Chapter 12: Sign of the Times
Gabe's driving always left a lot to be desired, but today he drove like an absolute manic through the streets of Lawrence, leaving mayhem and angry drivers in his formidable wake. For once, Sam didn't make any teasing comments about the quality of his driving, as he was too busy ringing up Dean and trying to ascertain where exactly his idiot brother was.
"Why can't you just tell me where you are?" he asked exasperatedly, casually bracing an arm against Gabe's seat and keeping anything loose from the back flying forward as they braked hard at a red light.
Dean's voice was flustered and just as exasperated as he shot back, "I just can't. I'll be at your place as soon as I can, but it might take a while."
A horn honked somewhere behind them, and Gabe hollered, "Yeah, yeah, you'll live asshole!" before honking his own back at them. His wild aura perfectly reflected his chaotic driving.
"Don't tell me you hooked up with someone," Sam frowned, already ready to give Dean a tongue lashing. Every so often his brother would drive outside of Lawrence and have a wild weekend (or Wednesday; sometimes Dean had bad weeks and poor sense of time), but he hadn't done for a few months. He certainly hadn't done it ever since he'd met Cas, and Sam had to admit, he'd be very disappointed in his brother had gone on a destructive binger. His hopes that the two would get together were remarkably high at this point.
"No- I'm out of town, but I didn't hook up with anyone. It's just kind of awkward timing Sammy…"
"Put him on speaker so I can interrogate him. This is taking too long!" Gabe snapped as the light changed to green and he stomped on the gas.
"Driving needs all of your focus," Sam admonished, but he did as asked. Maybe if his brother butted heads with Gabe, it'd get him to loosen up and just tell them where he was.
There was a string of muddled words on the other side, and Sam's eyebrows flew upward as Cas' rumbling voice picked up where his brother's had left off.
"Hello, Sam. I apologize for your brother's difficulty in being straightforward."
"Uh, that's alright man," he said for lack of anything else to say. Had Dean and Cas…?
If they did, I'm going to have to eat my socks, because that's the absolute last thing I expected them to do at this stage.
Gabe crowed as he came to the same conclusion, slapping the steering wheel with a wide, shit-eating grin.
"Did you and the Ken doll get it on, Cassie? I didn't know you had it in you! Hell, you should've just said so, Dean-o!"
Sam smothered a laugh as his brother sputtered indignantly in the background. Cas remained much more composed, but he could tell by the slight waver in his voice that the assumption embarrassed him.
"We did not "hook up"," he said, the air quotes practically audible over the phone before took up the sass a notch, "Thought it's good to know I appear to have both of your blessings for such a thing."
"You bet you do! Samsquatch, tell him that he has your blessing."
"I don't think that's how blessings are supposed to be given out," Sam said evasively as his brother whined at Cas to give him his phone back and that they "didn't need no damn blessings!".
"We're about half an hour out, so give us some time, but we'll be there," the Enochian expert said, competently ignoring Dean, "Dean, your childish treats to lick me do not intimidate me."
"So, when do you think they'll finally pull their heads out of their asses and get together?" Gabe asked after they'd hung up.
Sam rubbed his thumb over his phone screen pensively. There was only one place he could think of that Dean could've taken Cas that was roughly half an hour out if they really hadn't hooked up, but Sam didn't think his brother had taken anyone out there since Lisa had been pregnant with Ben.
"Sam?"
"What? Oh, nothing. It's just…I didn't think Dean would take him out there," Sam said vaguely, still wrapped up in his thoughts.
"Out where?"
Gabe swerved around a car going too slow for his liking, the Beetle's tires screeching as they slipped into the neighboring lane.
"Our mother's grave," Sam said bluntly. Gabe knew just about everything about his family history now, so there was no point in holding back. "She wasn't from Lawrence. She came from a smaller town about a half hour's drive here, and her family, the Campbells, had lived in that town long enough that they had a plot in the local cemetery. So, she-well, her coffin at least-was buried there."
Sam had only been out there a handful of times himself. His much lesser degree of attachment to the memory of his mother led to him not seeing the point of visiting a gravestone often, much less a grave that he knew didn't hold his mother's body. The town was a bleak place, on the verge of collapse due to many of the jobs being absorbed by Lawrence, and Sam didn't like associating the place with the bright person his mother had been in life.
The last time he'd gone up was the night John had kicked him out. He'd basically broken into the cemetery to visit his mother's grave, pouring out all of his bitter anger at what he'd perceived to be an unjust situation. Sam was ashamed to say he'd even kicked the gravestone, but he'd cut that out immediately once he'd realized what he'd done. He'd stayed there until dawn, speaking to a ghost he couldn't even remember for himself tearfully towards the end.
I'm only as real as you let me be.
"Do you have any idea why he would do that?"
Gabe's voice was soft and careful, all of the humor gone from his voice as he sensed the melancholy of the situation.
"I'm not really sure," he replied truthfully. Sam knew his brother well, better than anyone else in the world, but this was something straight out of left field, "He brought Lisa up once. I think for him, visiting is another sign of trust. I don't know why he'd bring Cas up now of all times though."
"What does it mean for you?"
"Visiting?"
Gabe nodded, his aura settled comfortably around his shoulders like a cloak of flames. The more pastel shades had suffused the interior of the car, taking over the restless, crackling orange energy the P.I had given off a few minutes ago from his crazy driving.
"Nothing as serious as it is to Dean," Sam said with a shrug, "I've never brought anyone of my own up there. Not even Jess. I guess for me it's just a placeholder until we find my mom's body."
After 20 years, finding Mary's body sounded impossible, and anyone else would've told Sam to just let the hopeless idea go. Gabe, of course, took it one step further as they entered East Center.
"I'll help you with that. Once we're done with all this serial killer business, we can look for your mom."
Sam's heart lurched in his chest. It reminded him of what Gabe had said to him about finding Yellow Eyes when he'd been pretending to be asleep, but he didn't know that he'd heard him say that.
"If anyone could find her, it'd be you," Sam responded confidently.
Gabe blushed before hurriedly returning his gaze to the road, and that was the end of the subject. Sam didn't feel like delving into it further when his mind was still occupied on the epiphany he'd had, and Gabe was visibly growing more and more antsy to hear what exactly had gotten him so riled him.
