Chapter Six
Sam had hoped that Hank Reynolds would be more cooperative with them if they showed him the yearbook they'd found. He had hoped that Hank would be able to tell them who Piggy was. He had hoped to get some answers. But all that hope was slowly draining away as Dean pulled the Impala up next to a squad car parked in front of the Reynolds' bed and breakfast. Mary Reynolds was talking with two police officers. She looked distraught, puffy eyed and tear stained. She was hugging herself and trying to wipe away the tears from her face with a tissue. Sam didn't like the look of this.
Getting out of the car, Sam and Dean walked towards the small crowd that was starting to gather. Lucille, the waitress from the diner, was standing back, watching the scene. Dean nudged Sam and then headed in her direction. Sam blew out a breath, hoping this confrontation with the tough waitress would be better than their last meeting.
"Have the day off today?" Dean asked, sliding in beside Lucille. Sam went to stand next to his brother, but kept his eyes on Mary Reynolds. He had a feeling that whatever information they had planned on getting from the Reynolds' had just gone out the window.
Lucille turned questioningly towards Dean, but seemed to recognize him immediately. She scoffed and looked back towards the cops. "Still alive, I see," she said casually. "That's longer than I would have expected."
Dean let out a sarcastic laugh. "You're breaking my heart, here." He feigned injury, though the smile was still wide on his face. Lucille even cracked a bit of a smile at his antics, but didn't turn to look at him again. Dean nodded his head towards Mrs. Reynolds. "You know what's going on?"
Lucille looked at him, pretending to look angry, but there was a small amount of amusement in her eyes. "Oh, so now you're using me for the scoop on the town? And here I thought all you wanted was my body."
Sam rolled his eyes. This could go on all day. Dean had no problem flirting for hours on end and Sam didn't think Lucille would either. His brother, as much as a Casanova as he thought he was, had never really had luck with the ladies. Sure, there were a few who had begun to flirt back, and even a couple who had shown interest in him. But with the life Dean lead, it was hard to get any sort of a relationship started. Maybe it wasn't Dean's lack of luck for the ladies, but rather his lack of luck for the ability to form relationships. It wasn't something Sam and Dean talked about much. Sam had asked him if he'd ever had a girlfriend when they were both teenagers, but Dean had told him that he'd come to terms with the fact that he knew he'd never have time for girlfriends, let alone a wife or a family. It was sad, and perhaps that had been another adding factor to why Sam had left for college.
"I'm a good multi-tasker," Dean grinned and Lucille shook her head, though she let out a chuckle. Sam urged his brother mentally to get to the point, ready to step in if Dean didn't. But, Dean didn't need the encouragement. He cleared his throat and nodded towards Mary Reynolds again. "So, what happened?"
Lucille sighed. "Hank's missing again," she said.
"Again?" Sam spoke up, leaning forward to look around Dean at Lucille. The waitress seemed to notice him for the first time, eyeing him like he had popped out of nowhere.
"Yeah," she said almost snappily. Sam frowned at her. He didn't like being snapped at. But Lucille paid him no attention. "He wanders off sometimes. With his Alzheimer's and everything. Last time it took them nine hours to find him. He was walking up the highway, saying he was going to go visit his mother." Lucile snorted. "She's been dead for forty years."
"Mary looks upset," Dean said. Sam thought that was the understatement of the year. Mary was hugging herself, openly weeping and shaking her head. The police weren't getting much out of her and one had gone off to tell some other officers where to look. The officer that stood near her was holding her arm as if she would fall if he let her go.
Lucille nodded. "With all the killings going on, I guess she has every right to be upset."
"Yeah," Dean agreed. Sam and Dean glanced at each other, not wanting to say it out loud, but they both knew what the other one was thinking. Hank Reynolds was going to be added to the victims list unless they could get out there and kill this ghost right now. Though Sam didn't know how they'd find Hank once the ghost was gone. One could only hope that the answer would show itself to them before another body was found.
Dean sighed and stepped under the police tape. Sam looked at Lucille, who didn't look shocked at all over what his brother had just done. Instead, she looked at Sam, expecting him to follow. Sam snorted and followed his brother.
