Chapter Twelve
They were driving to Scott Kingly's gravesite. Sheriff Wyatt had offered to drive Ken home, since the man seemed to be upset over what he had just witnessed. Sam couldn't blame him, really. Even though Ken had bad mouthed Bill Cummings, Sam had no doubt that the two had grown up together. It was a small town, people knew each other here, better than most people knew their friends. And Bill Cummings hadn't always been a drunk. A year ago, before his wife died, he'd been just like everyone else, not really a threat. Sam wasn't sure what he felt about the whole situation. He guessed he was still in a slight state of shock over it all.
They stopped at the motel and the gas station briefly to pick up some supplies. The car ride to the cemetery had been silent. Kate sat rigid in her seat, staring out at the road ahead of them, concentrating on driving and nothing else. Sam guessed she was trying to take her mind off what happened. Sam himself was still reeling over the whole situation. The only person who seemed to be completely over the shooting was Dean, who lay stretched out in the backseat, his head propped on the armrest attached to the door. He was dozing off and Sam wished that he could do the same. Dean had the remarkable ability to flip out about a situation one minute and then the next seemingly forget it ever happened. It was Dean's way of dealing with the horrors of what they did. He'd told Sam once that he couldn't let everything that happened on a hunt get to him. Dean apparently listened to his own advice. Sam wished he could do the same, though he was sure that Dean wouldn't completely forget it anytime soon, and he'd probably keep an extra eye on Sam for a couple of weeks.
Sam sat shotgun, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He was leaning against the door, his head against the window, watching the scenery pass by. He was trying to sort everything out in his mind. Scott Kingly was dead. He had been for a year. But not even two days ago, the man had helped Sam get his brother to a hospital. He'd sat with Sam while he waited to see if his brother would live or die. Sam had sat in the backseat of the man's fucking car, trying to keep his brother awake so he wouldn't sustain brain damage. It didn't make sense. It didn't make one bit of fucking sense. The man had been so real. How was it even possible? How was any of this even possible?
The Mothman was messing with them. Sam concluded that had to be the answer. Somehow, Scott was connected to the Mothman. Maybe he was a manifestation. Or maybe the Mothman brought him back, but for what? Was the Mothman even capable of bringing people back from the dead? He'd brought back Jess, even if it was only her voice on a phone call. Damn, his head was starting to hurt with all the unanswered questions.
One thing Sam knew for sure was that they were following the Mothman's trail like a royal pair of goddamn basset hounds. He was more certain than ever that the clues they had been following weren't anything more than a push in the direction the Mothman wanted them to go. He was leading them somewhere. To where, Sam didn't have a clue and he was beyond pissed off that it was taking so long. He thought, irritated, that if their father would pick up the phone for once, they'd be able to finish this a lot quicker and risk a lot less lives. But John Winchester never answered his phone, not anymore. Not after the countless pleading messages Dean left for him, not after Sam would call just to hear his father's voice for reassurance, and not even when Dean had called, begging their father to come to Lawrence and help. Sam had been surprised when his brother had admitted that he'd called their father. He knew that Dean tried to get through to him every once in a while, but to actually call and say the needed help, it just made Sam all the more angry at John. Dean didn't ask for help often, so whenever he did, it meant that he damn well fucking needed it. And their Dad hadn't even bothered to show up.
"What are you going to do?" Kate's voice broke into Sam's silent stewing. He rolled his head slightly on the window to glance at her. She still looked shell shocked. Sam couldn't blame her.
"We have to burn his bones," Sam said quietly, trying to force the anger out of his system. It wouldn't do them any good if he sat here all broody while they were supposed to be paying attention for any further signs about where to go. There was still one more clue left, and Sam wasn't sure what they'd find once all the clues were gone. He was anxious and nervous to find out.
Kate glanced over at him for a moment before her eyes went back to the road, dazed. "What? Why?"
Sam sighed. The poor girl was going to love this one. "Because two days ago Scott Kingly drove us to the hospital."
"What?" Kate spat, turning to look at him again. When Sam didn't say anything more, Kate let out a harsh laugh and looked away. "So, what, he's a ghost?"
"Or a phantasm, or a familiar," Sam thought out loud. "Either way, if we burn his bones it should dispel him."
"Do you think he's behind all of this?" Kate asked. "Do you think he's the Mothman?"
Sam thought for just a moment before sitting up in his seat and shaking his head. "No," he said honestly. "But I think he might be connected somehow. I just don't know how."
Kate shook her head as she turned the car onto a gravel road, heading towards the cemetery. "This is getting a little weird for me," she said, her voice quavering slightly. "What about the clues? You only have one left, right?"
"Yeah," Sam said and frowned. "'Do you see the birds?'" Sam recited the sentence as though it were a practiced line. It practically was, he'd repeated it so much inside his head that the words sounded strange when they were actually said out loud.
"What do you think that means?" she asked, turning onto another little side road and slowing down as they reached the cemetery. "Is someone supposed to say it, like the others?"
"I don't know," Sam shrugged and waited patiently as Kate parked the car.