"When are you going to tell me what your brain came up with, Sam?" he asked, bouncing on his heels as he waited for Sam to get out of the car. It was always a mini ordeal to get out, especially when he got one of his oversized feet caught beneath the dash.
"When we get inside," Sam replied patiently, grunting as he finally worked his legs out of the car.
Gabe pouted but held his tongue for the moment at least.
The afternoon was beginning to wan, bringing with it a chill that he knew would give his apartment's heater a hard time. Sam hurried them inside and into the elevator so Gabe wouldn't complain too much about the weather anymore.
"You're starting to smell," Gabe announced as the doors opened onto his floor.
"Oh, so now you notice it?"
"I was being polite beforehand!"
"When are you ever polite?"
"Hey! I'll have you know that I'm perfectly capable of using my manners when necessary."
Sam unlocked his front door and let Gabe step in first with a wide sweep of his arm and a smirk.
"Manners like this?"
Gabe stuck his nose up haughtily as he walked past, but Sam could see the smile playing at the corners of his lips.
"That'd be more impressive if you didn't smell like a poorly cleaned garbage bin."
"And here I thought my chivalry would distract you from my reek," Sam sighed dramatically.
"What is this, the Middle Ages?"
Kevin wasn't in and didn't seem to have been at all that day. The apartment was cool and felt stale to Sam, with the typical atmosphere the place had built up ever since they'd starting renting it too still and thin in the air.
"Might as well be," Sam grumbled as he aggressively fiddled with the thermometer, "You'd think we didn't have a heating system in here."
Sam let Gabe settle down in the living room, telling him to help himself to the kitchen before making a beeline for the shower.
He showered quickly, not because he was worried about what Gabe could get up to on his own, but because he was eager to make some strong headway on the case. Between his theory that he was positive held merit to the flash drive currently burning a hole in Gabe's pocket, Sam was sure that Death's days were numbered.
Hell, we could even catch him by the end of the week.
It was a ridiculously optimistic idea, but Sam let himself think it regardless. He was feeling too cheery to shoot down his own mood with pessimism.
"Sam, hurry up!"
He rolled his eyes as Gabe's whine drifted through the bathroom door. Honestly, the P.I's capacity for patience seemed to either be unfathomably deep or irritatingly short, with nothing whatsoever in between.
"Sam! I'm dying of curiosity out here!"
A mischievous idea entered Sam's head, making him flush just from the mere thought of it. He'd need balls of steel to pull it off, but he'd done crazier with Gabe.
"Did you hear me? I'm dying!"
He wrapped the towel around his waist and raked a hand through his wet hair, barely sparing his reflection a second glance before he pulled the bathroom door open. If Gabe wanted to know so bad, then he'd just have to tell him right now, wouldn't he?
And if it maybe gave Gabe another hint that Sam was interested, then that was just icing on the cake. He'd resolved himself to wait, but there was nothing wrong with toying around while he held out.
I'm so evil for this, Sam thought as he padded down the hall, one hand keeping his admittedly low riding towel up, Hopefully, I don't kill him.
"Alright, alright, I'm coming," he said, infusing enough exasperation into his voice and pretending that him walking out half-naked and wet was completely normal for him to do.
Gabe's reaction was priceless. His jaw dropped, and Sam struggled to keep himself from smirking in triumph as the P.I gaped wordlessly. Cherry red exploded through his aura, spreading like ink through water until his aura was swamped by it.
"You wanted to know so bad what my theory was, right?" he asked after a few seconds in which Gabe seemed to struggle to put together a coherent thought.
"Uh, yeah. Yeah, your theory," he said faintly, eyes glued to his abs, "What was that all about again?"
Sam casually ran a hand through his hair, flexing more muscles than necessary as he took a few steps closer Gabe's eyes followed him hungrily, gold eyes darkening by the second.
"I actually have you to thank for giving me the idea," he said, smiling sweetly. He'd been told it was one of his best smiles, and Gabe seemed to think it was too judging by his bright flush. "See, when you tripped over the manhole cover, you gave the last puzzle piece my mind needed. This guy's getting around by using the sewage system."
It took Gabe a long moment to process, but Sam didn't blame him. The P.I was extremely distracted, so he gave the man's brain time to switch over to thinking work-related thoughts.
"Wait…that's actually a good theory," Gabe said once he got back on track, leaning forward eagerly, "It would explain how he gets away so quickly! And why we don't see him on the cameras that do work when we should. But wouldn't that make transporting the bodies harder?"
"Not necessarily," Sam said, heading over to the only bookcase the living room contained. Both he and Kevin had vastly underestimated the number of books they owned and had never gotten around to getting another bookcase, so they just had a single tiny one they'd stuffed full and left to crouch against the wall, "Not many people know that the underground systems in Lawrence are intricate and interconnected. Let's see…"
He bent over to look for the map he knew he'd put here, drawing a half-choked sound from Gabe.
"Here we go! This is the map that you'd see hanging in the subway stations if you somehow stick around long enough to pay attention to the walls," Sam explained, straightening with an innocent expression on his face, "Picked it up when I took Ben on the subway for the first time so he could color on it, so excuse the crayon."
He spread the map out on the coffee table as best he could with all the stuff in the way, exposing a standard map littered with the abstract scribbles only a child could make.
"We have a couple of shut down subway stations and abandoned lines, mostly past the Kingsford Parallel. But my main point is that there are all sorts of underground systems in Lawrence," he explained, pushing his damp hair out of his eyes and gesturing to a spot on the map, "Like here, where East Center starts petering off into North Heights? There's a lot of intersecting lines, and they're super close to the sewage systems. In the older sections of Lawrence, the underground network is incredibly dense, and there's a rumor that some of the older buildings are connected to these sorts of systems by forgotten tunnels."
"How come I've never heard of this?" Gabe asked, eyes moving over the map. He was back in business mode, his natural curiosity too peaked to be distracted now.
"It's not well-known information. The only reason I know what I know of it is my training," Sam admitted, "Only older people and probably the homeless know that Lawrence has so many extensive underground systems."
Gabe made a thoughtful noise before tapping an area of the map where a lot of the color-coded subway lines converged between North Heights and East Center.
"LU is fairly old, isn't it?"
"Some of it is," Sam confirmed, "Some other old places I can think are in downtown, like city hall and the police headquarters…"
He trailed off as an image of the LPD's basement popped into his head. It was an extensive place that seemed to sprawl on for miles beneath the building, but Sam was more focused on something he remembered John saying years ago about it.