The officer holding Mary held up a hand as Dean approached. "Sir, you can't be back here right now," he said.
Mary looked up and as she spotted Sam and Dean, she patted the officer on the arm. "No, it's okay," she said between sobs. "They're going to find my Hank," she said, looking directly into Sam's eyes. He tried to look as assuring as possible as he nodded. Truth of the matter was, Sam thought Hank was already dead. But he'd never tell Mary that. Let the woman have her hope. The officer eyed them warily, but finally nodded and Mary walked over to them, patting each of them on the arms, smiling and nodding. "You boys will find my Hank, won't you?"
"Hopefully," Dean said, his voice soft. Sam could hear the hesitation in his brother's voice. Dean thought it was a lost cause too. "But we need to know what happened."
"I don't know," Mary said, running a hand over her face. "I went inside to make sandwiches for lunch. Hank usually eats turkey on Thursdays, but I thought that I'd surprise him and give it to him today." She was babbling, but Sam thought she had the right to. "And when I came out he was gone. I just went in for five minutes." Her voice suddenly broke and she shook her head violently. "It was that ghost, I know it was. She's got him."
Dean's eyes widened a little at that and Sam knew he had caught it too. "She?" he asked, trying to get Mary to look him in the eye. "Mary, she who?"
Mary looked up at him. "What?" she asked, as though she didn't know what Dean was talking about.
"You said i she's got him /i . She who?" Mary just looked at him blankly.
Sam took a step forward. "Mary, do you know who the spirit is?" Mary shook her head and Sam wanted to reach out and shake some sense into her.
"No," Mary said, trying to get a hold of her crying. "No, I…I just know that thing has him." She grabbed onto Dean's jacket with both her hands, pulling him closer. Dean put his hands on her shoulders, obviously surprised at the older woman's strength. "Please just find my Hank."
"We will," Dean said, trying to pry her fingers off his jacket. Sam studied Mary's face. Maybe it had been a slip up? She was a distraught wife who had possibly lost her husband, it was a common thing to slip up words when you were that emotional. But, Sam had trouble convincing himself of that. Dean turned to Sam, clapping him on the stomach before turning to leave. "Come on," he said, heading back towards their car.
Sam frowned at his brother. It wasn't like Dean to just leave like that. But even as Sam thought it, Dean turned back around and looked thoughtful for a moment. "Mrs. Reynolds?" he called out. Mary looked at him. Dean ran a hand over his mouth as though he were searching his mind for the right question to ask. It was a tactic Dean liked to use often and Sam immediately knew what his brother was up to. The sneak attack. "Does the name Piggy mean anything to you?"
Mary Reynolds looked like the world had just fallen apart around her. And Sam knew it wasn't all because her husband was missing. She stared at Dean for a moment, eyes wide, mouth half open. After a moment, she shook herself out of it and without missing a beat, she spurted, "No. No, I don't know a Piggy." She was a horrible liar, but the way she had closed in on herself and stopped crying, Sam knew they wouldn't get anything else out of her, especially if they kept pressing.
Sam looked at Dean and recognized the look in his eyes. He was frustrated. But Dean kept his cool and nodded calmly at Mrs. Reynolds before turning and heading towards the Impala. Sam was right on his heels, looking back over his shoulder at Mrs. Reynolds, who had taken a seat on the sidewalk, her eyes still distant, lost in a memory.
When they were out of earshot, Sam whipped his head back towards Dean and said, "She knows something."
Dean nodded in agreement, but didn't say anything. He opened the door to the Impala and climbed in. Sam stood outside the car and Dean looked up at him, his window rolled down. "Get in," he demanded.
Sam just stared at his brother. "Dean, you can't be serious," he said, wondering what the hell his brother was thinking. "She knows something. We need to find out what's going on."
Dean started up the car, ignoring Sam's comment. He looked back up at him and Sam saw that determined look creep into his brother's eyes. He hated that look sometimes. "Sam, get in. She's not going to tell us anything while her husband's still missing. And I don't know about you, but I'd like to at least try to find him alive."
Sam couldn't believe what he was hearing. He felt like reaching out and smacking his brother. "But we have no idea what we're up against out there."
