AN: HUGE kudos to sfaulkenberry and radpineapple who caught onto the unicursal hexagrams on Bobby's book. In the show, they call those Aquarian stars and they symbolize the Men of Letters. Color me impressed! Virtual pie for you both.
Yes, I know it's been a minute and I apologize. Nothing is wrong. We definitely got nailed by the winter storm, but 18" over a couple days isn't that big of a deal around here. It's just been busy. I hope this chapter keeps your appetite whetted for the story even though it's pretty much just laying more groundwork.
I was nearly finished with it when I read a guest's comment that they'd like to see something of Caleb, so I added him in.
Stay warm and enjoy!
* * *
Dean breathed a sigh of relief as he got back into his car. He'd been worried that he wouldn't be able to find a job in such a dinky town, but Sam, being Sam, seemed attached to the place already. Dean waved to Harry Jenkins, unsure if the man would see him through the frozen rain that was falling. (Unlike snow, that shit hurt when it hit you!) Harry had offered to pay Dean to help in his "handyman and appliance repairs" shop and Dean was grateful if not excited. He pulled out of the parking space and tried to see the town from Sam's perspective.
It was smaller than Dean preferred, but it seemed a little friendlier than most. It was still gossipy and insular, but perhaps a little wealthier than many little towns. They were used to tourists, which could be why there had been more smiles than scowls at Dean as he'd gone job-hunting. It was also picturesque nestled among tree-covered mountains. Sam loved shit like that.
Dean gave a mental shrug. The kid was weird.
Case in point: Sam was currently ensconced in the North Adams Public Library. Granted, the weather was rotten with the sleet pelting everything mercilessly, but any normal high schooler would be watching a movie or something. Of course, normal didn't often apply to Winchesters, but at very least Sam could be enjoying himself before school started.
Actually, Dean was sure Sam was enjoying himself, which was the weirdest thing of all.
Dean let in a swirl of cold wind when he went into the library, but Sam didn't look up. He was sitting at a table off to the left with a few books and a bunch of printouts spread around him. The librarian, a sweet-faced woman in her forties or fifties, had glanced up when Dean walked in, but Dean had caught the way she'd been looking at Sam fondly. Dean had to bite his tongue to keep a snort in. Trust the teenage mutant ninja geekboy to have already won her over. Dean hadn't left Sam with any cash, so he assumed that the kid had sweet-talked the woman into giving him the printouts for free.
Dean gave her his best I'm-not-trouble smile and headed for Sam. He took the opportunity to look the kid over. His bony wrists stuck out beyond his sleeves, but the shoulders of his coat hung loose, both the result of the absurd growth spurt the kid had been on for the last year or so. Dean had a terrible feeling that Sam, just an inch shorter than Dean now, was far from finished growing. Dad thought it was funny and didn't complain much about constantly buying Sam more clothes. He was even amused by the amount of food Sam could put away now. "I remember that stage," he'd said. "You can't sleep at night, and you feel like you're always starving."
Sam's face had thinned out too and his hair had gotten darker, all of which conspired to make him look like a stranger with little Sammy's eyes. And Dean hadn't missed the fact that girls sometimes did a double-take at Sam, just like they would for Dean or even (gag!) Dad. It was impossible to forget that Dean's little brother wasn't a shrimp any longer. In just a few years, he'd be done with school for good and hunting full time. The thought didn't bring the unadulterated excitement and relief that it used to. Sure, Dean still felt those things, but a tiny part of him worried that Sam would be in danger a lot more often if he was always hunting, and, contrarily, he also worried that Sam would get big, strong, and competent enough that he wouldn't need Dean at all anymore. And a small part of Dean worried that Sam wouldn't be happy with that life. He was already complaining more and more frequently about getting dragged all over the country on hunts and how it interfered with his schoolwork.
Dean was pretty good at telling that last part of his psyche to shut up. After all, hunting was Sam's birthright. He'd learn to accept it and even love it once he'd left the Beverly Hills, 90210 demographic in the rear view.
Making sure the librarian wasn't paying attention, Dean walked over to Sam's table, keeping his footsteps silent. He was going to "accidentally" kick the table leg and see if he could startle Sam into embarrassing himself. But when he was almost to his brother, Sam said, "Check this out, Dean."
Dean's chagrin at being caught out died a quick death in the wake of pride at his brother's instincts. The kid had not even looked up "Whatcha got?" He made his way around the table to see what Sam was pointing to.
The paper he was tapping seemed to show moon phases. "We're right in the middle of a whole bunch of unusual astrological phenomena," Sam said. "Some of it converging in a way it hasn't in, like 800 years."
"Like what? Mercury's in retrograde or something?" Dean teased, though he was well aware that moon phases in particular could impact the supernatural – especially witchcraft. And werewolves, of course.