Theoretically, one could breach the building from the basement if you found the right route. The problem is that no one knows what the right route is, and it takes all you got just to make sure you don't get lost. It's a death maze down there.
They turned to look at each other in tandem, and Sam knew that they were thinking along the same lines.
"The LPD has that giant basement level," he pointed out, and Sam nodded, chewing his lip.
"No one's even formally addressed the existence of all these tunnels, much less found the right route to breach a building from underground. Not even we did."
"We?"
Sam blushed slightly beneath Gabe's penetrating gaze. He hadn't meant to let that bit slip.
"Uh, about four or five years ago we may or may not have explored the underground a bit to find a way into old buildings like the LPD, but not necessarily the LPD!" Sam tagged on hurriedly, "We could never make sense of it, and Dean hated trying to make sense of the network down there, so we let the idea go pretty quick."
"That's…insane," Gabe said after struggling to find the right word for it.
"I know. It is what it is," he said, rapping his fingers against the map before straightening, "I've got to get dressed. Help yourself to whatever you need."
Gabe hummed in acknowledgment, but it wasn't until Sam started down the hall that he heard him mutter, "Christ…a towel?"
Good to know I've got such an effect on him, Sam thought, thoroughly pleased with how his idea had panned out. It was one thing to inadvertently do things that attracted Gabe to him, but quite another to purposely get a rise out of him.
Drying off and dressing took no time at all, and soon Sam was back with Gabe in the living room. They discussed the case over a very late lunch (or early dinner, Sam!) and worked out the finer details of the new ideas they had to what the P.I described as 'an ever-growing cluster-fuck'.
"Hands down, this is the most convoluted case I've worked on, and I've worked on some fucked up cases," Gabe said as they tore into the sandwiches he'd made, "Before this, I'd say the craziest case I assisted on was the serial killer they had in Seattle about two years ago."
Sam finished up the last of his crust before dusting crumbs off of his fingers. Gabe's sandwiches were divine, just like the rest of the cooking he'd been lucky enough to sample.
"The dude that shot people in their homes? I think I heard something about that," he remarked, gazing sadly down at his plate. He was now officially all out of sandwiches.
His plate slid a few inches over, and he looked up to see Gabe smile and shoot him a wink before setting the last half of his sandwich onto his plate.
"Yup, that's the guy. They called him The Sharpshooter because his shots were always so precise," he said, "Combine that with his overall meticulousness and his frequent kills, and he was a dangerous guy. I helped them close the case, but tracking the guy was an absolute nightmare. The profile they'd made for him was also completely off, which made it even harder. But that case seems downright easy compared to this one."
"Was that the only other serial killer case you worked?"
Gabe nodded, taking a long sip of pineapple juice. It had easily been one of the most random items in the fridge, and Sam wasn't surprised that he'd gone for it.
"I've worked plenty of homicide cases, but yeah, this is my second serial killer case. I actually sort of count this as my first proper one, since I've been on it in some form or fashion ever since the start."
His eyes drifted to the flash drive, which sat a few feet from Sam's laptop further down the counter. By unspoken agreement, they'd put it off so they could eat first, but Sam had polished off what Gabe had given to him, and there were no more excuses now.
"I guess it's time to boot this bad boy up," he sighed, stretching one long arm up to grab his laptop and the flash drive.
Gabe crowded close to him as he plugged the flash drive in, which Sam was glad for. While he logically knew what would be on it, he still felt uncomfortable opening it up on his computer. How many unfortunate students' names were listed on this petty 'master list'?
"Jesus, it's organized by year," Gabe mumbled, and Sam winced at the neat row of folders dating back nearly ten years.
"How much money do you want to bet that this is going to take us a while?" he asked, clicking on the folder for the current academic year and gesturing to the size of the two documents labeled "Fall" and "Spring" inside. The "Spring" document was massive considering they were still in the early stages of spring semester.
"Dammit," Gabe cursed, running a hand over his face, "We need to find something else on this guy to narrow this down. Open it up to see how they listed the students."
Sam did as he asked. The document was so large that his poor computer began to lag, but it managed to get the job done.
"It's pretty detailed. First and last name, dates, even some timestamps of when the student committed the 'infarction'," he said sarcastically.
"Just like Hoffman said," Gabe muttered before leaning back, "Alright. Our guy's name is guaranteed to be in here somewhere. We just need more dirt on our guy before we can locate him on the list."
He made a disgusted sound, and Sam turned to see that Gabe had run his hand through his hair, forgetting that he still had the temporary hair dye in. It was smeared all over his palm, and he looked so done that Sam couldn't help but laugh.
"Go wash that gunk out of your hair. You've got some time before Dean and Cas show up."
"I guess," Gabe grumbled, grimacing at his fingers before standing, "But tell me, did I look good with dark hair while it lasted?"
He struck a pose that was only partially ruined by the smudge of hair dye along his temple from where he must've dragged his hand downward. Sam snorted at his pomp and flair before propping his arm on the counter and resting his head in his hand.
"I dig it," he said honestly, a genuine smile probably making him look like a complete dork, "It brings out your eyes."
Sam was rewarded for his boldness by the cutest blush he'd ever seen appear on Gabe's face and a supernova explosion of embarrassed satisfaction within his aura.
"Well of course it does," Gabe blustered, even as his cheeks grew pinker, "That's why I used it!"
"Mhmm," he hummed, letting the P.I beat a hasty retreat without voicing the fact that they both knew that wasn't the reason he'd used it.
While Gabe was in the bathroom, he tackled some homework and pulled up various maps of Lawrence, ignoring the flash drive still attached to his computer. He felt no need to go through the numerous lists, not when his theory could prove far more fruitful in the short-term.
The special knock Dean always made when he came over (one slow knock, then two fast) pulled Sam away from his work.
"Tell them I'm not decent yet!" Gabe hollered from the bathroom.
"I'm sure they'll survive without your glorious presence for five minutes," Sam retorted as he moved to open the door.
Dean and Cas were outside just like he'd expected, windblown and standing closer together than platonic adult friends typically did. Sam smiled at their intermingled auras and let them in, gesturing with a lazy hand towards the living room.
"Gabe's acting like a diva, so I'll fill you guys in while he gets ready."
