Heard 'Round the World: Part 3 of ?

Disclaimer: Anything recognizable belongs to Kripke and Co. I wish I could do more than play with their toys...

Thanks to my reviewers, I love you all and hope that the length of this chapter makes up for the delay.

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The monotony of their everyday life was definitely getting to him, Sam decided as the Impala streaked past more acres of farmland. Find monsters, kill monsters, find more monsters, repeat step two. It was all blurring together under one big umbrella labeled 'Things Not To Tell Grandkids – Like You'll Live To Have Any'. Depressing really, but at least his subconscious had no trouble being blunt, unlike others', such as maybe the bullheaded, leather-wearing, witticism-spouting asinine excuse for a man sitting next to him, whose subconscious was so repressed that it ended up bulldozing its way out of the dark recesses of what Sam hesitated to call a mind and into his dreams, thusly making him scream like a banshee. Sam had now abandoned the idea that his brother was the next Patricia Arquette since it didn't fit the pattern Max and he had set, and was now stuck on the notion that Dean was having trouble dealing with what their asshole of a father – and Meg, of course... – had put them through in Chicago. For the millionth time, the brunette ran through every curse in each of the fifteen languages he was fluent in, wishing the worst luck on John-fucking-Winchester.

The man did nothing but bring his boys problems. He separated them from the rest of the world, was the indirect (if not direct) cause of every single bruise and broken bone the Winchester boys had ever suffered through in silence, had driven Sam away because he was not able to grant his youngest the four years of normal both Dean and John had been lucky enough to have, and now, to top it all off, he burdened Dean with abandonment issues deeper that the young man's love for his car.

Five years ago, when a seventeen-year-old Sam had dropped the bomb about going to Stanford, the brothers had verbally and physically hashed out all of their problems. Words were screamed, fists connected with various body parts, but by the end of the week, both sides had made their peace. Sam had explained his reasons and Dean gave his blessing after extracting a promise for a call every week. Daddy Dearest was the only wild card in their plan and one that refused to be swayed. So Sam had left, stormed out of the house after turning down Dean's offer of a ride with John's eyes on them, fearing that their father would take revenge on Dean for "helping the enemy".

Their system had worked for several months, Dean calling Sam every Saturday to make sure his brother was happy and adjusting. But all that ended on the twelfth call when John came into the motel room to find his son of the phone with the one who had abandoned their family. One verbal lashing for both boys later, as well as most likely a physical one for Dean (Sam remembered every drunken belt whip delivered to both of them and doubted their father had improved in ninety days) and Sam didn't get another phone call for the remainder of the time he was at college. He had tried his brother's cell every week for a while, leaving voicemails when it inevitably went to the answering machine, but finally faced the fact that he was now truly alone. Two days later, he met Jess and his life had light again.

John had abandoned Dean with no such forethought or consideration as Sam's two weeks notice. He had forced his eldest to survive from text message to text message, just disappearing on a hunt with no warning or explanation and leaving his boys to fend for themselves even after his youngest lost a girlfriend in a way horribly familiar to the Winchesters. He claimed he was searching for the demon responsible for the death of both of the family's women, but then where was he when the monster struck in California? Sam was doubting his father's words and intentions more each mile they traveled, but his current company halted him from expressing such "unfounded" criticisms.

Leaning his head against the cool window, he tuned out AC/DC's 'Back in Black' blaring from the speakers and closed his eyes tiredly. He had been thinking for the past hour and a half, which had given him a bitch of a headache, though it was most likely also partially the fault of Dean's deplorable choice in music; he seriously thought he was about to sprout a mullet any minute.

A sharp poke in the side caused him to jerk and hit his head hard against the unforgiving glass. Sam swore colorfully before turning to glare at the one responsible. Dean was smiling, and Sam half-expected to see yellow canary feathers between his teeth when the twenty-seven-year-old opened his mouth to talk over the whir of the engine and crashing guitars.

"So, I'm thinking we should find out more of the history of the building and school shooting before we go in all guns-blazing."

"Awful expression given the circumstances, Dean, but I'm impressed enough with your foresight that I'll overlook that little misspeak." Sam smirked when his brother's smile gave way to a scowl.

