Chapter 36: Mixed Messages

Two weeks. Sam checked the date on his watch and the calendar. It had been two weeks since he mailed that research to Bobby. Surely Bobby had had time to check into the Xavier Institute by now?

Sam couldn't concentrate on his homework. If there was one thing he could not stand, it was being ignored. When he wanted to drift into the background unnoticed that was one thing, but flat out ignored? Besides, Bobby wasn't like that. Bobby, of all people, should have at least mailed him back a short note saying he was working on it, or preferably that it had been taken care of.

He paced his nearly empty den, trying to decide what he should do. When in doubt, research. Following the simple logic, Sam headed over to his desk missing a drawer where his most prized purchase awaited use. It was a beautiful new laptop. He stroked a hand over its surface before popping it open.

Sam had to wait a couple of minutes for the computer to boot up and connect to the internet. He ran the same searches he had done before on the Xavier Institute. Most of the same websites popped up. Sam began checking through them again to see if there were mentions of any changes or events in the area.

A local article mentioned construction at the Institute, the installation of a family crest into the grounds. The writer wondered where Xavier's vanity would stop. Sam skipped to another article thanking the Institute for cleaning up its appearance. Apparently the spray painted symbols had been attributed to vandalism by a disgruntled new student who had to do the majority of work cleaning the campus. Due to privacy issues, no pictures of the student cleaning the grounds were available. Huh. Yeah, like a disgruntled student would've painted protection symbols all over the place. It was the perfect cover story for a school, though.

Back at the search page, Sam chose a link to the bloggers he had read last time. They also praised the Institute for reacting swiftly to the vandalism and for their commitment to the arts. According to the bloggers, the construction was to install a large symbol which encompassed the Institutes' grounds and it was purely for the sake of art, not vanity.

Confused, Sam decided to check out the Institutes' website as well. There was a press release on the opening page proclaiming an end to their construction, a promise to curb future vandalism through positive reenforcement, and that an open house would follow their first annual parents and family weekend. Door prizes would be awarded as well as parting gifts for all visitors. There was a picture of one of the planned gifts, a small silver charm. The charm looked odd.

If the charm was a gift from the Institute, shouldn't it be the school crest, or an X for Xavier? Why this?

The unusual charm really intrigued him. Sam had to clean the dust and mothballs off of his old research techniques and references. It took an hour longer than it should have, but Sam found the symbol. It was used to ward against demonic possession and worked best in silver. Now that sounded like Bobby.

A little disgruntled from being kept out of the loop when he had been the one to uncover the hunt in the first place, Sam picked up his cell phone. Bobby's house phone rang and rang, no answer and no answering machine. Crap. His next option would be to call Dean or Dad. Yeah, well, not Dad.

Sam paused with Dean's name highlighted in his phone address book. Should he or shouldn't he? Damn it! Leave it to hunting to complicate things like this. Here he had been living a simple, ordinary, quiet life and freaking hunting had to slip back in and screw everything up.

The sound of the front door opening caught his attention. Sam held his breath, half expecting Dean to walk in tossing his lock-pick kit triumphantly in the air.

"Hello?" Jess called out from the front door.

It was odd, but Sam felt disappointed, let down. Sam closed his laptop as he stood to greet her. "In here."

Her bright smile was the first thing he saw. "I do have the day right, don't I?"

"Yeah. Sure," Sam assured her. "I just need to call in the pizza order. What do you like?"

Jess waved a hand in the air as she dumped her book bag on his table. "Oh, it doesn't matter. I'm not that picky as long as there's plenty of cheese. We are working on my freshman history assignment, right?"

"You bet." Sam flashed his best smile at her. "I aced it last year."

"Good," Jess huffed. "Because it looks like a real bear."

Jess' assignment took most of the day and was a great distraction from his other problems. After she left, leaving him in an otherwise empty apartment, Sam sat staring at one of the walls and sipping at his beer.

Damn it. They were forcing him to do this. It was a conspiracy.