"I heard that!"
"You were supposed to!" Sam yelled back before shutting the door, ignoring Dean and Cas' shared expressions of confusion.
"You two have a very dynamic relationship," Cas remarked as he sat on the couch. His brother had entered the kitchen to help himself to the fridge, as he was wont to do, "I have to admit, I would have never anticipated that you two could be so compatible."
"Don't put it like that Cas," Dean said between slurps from a Coke, "My baby brother doesn't need to get caught up in any relationship crap right now."
Sam immediately responded with an aghast, "Dean!" that his brother completely ignored, the bastard.
"Well, I'm not wrong, am I?" he asked, eyebrow arched as his brotherly aura kicked into gear.
Cas looked between the two of them as Sam groaned, covering his flaming face with his hands. He did not want to broach this topic with Dean while other people around, much less when Gabe was just a hallway down!
"Can we not talk about this right now?" he snapped, already feeling tense at the mere thought of a conversation with Dean regarding relationships.
I'd rather break into another crime scene than talk about Gabe with Dean.
"Of course," Cas interjected, quick to smooth his ruffled feathers as he shot a reproachful gaze at Dean, who threw his hands up in a surrender gesture, "I did not mean to intrude with my statement and I'm sure Dean didn't think of how careless his words would be. I was merely referring to your work relationship with Gabriel."
Speak of the devil, Sam thought as the P.I strolled into the living room, a towel around his shoulders to keep his hair from dripping everywhere. At least he was fully dressed.
"I thought I heard someone say Gabriel, and of course it'd be you, Cassie. You're probably the only person that does at this point," Gabe remarked, standing in the entrance of the hall and letting his eyes skim about the room.
"It's your given name, is it not?" Cas pointed out, and Dean decided to butt in with his typical mule-headed, one-track mind.
"You better not try anything funny with Sammy," he said, gesturing at Gabe with his Coke can and pinning him with an intimidating green glare that had cowed many a man in the past. "No one's gonna toy around with his heart on my watch, capisce?"
"Oh my God, I can't believe you just said that," Sam groaned, falling back into the couch as embarrassment swamped him. Honestly, couldn't Dean put a sock in the overprotective brother routine for once in his life?
Luckily, Gabe took it all in stride, which was impressive considering he'd essentially come out of the bathroom only to be subjected to brotherly threats that had come out of nowhere.
"Wouldn't dream of it," he said seriously, crossing his finger over his heart. Interestingly enough, his aura revealed that the statement was a half-truth, leaving him to wonder how the P.I had decided to interpret the phrase 'try anything funny', "Besides, Sam could kick my ass with one hand tied behind his back if I did. Have you seen him?"
They all looked at him, and Sam tried his best to look as physically intimidating as possible from his position on the couch.
"He has a point, Dean," Cas admitted, eyes drifting between him and Gabe to take in the notable physical disparity between them, "I think your brother is more than capable of handling himself."
Dean grunted, only partially satisfied judging by the swirling green around him. However, the universe must've decided that he'd been embarrassed enough for the time being because his brother dropped the subject and went back to aggressively drinking soda.
"What crawled up his ass and died?" Gabe muttered as he sat down next to Sam.
"Be nice," Sam muttered back as his brother crushed the can and went for a second in the fridge.
"Well, now that we've gotten that settled…" Cas said, breaking the awkward silence, "Could you please tell us what was so urgent?"
Sam eagerly seized the lifeline he'd been thrown and launched into explaining his sewer theory to them, as well as the flash drive they'd recovered. By the time he'd finished, he was on his feet and pacing from sheer enthusiasm.
"It's feasible," Dean mused once he'd wrapped up updating them on the case, "The underground might as well be its own city with how big it is. It's not a stretch to think that one of them could lead up to the inside of a building."
"I can't believe Hannah was right about that," Cas said, clearly disturbed by the idea of the flash drive. "I thought it was just a rumor spread around to scare the freshman. Do you really think the killer is somewhere on the list?"
"It makes sense, and until we learn something that disproves the theory, it's all we got. What about you guys? Have you been back to your apartment yet?" Gabe asked.
"Just once, and technically Dean was the only one to go back. He made me sit in the Impala," the Enochian expert grumbled, "Apparently the Dead Eyes are still around."
"They're getting cocky," Dean added from his perch at the breakfast bar. "They're wearing their symbol in broad daylight, and outside of their territory. Some guys I know from-work have been complaining about it. It's a pretty hare-brained move when everyone's just about positive The Crucifier doesn't think highly of them."
He punctuated the end of his sentence with the crack and fizz of a new can of soda, his green aura wild and resplendent against the backdrop of his small kitchen.
"The Dead Eyes are unpredictable. Who knows what's running through their heads right now?" Sam pointed out, nose wrinkling in disgust at the gang. After they'd burned the Roadhouse down, they'd made it clear they were the loose cannons of the gang hierarchy in Lawrence.
"Probably drugs," his brother quipped, "Word is they're knee-deep in a new drug that's got people acting batshit crazy. Half of the gangs want a cut of what they got, and half of them want to keep clear of it."
"Demon blood? Yeah, that stuff sounds bad," Gabe shuddered.
"Wait, how do you know about it?" Dean asked, suspicion lacing his tone. "I had to call in three favors just to get that name!"
"A little birdie told us," Sam said hurriedly, shooting his brother a 'please-don't-tear-his-head-off' look, "But that does remind me of something. Remember Gordon?"
Dean's face blanked for a second before his aura flared with recognition with a finger snap.
"Roadhouse Gordon? The one that always kept hitting on the waitresses, right? What about him?"
"I'm pretty sure he's on demon blood," Sam said, standing up from the recliner and beginning to pace, "Right before the Roadhouse burned down, I had to throw him out again, but he was acting totally different that night. He was completely out of it, and inadvertently started a whole brawl."
"Oh yeah," Gabe said, a spark of remembrance brightening his eyes, "That was the night that you threw a guy into a table!"
"You threw someone into a table?" Cas asked, astounded, and Gabe puffed up proudly.
"He broke the table! Through the guy like he weighed nothing!"
"That's not the point," Sam cut in, trying to keep them from marveling over his furniture-breaking acts of strength, "The point is that Gordon could be our lead into this aspect."
"Wait, slow down Sammy, I've got to process this," Dean interjected, "It's been a long day."