"Time to get to work, geek boy," the blond growled good-naturedly. "It's time to use your magic little fingers to find us some background info." The youngest Winchester rolled his eyes even as he fished out the laptop from under the seat and booted up the saved Word file of all the articles he'd found on the Camden Comet website and scrolled down to the one that had been printed the day of the shooting. Trained eyes quickly scanned the text, vital pieces of information leaping from the pages and burrowing through his eyes and into his brain. Shaking he head sadly at what he had learned, he methodically searched all of the articles he had saved pertaining to the "R.V.H.S. Massacre". He shut the computer with a sigh forty-five minutes after beginning his research and Dean looked over expectantly, waiting for the information he knew was coming.

"There were seven shooters, just like the first story said," Sam began, with a weariness coloring he voice that had nothing to do with his lack of sleep. "Eric Litesharp, Connie Alexander, Lewis Arcon, Joseph Ropert, Alli Shapiro, Scott Sumner, and Norman Collier. Eric, Joseph, Alli, Scott, and Norman were all sophomores; Connie was a freshman; Lewis was a junior. According to those who knew them, all seven were real outcasts and victims of almost daily teasing. They were 'awkward and stood out'. From all reports, it seems that Eric Litesharp was the ringleader and organizer of the whole affair. All seven came to school armed that day, and during the change between first and second period the positioned themselves – three covering all of the exits and four at the staircases – and started firing.

"Some of the escapees claim that for the first, maybe, half hour, the gunmen were just firing randomly, not necessarily looking to kill. After that while, though, they started getting serious. Many of the kids had managed to get out of the building during the initial chaos, but even during that, when any of the seven say someone who had teased them or was a typical jock, they would shoot to kill. Most of the thirty-five murdered turned out to be on a sports team or were really popular."

Sam sighed and Dean brought worried eyes to search his brother's face.

"Finally," the brunette continued, so as to let Dean know that he was fine, "the only living people in the school were the five teens mentioned in the first article we read. Miranda, Evan, Recarlo, Olivia, Christopher, and Neal. While they were in there, Eric committed suicide. Connie had been overpowered and shot with her own weapon earlier. The other shooters had left their original places a long time ago, along with Eric and Connie, so the five were able to escape from where they were on the second floor and get outside of the building. Unfortunately for them, Lewis had positioned himself by a window above the front exit. When the group ran out, Lewis fired. Three of them were injured, but all survived. The police opened fired at the window and Lewis was killed. The four remaining gunmen were captured when the S.W.A.T team stormed the facility."

Dean nodded solemnly when Sam finished rattling off his accumulated information. There were no witty comments or snide remarks he could come up with this time, the tragedy of what the brothers had signed on the investigate now hit him full force. Not only were there thirty-five spirits of innocent teenagers inside the high school, but three crazed murderers as well, if nothing had happened to the other four after they were arrested. It was almost a throwback to Rockford, though he couldn't say anything like that to Sammy.

"Dean?" his charge said slowly, timidly. "We aren't dealing with just one spirit of a psycho killer this time." Then again, apparently he didn't need to say anything; Sam had already gotten there on his own. The middle Winchester nodded, his position and face relaxed, voice giving nothing away.

"Yep. But our issues are already sorted out – we both know that your words were twisted. Remember, bro, Ellicott came after me, too. I know what he tried to do to your mind." A quirky grin spread over Dean's features. "Besides, I'll keep an unloaded gun on me, just in case." At that, Sam rolled his eyes, his own smile answering Dean's.

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

Sam settled back against the leather couch seat, he lips dropping from the upward curve as soon as Dean's focus returned to the road. There were still misgivings and doubts running around in his head after discovering the full history of River View High, even though the siblings still didn't know if it was a possession case – the details were similar enough to cause worry. The tragic story pulled at his heartstrings, however, and when he thought about not only what the thirty-five victims had gone through and the terror they must have felt, but also when he tried to imagine what had driven the seven shooters to take the lives of their peers, his resolve to free Camden from its ghostly torment was cemented.

Shaking his head and struggling to focus on another topic, Sam glanced over at his older companion, eyed the stiff, determined set of Dean's jaw and the way he confidently gripped the wheel. That sight stilled his brain's nervous chatter and helped ease the tenseness in his shoulders that had accompanied his worried thoughts. They would get out of this all right.

They had to.

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A/N: So now we're starting to get the background info. This will probably go on for a couple of chapters before the action picks up. Happy reading!