Chapter 6
A few flirtatious comments and a signature smirk later, the brothers were on their way. Kasey's parents lived on the outskirts of the town according to Sarah and she'd warned the trip could take a bit. She was right. Dean's Back in Black tape had been played completely through and now the soothing sounds of Black Sabbath flooded through the old speakers, accompanied by Dean's fingers drumming the beat on the steering wheel along with the bass line.
Sam played with the crinkled notebook paper that held their destination, his heart pounding in anxiousness. He fought inwardly to not rub at his chest, wanting nothing more than to eliminate the dull lingering throb and the perpetual itch of the peeling skin. But Dean would notice, and the more the irritation increased, the more Sam wondered just how much longer he could hide it. He'd bought some ointment to help prevent him from scratching while Dean had been talking with Sarah. But there were only so many rest stops he could force Dean to take so he could apply it.
The younger studied the blur of green outside the passenger window, sighing heavily when he looked back at the clock. His head couldn't endure another loud metal song. And if they didn't get there fast, Sam would either kill Dean, who was now belting out Stonehenge, or salt and burn his tapes reassuring himself that if the mark did take him, at least he wouldn't be able to experience the consequences of his actions.
He didn't have to wait long, a brownstone sign soon greeted the brothers. The words "Westwood Estates" engraved into it. Dean eased the Impala into the neighborhood, and the car crept down the streets as the brothers tried to view the house numbers. They only had to turn around once, before finding the two-story house, the siding a pale blue.
Dean let out a low whistle as he stepped out of the Impala and let his eyes roam over the picturesque home. Although he'd seen the picture of suburbia many a time, this home personified it to the core, complete with the small picket fence bordering in a lush green lawn. The narrow stone walkway led up to an open white washed porch that wrapped around the entire estate, wicker chairs and tables dotting it. A huge oak door, holding an ornate golden knocker, served as the entrance. Dean took a deep breath, mentally rehearsing his speech, well, lie, and shot a look to Sam, who was fidgeting like a 5 yr. old, before connecting his fist with the solid oak.
Both brothers grinned wide when a blonde-haired woman answered. Her sea-green eyes puffy and red. The crumpled tissue clutched in her hand, revealed her state of grief and Sam couldn't help but hurt for her. She managed a tight but courteous smile and was quickly joined by a tall, graying, burly man whose facial expression was anything but welcoming. It was damn near threatening.
"Who are you and what do you want?" the man barked, stepping in front of his wife, so that he was the only thing in the boy's line of sight. His abrasive manner stunned Dean momentarily, but he recovered quickly enough.
"I'm Dean and this is Sam and we're here to sp—"
"They're friends of Sarah's, dear." The women's meek voice was music to the brother's ears as she worked to calm her wary husband. She must've caught the slightly confused look dancing across all three men's faces because she quickly added the fact that Sarah had called and told her that they would be coming.
That piece of information seemed to suffice her husband and he stepped aside, gesturing for the brother's to enter. Silently, the man led them down the picture-laden halls, his wife at his heels. Some family photos, some individual portraits—the majority of which contained a young sandy-haired young man with his mother's green eyes who looked to be about Sam's age, his face bearing a big white smile. It didn't take a lot of thought to realize that this was the son they had tragically lost.
"Sit anywhere." The woman chirped pleasantly. "Oh, and I don't think I introduced myself. I'm Caroline and that's my husband Rick. Can I get you anything to drink or eat?"
"No, thank you." Sam replied quickly, ignoring his brother's perturbed glance because he'd answered for him, "We're fine."
"Ok, then. Sarah tells me you all have classes together at the Community College." Caroline offered, attempting to use small talk to get her husband to act civilized with the guests, instead of glaring at them from his Lazy-boy. "English, I believe. Is that right? Kasey loved that subject."
"Uh, yes, ma'am." Dean agreed, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. "That's why we're here."
"By all means, continue." Rick stated, his tone far from tolerable, his dark eyes locking with the older Winchester.
"Well, uh…" Dean began, school wasn't exactly his forte, and Sam quickly interjected to prevent any chance that both parents would suspect them as imposters.