"It's alright, we all know your brain cells need a break every now and then," Gabe said snidely.
"At least I don't use mine to fangirl over Sam's ability to throw people around like ragdolls."
"Uh, rude!" Gabe gasped. "I'll have you know I also use my brain cells to process to admire his other countless abilities."
"It's like trying to reign in kindergartners," Cas remarked, getting up from the couch and moving to sit in the recliner as they began to squabble over who put their brain cells to better use ("Ogling my brother isn't productive!").
"Tell me about it," Sam muttered before deciding to tune them out. "How have you been Cas? I hope it wasn't too cold in the cemetery."
If there was one thing Sam had learned about Cas, it was that catching the man off guard was a Herculean task, but he somehow managed to pull it off. A shocked look spread across Cas' face before he began to fumble for words, blue aura peaking with sudden nervousness.
"How…did Dean…? But when-"
"Relax, I'm not out for blood," Sam reassured, "Just surprised. Dean doesn't take very many people up there."
"He said as much," the Enochian expert murmured, blue eyes fixed on his leather shoes, "It was a …unexpected venture, but not unwelcome. I think he wanted to tell me more about her up there instead of here in Lawrence."
"What'd he tell you?"
"He told me about how they never found her body," he said, voice soft so they wouldn't attract the other's attention, "I'm not from here, so I didn't know anything about Yellow Eyes' methodology until I met you two."
"They never found any of his victims," Sam said grimly.
Cas nodded, beginning to look uncomfortable. Sam didn't blame him; talking about serial killers became much more bizarre when you knew someone who was directly affected by one.
"I just wanted to say that I hope she is found. It seems unfair to have only an empty grave to visit."
Sam blinked. He had to admit, he hadn't really expected such sincere words from Cas. The man came off as far too stoic to tread into awkward emotional conversation like this, but it was clear he'd meant every word.
"Thanks, Cas," he said, leaning down to clap a hand on his shoulder.
The flare of auras caught his attention, and he half-turned to see Gabe and Dean gesticulating wildly at each other, both leaning forward from where they were seated to rant and rave. They were really going at it, and he knew that if he let them go on for five more minutes about what was now an argument about soda (those two would really fight over anything, would they?), he'd have to physically break them apart.
"Alright, that's enough you two," he said firmly, rolling his eyes at Cas before moving to stand in between them, "Dean, don't take out your anger about my lack of alcohol on Gabe. You knew I wasn't going to have alcohol here."
Dean scowled but said nothing. They both knew he was right; it was the only reason he'd gone for the Coke in the first place. Sam knew his brother only drank soda when he wanted a beer but couldn't have one.
"And Gabe quit baiting him. Riling him up isn't a good idea if you want to keep your pr-face- intact," he continued, stopping himself from saying "pretty". He was trying to calm everyone down for Christ's sake, not rile them right back up with his careless words.
Gabe huffed and crossed his arms, but also said nothing. Both of their auras reflected a similar embarrassment at being chastised, and the gradual decrease in the aggression they'd worked up.
"Glad we got that settled," Sam said with a sigh, placing his hands on his hips, "Now can we go back to actually discussing important things like, oh I don't know, the serial killer that's on the loose and the fact that we're some of the only competent people actually getting somewhere close to catching him?"
"I don't know if I'd say everyone in this room is competent-"
"Gabe," Sam hissed, a spark of irritation making his tone sharp as he addressed him.
The P.I. flinched, now looking thoroughly cowed as he realized he'd annoyed Sam one too many times.
"Sorry," he muttered, shifting guiltily on the couch.
Dean snickered, and Sam turned to fix his own glare on him, pulling the most intense bitch face he'd used on his brother in a while. He was not helping at all.
That stopped his laughter so quickly that he thought he'd given Dean psychological whiplash. As such, Cas got up behind him and cleared his throat, drawing Sam's attention (and growing ire) away from the two immature acting men in front of him.
"I'll make some coffee. I think everyone could use some right now."
He beat a hasty retreat to the partial shelter the kitchen provided, blue aura a bit frazzled by all the snappy words being thrown about.
His interjection had made all the difference though. Sam could feel the tension bleeding out of the room, slowly but surely, like water through a sieve. Dean's aura settled down just the slightest from its stormy green, and Gabe's stopped its metaphorical pouting. It seemed that an appreciation for coffee was the one common denominator they all shared.
That and wanting to stop the bastard terrorizing Lawrence.
"What were you saying about Gordon?" Dean asked gruffly, trying to put the right foot down.
"That he's probably on demon blood," Sam repeated, sitting on the recliner (he and Cas would just switch out of the chair tonight), "We also think the killer's on demon blood. If we find out where Gordon is getting his from, which should be simple-"
"Then you could get a name on Mr. Psycho through the drug network," Dean finished, green aura sparking with lime-colored lightning as he connected the dots, "Yeah, that could actually work. From what I've heard, not too many people have access to it, and Gordon isn't the smartest guy on the planet. I can lean on him hard enough to make him spill his guts."
"You're familiar with him outside the Roadhouse?"
Dean tilted his head and shrugged casually, eyes sliding to Gabe as he rested an elbow on the counter.
"A couple of work buddies know him. He's a gambling man, and not very good at it."
Sam nodded, reading between the lines. Mayhem Arena took bets on fights most nights and ran a tight ship. If Gordon had fallen into financial trouble in those circles, then he could've easily fallen into crowd rough enough to have connections to demon blood.
"How would we go about finding him though? He doesn't sound like the kind of person you can just look up in the phone book," Gabe remarked, looking between him and Dean with sharp gold eyes. His aura revealed his suspicions that Dean wasn't talking about his job with Bobby, but he was smart enough not to bring it up.
"There's no 'we' with this one. I'll handle it myself," Dean said, aura steely with determination. His mind was set on the subject, and there was little hope anything could be said to change it.
"Dean, that's foolhardy," Cas said from the kitchen with his own flinty voice, and Sam watched with interest as his brother's aura flickered just the slightest.
Maybe there is some hope for dissuading him, Sam thought, even as a part of him told him to let it be and to just let Dean handle Gordon.
It wasn't that he wanted his brother to do it alone; in fact, he would've come in a heartbeat if he'd thought Dean would let him. However, he'd been out of the old life for a while, so Dean wouldn't let him tag along without a tooth-and-nail fight on his part, and they didn't have the time for that. Sam was inclined to let Dean play the lone wolf, not only because he was more than capable of handling himself, but because Dean had always been better at this sort of thing.
