowly started coming back to her when she originally started to wake, the sight of not her beloved fiancée Mark's comforting embrace holding on to her in a near death-grip but that of Trent Waterson's evil hand starting the slow remembrances of what she could only assume were from the night before. As soundly asleep as he was, she still couldn't find a way to wiggle out of his firm grasp, so she just laid there waiting for him to rise and let her mind bring forth all the things he had told her that she probably shouldn't even be remembering after what he had done to her.
It felt like hours before he finally started to stir and she forced her eyes shut when she saw his start to flutter open, not wanting to let on that she was awake and had been for some time now. Loosening his grip on her upper body, he felt her cringe slightly beneath him when he stroked her hair gently with an open hand while he took in her remarkable beauty before releasing her to stretch his muscles out to their fullest extent and let out a rather satisfied groan as he slid out from under her now lax form and climbed casually from the bed. Fixing his gaze on her with his cold, blue eyes, he spoke softly and almost lovingly to her as she tried to lie totally still on the bed, feigning sleep.
"Good day Julia. Did you have a nice rest?" He asked in such a casual tone it almost made her wonder if he had gone entirely insane by now. "Come now dear, I know you're awake by the way your entire body tensed when I brushed my hand against your hair. Don't be shy, open your eyes and let's have a nice chat. Then I'll make us something to eat and we can decide how to spend the rest of our day together."
"What time is it?" She asked him rather shyly now that he knew she was awake, yawning and stretching her own body out for appearances sake only.
"Does that really matter? Time of day is so inconsequential to us considering we have all the time in the world to spend together, you and I," he smiled as he spoke, the grin seemingly a sincere one. "I am so looking forward to our time together."
"How long have we been down here?" She changed the question, wanting to get at least some chronological bearings back since she had control over nothing else.
"Now why would you ask that? Trying to figure out how long you've been missing and wondering if anyone has even noticed you're gone yet?" He snidely asked. "Not enjoying my company?"
"Something like that," she responded cautiously, his callous tone of voice giving her a slight chill.
"Don't cloud that pretty little head of yours with thoughts of a rescue, dear. I can assure you that we will never be found where we are. Nobody coherent on earth, other than me of course, even knows this place exists and believe me when I tell you that not a living soul in either heaven or hell is going to find us here. No cavalry… not now, not ever," he nearly gushed with pleasure at the thought and it came out tenfold in his words as he spoke them.
"You really are crazy, aren't you?" She flatly stated; fear and anger mixed in her tone.
"Now I truly find that quite offensive. You really should watch your tongue before it gets you in trouble. I do enjoy having you around at the moment, but should you start becoming a mouthy nuisance like my dear sister was, well…"
"Well what? You'll kill me like all those others? Like you've tried to kill Dean?" His unspoken threat forced her to lash out verbally at him and she instantly regretted what she had said.
"Oh, so you remember our conversation from last night, or perhaps it was this morning? I just can't seem to keep track of time when I'm here. And here I thought you'd have no recollection of any of it. Too bad, I was so looking forward to telling you the story all over again."
"Yes, I remember it. I remember all of it, so spare me the details," she proudly told him, not concerned much with irritating him anymore.
"Then do tell, what exactly is 'all of it'?" He questioned, her comments prompting a sudden flurry of action in the pit of his stomach. He had reveled in telling her everything he had done earlier while he relived it all in his head, but somehow the anticipation of hearing it from someone else's lips, in someone else's words, was even more enticing.
"You killed your sister, you killed those other poor girls, and you're desperate to kill a totally innocent man because you seem to think he knows all of your deep, dark secrets. A totally innocent man that you've nearly killed twice already, I may add. Does that about sum it up nicely for you?" She was nearly yelling at him by the time she was through, not willing to play the game she knew he was trying to play with her when she saw the growing excitement on his face.