"Yeah we do," Dean said, the irritation evident in his voice. "An angry spirit, that's all we need to know. Now are you going to get in the damn car or am I going out there by myself?" Dean looked up at him, his face hard. Sam stared back at him defiantly. A million thoughts were racing through his head. He could only put up with Dean's impulsiveness for so long. This was the side of Dean that he absolutely hated.
"Dean, let's at least ask around a little more," Sam pleaded, his voice too angry to sound whiney. "Someone has to recognize the name Piggy, it's not like it's a common name or anything."
Dean sighed and Sam could practically see him counting to ten in his head. Dean's jaw was set tight and he knew that if he had been standing next to Sam, he'd be fighting the temptation to punch him. He was probably still fighting it, sitting down in the car. "Sam, it wasn't Mary Reynolds who was in that picture," Dean said slowly, trying to keep his anger in check. "If this spirit is killing the people who were in that picture, Hank Reynolds is the last one. We can still save him." The last sentence was said almost pleadingly and Sam stared hard at the side of his brother's face. Dean's eyes were focused on the steering wheel, begging Sam not to implore into the emotion behind them.
Sam took a deep breath, clenching his fists tight before he walked around to the other side of the car and climbed in. He slammed the door shut and bit the side of his lip. Dean started driving without another word. Both of the brothers were brooding, Sam knew it, but he couldn't help but feel angry. It was just like Dean to jump into something like this. Since when did he care more about Hank Reynolds than their own safety? But as Sam thought it, he realized he already knew the answer. With Dean, it wasn't a matter of their safety. Well, it wasn't a matter of his safety. Dean's issue with protecting his brother was a whole different can of worms. They were more than qualified to go up against this angry spirit, Sam knew that. But Hank Reynolds was just an old man with a failing memory. He was innocent, just like Jess had been and just like their Mom had been. Sam knew that's what was behind Dean's reasoning. No one had been there to save their Mom. But they were here and if they didn't try to save this man, it would make Dean's whole reasoning for the hunt seem like nothing.
As much as Sam hated jumping into things like this, he knew there was no stopping Dean when he got those thoughts into his head. Every person that died was just like their Mom to Dean. Just another person that Dean Winchester couldn't save. Dean had never said it, but Sam knew that's what he thought. He knew by the looks Dean got in his eyes when they found bodies instead of survivors. He wanted to smack his brother for thinking like that. He wanted to smack him and tell him that he wasn't superman, he didn't have to save everyone, he couldn't save everyone. But Sam didn't know how to make Dean see it. So he just got angry instead. Angry and broody, because that's what he did best. The Winchesters never were ones who talked about their emotions.
As they got closer to the woods where Adam Beaumont had disappeared, Sam decided that fighting before a hunt was never a good idea. He sighed, opting to be the bigger man in this situation, and that thought alone put him in a bit of a better mood. He looked over at Dean. "What's the plan?"
"The plan?" Dean asked, staring at the road ahead of them. "Go in there, lure it out, shoot its fucking head off and follow it back to wherever the hell it's taking its victims."
"What kind of a plan is that?" Sam asked, glaring at his brother.
Dean shot a wicked glance in his direction. "You got a better one?"
i Yeah, go and talk to everyone in town and find out who Piggy was and what happened to them /i . But Sam kept his mouth shut, knowing it would do nothing to help the situation. "No," he gave instead.
Dean nodded his head once and Sam let him have his victory for the moment. He looked out the window at the woods, wondering what they were going up against out there. Dean glanced over at him and Sam saw the look that was on his brother's face. Dean was worried. Sam looked away, not wanting to see that look. Because if he saw it, then he'd just feel sorry or get angrier. And right now, he just wanted to concentrate on what they were about to do.
But Dean wasn't going to let it go that easily. "Sammy, I need to know that you're with me," he whispered. Sam frowned. He hadn't expected that. He turned and looked at Dean, but his brother made a point of not looking back at him. "I got your back out there Sam, but I need to know you got mine."
