Heard 'Round the World: Part 5 of ?
Disclaimer: See previous chapters, I'm tired of rewriting it.
This part is for Faye, because she got my ass in gear to write this part.
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The early morning sun streaming through the thin motel window curtains drew Dean from the depths of his dreams and back into the real world, albeit kicking and screaming. Mumbling grumpily, he pushed the covers down to his waist and heaved himself onto his elbow, using the other arm to rub sleep from his eyes. His gaze roamed the room, taking in the open laptop and the coffee cups scattered around it, along with the newspaper spread across the table. Well, so much for reverse psychology. Apparently, Geek Boy had been up all night. The kid sure as Hell better have real good news, or so help him, Dean was going to kick his brother's ass to the darkest pits of Kingdom Come and back again.
"Dean, you're awake." Speak of the sleepless devil.
"Sam, you didn't sleep." Dean never was one to dance around the subject.
"It's been almost twenty-four hours since we first arrived in town, how do you know I didn't sleep at all?" If he had let himself, Dean could've split his gut laughing. I know, kid.
"You're sheets aren't rumpled and you have about twenty coffee cups by the computer there. I don't know Sam, maybe I just had a lucky guess." There was a sigh from the stick that was gallivanting around as a person, so maybe he had finally gotten through. And maybe wishes were horses, pigs could fly, and Jessica hadn't burst into flames above his brother's bed. Hey, the dreams were nice while they lasted, but there always seemed to be a rude wake-up call when it concerned Sammy.
"You'd be amazed at the revitalizing powers caffeine bestows on the human body, brother dear. I feel as though I've slept twenty-four hours. Oh wait, that was you. Yeah Dean, you're in a real good position to be lecturing me when you wore yourself out so much that you were in dreamland for a whole day." With a snort, Sam went kicked the door closed with his foot and carried the two styrofoam cups to the small table that separated the two single beds. Dean gratefully took one, noticing that this was actually a quality brew, not the crappy-ass liquid tar served in most of their stops. At least Sam had taste when it came to the only thing he put into his body.
"So Sam, what are me and the Skeleton Kid up to today?" Dean wasn't sure if his brother had just begun to block him out or if the appeal of more caffeine was just too strong, but Sam didn't bother to think up a retort.
"We're gonna talk to Miranda Glaze." There was a pause.
"Come again?"
"Well, she's the one who knows the most about what happened inside the school that day. According to some reports, Eric Litesharp killed himself standing above her." Sam's face disappeared into his cup.
"And you call me tactless? You know, all these sleepless nights must be catching up to you, Dracula, because as awesome as I might be at charming information out of people, a tormented kid won't just spill about one of her classmates blowing his brains out in front of her."
"Friend." Sam's voice was muffled, seeing as he was talking to his coffee.
"Friend?" There was another sigh. Dean was getting tired of that sound.
"Miranda, Evan, Recarlo, Neal, Olivia, and Christopher were all friends with the shooters to some degree." That stopped any remark Dean had been about to make in its tracks. Fuck. They weren't just dealing with traumatized kids, they were dealing with traumatized kids who had been betrayed by people they cared about.
"How come this wasn't in any of the articles?" the blond managed to hiss out, his brain still wrapping itself around the new information.
"Why do you think, Dean?" There it was again, the same weariness as when Sam had first rattled off the information about the hunt they'd chosen. The kind that said 'this is going to be something deep and painful, not one of the regular jobs.' Dean knew the feeling intimately, ever since the Bloody Mary fiasco. "The parents, they didn't want their kids to be hurt or harassed. So they got the media to leave out that detail. But it's in the police reports. Turns out Miranda went to the school officer the day of the shooting – said that Eric had asked her to be part of a gang that would 'teach those bullies a lesson'. Kid got worried that he would go through with the threat even though she declined, so she told the officer all about it. Eric was searched and everything, his locker was looked through, but no weapons were found. Two hours later..."
"The nonexistent weapons are rendering kids nonexistent."
"Yeah."
What could be said? The situation was now doubly fucked up. How the hell were they supposed to get more in depth information? No way were any of the kids mentioned in the articles gonna want to talk. Not when it had been their friends turning the school into a fucking war zone.
"Well, Sammy-boy, this puts another Big Foot sized hole in your plan. No way is Miranda gonna want to talk to us. She's probably been spending the last two years trying to forget she ever knew those kids. We can't just barge in and try to make her open up. What's she gonna tell us anyway? We know what happened, mostly."
"Mostly isn't good enough, Dean. And as pleasantly surprised I am that you seem to have grown a conscience – priest outfits, you remember those? – Miranda and her gang are the ones who know the most about the motives. Maybe the shooters didn't just want the jocks. Why would the teachers have been killed, then? I'm thinking there was something else going on besides revenge. Glaze and the others, they knew they perps. They might know something... all we really know now is that Eric Litesharp was out for revenge. What do we know about Connie or Lewis?"
"Nothing," Dean conceded with a sigh. His brother was right, they really had nothing to go on when it came to the other shooters. With their luck, it would be all three of the kids who were haunting the high school, not just one or two of them. And then there was the question of whether the killings were the results of possessions like at Roosevelt or if the ghosts were still wielding weapons from the dead. Either way, the cleansing of the property was going to be messy, but at least they would go in prepared. Probably with one unloaded gun each.
"So, we going in a couple hours?" Sam asked. Dean gave him a funny look that elicited another sigh. "The kids are in high school, bro. It's 10:30 in the morning. We'll have to wait until 2:15 to get to talk to them." Dean nodded his acceptance. What else could he do – it seemed that Sam at least used his time productively, if not in a way that would elongate his lifespan.
"Yeah, that's cool. What do you want to do in the meantime?" A mischievous look found its way to his brother's face and Dean immediately grew concerned.
"Well, there is this infomercial for Downy on TV..." A pillow came rocketing towards his head and found its mark with the precision of a torpedo. The fight was on.
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A/N: So, I'm back! Yeah, the hugegiganticenormous lit crit paper on the social psychology of the patients in Solzhenitsyn's Cancer Ward is over and handed in, so now I have time to write what I want! Hopefully, Faye won't have to PM me to remind me that I have a story to write anymore...
This chapter is mostly just more background, so I promise we will get to meet the kids next chapter, definitely. Thanks to everyone for holding in here through the slow start.
