36. Evidence Of Stolen Childhoods
The door banged open, making Sam and Dean jump, though John remained unfazed. No one was there. A gust of wind blew through the open door, scattering the salt line there. John stood up tensely as Dean ran to close the door (but not in time). A punch landed in his jaw, knocking him down. He looked up to see Eric standing over him in the darkness.
"Did you honestly think pulling that little stunt would actually destroy me?" Eric asked, his tone cold and offended. Kelly walked in behind him, her arm slinking around her brother's waist.
Dean shrugged and smirked as he got to his feet. "Had to give it a try, didn't we?"
"Ooh, look at you, big tough man with the smile firmly in place," Kelly mocked as she watched Dean's expression in the fading sunlight that streamed through the open door. "How's little Sammy?" she asked. The smile faded from Dean's features. Kelly smirked and walked towards Sam who stood against the bed with his hands clutched tightly to the edge of it. John walked between his youngest son and the spirit, creating a shield. His stance was so intimidating that Kelly actually froze for a moment.
"You're not bringing him into this again," Dean whispered as he came to stand beside his father, bristling at the thought of the Wrights going anywhere near his little brother again.
"Hey, you're the one obsessed with the kid," Kelly said with a grin, glancing to John who seemed slightly perturbed by this statement.
"Um, right," Dean brushed it off as best he could, "You know it's only a matter of time before you're both gone where you can't hurt anyone ever again, right?"
"Are you so sure about that?" Eric asked. Dean nodded with a determined grin.
"Yeah, I am. I'll make sure of it."
"Big talk for someone who can't even figure out what's keeping us… what's the term? Earthbound?" Kelly said mockingly.
"Oh, trust me. We have a few ideas," Dean said cryptically. He hoped he hadn't just imagined her smile falter slightly.
A quick movement behind John and Dean made them turn. Sam had grabbed a shotgun from his backpack that was lying beside the bed. John grabbed it up and fired at the Wrights. Before they had time to register exactly what had happened, the salt shells blasted through them, making them instantly disappear. John dropped the gun and quickly fixed the line of salt on the door's threshold. He slammed the door shut and locked it.
"Okay, so that plan was a bust," Sam said.
"Which means we're back where we started," John growled quietly.
* * *
"Okay, now can we burn it to the ground?" Dean asked as his father parked the car in front of the familiar old barn.
"Not yet," John answered firmly, though it sounded as though he was warming up to the idea.
"Can I help look?" Sam asked, afraid that he already knew the answer.
"No," Dean said straight away.
"Yes," John countered. "This place is huge, the more people to search it the better. But you're not to stray too far by yourself, is that clear?" Sam nodded and the three of them got out of the car.
Dean held the screen door open for his little brother who stepped inside the house silently. Dean let the screen door slam behind the two of them but propped the heavy wooden door open with a wedge that had accumulated a thick layer dust in the corner of the entrance hall. A shiver ran through Sam's spine as he entered the old house. He looked around, squinting in the weak light. Dean tried the light switch; it took a few seconds for the overhead light to come to life, illuminating the entire hall.
"Needle in a fuckin' haystack," Dean grumbled, completely clueless as to where to start their search.
"I'll check it out upstairs, you look around here," Sam said as he began to climb the stairs. Dean watched his little brother disappear from view then made his way down the hall and into the room on the right where he had found the three kidnapped girls, one of whom he could still picture clearly -- dead on the floor. He flicked the light on and for a split second he thought he really did see that dead girl sprawled on the floor, but when he blinked she was gone.
He took a deep breath and walked over to the dresser that stood at an angle from the wall. It must have been what the girls had used to barricade the door that night. He opened the first drawer slowly: stacks of messily-folded clothes. He quickly tore through them but found nothing. He opened the second and third drawer with the same disappointing (but not unexpected) results. He strode over to a door on the other side of the room. Opening it he saw a small closet, empty except for a few yellowing newspaper clippings. He gathered them up and rifled through them. Old articles about local events but nothing of any importance. Dean sighed and left the room, heading now for the living room.
Sam treaded lightly on the carpet in the upstairs hallway, watching as his feet kicked up little clouds of dust. He gently pushed the nearest door open to reveal a bathroom. He did a quick scan of the room but found nothing. He moved on to the next: a bedroom. Two twin-sized beds on opposite sides of the room. Sam made his way to a dresser against the opposite wall that sat between two large windows that showed a large empty field. A mug with pens and pencils sticking out of it and a corrected homework assignment dated November 1979 with Eric's untidy signature on the first line was the only thing on top of the dresser. It was eerie, Sam half-expected younger versions of Eric and Kelly to walk in and get ready for bed.