"Well, when you put it like that, it doesn't seem to sound as interesting, does it? " His shoulders slumped slightly as she cruelly mocked him, his eagerness to hear her repeat his tale to him crushed by her angered and all too bluntly short words. With his desire to once again experience the rush he always seemed to get when he played his little game and not having it satisfied by her
verbal retelling, he decided now was as good a time as any to bask in the moments he did so enjoy.
Walking slowly but deliberately to the head of the bed and jerking all the slack from Julia's chains away from her to leave her with no extra room to move, her eyes met his to silently ask what it was he was planning on doing, as if she didn't already know. "You know Julia, you really shouldn't upset me like that because it just makes me want to hurt you, and contrary to what you probably believe, I really don't like hurting you. I guess that just means I'll have to make myself forget it is you for the time being."
Fastening the chains to the bed to keep her in an unmovable position, he continued his preparations exactly the way he had started them the last time, only this time taunting her as he worked. "Do you know how I killed my little sister?"
"Not really, and I don't think I want to know either," she answered, the comment going unheeded as he continued to speak at her.
"She just wouldn't shut her mouth. She was always nagging at me about my drinking and partying and I think I just finally snapped," he began to tell her as he sat down hard next to her on the bed and grabbed her head forcefully by the hair, pulling her as close to him as he could with what little maneuvering room he had left her with, the action causing her to let out a startled shriek. "So I took her by the head, ripped out a nice chunk of her hair and bashed her face in against the dashboard of the car she came to pick me up in."
Julia's eyes went wide at the harsh and unfeeling way Trent spoke about the death of his own sister at his hands, the emotionless tone he spoke each word in scaring her more and more every second he continued to rant, each word increasing in volume but not feeling. Opening her mouth in an effort to say something back to him that she hoped would calm him now that she had riled, he had no intentions of giving her any opportunity to say a word as he shoved that hard piece of plastic usually reserved for mental wards and dentists between her teeth again, holding it firmly in place with his thumb while reaching for the thick, gray tape to secure it with.
"You know something though, that didn't kill her. No, instead of it killing her, do you know what happened next?" He asked, her inability to answer not bothering him in the least as he flipped the switch to the electroshock machine still resting on the table next to the bed into the on position, the hum it emitted making him surge with pleasure and her with dread.
"Did you know my sister was an epileptic? Of course you did, everyone knew that considering it was all over the news for days after the 'accident'," he continued rambling on as he carefully placed the electrodes against her temples before turning back to the wooden box again to crank the dial, his attention momentarily drawn back to Julia now that her struggles had somehow shook loose the cold metal pressed against the flesh of her head.
"So, as I was saying before; bashing my beautiful sister's face in wasn't enough to kill her at first. No, it just caused her to have a rather nasty seizure," he sighed, replacing the headset and securing it with a long strip of duct tape he ripped from the roll and wrapped around her head.
"Much like the one you're going to have right now. Oh, and don't worry about a thing. I've made sure to turn up the juice enough to ensure you won't remember any of this when it's over, except maybe your name. That way I can enjoy telling it to you all over again later."
He was ready to press the button that would send the electrical current coursing throughout her entire body and rendering her physically helpless until something to his side caught his eye, something Julia couldn't see from her prone position on the mattress. Turning his back to the terrified woman as he flipped the mechanical monster back off, he wandered over to the small black and white monitor mounted on the wall that was well out of Julia's field of vision and didn't know whether to smile or frown as he watched the images from the security camera he had installed of a vehicle slowly pulling up the driveway, until he caught a good glimpse of the driver as he spoke to someone he couldn't see in the passenger's seat. That glimpse was enough to spread an eerily evil grin from ear to ear across his face.
"Well, it would appear we have some very welcomed company," his heart nearly leapt with glee as he reached for the Louisville slugger propped up in the corner and nearly danced out of her sight to the door of his secret room to wait for the poor unfortunate soul that would be walking through it first.
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"Please tell me you're not serious," Dean stared into those now familiar blue eyes that seemed to be filled with fear, but not fear for herself. They were filled with fear for Trent's latest victim, the woman Dean cursed on a daily basis, albeit it respectfully.
