"Welcome to the Jericho Public Library." Holding open the car door for Skye, Sam gestured grandly towards the single-story brick building sitting across the closely manicured lawn, the grass browning and half-dead. From Dean's description of her apartment, Sam wasn't surprised by how her eyes lit up at the sight of it. "Bookworm?"
Hands in the pockets of her denim jacket, Skye lengthened her stride to keep up with Sam's long legs, smiling over at him as she stepped up onto the sidewalk that ran to the front door from the nearly empty parking lot. "Autodidact with an eidetic memory and absolutely no social life."
That certainly fit with the 'pointless rambling about random bullshit' that Dean had been going off about. Also how she'd known Empire was outside of Modesto and had a population of about four thousand. Oh, and also the geese. The girl was like a walking, talking version of those random fact placemats you found in bars. "That explains a lot."
"Doesn't it just?"
Finally catching up with them, Dean had apparently caught the conversation but looked like he needed a translator. Considering Sam knew exactly how dumb Dean wasn't, he was willing to chalk it up to a lack of sleep and the cute girl in well-fitting jeans. That was just about enough to make anyone's brain fuzz a little. Snagging Sam's shoulder, Dean caught him up just short of the door, lowering his voice. "A what with a who now? What's that in English?"
Turning his head away, Sam pressed his lips together and took a deep breath, determined to stop laughing at every little thing. It wasn't easy, by any means, this was all just so ridiculously absurd. "She said she's smart and has an excellent memory."
"Like how smart is smart, you think?"
Hauling on the glass door, Skye propped it open with a foot before turning to look back at them, the corners of her lips twitching. There was smothered laughter bubbling up and thickening her voice when she spoke, though whether it was mocking or honest amusement, Sam couldn't quite tell, "...like, 174 full-ride Harvard kinda smart. Also, I have excellent hearing. ...oh, and also perfect vision. Look, you've learned somethin' else about me. Isn't learning fun?"
"Just fuckin' shoot me now, Sam."
It only took a minute for Dean to find the computer bank tucked in the back corner of the building. Like small-town diners, small-town libraries were all pretty much the same. The same hushed atmosphere, the same scent of old books, the same lowkey panic from students desperately trying to finish last-minute school work.
Picking a spot as far away from the few other patrons as possible, Dean grabbed a rolling chair and pushed it over to the computer at the far end of the row before throwing himself in front of it, beating Sam to the punch.
Ignoring his Sam's exasperated sigh, Dean settled in and pulled up the search engine as Sam settled into a chair next to him. Skye didn't bother with a chair at all, instead taking up a position on the far side of Sam, as far away from Dean as she could get and still hope to see the screen.
Smothering an exasperated sigh of his own, the click of the keys beneath Dean's fingers went quiet as he rolled his eyes in her direction, "I thought we established that I don't bite."
Wrapping her hands around the edge of the table, she leaned forward to peer around Sam, looking at Dean with an insolent grin, "Funny, I thought we established that you do."
Was she flirting? Because that felt like flirting. Or at least teasing... Choosing to ignore the possibility was easier than ignoring the heat creeping up the back of his neck. Christ, he hadn't blushed so much since he was a teenager. Hell, until very recently, he hadn't been sure he was still capable. It was not a pleasant surprise.
Silence rose up around them, broken only by the occasional shuffle of paper and murmur of voices from among the stacks as Dean started typing again, pulling up the website for the Jericho Herald. It only took a few minutes to search several variations of 'female homicide Centennial Highway' with no results.
"Let me try." Reaching over and grabbing the mouse out from Dean's hand, Sam tried to weasel his way in and take over.
"I got it." Smacking at Sam, Dean tried to wrest it back but ultimately failed when Sam simply grabbed his chair and gave him a shove, sending him rolling several feet and giving Sam more than enough time to take his place. Pursing his lips, Dean gave up and wheeled over to take the empty spot at Sam's side, giving him a smack in the arm for his trouble. "Dude. You are such a control freak."
"Ain't that just the pot callin' the kettle black?" Crossing her arms, Skye didn't even try to hide the fact that she was laughing at them. Not that Dean could really blame her and hey, at least she was in a good mood. Shaking several loose strands of hair out of her eyes, she turned her attention to Sam, the giggle fading but a smile still firmly in place. "So, ghosts and spirits and whatever are usually the result of a tragic or violent death, right?"
"Yeah, how'd you know that?" Smiling back, Sam answered, looking thrilled that she was asking questions and getting involved. Dean was considerably less so. He'd feel a lot better about the whole thing if she'd just keep her nose out of things. Maybe he could get her to agree to go grab a room somewhere cheap and hang out while he and Sam worked the case. ...yeah. Right.
"I'm not the only one that rambles." Rolling his eyes at the implication, Dean bit his tongue, refusing to give in to the urge to object. He did not ramble. Grumbling to himself, Dean leaned back in his chair and made the conscious decision to not glare as she finished her thought, "You remember what I said about Cry Baby Bridge?"
"...I see where you're going. Let me check."
Well Sam might, but Dean didn't. The chair beneath him squeaked as he sat up, clearing his throat to get their attention, "Someone wanna clue me in here?"
"Maybe we're not looking for a murder." Sam leaned back in his chair, gesturing toward the screen as it popped up with a single search result. "Maybe we're looking for a suicide." With a final click of the mouse, Sam pulled up the news article, "One Constance Welch, 24, jumped off Sylvania bridge and drowned in the river back in '81."
"Does it say why she did it?"
"Uh...yeah," Sam scrolled for a second as he looked for the answer to Dean's question, "An hour before they found her, she'd called 911. Her two kids were in the tub. She left them alone for a minute and when she came back, they weren't breathing. Both died. 'Our babies were gone and Constance just couldn't bear it,' said husband, Joseph Welch."