He shook the thought from his head and quickly rifled through the drawers. All he found were more school supplies and ratty old clothing. He scoured the rest of the upstairs rooms with no success. He made his way back downstairs, poking his head in the different rooms in search of his brother.
"Dean?"
"Down here," Dean called from an door that stood ajar at the end of the hall. Sam pulled the door open and slowly walked down the creaky stairs that led to the basement. He took in the sight of the dimly-lit room: clutter everywhere. The mess would be a pain to sort through but it looked more promising than any room either of them had gone through yet.
"Help me look through some of these boxes," Dean murmured as his fingers dug in an old cardboard box full of old toys. Sam pulled a box towards him and sat down on the hard cement floor. He opened it, pawing through the contents: old albums full of photographs of a lovely dark-haired woman and two smiling little toddlers.
"Look," Sam said as he handed one of the albums to Dean. "It's weird to think of them as happy little children." Dean nodded in agreement then set the album down and began to go through another box.
Sam flipped through the next album from his box. Each page showed pictures of a happy young couple and their two children. The third album showed Eric and Kelly in their pre-teens and the kind-looking woman from the previous pictures had vanished. They no longer looked happy and the handsome man no longer looked young or carefree. A shadow on his face, some indefinable expression that looked vaguely threatening and cruel. Sam placed all the albums back in the box and pushed it aside.
The corner of a box dug into his back. He turned around and pulled it away from the wall and closer to him. The cement wall could be seen where the box had been a second ago but even in the dim light Sam noticed a glint: metal plating. He pushed a few more boxes away from the wall to reveal a safe that had been built into the foundation of the house.
"Dean, come here," he said. Dean stood up and walked over to his brother. He knelt down in front of the safe. Knocking on the door he said, "It doesn't sound too thick. We might even be able to blast it open with just a shotgun. I'll be right back. Keep looking through some of those boxes."
"Okay," Sam said as he opened the nearest box and tore through it: a few old books and paperwork. Sam managed to go through three more boxes before Dean arrived.
"What took so long?" he asked.
"Checked with Dad in the barn. He's still going looking around in there," Dean explained. "Alright, now back up," he warned as he cocked the shotgun he now held in his hand. Sam obeyed and quickly moved away. Two loud bangs sounded in the cramped basement, then the scraping of slightly rusted metal and the safe door was open.
Dean pulled everything out of the safe: a few wads of cash and two shoeboxes. He handed one of the boxes to Sam and opened the other.
"Christ," he whispered disgustedly as he saw the contents of the small box he held. It was filled to the brim with polaroid photos of young Kelly and Eric, naked, forced to pose for the camera. They couldn't have been more than nine or ten. He shoved the lid back on the box and snatched the box Sam had just opened away from him. He didn't want his little brother seeing that.
"G-Go to the barn and help Dad," Dean ordered.
"Why? What's in those boxes?" Sam asked.
"Just do it!" Dean practically yelled, his voice cracking.
"Okay, okay," Sam muttered, standing and climbing the stairs. Dean waited until he heard the screen door slam before turning back to the shoeboxes. He wished he didn't have to search the second box but he knew he did. He lifted the top off gingerly, his eyes closed as he took a deep breath. He opened them after a moment and let them fall to the open box. A few more polaroids, though in these pictures the hair had been shorn from Eric and Kelly's head, leaving bald patches in places. He was forcibly reminded of pictures he had seen of people in concentration camps.
But this box had more than just pictures in it; a plastic bag wrapped tightly and shoved down into the box. Dean took the bag and opened it to discover what looked like the hair that had been cruelly cut away in the polaroids. He could see the long light brown hair coiled untidily in the bag with chunks of shorter dark hair mixed in. He shoved the bag back into the box and replaced the pictures on top. He stood and pulled a lighter from his pocket, ready to open it and spill the lighter fluid over the two shoeboxes when a voice behind him made him jump.
"So you found it, all the vapid documentation to our childhood," Kelly said. Her tone was almost… sad?
"W-Where's you brother?" Dean asked, quickly looking around the room.
"Déjà vu much?"
"Sam's with Dad. He's safe --"
Kelly's voice was disturbingly matter-of-fact: "Oh, we already took care of your father."
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Another cliffhanger but at least it was a long chapter. I'll try to have more ready soon-ish so stay tuned. And remember, Comments/Reviews = A happy comment!whore. :) *falls asleep at keyboard, wakes up with a snort* Sorry it took so long to get this chapter to y'all. Camp has been keeping me so so so so so so... [insert many more so's] busy. Think less camp, more vocal music college (we're even reading 17 chapters from a college textbook). How's everybody else doing?
~aep