"I wish I could tell you this is all a bad dream, but it's not. Trent's back and has been for days now. I wanted to tell you… to warn you so badly, but I just couldn't seem to get through to you until now."
"Are you telling me you're the one causing all this pain?" Dean asked her as he wrapped an arm around his waist and attempted to sit up a little straighter, the slight pressure the act of resting his own heavy limb against his body sending heated waves of discomfort up and down his entire frame, his only relief coming when he dropped his arm back at his side and went totally still. Taking a moment to let his breath catch back up with his lungs, he remembered what she had said about only being able to get through to him when he was in some kind of agony and occasionally needing to cause it and he prayed to whatever gods may be listening to him that this time was no different, although judging by the light sheen of sweat that had broken out on his chest and brow, he highly doubted it. "If it is, you can stop now because I gotta tell ya, you have my full attention."
"No Dean, it's not coming from me but I have to say thank you to whatever is causing it because we wouldn't be having this conversation if you weren't in the pain you're in right now and since I think I'm probably the only one that knows where my brother is hiding, who else can I tell?"
"Wait a second; you know where your brother is? I thought you said you didn't," Dean asked, unable to hide his shock at the revealing announcement.
"I didn't know… not at first. I hadn't been there in such a long time that it took me a while to figure it out, but I'm pretty sure I know where he's taken Julia."
"Is it a big farmhouse in the middle of nowhere with a couple of huge willow trees that are damn near as big as the place itself?" Dean hastily described what he remembered from the photo Sam had shoved in his face the day before and hoped she would confirm his little brother's suspicions.
"How did you know that?" She couldn't hide her astonishment at what Dean seemed to already know.
"Sam found an old picture of it when he was digging through Trent's place yesterday. It even said 'Trent' on it. So, wanna enlighten me who the other Trent is?"
"He's was… I mean is my grandfather," Trish started to tell him but his mind was turning too fast to actually listen now that it finally seemed to be there was an end to this entire ordeal in sight.
"Wait a second. Sam and Bobby checked out every piece of real estate owned by the Waterson's. How come they didn't come across this one sooner?" He questioned, rather confused by her latest revelation.
"That's because it's still owned by my grandfather on my mother's side. Sam wouldn't find it on a list of Waterson owned property because it isn't owned by a Waterson, at least not yet. I'm sure once my grandfather passes and my mother inherits everything they'll just add it to the ever growing list, but for now it's still in my grandfather's possession," she sighed, the mention of a grandfather bringing up what looked like an amazingly wide range of feelings in her.
"I sure hope you remember the address to that place," he stated as he forced his body upright on sheer will alone and tried to ignore every jolt of pain that tore through his midsection as he did it to grab Sam's phone that he had left just out of his reach on the bedside tray next to him and flipped it open, surprised that his little brother hadn't called not once the entire morning.
"Who are you trying to call?" Trish asked as she swiped at the cell in Dean's hands rather unsuccessfully, the only thing making him drop the phone was the cold chill that shocked his skin at her attempted contact.
"Cops. Anonymous tip should do it. They'll have that place surrounded in minutes when I tell them their latest kidnap victim is in there," he angrily tried to say as he reached for the phone again, his action stopped by the blanket statement she made next.
"Oh no they won't. They will all know exactly whose house that is the second you give them the address and you'll be lucky if they send one squad car with a meter maid in it out there to check
it out. They'll just say they found nothing and chock your call up as some crazy person sending them on a wild goose chase. Have you forgotten who practically owns this entire county?"
"You mean it's not Donald Trump?"
"Very funny. Even if they do send the entire police force out there en masse, they'll never find him inside. He really did choose the best place to hide himself."
"How's that?" Dean scowled, his curiosity peaked.