Sam glared hard at his cell phone as if he could will Bobby to call him right freaking now. Nothing. Crap. He picked Bobby's number out of his call list just to listen to it ring and ring on the other end. How could Bobby stay away for so long? Didn't he need to take care of his dogs? Yeah. The dogs. Who was looking after the dogs? With a sigh, Sam realized he didn't know so he couldn't call to check up on the older hunter.

A trembling finger picked Dean's number from his phone book. With a groan of defeat, he leaned his head all the way back until all Sam could see was the ceiling. It rang over to voicemail right away. Sam disconnected the call before he could be tempted to leave a message. Besides, what kind of message would he leave? 'Dean, I'm not calling to talk to you, but did Bobby send you on a hunt two weeks ago at some school? I figured he'd call me and he hasn't, so I'm just following up.' Yeah, right. Real smooth. Dean would probably just hang up, and Sam wouldn't blame him for it either.

Damn it all! Fine. Sam huffed to himself as he chose Dean's name from his address book. With a deep breath, he pushed the button to initiate the call. And if he got the stupid voicemail, he would leave a message even if it sounded stupid.

Almost instantly, Sam received an automated message that this the user of this number was not available and he would need to leave a message. He huffed, aggravated, but at least it was a start.

"Uh, hey, Dean. Um, bet you're wondering why I'm calling, huh? Well, I've been trying to call Bobby and he isn't answering his phone. I was wondering if you knew where he was, if he's all right?" Yeah, that sounded good. "I sent him some information on a potential hunt and I-" A beep sounded, interrupting his message. Crap. With a deep, deep sigh Sam hung up.

Hunting, here he came. Like it or not. Why did it keep creeping back into his life? It was like he was cursed.

Dean wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. He gave a thumbs-up to the observation booth of the Danger Room. "Awesome!" he shouted up.

A wave from Xavier and Summers showed he had been heard. Xavier would probably want another written report but he was neck deep in designing the Myths and Legends class. He should probably stop by the library, if it was still open, and see if Libby was around. She should know which books he was thinking of using. Well, honestly, Dean could only remember the passages he wanted, not the titles of the books they came from, but Libby could figure it out and she had offered to help. Once they had the books, he would be able to copy the pages he needed for the class.

After hitting the showers, Dean found Logan waiting for him in the hall. "Ya really like this version?"

Dean nodded, rubbing the towel over his wet hair. "Poltergeist was frigging perfect. If I didn't know better, I'd swear it was real."

Logan grinned, the cigar tucked into the side of his mouth wobbling. "Good. Think it's ready to start trainin' the team?"

"Team?" Dean paused just outside his door. "What team?"

Logan frowned at him. "Ask me again after dinner. I got ta talk ta The Professor."

Dean shrugged. "Yeah, okay. I have some research to do before the library closes."

Logan slapped his shoulder with the back of one hand before walking off. Dean went into his room to drop off his dirty clothes and wet towel. His cell sat on his desk, turned off. Dad and Bobby left this morning, at least one of them might have tried to call. Dean powered on his cell as he left his room. It beeped in his hand, signaling a voicemail.

Fully expecting it to be Dad or Bobby checking in with him, Dean called his voicemail. He pushed the buttons to listen to his one waiting message. The last thing he expected to hear was Sam's voice.

Dean froze in the walk just outside the school library, his vision losing focus as his little brother's voice filled his ear. Worried about Bobby? Dean chewed on his lower lip as he considered it. Yeah, okay, that made sense. Sam sent Bobby some info that might lead to a hunt, then he hadn't be contacted and Bobby wasn't answering his phone. If Dean were in Sam's shoes, he'd be worried out of his mind.

Crap. He couldn't do that to Sam. Could he? No, Dean decided, he couldn't. If Sam had the guts to call him and ask, the least Dean could do was call back and assure Sam that Bobby was all right. With any luck, he'd be able to leave a message on Sam's cell instead of speaking directly to him.