She turned off the engine and turned to look in the backseat at Dean, who was fast asleep. "Should we wake him?" she asked, turning to look at Sam.
For a moment Sam thought about saying no and letting his brother get the sleep he so desperately needed. But his sensible side kicked in and he knew that if they were to let Dean sleep in the car and he woke up alone in a strange place, he'd probably freak out, especially if Sam wasn't in plain sight. "Yeah," he answered and maneuvered his torso between the two front seats. He reached a hand out and placed it gently on Dean's arm, fully aware that if his brother was spooked, even injured, Dean could very well snap his wrist. "Dean," Sam said softly. When there was no response, Sam gave his brother a slight shake. "Dean," he said louder.
This time, Dean's eyes opened slowly. They darted around the car before falling on Sam, who gave his brother a soft smile. Dean closed his eyes again, the tension that had seized his body ebbing away slowly, and reached a hand up to rub his face. He gave a slight groan as he pushed himself into a sitting position, still holding his head. After Dean had woken fully, he looked over at Sam again and gave his normal, cocky grin. "I love waking up to your ugly mug, buttercup," he reached out and gave Sam a playful shove. Sam reached and shoved him back, making Dean laugh and punch Sam in the arm, though not hard.
"Ass," Sam spat and ducked out of the car, shutting out whatever vulgarity his brother shot back in response. He looked over to Kate, who was waiting by the fence separating the parking lot from the graves. As Dean got out of the car, they walked over to her. "Where'd they say his grave was?" Sam asked her.
Kate scanned the area for a moment before she pointed towards a woodsy patch to their right. "Over there," she said and started walking towards it, but paused as a thought suddenly struck her. "Are you going to dig him up in broad daylight?"
Sam bit his lip and looked over at Dean, who just shrugged and said, "We were thinking about it." Kate didn't say anything more as Dean walked to the trunk and pulled out a shovel, the gasoline they'd stopped to pick up, and a handgun for himself. He shoved it into the back of his pants and closed the trunk.
"Why do you have to do this anyway?" Kate demanded.
"Because Caspar doesn't belong here," Dean answered, taking the shovel from Sam and slinging it over his shoulder.
"But he saved your life," Kate said.
Sam looked at Dean to see how his brother would react. Dean stared at Kate for a moment, eyeing her with irritation in his eyes. His jaw was tensed and Sam could see that Kate's words had struck Dean hard. He could tell that it was something Dean had thought about as well. Scott Kingly, or at least the ghost of him, had in fact saved both of their lives. There was no telling how long they would have had to wait out in the cold before another car came along to help them after the crash. But that didn't change the fact that he was a ghost. And John Winchester had ground it into their heads that a ghost was a ghost and no matter what they had to be dispelled.
"Well then we'll end his suffering," Dean said lowly. "It's bedtime for little Scottie." And that was the end of that as Dean shoved past Kate, rather harshly. Kate gave a loud scoff which Dean promptly ignored. He headed towards the gravesite. Kate turned to look at Sam, pleading with her eyes to get him to stop his brother.
"He needs to be put to rest," Sam said softly. Kate looked betrayed for a moment before she turned away from Sam and marched angrily after Dean. Sam sighed and followed.
They found Scott's grave beneath some birch trees. Sam set down the gasoline can and Dean held the shovel out to him. When Sam hesitated, Dean just grinned. "You owe me for Cairnes."
"You're never going to let it go, are you?" Sam asked, slightly amused but also irritated that the labor had been passed on to him. He should have expected it. Even if Dean had started digging, Sam would have made him stop anyway. Dean didn't need anymore physical work.
"Hell no," Dean said with a bob of his head as he sat down on a tombstone opposite Scott's. He ignored the glares that both Sam and Kate gave him. "I dig for hours, working my ass off, while you hook up with that Sorenson chick."
As Sam plunged the shovel into the ground, he turned and glared at his brother. "I didn't hook up with her," he defended softly.
"Yeah whatever, playboy," Dean said, crossing his arms over his chest, but not before pointing at the ground and saying, "Keep digging."
"Do you always take his shit like this?" Kate asked, coming over to stand by Sam.
He glanced up at her, but as Dean gave a quick, "Hey," he turned to look at his brother with a smile. Dean was pointed a finger warningly at her. "I'm the best brother he's ever had."
"Not like I had much to choose from," Sam teased. He dug the shovel in again and waited for Dean to respond. When he didn't, Sam turned and looked at him, worried that he'd hurt his feelings. But Dean wasn't even paying attention. He sat still on the headstone, arms crossed over his chest as they had been before, but his head was turned away from them and he was squinting at something. Sam whipped his head to see what had caught his brother's attention, hoping that it wasn't the Sheriff or someone coming to ask them what they were doing. When he didn't see anything, he looked back at his brother. "Dean?" he called, worried.
"Sammy," Dean said, not turning his head to look at them. Sam dropped the shovel, walking over to him. Dean lifted a hand and pointed to something. "Look." Sam stood next to him and followed his finger. His eyes glanced over gravestones and shrubs and flowers, but he didn't see anything out of the ordinary. He turned to look at his brother and Dean glanced at him before nodding his head towards the direction he was pointing. "Do you see the birds?" he stressed out, obviously reciting the final clue. Sam frowned and looked again.