"The house has a secret room in the basement that, unless you know how to access it, you would never know it's there. Grandpa took us down there to show it to us once, so proud of its history, and we used to hide in there when our parents would start fighting like they usually did. Even my mom and dad didn't know the room existed, so unless we can show the police how to get in, they'll never find the room or Trent and Julia."
"Aw hell, this just gets better and better, doesn't it?" Dean stated in a tone of total aggravation. Why could nothing ever be easy?
"Keep in mind that should all those things actually happen and Trent is caught, what kind of punishment do you think he'll get. A couple years in a nuthouse and a slap on the wrists and he'll be right back out on the streets again. You know it as well as I do Dean, he's a monster and he needs to be stopped."
"Can you tell me how to get into that room?"
"Probably, why?" She answered; her own curiosity peaked now, this time not interfering with his next move.
Saying nothing, he picked the phone up that had fallen into his lap and started punching in numbers, not really sure what key would speed dial Bobby's phone. Hitting the 'talk' button when he was done keying in what he was pretty sure was the older man's cell number, he waited patiently for a response and frowned when he didn't have to wait very long. Without ever hearing one ring, he immediately heard the gruff sound of Bobby's voice indicating that he couldn't come to the phone and asked the person kind enough to be searching for him to leave a message so he could call them back when he got around to it.
"Sam… Bobby… it's me. You've been at that damn library long enough to read "War and Peace"…twice. If you haven't found that house yet, just call me because a little birdie has whispered in my ear where it is and we've got big trouble coming. Shit, I hope you get this message soon because we don't have a whole lot of time. Call me… like, yesterday." Snapping the phone shut, Dean hit the redial once for good measure, then snapped the cell closed once again when he received the same results.
"I take it he didn't answer?" She asked/stated the obvious when a nervous silence settled between them.
"What was your first clue, the fact that I had to leave a message?" Dean barked out of frustration.
"I'm sorry Dean, I know this is the last thing you need burdening you right now, but I don't know how much longer he's going to let her live…" she started to say, not really sure where she was going with the comment but not being able to figure it out when he rudely cut her off.
"Yeah, I pretty much figured that out already," he said to her as he sucked in a deep breath and grabbed hold of the bedside rail before quickly jerking his body up into a fully seated position, his mouth unable to contain the pained groan that escaped it as he moved. Forcing himself to breathe in deeply when he thought for sure he'd be unable to breathe at all, he sat motionless and tried to gather the strength he needed to climb off the bed. Every movement he seemed to make sent a new wave of pain and nausea throughout him and in true Dean fashion he seemed to tap into it somehow, using it as the fuel he so desperately needed to get his body moving. With his feet firmly planted on the floor and his hands flat against the bed for support, he took one shaky step after another towards the wall behind the bed where a set of crutches waited for him as if knowing they would be needed.
"What are you doing?" Trish interrogatorily questioned him when he finally had the crutches in hand and was leaning heavily on them, trying to catch his breath once again.
"What does it look like I'm doing? Someone's gotta go out to that house and since we really can't wait for Sam to pull his head out from whatever book he's got it stuck in, I guess that leaves just one person. You said it yourself, you don't know how much longer he's gonna keep her alive, so the sooner the better."
"No Dean, you can't go there; not like this. You can barely stand up, let alone walk. How do you propose you're going to stop him once you find him?"
"I'm just gonna shoot him. I don't need to stand to do that," Dean stated rather matter-of-factly without the slightest bit of hesitation.
"But, what about that 'no killing humans' rule…"
"I'm kidding. Don't worry, I'll think of something. Come on, time's a wasting," he tried to flash her a reassuring smile as he walled up his agony somewhere deep inside him and hobbled to the closet that contained most of their meager belongings.
Rummaging through his bag, he drew out a pair of jeans, stared at them for a minute as he tried to figure out how he was going to put them on, then clumsily walked to the nearest chair to settle down into. Sliding one leg after another into the denim as quickly as his aching body would let him, he held his breath as he stood and pulled the baggy pants up over his hips to his waist and just stood there staring at the button and zipper when he realized they were both already buttoned and zipped. Letting go of the waistband, the jeans he so painstakingly tried to put on just fell off his hips and down to his knees, his body not having enough mass to hold them up on its own anymore.