"Yeah. That'd do it." Pushing his chair back, Dean sunk down in his seat, legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankle as he contemplated this new piece of information.
Leaning closer to Sam, Skye reached for the mouse, her hand hovering a few inches from Sam's before she stopped to ask permission, "May I, Sam?"
"Of course."
Without hesitation, Sam relinquished his chair so she could sit, grabbing another one for himself. Well wasn't Sam just such a gentleman. At least they seemed to be getting along. Very well, in fact, like a house on fire. And that certainly didn't have anything to do with why Dean was getting a little cranky. Exactly how long you gonna keep lying to yourself? As long as heavenly possible, thank you, and probably long past the point where it was just stupid. Stupid was good. He could do stupid. He was good at stupid.
Watching her skim the page a couple of times before scrolling back up to contemplate the picture attached to the article, Dean noted the vague frown lines etching themselves into her forehead and yup, there went the hair. If she ever kicked that habit, she'd be great at poker, though for now it was a great sign that she was thinking too hard about something and he was grateful for it. "What's on your mind, Tinkerbell?"
He almost thought she hadn't heard him, but that idea was quickly dispelled when she slowly spun her chair around to face him. Leaning forward, she sat with her elbows resting on her knees and just looked at him for a long moment before speaking, "Why Tinkerbell, Winchester? Of all things, why am I a fuckin' glitter pixie?"
She had to know that the more she protested, the more likely it was to stick. Right? "Because you're tiny and annoying." And really cute when you're mad. Pretty sure he didn't say that last part out loud.
Lips pressed tightly shut, she watched him through narrowed eyes and he could see her thinking over and discarding several replies before she finally opened her mouth. "...whatever."
Feeling like he'd won that argument, Dean decided to go the mature route and stuck his tongue out at her, getting a middle finger in response and temporarily forgetting what had started the conversation in the first place. At least until Sam spoke up. "What were you wanting to say, Short Stuff?"
"I don't know, it's just-" Hesitating, Skye leaned back, pulling a leg up to her chest and wrapping her arms around a knee as she slowly swiveled back and forth, only glancing up to check that they were still listening. "Those kids seem awfully old for an accidental tub drowning."
Maybe she did have more tells than just the hair. Or maybe she was finally starting to relax around them just the tiniest bit. But why was she getting self-conscious now? She certainly hadn't hesitated to share her opinions up to this point.
...or had she? Come to think of it, aside from some general opinions on pop-culture and some incredibly detailed and specific ones about Dean, she hadn't really done that either. Sure she talked a lot, but when it came down to it, she said absolutely nothing. Now that's an aggravating talent.
"What makes you say that?" Sitting up in his chair, Sam looked thoughtful, giving Skye his full attention like she'd said something that piqued his interest. Wait, what had she said? Something about accidental tub drownings? Maybe Dean really should pay attention. If you paid closer attention, you'd have a restraining order. ...creepy and possibly uncomfortably accurate. Great. He really was going to end up on a list somewhere. Or start day drinking. Maybe he just needed to get laid? Yeah. That was the problem.
"It just-It feels fucky to me." The faint squeal of a worn spring and the rustle of cloth faded as Skye stopped fidgeting. If Dean hadn't been as focused as he was on the details and mostly ignoring the actual conversation, he'd never have seen the apprehension that sparked behind her eyes, quickly lost in the grin she flashed Sam. "I've just done a lot of babysittin' and dealt with a lot of kids and somethin's not right. Babies and toddlers drown in the tub on a depressingly regular basis, but older kids is fairly rare, unless maybe the kids had some kinda developmental issue."
And just like that, Dean felt another little piece of the puzzle fall into place. Oh my God, she's shy. It would certainly fit with everything else. She'd been doing a pretty good job of hiding it under a thick layer of sarcasm and bitchiness, but there wasn't a doubt in Dean's mind that he was right. Well, that was good to know. Would have been better to know sooner, but good to know.
Okay, he really needed to pay attention. And maybe actually join the discussion. At least that was easy enough. "Like how much babysitting is a lot?" The smile hovering around Skye's lips twitched, faltering for a split-second and Dean realized that might have sounded more critical than he'd intended. Or rather, that she might take it that way. He wasn't quite sure if she was really that touchy or if he just came off as way more of an ass than he meant to. ...probably a little of both.
"Just want to know how much experience you've actually got." Yeah, that came out so much better. Resisting the urge to facepalm so hard it hurt, Dean ran a hand through his hair and tried to figure out a way to reassure her without coming off like he was trying to reassure her and mostly just succeeding in giving himself a headache,"I meant-"
"I've been certified in CPR and first aid for infants and children since I was twelve." Crossing her arms, she leaned back in her chair and looked at him, leaving him the most uncomfortable feeling that she could maybe read him a lot better than he could read her. Because that wasn't a terrifying thought. And he was pretty sure she was laughing at him. Again. Though this time it didn't feel like she was mocking him, which made for a nice change of pace. "Also a food handler's license. The classes were free and people pay more for someone that knows the heimlich maneuver."
"Smart." Leaning his head back, Sam stretched his legs out, lacing his fingers together on his stomach and looking approvingly at Skyler, "So what are you thinking, Constance killed the children and then herself?"
"Yeah, that's what I'm thinkin'. Postpartum depression or even psychosis, maybe. It happens more than you'd think and it hasn't been studied as widely as it should be. Women's issues are often dismissed by the medical community and-" Cutting herself off, Dean could practically hear her jaw snap shut as she caught herself starting to go off on a tangent. "Call it intuition or whatever, but I'll bet you boys dinner that I'm right."
"Alright, let's go check it out."