Finally, he saw what Dean was pointing at. About forty feet away from where they stood was a tombstone that stood higher than the rest. It was oddly shaped, sticking out from all the other tombstones near it. It was stark white, with signs of weather aging. It stood about four feet in the air and branched out at the top only to come back together again in a spiral pattern. Someone had obviously spent a lot of money on it. But Sam ignored all of that as his eyes fell on the two porcelain white doves that had been carved out with extreme care and intricacy. The doves seemed to stick out, almost glow, their wings spread and facing the sky.
"Dean," Sam shook his head, fighting back the temptation to believe that this was the answer to their last clue. They couldn't jump to conclusions. They'd made it so far and if they made a mistake now, if they followed some red herring now, they could lose whatever chance they had at stopping whatever horrible tragedy the Mothman was trying to help them stop. He tried to ignore the small voice in the back of his mind that was urging him to believe that this was what they were looking for. "I don't know."
As soon as the words were out of Sam's mouth, a high pitched scream filled the air, the same high pitched scream that had sounded the night of the car accident. Not a second later, the tombstone Dean was sitting on suddenly cracked, sending Dean falling backwards, landing with a grunt on his shoulders as he rolled and lay flat on his stomach, wincing at not only the fall but at the screaming that was still echoing in the air. Sam covered his ears with his hands but stepped around the broken tombstone and stooped low to the ground over Dean, who was also covering his ears, grimacing when it seemed to do nothing to stop the sound from nearly shattering his ear drums.
But as quickly as it started, the screaming abruptly stopped and the three of them were frozen for a moment. Sam looked down at Dean, who looked up at him with a slow exhale of breath. Kate walked over to them. "What was that?" she asked, spooked.
"What do you think?" Dean grumbled as he pushed himself up into a kneeling position. He paused a moment to catch his breath, giving Sam a look that said he was sick of getting knocked around. Sam returned the look and stood up, watching as Dean got to his feet and brushed himself off. "He's telling us to play closer fucking attention."
"I never heard it scream like that before," Kate said softly. Sam turned to look at her and saw that she was hugging herself, staring at some invisible object in the distance. He walked over to her and put a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"Hey," he said gently. "It's all right."
"Like hell," Dean spat and Sam turned to glare at him, but his brother was already walking towards the oddly shaped tombstone with the birds. Sam turned back to Kate and saw that she had managed to pull herself together a bit. She smiled at him even.
Sam and Kate caught up with Dean at the tombstone and all three stood and stared at it for a while. There were two names engraved there. One, a woman's name, "Mary Newman," had both a date of birth and death beneath it. The other, the man's name, "Vincent Newman," had the date of birth, but not the date of death.
"He's still alive," Sam whispered as he squatted down in front of the tombstone and ran his fingers over the name. He turned to look up at Kate. "Do you know him?" he asked.
Kate looked at him, "Who? Vince?" she asked and when Sam just stared at her, she went on. "Yeah, he lives down the street from me. His son teaches at my daughter's school." Sam stood and looked at Dean to see if his brother was thinking the same thing he was. Apparently he was. "Why?" Kate asked, looking between the two of them.
"We need to pay him a visit," Dean told her and then headed towards the car.
"What about Scott Kingly?" Kate asked, falling into step with the two brothers.
Dean held up his hands. "We'll deal with him later."
The drive into town went quick and before they knew it, Kate was pulling into Vincent Newman's driveway. Sam and Dean got out of the car but Dean pointed a finger at Kate. "You wait here," he said commandingly. Sam looked at Dean from the other side of the car, wondering what he was doing. Leave Kate by herself? Oh yeah, that wasn't asking for trouble.
"Why?" Kate demanded, opening her door. Dean shoved it shut again, much to Kate, and Sam's, astonishment. He pointed at her through the window.
"Because we got our last fucking clue and if something's going to happen, it'll happen here," Dean said reverently. Sam startled a bit at the words. He hadn't even thought of that. Yeah, he knew it was the last clue, but did that really mean that the horrible tragedy was going to happen at this house? In the middle of a subdivision? It didn't seem right, but Sam couldn't push it aside. He had to be open to the possibility that Dean was right. He had to be alert.
"You can't go in there by yourself!" Kate yelled through the door. "Look what happened last time. Sam was almost killed!"
Dean looked over at Sam and they shared a gaze for a moment before Dean shook his head at Kate through the window. "Well then we got that out of the way," he said. "Stay here," he reiterated and Kate glared at him with both anger and fear for their lives.
Sam and Dean walked up to the front door. Dean withdrew the gun from the back of his jeans and tucked it into a more accessible place near his belt buckle. Sam waited until he was situated before he raised a hand, but he left it hovering over the door. "Are we sure about this?" he asked. "I mean, this isn't really out area of expertise. Maybe we should call the Sheriff."
"You're such a girl," Dean snapped and knocked on the door himself with a fist. He leaned towards Sam and added, "Try not to get shot."
Sam silently hoped he could comply.