"Damn, Kirstie Alley eat your heart out. Jenny Craig's got nothing on the Lincoln Town Car diet," he groaned as he sat back down and kicked the useless piece of apparel off again. In an effort to conserve what little gas he still had left in his slowly draining tank, he opted to drop his body onto the floor instead of standing up to walk, the cool tile being so much closer and easier to navigate.
On unsteady hands and knees, he dragged his body back to the closet and dug through Sam's bag this time, pulling out what appeared to be a clean pair of his brother's normally undersized pants. From his seated position on the floor, he once again slid both legs in but instead of standing, he laid his body flat against the cold floor and inched them up the rest of the way, somehow doubting the trousers would fit but being totally surprised that they, too, were a tad too big but thankfully wearable. Rolling back onto his hands and knees again, he continued to search the closet for a clean shirt, of which he stole one of Sam's; clean socks, which he readily found in his own bag; and a pair of his shoes, which were nowhere to be found. Jeans of his brother's he could steal; shoes he could not. Sam's gigantic feet were nearly two sizes bigger than his own and he was barely able to walk as it was without throwing clown shoes into the mix. Giving up on footwear of his own, he crawled back to the chair he had rested his crutches against and carefully pulled his already weary body up off the floor and back onto the seat, the entire process of dressing nearly too much for him.
"Dean, are you sure you can do this?" Trish begged the question, her tone of deep concern unmistakable as she watched him panting where he sat, his brow now soaked with sweat. "Maybe you should just try calling Sam again."
"Yeah, I can do this; just give me a minute," he answered in nothing more than a whisper as he tried to catch the breaths that seemed to be eluding him, his brain not really sure if it wanted to obey his commands or just shut itself off at the moment.
With every last ounce of strength he was sure he possessed, he forced himself up and back onto the crutches that seemed to be the only things holding his body up and staggered back to the closet to find a jacket, pretty sure that it was no longer pleasant, late summer/early fall weather it had been the last time he was outside anymore. Finding his favorite coat hanging in the tiny closet, he jerked it from the hanger and buried his face into it, inhaling deeply as his eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head. "Thank you Sam for bringing my leather up from the trunk."
"He wore that, you know," Trish reminiscently felt the need to mention as Dean struggled to slide his arms inside the sleeves without falling to the floor. "Every day, he'd sit right beside you wearing that jacket while he talked to you, hoping you'd hear something that would wake you up."
"Guess that explains why it smells like him now, doesn't it," Dean jokingly tried to mutter through his relentless pain as he slid the coat up onto his shoulders and started searching the pockets for the Impala's keys, the thought of his little brother needing that small little piece of him close to him as a sense of security rather heartwarming and totally Sam. He chuckled as he continued patting the jacket's pockets, even though he knew they were empty before giving up completely and beginning a eyeball search of the room instead. "God, he's such a girl."
"No he's not, he just needs his brother, that's all. Don't fault him for that, he could be like mine."
"Yeah, well, someday he might be," Dean couldn't help but think when his father's words echoed in his head, the unnatural shudder it seemed to start in him almost knocking him off balance for the moment as he mumbled his comment barely loud enough for himself to hear. "Ok Sammy, where'd you leave my damn car keys?"
"There's keys over there, next to the TV," Trish pointed out and Dean could barely see them considering the way Sam had carelessly thrown them up on the counter to the point that they were almost totally obscured by the rather large piece of entertainment equipment.
"Sam, you and I are going to have a serious talk about the way you treat my girl and her accessories," he announced out loud, a little bit more then mildly irritated with his brother's treatment of his lady. Grateful that the keys were only a few steps away, he carefully maneuvered around Sam's bed and grabbed them from the counter, motioning for the door as he shoved them into his pocket and worked his way into the direction he had just indicated, grabbing the phone and stuffing that in with the keys as he went. "Let's get this over with."