"It's not like I'm going head to head with The Crucifier," Dean argued, turning to face the Enochian expert, "It's Gordon for fuck's sake. Ten minutes and a little knife-waving-"
"Woah, woah, woah. You can't just pull a knife on this dude!" Gabe exclaimed, butting in with righteous indignation, and Sam winced as Cas' aura turned icy blue with a similar disapproving sentiment.
"Gabe's right; that's unnecessary force. There are limitations to what we can do here, Dean," he said, nostrils flared as his hand clenched on the counter.
"That's really rich, coming from you Cas. The Dead Eyes have been terrorizing you for weeks, all because you can translate the funny little symbols this psychopath likes to paint with people's blood," Dean snapped, "Don't you want to bring an end to this all? All I'm trying to do is keep you safe!"
"What does blatantly attempting to threaten someone have to do with keeping me safe?"
"Well, first one, it's not an attempt; I'm effective. It'll get all the bullshit over with quicker, and you can go back home, and I know how much you hate being displaced!"
"That doesn't give you the right to operate outside the law!"
Sam's head was beginning to hurt. This was clearly a well-worn argument between the pair; both of their auras were rearing at each other and encircling them in a way that gave him double vision. Clashing auras when people really got into it were hard to look at, like with Gabe and Dean, but Dean and Cas' auras were so uniquely compatible for the other that watching them fight was a completely different beast.
"They're really getting themselves into a little snit, aren't they?"
At some point, Gabe had moved to sit on the armrest, his aura blanketing him and shielding him from the worst effects of the quarrel. Sam quietly turned to face him more, grateful for the inadvertent help on his part.
"They're both pretty intense people. It only makes sense they'd argue like…well, that," Sam said, waving his hand in their direction.
They both watched Dean and Cas lean towards the other, frowning and scowling as their voices lowered to furious hissing. From the right angle and dimmer lighting, it would've looked as if they'd been locked in a passionate embrace, and Sam snorted at the thought.
"Sorry about earlier."
Sam glanced upward at Gabe, who was picking at his nails and avoiding his gaze.
"It's alright," he said, gently nudging him with his elbow, "Dean's a jackass to a lot of people, and he's irritated plenty of people before you."
Gabe scowled, a wave of self-disgust coursing through his aura.
"That's still not a very good excuse. I didn't mean to upset you," he said forlornly, sad eyes briefly cutting to him before glancing away.
His lip was probably all torn up from all the chewing he'd done in the past hour. It was a miracle Sam hadn't tasted blood yet. He chewed, and tugged on his fringe, and generally ran through all his nervous habits as he tried to come up with the right words to say.
Arguing with Jess had been passionate, and then violent towards the end. She'd liked to throw stuff at him in those final few months, and Sam had grown used to debates ending with him ducking and dodging whatever she could get her hands on.
With Gabe, things were different. For one, real arguments were few and far between (so far at least; they had only known each other for a few weeks), but beyond that their anger seemed to fizzle whenever they did get into it. Sam couldn't bring himself to be mad at Gabe for long, and it seemed to operate that way in return for Gabe.
It didn't help that Dean and Cas were still going at it, their hands now clenched in each other's collars. Sam's brain was stuck between navigating the emotional minefield he'd landed in with Gabe and keeping an eye on the people who seemed to be one step away from either making out angrily on his poor counter or throwing fists.
God, let it be fists if it does escalate. I don't want to have to disinfect the counter.
"Upsetting me is inevitable," he said, deliberately laying his hand on Gabe's knee and drawing his attention, "What matters is that you acknowledged that you were being a jerk and that you apologized. So, you're good in my books."
Gabe visibly mulled over his words. Sam wondered if the P.I's hesitation came from his lack of meaningful relationships (because between being a foster kid and going straight to never-ending city hopping, how could he?), then put a stop to that line of thought. It made his stomach burn uncomfortably.
"That sounds logical," Gabe said after a minute, face brightening visibly, "You're pretty smart, kiddo."
Sam smiled, hiding the way the P.I's words made him feel suddenly and terribly sorry for him for a single moment. How had he missed Gabe's utter lack of knowledge regarding healthy relationships?
Because he's so good at forming shallow connections, and I'm not exactly the world's leading relationship expert.
He didn't have the heart to mention any of this to Gabe now, but Sam vowed to himself that he'd show Gabe how good things could be between them if he'd let him. Sam didn't want Gabe to treat him like just another fleeting name and face in the sea of people he'd met in his travels. He didn't want him to continue living like this; adrift and secluded, with only a car to his name and a long list of cases that noted his assistance somewhere in files no one would touch again once they were closed.
"Sam?"
"Right here," he said, stuffing away the tumultuous feelings swirling in his chest down for later (because he'd probably start clinging to Gabe if he focused on them any longer), "Sorry."
Gabe shook his head in fond exasperation, the amused smile tugging on his lips so delightful that Sam couldn't help but watch it.
"Now you're apologizing. But I just wanted to let you know that they're pretty close to potentially consummating your poor counter."
Sam turned to look at the pair that were now clearly not arguing and were instead looking almost lovingly into each other's eyes, speaking in hushed tones as their fingers brushed on his counter. Their position would've been almost cute if it weren't for the fact that he and Gabe were in the vicinity and not interested in witnessing the shenanigans that could potentially ensue.
Gabe snickered as he gaped in indignation (this was his apartment!), before toppling off the armchair in fits of laughter as Sam stood and pointed a finger at them.
"Get off of my counter!"
…
After what would forever be immortalized as the Breakfast Bar incident occurred and Dean and Cas had recovered from their embarrassment, everyone decided that the best course of action was to get out of the apartment. Sam was the first to point out that it wasn't quite comfortable enough to hold four grown men, and he didn't want them eating him out of house and home. His brother's stomach was grumbling ominously, and even Cas looked peckish beneath the morose look he was giving the coffee machine. In all the hullaballoo, he'd never actually gotten a chance to get the coffee started.
