Disclaimer: The lawyers say no, I don't own Supernatural but they could be wrong right?
Sometime in the minutes between them entering their respective rooms and them putting up the usual protection Sam's vision went dark. It was only for seconds but a feeling of dread lanced through him and he was brought back to the nightmare he'd had.
"Sam. Sam." He heard Dean saying. He blinked and looked down at the mess of salt where a line should have been. He opened his mouth to speak and that was when he heard the sirens.
"Dean. Its happening right now." Sam said looking wide eyed and fearful at his brother.
"Are you sure?" Dean asked already reaching for his gun.
"Yes." Sam told him. They were out the door, dropping what they'd been doing. Jack was leaning against the railing outside their rooms turning to look at them curiously.
"We got here to late." Sam told her. A flash of something Sam couldn't decipher crossed her face and she nodded ducking into her room long enough to grab a blade and tuck it into her pants.
It wasn't hard to follow the sounds of sirens from their part of the city to a nicer neighborhood with tall buildings complete with doormen. They came to a stop in front just such a building that was lined with the obligatory crowd of spectators, cop cars and an ambulance. They parked across the street and watched as a black body bag was carried out on a stretcher.
Sam felt sick to his stomach. He'd been too late again. He shook his head biting back the urge to slam his head against something in frustration. He was about to tell Dean to take them back to the motel when he saw a familiar face. He focused leaning forward in his chair to g et a better look and there was the wife talking frantically to a police officer. But it didn't look like she was proclaiming innocence while he read her rights. No she was perched on the back of a different ambulance than the one her husbands body was being loaded into, having a paramedic dab her forehead with a bandage while the officer nodded sympathetically. Her make up was smeared and her hair disheveled, with tears running down her cheeks; the very image of the grieving widow.
"I'm sorry Sam." Dean was saying. When he got no reply from Sam he looked at his brother watching something transfixed and looked in that direction. A dark haired woman was crying shaking her head at a police officer.
"Is that her?" Dean asked him. Sam nodded and they continued to watch the woman.
Dean wasn't sure what he was looking for but he knew that something wasn't right with this picture. The police officer patted her shoulder and said something that had her giving him a grateful half smile then he walked inside the building. The paramedic finished taking care of her head wound and moved back inside the ambulance. She was alone. She turned her head and stared across the street right in their direction, locking eyes with Dean, her mouth curling into a half smile. Dean blinked and it was gone, her attention on something else. But in that time her eyes were on him he was chilled to his core. He exhaled, letting go of a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He shook the spooked feeling off and turned the ignition.
"What are you doing? We don't know anything yet." Sam said.
"Its our kind of thing. We need to follow to see where they take the wife, make sure when they bring the kids to her she doesn't hurt them too." Dean explained. "Becca and Andy you said right?" Sam nodded.
A nice hotel. That was where the police dropped Erica off. Not a holding cell where she'd get one phone call to her lawyer but a nice fucking hotel. Dean knew it wouldn't have made a difference, this was their kind of situation, there wasn't a damn thing the cops could do about it, but it still pissed him off. Especially since Sam was looking like someone had kicked his puppy. They watched and waited for the better part of the night but no one else arrived and no one left either. They took turns checking the back exits for any sign that the woman had gone out trolling for another victim.
"I say we go in their and shoot the bitch, I've got silver billets in here." Dean said patting his gun.
"We don't know what the situation is yet Dean. For all we know she could be possessed or under some sort of spell." Sam said tiredly. Dean looked over at his brother then snuck a glance at Jack looking dazedly out the window, cause she might be annoying the hell out of him but he still had to take care of her. It was over twenty four hours since they'd woken in the middle of the night to high tail it to Tucson and they'd just gotten off a gig the day before. Even he was tired.
"We'll pick this up again tomorrow." Dean said. No one protested much. Back at the motel Dean finished laying t he line and charms in the room while Sam collapsed on the bed.
"The visions, they're getting clearer, more focused Dean. What do you think that means?" Sam said with a yawn, his eyes fighting not to close.
"I think it means you're doing something right Sam." Dean said assuring him..
"I broke the glass." Sam said so low Dean thought it might have been his imagination.
"What?" Dean asked, pausing.
"On the bus. I was upset and it just cracked." Sam said with his eyes closed.
"Hmmm." Was all Dean managed. He wasn't sure what to say to that.
"So much for it being a one time thing." Dean said. Sam snorted and turned over in his bed.
Dean waited till his breathing even out then went next door to Jack's room.
"What?" She asked with a blank face.
"You got your spells up?" Dean asked.
"Yeah." She said. An awkward silence followed.
"Good." Dean said and turned to go back to his room. He heard her door close a few seconds after he was inside.