"Forgive me for saying so, but don't you think you should find something to wear on your feet, and maybe roll up those pant legs before you trip over them?" Trish pointed out, seeing that Sam's jeans were entirely too long for Dean to be trying to move around in when he was already too unsteady on the crutches to begin with.
Dropping his eyes down to the floor, he let out a heavy sigh and rolled his eyes, not wanting to waste the energy on anything else but heading down to the car. "I'm pretty sure I've got a pair of boots in my trunk and I'll fix the damn pants when I get into the car. I'm telling you now, if I sit, I probably won't get back up again, so let's just go before I change my mind," he flatly stated as he continued his trek, stopping just before exiting the room to take a quick look up and down the hall outside.
The normally busy hallway seemed devoid of must signs of life now that nearly all of the floor staff were huddled in a far off corner talking to a couple of what Dean could positively tell were detectives, making his escape from the hospital room prison more than an easy one. Focusing his eyes on the elevator, he started the long trip down the hallway, stopping briefly at the window to catch a quick glimpse of his beloved car still sitting in the exact same spot he had seen her in the day before and made a mental note of which direction he would have to exit the building from in order to find her once he was outside. With one eye on the elevator and one now on the group chatting it up mere feet away from him, he trudged towards the doors as quickly as he could and nervously pressed the down button, only letting out the breath he had been holding when he was safely inside the elevator car and on his way down, blessedly thankful he had gone completely unnoticed.
Depressing the button that would take him to the first floor and one step closer to freedom, he leaned back and rested his head against the wall behind him with his eyes closed as the car started it's decent, the downward movement initiated by a jerking motion causing Dean to quickly lean forward to hit the stop button, bringing what little movement that had started to a
quick halt. Breathing heavily, he tried to lean forward but found he just couldn't and he just rested his chin against his chest.
"What's wrong?" Trish begged; her voice filled with near panic.
"Ohhh… I think I'm gonna be sick," he moaned out in one quick string of words without opening his eyes to look at her, hoping that the cessation of downward progress would allow the feeling to pass. After a near eternity of deep breaths, Dean finally started turning a more normal color once again and thought it safe to continue his way back down, never saying a word as the elevator started moving once again.
The ride was a short one but claustrophobia had taken a definite hold on Dean's already strung out emotions and the second the doors were pulled apart, he was through them and out into a rather bustling hallway. Energized by anxiety, he progressed quickly through the lobby he found himself fighting his way through and nearly raced towards the exit doors that were now directly in front of him, the crisp, fresh air hitting him in the face as he did almost intoxicating. Taking in the largest lungful of outside air he could and letting his fear finally pass, he stopped for the moment and scanned the lot for the Impala. Trish had remained silent until now, letting him calm himself before she spoke.
"Follow me, I know where the car is," she softly stated and he did just that, finding his vehicle on his own within a few short steps like he had some kind of internal homing device.
She was a sight for very sore eyes, the vision of her black beauty somehow fueling him more than the fear before it had and he crossed the lot in barely any time, stopping at her side and resting against her sun-warmed metal just to enjoy the feel of her. He could feel what little reserves he had left start to drain away and knew he better move before he just couldn't anymore. Pulling his already heated body away from the slick steel, he forced his way towards the trunk and popped it open, quickly finding the said pair of boots but not bothering to pull them out, what lie underneath of much more importance. Opening the false bottom, he didn't bother looking for his weapon of choice and just grabbed the first two guns he found that were already loaded. Shoving one into the pocket of his jacket right alongside Sam's phone, he palmed the other before slamming the trunk shut again and began the short trip down the side of the car to climb in, not really sure if sitting down was a very good idea at the moment.