Dean scrolled through his phone list to find Sam's number. With a deep breath, he called it. Dean waited anxiously while it rang. When it switched to voicemail, he breathed out in relief. At least he wouldn't have to speak directly to Sam.

"This is Sam, I'm either in class or studying, so leave a message and I'll call you back."

Dean took a deep breath. "Sam, it's Dean. Your brother. Don't worry, Bobby's fine and that hunt you found was already taken care of. You can go back to your new life now. I am." He snapped his phone closed before he was tempted to say any more.

His eyes focused on the building in front of him. School library. Oh yeah, he still needed to talk to Libby. His hand shook a little as he shoved his phone in his back pocket. Didn't mean a damn thing.

Sam stared at the cell phone in his hand, waiting desperately for the beep that he had a voicemail message. When it finally went off, he was surprised by how excited he felt about hearing what Dean might have to say. On the one hand, he hoped Dean wouldn't go off on him about never calling. On the other hand, Sam figured Dean would know what Bobby was up to.

He retrieved the voicemail message. Dean sounded a little cold, and either stressed or ticked off. First, a reminder that they were brothers. Yeah, he had that coming. Bobby was fine and the hunt he found was over. Sam's shoulders slumped to a relaxed position. Next, an admonishment to go back to his new life? What the hell?

Sam pulled the phone slowly away from his ear to stare at in disbelief. He pressed the buttons that saved the message before disconnecting from voicemail. With that type of reaction, maybe he should've answered instead of letting it roll. Sam doubted Dean would have been so cold directly with him. Crap. Screwed that one up, didn't he? Should he call back? It was clear Dean's phone was on right now. Then again, if he called now would it be obvious he had avoided Dean's call? Or could he claim to have called right back and deny listening to the voicemail?

His finger hovered over the button to call his brother back, but the coldness in big brother's tone stayed his hand. Sam had never particularly liked being around Dean when angry, especially angry with him. His cell phone clattered when it made contact with the beat-up table. Sam stared at it for a long, long time before deciding to listen to Dean's message again. This time he listened carefully, analyzing not only the tone but the rhythm, the shortness of each sentence, the choice of words. Then he heard how Dean chose to end it, first he told Sam to go back to his new life, then he stated "I am."

Sam frowned at his phone, saving the message again. What was that supposed to mean? Dean and Dad were out hunting, they had to be. It was their life. How could Dean have a 'new' life? Was that a dig about Sam not being there? By 'new' did Dean mean 'without little brother'?

Frustrated, Sam shoved the phone away from him. He didn't think he really wanted to talk to his brother right now anyway. Maybe next week.

Dean had outlined his plan for Myths and Legends to Libby. She was agreeable to helping him find the right passages in the references.

"Then we'll need to make copies," Dean explained.

"How many?" Libby asked, her fresh gaze at odds with his disjointed, jumbled mood.

"Enough for the whole school." He drummed his fingertips against the information desk.

Libby chewed her lower lip for a moment as she nodded slowly. "May I make a suggestion?" Dean nodded. Any help at this point was welcome. "How about we do maybe ten pages at a time? You can hand them out in booklets that way and making them up won't be too taxing on anyone involved."

"Awesome," Dean said agreeably. "So how is this going to work?"

"You tell me what you want for the first booklet, and I'll see what I can find. When I find the appropriate pages matching your requirements, I'll copy them for you. If you approve, you can use the school copiers to run off enough for all of your classes," she explained. "I understand that the school secretaries are very helpful with that sort of thing." Libby pulled out a notepad. "So how do you want to start?"

"Demons," Dean replied reluctantly. "Let's go with historical references, the effects of Holy Water and pure elements, and then an exorcism ritual. I figure I'll need to do it phonetically and then we'll all memorize it."

"All?" Libby asked, confusion on her features and in her emotions.

Dean shrugged. "My Dad made me learn how to read one, but he never made me memorize it. I've been regretting that lately."