Dean had picked up on Cas' glum state and suggested they all head out for some comfort food (and coffee for you, Cas) at a diner similar in style to the Roadhouse, but further out on the eastern edge of the city. Sam had heard of it (and privately thought that the Roadhouse had always been superior to it), but he could appreciate Dean's attempts at diplomacy. It was right off the highway that would take Gabe back to North Heights, and it wasn't too far from East Center, so it wouldn't take him forever to get back.
The sun was beginning to set when they head out, bathing Lawrence in a sheen of red that made Sam uneasy. Spring sunsets weren't typically so violent here, and the blood-red and orange shades hit a bit too close to home and the trouble the city was currently embroiled in.
"Looks like the city's on fire," Gabe remarked as they drove through East Center. Dean and Cas were a few cars ahead in the Impala, leaving them to follow in the Beetle.
"It does," he replied softly, eyes trailing over the buildings melting by. The atmosphere had shifted a bit; at some point, Lawrence had gotten warier, and the sunset was highlighting the tense undercurrent that coursed through the streets. Pedestrians were moving faster now, eager to get home before the night came.
All because of one killer.
Gabe seemed to sense his inner turmoil because within a minute, he had some old 80's synth-pop playing to jolt him out of his funk.
"Dean would kill you if he ever heard this," Sam said incredulously as the music swamped the car in a cacophony of sound.
"What he doesn't know won't hurt him," Gabe said, teeth flashing as he gave him a no-fucks-given smile.
Sam rolled his eyes to hide the warmth that quick as a whip smile brought to his face. Nonetheless, he mumbled some of the cheesy lyrics beneath his breath because Ash and Jo had liked to play them in the break room as a joke.
Charlotte's Diner was smaller than the Roadhouse had been, the inside lit up in a garish flood of fluorescent lighting. Charlotte herself had died some decades before (Sam couldn't recall what year Ellen had said), but the subsequent owners had never bothered to change the name. The large neon sign overhead that proclaimed the name of the diner was still going strong and could be seen over a mile away, so what was the point?
Dean pulled in sloppily, as he always did. Unlike Gabe's similarly crappy parking, Sam knew his brother did it to be a jerk asshole. Owning a classic car gave him the impression that he could throw his weight around, but if he was being honest, Dean had never needed Baby as an excuse to throw his weight around.
"Not a fan?" Gabe asked as they got out, and Sam made a so-so face as he stretched his legs.
"I was always partial to the Roadhouse," he said nostalgically, eyes unfocused as he gazed at the cotton candy blues and pale greens that made up the diner's atmosphere. He missed the steely blues of the Roadhouse.
Gabe patted his shoulder sympathetically, hair and aura picking up the colors of the sunset and turning a tint of orange as a ray of light hit him just right.
"Let's hustle people! I'm starving," Dean said, interrupting the moment with a couple of slaps to the top of the Beetle.
"Insensitive prick-" the P.I mumbled before being cut off by Sam's well-placed elbow.
"Please play nice right now. For me?" he asked as they headed inside.
Gabe eyed him for a second before groaning and running a hand dramatically over his face.
"I hate it when you give me those puppy dog eyes. It's unfair!"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Sam said innocently, and Gabe said "Mhmm" before sighing.
"I'll try. Only for you," he said with a stern gaze, earning a brilliant smile.
They sat at a booth that had seen better days, the Winchesters naturally pairing off so that they sat next to their respective partners. The conversation was muted as they ordered food and drinks, as the strangeness of the situation finally sunk in. Gabe and Dean barely knew each other and disliked what they did know about the other and combined with the varying degrees of knowledge they all had on each other, it made for a largely quiet table.
At least, until Dean put his foot in his mouth. Sam had been expecting it really, what with his brother's nature for conversational blunders, and as such, could only be thankful the ancient waitress had already taken their orders before it happened.
"So, Milton," he started, the P.I's surname sounding like a dead weight on his tongue, "How'd you get into the private eye business? Got a tragic backstory like us Winchesters?"
It was a pointed question; Dean's aura revealed that much, but it was mostly born out of curiosity that his brother just couldn't reign in any longer. Dean was obtuse to a fault; a bull in a china shop when it came to a conversation that didn't involve flirtation.
That didn't stop Sam from fixing a medium-grade bitch face at him, or Cas from hissing "that's insensitive!" out from the corner of his mouth.
"I guess it's kind of tragic," Gabe said, looking much calmer than he'd been anticipating. His face was perfectly in character; genial and a touch smug, but his aura revealed his indignation at the question, "Not as tragic as a serial killer, mind you, but it rates a moderate 5 or 6 on the sob story scale."
Oh dear, Sam thought as Dean's lip twitched. It had been a good, evasive answer, but Dean could never control himself when Yellow Eyes was brought up, whether directly or indirectly, I don't want to have to break up a fight in this cliché diner.
"Dude, quit it," he said, nudging his brother's leg beneath the table in an attempt to curb what would no doubt be a knee jerk reaction, "Let's just eat, okay?"
Dean's smile looked perfectly normal to outsiders, but his green eyes had darkened slightly above what might as well have been rows of shark teeth.
"Of course, Sammy," he said, eyes still fixed on Gabe, "I'll just have to talk to him later."
Something snapped in Sam. Maybe it was his brother's eyes or the fact that he highly doubted Dean could have any sort of civil conversation with Gabe on their own. Whatever it was, it made him want to stop all of this in its tracks before Dean got any more convoluted ideas in his head.
He was lucky that they had both seated themselves at their respective ends of the booth because it made it that much easier to drag his brother up and out from the table by the collar of his stupid leather jacket. The motion was so fast and unexpected on both of their parts (Sam didn't like to get physical in public like this) that Dean didn't have time to protest or drag his heels.
Sam could sense a flurry of activity in Gabe's aura, and hear him attempt to get up, but surprisingly, Cas told him to sit. He didn't have time to register much more than that before the diner became a chrome and white blur around them, replaced by the red sky in what felt like a heartbeat.
"What the fuck's up with you?" he demanded, dragging his brother toward the Impala and tossing him onto the hood.
Dean caught himself before he slammed too hard into the hunter green top, his face shocked and partly pissed as he began to regain his senses.
"What the fuck's up with me? I should be asking you that question!" he exclaimed, aura kicking up around him like the roaring green waves of a rapid river.
"Me? I'm doing just fine! You're the one being the asshole. What's your problem?"
Dean scoffed, straightening the flipped collar of his jacket before stepping back away from him, towards the driver's side of the Impala.