Sliding the key into the lock, he pulled open the driver's side door and smiled when he heard her familiar squeak, her way of saying 'I missed you' in his mind. Falling inside more so than climbing, he dragged his heavy, still shoeless feet in, shoved his walking sticks into the foot well of the passenger seat beside him, and gently closed the door, once again breathing in the familiar scent of her glorious leather. 'Something about the smell of a dead cow that just does something to me'. he thought as he rested his sweat-soaked forehead against the steering wheel and waited for his rather blurry vision to clear. He was bordering on unconscious when her voice ripped through his head, his brain for the moment forgetting she was even there. Turning his gaze to his right, Trish was now seated next to him in Sam's usual spot at shotgun, waiting patiently for him to finish what he had started.
Inserting the key into the ignition had been a feeling almost too good to be true, but turning it and hearing the roar of the engine coming to life seemed to invigorate him once more time and he was thankful for it. He didn't know how much he really had left and he would take what he could get. Praying he had enough leg strength to actually drive, he thought about dropping the transmission into gear, then realized he'd forgotten to take care of one very important thing before taking off for what could very well be a very bad idea. Searching for Sam's cell, he pulled it out of his pocket and dialed Bobby's number once again and once again was dumped right into voicemail. He hastily left his message; pretty sure he didn't have much time to waste.
"Hey Sam… guess you didn't get my last message yet so I'm leaving you another one. Trish and I are going on a little road trip out the farmhouse from hell to say hi to an old friend and maybe take his latest prize home with all her body parts intact. Maybe you and Bobby could meet us there, have a few drinks, you know…good times. Seriously dude, you were right about that house, it's the one. I'm heading there now since Trent's decided to come back to play and he picked Julia as his first play date. Call me when you get this 'cause I sure think I could use your help. Later."
Closing the phone and shoving it back into his already gun-occupied pocket; he put his baby into drive and carefully stepped on the gas.
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Sam's head felt like it was about to explode. For hours he and Bobby searched through old books and documents about local history and had barely scratched the surface of the extensive library. Not that the library was that overly large, but it was relatively proud of its heritage and every even remotely interesting piece of information was recorded proudly, making just about every structure in the entire lower portion of the state a landmark, at least in its opinion. Tossing the current book he had his face buried in up to the eyebrows not so gently back onto the table they sat at, he decided it was time to take a more practical course of action. Standing up and fixing his stare on the young girl sitting behind the librarian's desk, he casually strolled to her as Bobby silently watched him, shaking his head curiously.
"Excuse me miss," he shyly whispered, following the rules of the library to their fullest extent. "I was wondering if you could help me."
Wide brown eyes stared up at the handsome man grinning sheepishly down at her and for the briefest of moments, she almost forgot where she was under his soft, hazel gaze. She seemed lost in them until the much older, much more irritated, fiftyish looking woman sitting at the other end of the desk cleared her throat, allowing her the mental capacity to once again speak. "I'll most definitely try," she replied back in a rather crackly voice, the sound it seemed to make on its own somewhat embarrassing her.
"I have this picture of an old, local farmhouse and I was trying to find where it is but there's just so many books and magazines on local history here that it'll take me days to weed through it all. Any chance there's someone around that could possibly tell anything about this house?" He spoke so softly that his voice now seemed to have the same effect his stare had had on her and
she mindlessly took the photo from his hands, staring at it unconsciously as she listened to his voice. His tone had been so soft and smooth she nearly jumped when the harsh near bellow broke out from just over her shoulder, almost scaring her half to death.
"That's the old Frederickson farmhouse. Second wealthiest family in the county, next to the Watersons, of course. Guess it just makes sense that Regina Frederickson married Robert Waterson. That's going to be one hell of a fortune for that remaining young man someday now that that poor daughter of theirs is gone," the brusque librarian answered Sam's inquiry with relative ease nearly the instant she caught sight of the photo, the look of surprise on his face forcing her to continue telling him what she knew. "That house has been in that family for nearly two hundred years. Why, back in the day it was even used as a stop for the Undergroud Railroad, helping smuggle escaped slaves across the border, at least that's the rumor anyway. Must be some good hiding places in that house because not one of them ever got caught. Nobody's lived in it since Trent Frederickson got Alzheimer's and was put into a home by his so-called loving daughter though. That had to be at least fifteen years ago, maybe more. Quite sad actually, Trent Frederickson truly was the salt of the earth. How he ended up having a witch for a daughter is beyond me. Anyway, if you're looking for it, it's not that difficult to find."