It was a rare moment when Dean said things like this and Sam wasn't sure what to say back. Of course he had Dean's back. He'd always have Dean's back. How many times did he have to tell his brother that before he'd believe him? Had their relationship been screwed up that bad after the Roosevelt Asylum? Sam prayed that it wasn't.
"You know I do," Sam replied quietly. Dean gave a small nod of his head, taking a deep breath before he smiled. Sam already knew what he was thinking and couldn't help but smile too. "I think we just had one of your dreaded chick flick moments."
"Yeah, you sucked me into it," Dean grinned.
Sam scoffed. "You're the one who started it."
Dean shrugged. "Well, we'll have to weigh it out by shooting things. And maybe we should blow something up, just to be safe."
Sam laughed and Dean looked over at him with a satisfied smile on his face. Sam leaned forward, though, squinting as he spotted something at the side of the road, right where they were headed. As they got closer and he realized what it was, he smacked Dean's arm and said, "Looks like we got company."
Dean let out a small sound of annoyance as he pulled the Impala up behind the Oldsmobile parked at the side of the road. The figure sitting on the trunk looked over to them before hopping off and coming to greet them as they got out.
"Blaine," Sam said. "What are you doing here?"
"Take me with you," Blaine said bluntly, ignoring Sam's question. He looked first at Sam and then at Dean.
Shaking his head, Dean walked around to the trunk. "Look, man. We don't do the whole sidekick thing. So you should just head back into town. Help Mary out while they're looking for Hank." Dean was talking as he prepared the two shotguns and a few other accessories to take out with them.
"No," Blaine said, his voice strong but quavering slightly with emotion.
Dean poked his head around the car to look at Blaine. "What?" he asked sourly. Sam looked at Dean, surprised how much he had sounded like their father right then when Sam and Dean used to say something in defiance to him. Sam had hated that voice. But on Dean, it just made him look all the more powerful. Especially since Dean was talking to someone his own age. Sam had to hold back a smile.
"I said no," Blaine said slowly, staring Dean down. Sam had to give him credit. His brother could be a pretty scary guy when he wanted to be. Blaine wasn't even flinching. "I'm going with you."
"Like hell you are," Dean said, shaking his head and closing the trunk as they got the last of the supplies out. Sam shrugged a bag over his shoulder and held the shotgun down at the side of his leg. He looked over to Blaine and wondered how long the two of them could go at it.
"I won't get in the way," Blaine said, his face twitching with raw emotion. Sam felt bad for him.
Dean just looked frustrated. "Look, this isn't some slow ass ghost in a bed sheet," Dean pointed at the ground to punctuate his statement. It was also something their Dad used to do. "This thing is fast, its smart and its dangerous. You could get killed."
"I know," Blaine said, nodding. "But if it was you, wouldn't you want to go out there?"
Sam looked at his brother then, not knowing how Dean would react to a comment like that. Sam knew the answer of course. Dean would be out there in a heartbeat, hell bent on destroying every ghost in the country. And he'd probably die doing it. It was the same thing Sam would do. It was the same thing their Dad had begun doing before Sam went off to college.
Dean's jaw was clenching and unclenching. He was staring hard at Blaine, sizing him up, taking in the situation, weighing the pros and cons in his head. Sam would have found it comical if it wasn't such a sticky situation. Finally, Dean nodded his head. "Fine," he spat and Blaine seemed to relax instantly. "But you do everything I say, when I say it, no questions." Blaine nodded eagerly. Dean twisted his lips, obviously still uncertain about his decision. "You know how to use a shotgun?"
"I'm a fast learner," Blaine replied, a smile coming to his lips. Dean huffed but grabbed the back up shotgun and threw it at him.
"That's filled with rock salt. You have one shot." Dean walked over to him and put Blaine's hands on the spot where he was to hold the gun. "Here's your first lesson." Dean held the shotgun up, making Blaine move his hands with the motion. "Point," he said and pressed Blaine's hand against the trigger. "And shoot." Blaine nodded, looking down at the shotgun in his hands. Dean looked over at Sam. "Let's go," he said and started off for the woods.
Blaine looked up at Sam as he passed by and Sam gave him a quick smile before following his brother. Blaine was at his heels almost instantly.