"He's the problem!" he yelled, pointing a wild finger towards the diner and Gabe. "I've tried to keep my nose out of your business, and I haven't raised too much of a fuss over this dude-"
Sam scoffed in disbelief, and Dean's face twisted in response as he swung his arm over to point his finger at him.
"You can't let yourself get caught up in this guy, Sammy! I saw how Jess left you all messed up, and if you think I'm just going to stand by and let someone else fuck you up again, then are we even brothers?"
Dean's chest heaved as anger and brotherly concern and worry swirled around him in a riot of green color that clashed with the red sky.
Sam's mouth went dry as he took in his brother's words, a different, nervous feeling bubbling in his gut. There was no way Dean was saying what he thought he was saying.
"What…what makes you think this is like Jess?"
Dean blinked before snorting, a wry smile curling his lips and easing the indignant anger that swirled around his shoulders in shades of dark green.
"I'm not blind, Sammy," he said, leaning back against the hood and bracing his arms. The tables had been turned, putting Sam on the defensive. "You got the same love-sick expression around him as you did with Jess."
Dean's expression turned uncomfortable, "I didn't really peg it at first cause, uh, Milton's a guy, but I figured it out today."
Sam flushed, his fingers curling and uncurling into fists by his side. His mind had blanked, frozen by the fact that Dean knew.
"It doesn't matter to me if you like guys or not," Dean said hurriedly, misreading the reason he'd frozen up. "I don't give two flying fucks about that Sammy! Lisa told me that I'm too overprotective, but I'm concerned, and-"
"Oh, so now you've dragged in Lisa," Sam snapped, more out of the sake of arguing than out of any feelings he had toward Lisa.
"You know it's not like that. I wouldn't even be talking semi-coherently about half this shit without her help," Dean groaned, sounding more tired and confused than angry now, "I didn't even want to believe her when she said you had a crush, but now it's in my face, so I've gotta listen to everything else she said!"
"And what exactly did she say?" he asked, curiosity now tugging at him more than anger.
Dean sighed, rubbing his hands over his face before looking skyward. He kept his gaze fixed up there at the bloody sky as he spoke, too uncomfortable to look him in the eye.
"She said that I should worry more about our own-relationship-than anyone that you want to date," he said, aura twisting around and around like a corkscrew around his frame, wound up tight like his tense shoulders and pressed mouth, "She also said that if there was anyone that was a far from Jess as possible, it would be Gabe, so I shouldn't worry."
He dropped his chin, huffing with sudden indignation as he crossed his arms.
"But I don't know how to stop worrying. I've always worried about you, Sammy. That's my job," Dean stated, "And I don't know how he's the furthest from Jess when I don't know anything about him. All I know is that he's a weird P.I consultant thing and that he looks at you like-like-hell like you put the damn moon in the sky or something!"
The last words sounded like they'd pained Dean on the way out, but he said them regardless as he flung a hand upward to point at the half-moon rising above.
Sam flushed. He didn't have any words for his brother, because both he and Lisa were right in their own ways.
Gabe probably was the furthest he could get from Jess. Everything, from their backgrounds to their personalities, was different; hell, Gabe being a guy took him just another step further from her. And Dean was right in that he didn't know anything about Gabe, and if there was one thing his brother hated, it was not knowing everything about anyone and anything that could do him harm.
None of that changed how he felt about Gabe though, or the fact that he wasn't going to let Dean treat Gabe like a potential risk when he'd already determined that Gabe was a risk he could accept.
Sam didn't know how to say all this and more to Dean. Verbal communication wasn't their strongest suit, and Dean's aura showed that he was already stretched thin as it was with what had been said so far.
"He's not like Jess," Sam finally managed to say, "He's not."
Silence fell between them as they looked at each other, breath misting into white clouds as the temperature dropped with the onset of night. The red sky was just about gone, turned mauve and indigo within minutes overhead. One of the many neon signs behind them buzzed, the sound cutting through the ambient city noises around them.
"You deserve better Sammy," Dean said, breaking the silence. His eyes were unreadable, but his aura was more than enough.
It hurt to look at it because Sam had believed that they'd grown distant over the past couple of years, but his brother stood before him just as worried and anxious over his well-being as if nothing had ever come between them. For a moment, it was almost like he'd never left home.
"What I deserve has nothing to do with it," he said, swallowing heavily, "For the first time, in a long time, I feel happy Dean. Let me have that."
Dean flinched, face twisting up in guilt for a single moment before he looked down at his feet.
Sam waited patiently, a soft breeze tugging at his jacket. It carried a cold nip to it that made his shiver just the slightest. He wanted to go back inside now, but Dean had to make the final concession here.
"If he hurts you, I'll make him disappear," his brother finally said, shoulders slumping in defeat as he looked up with determined eyes.
His aura confirmed his honesty that he would probably follow through on that threat, but Sam could care less at that moment. After all, Gabe fell under his protection, and Dean would have a tough fight trying to get through him first.
He pulled his brother into a rough, back-slapping hug, keeping it short so Dean didn't freak out too much. Sam was glad to see that his stormy aura had settled down to just about normal, with only a blip of protectiveness popping up here and there.
"You know, it's pretty insane for you to be happy when a serial killer is running around," Dean remarked, pulling away just enough to clap his hands on his shoulders.
"Yeah, it is pretty fucked up," Sam admitted.
"Well, that's alright," Dean said nonchalantly, slinging an arm around his shoulder and steering him back towards the diner, "You're no more fucked up than the rest of us."
It took him a moment to determine that the 'us' Dean was referring to was the four of them at the diner, but by that time, he was already back inside and he couldn't think on it for long. Gabe was demanding to know what happened, his aura all worried and riled up, and Cas was already fussing at Dean in a remarkably domestic manner.
Sam didn't try to read too much into the possibility that maybe their unusual group dynamic could possibly be growing on Dean. Maybe, like the blood-red sunset, it was just a sign of the times.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
Editing that convo between Sam and Dean was so hard cause in the initial draft I'd skimmed over much of it. Basically, this whole chapter is just everyone swinging between arguing and having soft moments, cause they had a lot to get out of their systems, especially Dean!
Since it's Christmas Eve, it's a good time for me to wish everyone happy holidays for whatever you celebrate this season! This is my gift to you all, and I hope you are happy and safe wherever you may be!