"Can you give me the address?" Sam cocked his head to the side and smiled his most charming smile in his arsenal and somehow, even the mean, old woman behind the desk seemed to thaw somewhat as she looked back at him.
"Not the exact address, but all you really need to do is head out towards it. It's the only house on the entire stretch of road for at least a mile. You really can't miss it, it still looks pretty much just like it does in that picture. Get yourself out onto route 67 and take it east until just past the town of Sharon. Head north on Highway K and turn right at the second street. You'll see it there plain as day."
"If you don't mind me asking, how do you know so much about that house?" Sam inquired, unable to believe his sudden good fortune and ignoring the fact that good fortune was usually followed up by something bad.
"Young man, Regina Frederickson was one of my best friends, until she met that bastard Robert Waterson, that's how. I practically grew up in that house. You run into anyone out there, you just tell them I sent you. Names Francis McDermont, but all my friends called me Frannie."
"Thanks a million Frannie," Sam smiled a wide, genuine smile and being unable to contain his excitement, gave the older woman a quick kiss on the cheek which made her own face turn ten different shades of red in a matter of seconds.
"Why thank you too, young man. Make sure you come back to visit after you find the house, and bring your friend over there with you too. He looks like someone I'd like to get to know," she commented as she stared at Bobby through her reading glasses, blushing yet again which made the younger girl sitting there silently start to chuckle.
"You bet!" Sam nearly hollered as he turned and ran back in Bobby's direction. Looking the man directly in the eyes, he made his comment short and sweet. "Come on Bobby, we gotta go."
Gathering up the books and papers they had spread out across the entire table, Sam deposited them in the return cart without saying a word as the older hunter just watched him like he was some kind of lunatic, only stopping him when he grabbed his jacket and hastily turned to make his way towards the door.
"Slow down boy. What the hell did that woman tell you that's got you all wound up like the Energizer Bunny on meth?"
"Oh, just about everything we needed to hear. Not only did she tell me where that house is, she told me that Trent Waterson's grandfather owns it and that it used to be a hiding place on the Underground Railroad. Damn it Bobby, he could be in there for years and nobody would ever find him. Oh, all that and that she kinda likes you," Sam nearly squealed the last part like a giggling school girl, which prompted Bobby to grab his own jacket and head for the door in a near run.
"Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go."
Both men half ran/half walked to the exit, Bobby scrambling for his phone as he quick-paced it out and turning it back on as he went, the obnoxious beeping telling him that he not only missed a call but there was a message waiting for him as well. Turning the display on, he saw who the missed call was from and handed the phone over to Sam, who matched his stride to the truck step for step. Sam saw that there were not just one but three missed calls from his phone and his stomach nearly leapt out of his throat when he began to play the messages that had been left, the second one barely a half hour before. Gone was the boyishly happy smile that had been adorning his face, replaced by a harsh scowl and a look of dread and if Bobby didn't know any better, he was sure the kid was about ready to throw up on his own feet.
"Drive fast Bobby… Dean's gone and done something stupid again," was all he said as he climbed into the cab of the truck and without asking another thing, the older man did exactly what he was told.
"Where to, back to the hospital?" He had to inquire when he realized he had no idea exactly what bowl of stupid Dean decided to eat from today and a look of confusion spread across his face when Sam answered.
"No, to the farmhouse and let's hope we can beat that dumb ass there."
End Notes: Hmm... too much? Not enough? Too long and boring? Anxious to hear opinions!!