"I heard about the field trip," she whispered. Great. Figured. Who hadn't? Then she reached into her mousy librarian blouse and pulled out a silver chain. Dangling from it was her anti-possession charm. "I wasn't wearing it before." A stab of guilt accompanied that statement. "But I am now."

"Good." Dean looked her in the eye. "You'll live longer."

"I'll, uh, let you know when I have the first set ready for you," she promised, nervousness spreading out from her.

Dean forced himself to smile, hoping to put her at ease even though he wasn't. "Thanks. I appreciate it."

His nerves were still on edge. Now why would leaving Sam a stupid voice message rattle him this much? It was ridiculous. Dean considered going by Hank's office to see if the blue guy had some free time, but he opted for his room instead. At his tiny little desk, Dean pulled out a clean sheet of paper.

Dear Sam,

Well, I tried calling you back a few minutes ago, but I guess you were out partying. Good for you. You should party in college.

Dean's hand was shaking worse now than right after he made the call. Crap. His handwriting was suffering for it, too. Go on Dean, he told himself, say it.

I don't understand why you sent that research to Bobby. Yeah, he has a permanent address and I don't. Well, I do now but you couldn't have known that. You should've mailed it to me at Bobby's house.

He needed a deep breath to continue.

Things have changed with me. I've changed.

Dean stared at his letter, his jaw setting in determination.

I should tell you that Bobby won't act on anything you send him without running it by me first. It's a new rule. If you make contact with him or Dad, they have to check in with me, so you might as well send it to me first. Here's my address:

Dean added the address of his drop-box here at the Institute.

Okay, that's all I wanted to say for now. If you need anything, let me know. We'll work it out. Now go back to your studying, you need to keep your grades up for that tuition-free ride.

Later,

Dean

He set his pen down and stared at the letter for a while before realizing he was going to have to mail this and the last one. Damn Sam for forcing the issue, but he was feeling a little better with it down on paper. His hand wasn't shaking any more either. Okay, so maybe he was feeling a lot better. The kind of feeling he typically associated with hunting came over him: confidence. Dean folded the page in thirds and added it to the envelope containing his first letter to Sam. He sealed it and wrote Sam's new address at Stanford across the front with his drop-box in the upper left hand corner. He was pretty sure one of the school secretaries would give him a stamp.

Elizabeth Darling, known throughout the Xavier Institute as The Librarian, started in on Hunter's research right away. If she showed him how invaluable she could be in his classroom research, perhaps he would come to her with the research for his hunts too. Then she would be seeing a lot of him.

Just the thought of Hunter coming in her library regularly caused goosebumps to raise on her arms. She smiled to herself as she selected volumes from the mythology section. Hopefully she would have at least enough for a first pass at the booklet by tomorrow. Hunter would have to sit with her and go over everything.

"You're humming," a woman's voice startled Elizabeth from her thoughts. Deep black hair which shimmered with purple iridescence framed an oval face with large dark eyes.

"Julie, don't sneak up on me," she admonished.

"What are you doing?" Julie asked, eying the books in her hands.

"Hunter needs help putting together materials for the new Myths and Legends class," Elizabeth explained with a shrug.

"Need any help?" Julie offered.

"Nah, it's all right." She nodded at the information desk where two students stood off to one side. "Besides, it looks like you may have a couple of customers."

Julie groaned. "Those two again? Oh, some kids are so clueless when it comes to research. Well, holler if you need me."

"This is a library," Elizabeth snapped in a hushed voice. "No hollering!"

Julie laughed at her, a broad smile appearing. She snapped a salute. "Yes, ma'am," she whispered, her shoulders and stance stiff and rigid. "And anyone who hollers..."

This they whispered in unison. "Off with her head!"

Elizabeth turned away from her friend and coworker to concentrate on the work for Hunter. She hoped she could continue to find other things for Julie to do, so Hunter's research would be her project alone. Even if their relationship never developed beyond requesting and receiving research, at least she might have that much. This time Elizabeth noticed when she began humming, but she made no effort to stop.