"We're currently studying the different approaches in journalism and were assigned to write an article on a event that happened in our home town." Dean was impressed, the lie was damn good, he almost believed it. But then how could it not be, his little brother had learned from the master.
"And that involves us, how?" Rick spat out the question, and Caroline noticeably winced at his overall demeanor.
"Honey, let the boys finish." She chided giving the older man a sharp look, before issuing Dean and Sam a small smile signaling for them to go on. Dean responded, taking over where Sam had left off.
"Sam and I chose the recent string of disappearances and uh…"
"Deaths." The man's gravelly voice seemed to hold a tinge of sadness through its spite, and his hardened gaze softening when he looked to the hallway lined with pictures, "Like my Kasey's"
"Yes, sir." Sam spoke, shifting uncomfortably, "We have most of the information we need, so we won't take long."
"Good." Rick snapped, falling back into his rigid persona.
"Richard, that's enough." Caroline replied tersely, sighing deeply before continuing, "What do you boys want to know? Not sure we can be much help, but I will try my best."
"The mark." Sam answered earnestly, straightening up quickly, a movement that caused Dean to jolt and issue a well concealed elbow to the younger's side. Sam winced at the impact, but went on, his life depended on it. "What did it look like exactly, and how long did your son have it before he disappeared?"
"Well." Caroline said thoughtfully "It started as a rash of sorts, at least that's what I thought it was, and I say maybe two, three days before."
The room hung in silence for about a minute or so. Sam fighting to stifle a gasp and regain his ability to speak. Dean giving him sideways glances trying to figure out why the younger refused on following up. And Rick and Caroline watching on, analyzing the two young men in front of them.
"So, two or three days." Dean repeated, shooting Sam another "what the hell" look, "And the mark?"
"See that's the weird thing. If I didn't know any better, I'd say it was St. Anthony's Cross, that fat T shape and everything. But that's the Catholic in me." Caroline answered lightly.
"St. Anthony's Cross?" Sam questioned, racking his brain, trying to remember if he'd seen it the night before.
"Yes. I don't know if you've seen St. Pius X, but that's were we go, did go, to church and that cross is all over that place. I think it's Father Andrew's favorite. Why, I have no clue."
"What do you know about it—the cross, I mean." Sam pressed, eyes fixated on the woman who held the key to his fate.
"I really don't know much about it. Just what it is, and what it looks like." Caroline shrugged, blushing slightly at the lack of knowledge she truly had "Father Andrew could probably tell you more though."
"Does that answer all your questions?" The booming voice that had remained thankfully unheard for the past while jarred all three from their discussion and they all turned to watch the tall man stand, staring as if to command the brothers to say "yes".
"Yes, sir. Thanks for your help." Dean replied as nicely as he could through his gritted teeth, seeing as he wanted nothing more than to injure the idiot in front of him. Sam jumped up along side of him and the brothers followed the man to the exit. The younger the only one to thank the couple again.
"I think Rick needs to pay Jim, Jack, and Jose a visit. Might take the edge off, don't you think Sammy?" Dean joked, walking over to the driver's side.
"Could make him worse." Sam murmured sullenly, sliding into the passenger "What do you expect Dean? They lost their son."
"I know that. It was a joke Sam." Dean defended, maneuvering the Impala back onto the highway. "What's your problem anyway?"
"I don't have a problem." Sam muttered, reaching for the journal that had been put on the back seat earlier that morning. "At least we got some answers."
"Yeah, so, you want to go to the church and talk to the Father?" It wasn't really a question, more of a "this is what I want to do" but Sam either didn't get the insinuation or just didn't want to.
"No, but you can. Drop me off at the motel. I want to do some more research." A resigned okay was heard and Sam sunk down deeper into the leather seat.
Sam rested his head against the door and delved into his thoughts. At least Dean seemed on the up and up, although he knew that façade was only there cause his brother thought something was wrong. But Dean wouldn't fight with him over research, lest the elder be subjected to do it himself and since Dean didn't know, in Sam's mind it was up to him to figure this whole thing out before it was too late.
Hebit his lip hard to keep from spilling his secret right then and there, but gave into the urge to scratch his chest. It would be better this way for everyone involved, he was sure of that. After all, this whole thing would be over in two or three days.
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Okay as promised...lemme know what you thought!