Dean scrubbed the back of his hand over his face and got ready for bed. He wasn't used to being on this end of familial conflict. He was always the peacemaker, between Sam and Dad. He released the clip from his gun and placed his knife under the pillow. The same routine as every other night, the motions so familiar he didn't have to think. That was the appeal, he didn't have to think. No till he was in bed, all his duties for the night done, all the weapons and lines in place. Dean thought briefly of cleaning his guns to stave off thought for a little while longer but Sam's deep, even breathing forced him to drop it. No use having both of them up all night.
It stood in front of the bathroom mirror brushing a comb through this body's hair. It looked down and smiled. Keeping this one for a little longer was a good idea. It was just about to jump into someone else and watch the woman crumble as she remembered what she'd done while It was inside her. But then they arrived. It felt them the coming from miles away. That darkness and doubt bubbling just below the surface. Not the flimsy hurt this woman had suffered at an inconsiderate word from her husband but something deep and tangible. And there were three. And if It wasn't mistaken at least one bore the markings of a psychic.
It smiled, her mouth twisting into a sadistic smile. Inside the woman screamed and cried, begging to die. It fed off this pain, growing stronger with every pathetic whimper. Soon It would have to let this body go, before it dried out and It didn't have the satisfaction of watching her destroy herself, not yet though. Not till they came, not till It tasted one of them.
Dean woke early the next morning, before his brother. Let him sleep, he thought getting dressed. He walked to the diner across the street and bought a cup of coffee for himself and a newspaper. He was scanning the headlines only mildly interested when something on the local page caught his eye.
'Suicide rate in Tucson at its highest in a decade.' The top of the article read. According to the rest of the page, there'd been four suicides in the last month alone. All different people, all with family and friends that claimed they had no indication of mental problems.
Dean sipped at his coffee, took out a pen and circled the article to show Sam and Jack later. Jack, he thought sitting back in his seat. That was a problem.
Dean knew he was overprotective. How could he not be? With what they saw everyday. Anyone could be an enemy with a smiling face. After Meg, Dean didn't push Sam as hard to go out and get some. Except for Sarah and what Sammy didn't know was that he'd very subtly Cristo-ed her ass before throwing Sam at her, the way he should have done to Meg before that demonic bitch got her claws into them all those months ago. Difference was, Sam usually let him take care of him. Sam fell back into being the protected younger sibling like he never stopped being that. Jack was an only child, given more freedom while her Uncle was alive than Sam or Dean ever got from their father and after he died, she was alone for nearly three years.
Jack didn't like feeling taken care of, it made her feel weak. Dean knew because he hated being coddled and cared for too. The time in the hospital when he couldn't do much for himself drove him crazy. So, yeah he got it.
Dean's thoughts were going in circles with no reconciliation in sight. This is why Sammy's the smart one, he thought to himself. He shook his head when the waitress tried to refill his cup. His watch read ten a.m., later than they usually slept even when they didn't have a gig, but that still only gave Jack or Sam about six hours of sleep. He folded up his newspaper and ordered three coffees to go.
Jack woke slowly trying to rationalize burrowing deeper into the cheap coverlet and sleeping till sundown. Then the image of police cars and a body bag played across her eyelids and she gave up going back to sleep. She kicked the covers back just as a knock sounded on the door. Three sharp taps, Sam, she thought.
Jack pulled on her jeans from the night before and answered the door. Sam raised his hand in a tired greeting.
"Should I worry about who else might be in there?" He asked.
"Haha." Jack said stepping out of the room.
"You seen Dean?" Sam asked.
"Nah I just got up." Jack answered stretching her shoulder till it popped into a more comfortable position.
"Research?" Sam suggested. Jack nodded and followed him back into the boys room and Sam booted up the laptop. A key scraped into the rusty lock and Dean entered balancing morning coffee in his hands using his foot to close the door behind him.
"Check this out." He said taking a folded newspaper from under his arm for them to see.
"Damn." Jack skimmed the article he'd circled.
"You think there's a connection?" Sam asked.
"Maybe, one of the only connections between the people was that it was like a sudden onset. Completely out of character." Dean said.
"But the article doesn't say anything about deaths of love ones before the suicides." Sam said furrowing his brow as he read.
"I know but I have a feeling. Four suicides in the same area in a month, that's weird." Dean said.
"No names tough. That'll make it hard to check into." Sam said. "I w as thinking about something though."
"That's never a good thing." Dean cracked.
"I was thinking that the place they lived, it probably has security cameras right. So maybe there's something there. At least the wife coming home close to the time of death right?" Sam said hopefully.
"The cops probably already have the footage if there is any." Dean said doubtfully.
"But maybe whoever was manning the cameras last night will be able to tell us something." Sam said.
Dean grinned at him. He loved playing cop.
TBC………………
AN: I wanted to highlight the repress and ignore instinct both Dean and Jack possess here. The way they sort of don't speak to each other directly and don't try at making things okay yet. I hope that came across good. This chapter was actually hard for me to right, took me all day. Thanks for reading and double thanks for reviewing. :D