The three made their way through the woods, Dean moving his eyes around like a hawk, watching for anything out of the ordinary. Sam had his video recorder out, looking for any signs of the ghost. Blaine was walking next to Sam, every once in a while looking at the screen. They made it to the spot where Blaine's brother had disappeared and Blaine bit his lip, looking around.
"Sammy, you getting anything?" Dean asked.
Sam, who had been spinning in a small circle, video recorder raised, shook his head. "Nothing. Not even interference." Sam put the camera down and looked over at Dean. "It's not here."
Dean looked at Sam with something akin to an apology in his eyes. But just as Dean was about to move forward, Blaine walked over to the side of the small clearing and tilted his head to the side. Sam walked over to him, looking at him before looking back out at the woods.
"What is it?" Dean asked, standing a few feet away, gun raised and ready.
"I hear something," Blaine whispered. His eyes were scanning the trees. Suddenly, they went wide and he started running into the woods. "This way!" he called to Sam and Dean.
"Wait!" Dean yelled. Sam looked at his brother, who was gritting his teeth in frustration, but both started running after the man.
Sam was struggling to keep Blaine in his line of sight. The man was fast and moved through the trees almost expertly. Sam was tall and had to keep ducking under branches and dodging trees trying to keep up with him. He called Blaine's name, but the other man wouldn't stop running. It was because of this, and whatever evil that was working against the, that Sam missed Dean falling behind. When Sam called Blaine's name one more time, yelling loudly, he missed the way Dean had stopped following and was now staring in the opposite direction, spotting something that Sam didn't know was there. And as Sam called Blaine's name one more time at the same time Dean called his, Sam missed the way Dean ran off in the opposite direction, both brothers thinking the other was right behind them.
After a good couple minutes of running, Sam caught up with Blaine, who had stopped and was now looking around. Sam came up next to him, panting. He grabbed Blaine's shoulder, angrily, and spun him around. "What are you doing?" he growled, still trying to catch his breath.
"I heard something," Blaine said, as if that should explain it all.
"What?" Sam almost yelled. "We didn't hear a thing."
Blaine shook his head. "I heard someone crying," he whispered and looked behind him. "A little girl."
Suddenly, Sam was struck with familiarity. His mind drifted back to the dream he'd had the other night. The little girl, crying, screaming, attacking. His eyes widened as he realized it hadn't been just another nightmare. It was actually coming true. Blaine was looking at him oddly, but Sam didn't have time to deal with him. He spun, ready to tell Dean of his revelation.
Sam's heart dropped when he didn't see Dean behind him. He whipped his head about, trying to spot his brother. "Dean?" he called, expecting Dean to come running up any second, out of breath and ready to yell at Blaine for running off. But he got no answer. "Dean!" he yelled louder. When nothing answered again, Sam turned to Blaine, who was wide eyed with fear.
As Sam was about to call Dean's name again, a shotgun blast echoed through the trees. Sam felt his chest constrict with fear and mounting anxiety. "Come on," he told Blaine, now not caring if the man was following him or not. But he heard Blaine moving behind him. He cursed himself. He should have known Dean wasn't behind him. He should have been paying attention to the sound of Dean's footfalls. But Dean had been trained to walk quietly. He'd thought…he'd thought wrong.
Running in the direction of the gun blast, Sam looked around almost frantically. "Dean?" he called, not caring if he was attracting the wrong kind of attention. Sam felt his stomach doing flip flops. This wasn't happening. Hank Reynolds was the last one in the picture, he was the last victim, there weren't supposed to be anymore. But, why then, had the ghost killed Harley Jensen and Adam Beaumont? Why had it attacked Dean in the electronics store, out of its killing grounds? Sam swore under his breath, trying not to be angry with Dean for making them come out here without proper preparation. How was Dean supposed to know this was going to happen? This was how they did it all the time. Rush in, make split second decisions. It was how they operated. It had always worked fine. Until now.
Sam knew he had to concentrate on figuring out where his brother had gone. But as his eyes spotted the discarded shotgun on the opposite side of the clearing, Sam knew. He knew in his heart and in his soul. As much as he didn't want to admit it, didn't want to accept it, he knew.
Dean was gone.