"No, Dean." Sam ignored the teasing with practiced adroitness. "Like this year January had two full moons. And there was a full penumbral lunar eclipse on the same day as the second. There are all kinds of things that happen when there's a lunar eclipse when the moon is full, much less on a Blue Moon. Then, Dean, February didn't have a full moon at all. That's called a Black Moon, and the day of the new moon during a Black Moon month there's all kinds of extra...I don't know...like, magic energy around for anyone who knows how to catch it. March is going to have two full moons, too, and its new moon falls on the ides. Then the vernal equinox is on the first day of the next moon cycle. That's so many portents in a short period of time that there's pretty much no way nothing will happen." Sam kept his voice respectfully low, but his excitement was palpable.
"That's a hell of a lot of information, but I don't really know what to do with it," Dean admitted. "And this happens all over the world, right? So if shit's gonna go haywire, it should be everywhere, right?"
Sam pondered that with a small frown and Dean almost regretted dampening the kid's enthusiasm. It was good to see him turn his considerable intelligence towards something regarding hunting. He would be a formidable Hunter sooner rather than later, and his brain might be his greatest asset even with all of his training and physical ability.
"There's something about this area and this time of year," Sam said slowly, like he was figuring out things as he spoke. "Dad's journal talks about the vernal equinox and the Berkshire Mountains. There's even a note that makes it sound like Hunters are pretty sure that something big is supposed to go down in the area during a vernal equinox."
"But he doesn't know when or exactly where, and you think it's this vernal equinox because of the strange way the moon phases fall?" Dean asked as neutrally as he could. All of the moon stuff seemed like a bit of a stretch. Besides, if Dad had anything solid, he would've sent other Hunters.
"I figured not. I mean, if Dad really thought something big was going to happen right here, he wouldn't let us stay here without him," said Sam, mirroring Dean's thoughts. "But then I saw something about how earthquakes can be portents and found out by accident that there was an earthquake centered literally right here on February 16. The day of the black moon. It was totally unexpected by seismologists and so localized that scientists have no idea what caused it – it couldn't have been a normal tectonic plate shift."
Dean was getting a headache. Their profession might disdain coincidences but sometimes that's all things were. It was a short trip from life-saving paranoia to aluminum-hat wearing madness. He hadn't heard anything yet to make him think there was something happening or about to happen in the area. But he also knew that Sam had two and a half more days before school started and he'd be trapped in the house for most of it with crap TV if the weather didn't break. And who knew? Dad had taken hunts with far less information.
"Why don't you make a wall?" he suggested. 'Making a wall' meant putting all of your information up on a board or wall to help create a complete picture and see connections you might have missed.
Sam lit up and Dean congratulated himself. He just hoped Sam wouldn't be too disappointed if it turned out that in the end there was nothing to find. At least it would give him something to do. And whether or not all of the moon stuff actually meant something, he'd probably keep looking until he located a needed salt-and-burn or something similar. Dean would truly appreciate that. Well, he would if the stupid ice-falling-from-the-sky stopped.
"Yeah?" asked Sam, dimples popping.
"Yeah. You got good instincts. Maybe you're actually onto something here. You need more time here before going back to the house?" Dean asked. He wasn't pouring it on – he was already learning to trust Sam's instincts. He trusted his brain even more. There was probably nothing here, but if the teen thought it was worth looking into, maybe it was.
Sam glanced at his layout, tapping his fingers in thought. "Maybe another hour just to make sure I have everything I need," he said. "Then if I'm allowed to bring everything back to the house I should be good."
"Just tell Ms. Repressed-librarian there that you need it for school. She already looks like she wants to adopt you. Give her your Oliver Twist face and you're golden." Dean subtly indicated the librarian in question who was barely trying to conceal the fact that she was watching them. Dean ruffled Sam's hair and saw the smile grow on the woman's face in response. On impulse he walked over to the check-out desk, ignoring the no-doubt-deprecating comment from Sam. "Excuse me ma'am," he started with his most sweet and innocent expression and tone. "We just moved to town and my little brother there wants to make sure he's all ready for his classes to start on Monday. He'd love to stay for a little while longer, and I can pick him up in about an hour. But I don't want to keep you if you planned to shut down early because of the weather." He'd noticed that there were no other patrons in view and didn't want Sam stuck outside waiting for him if the library did close. Besides, he didn't do 'sweet and innocent' often, and it was always good to practice. (And 'protective big brother' role had helped Dean sell lines for most of his life.)
The woman all but simpered. "Oh, of course not. The weather isn't nice, but we are used to the vagaries of New England here. Why, just a few weeks ago we had really rare red lightning over the mountains. And then over night the temperatures dropped from the 70s to what we're having now. We just deal with it." She smiled. "And even if I had planned to close, I'd never do that to such a studious young man."
Dean smiled, but the smug still got it feeling had faded a little bit at the recitation of the recent meteorological anomalies. He wondered exactly when they had occurred and how rare they were. And he wondered if Sam really was onto something. Still unlikely but…"See ya in an hour, geek," Dean called with a cocky half grin after thanking the librarian with all of the politesse that he could pull off.
He had some to find some locals to chat up for info. Sam could do his kind of research and Dean would do his favorite kind.
It was too bad Dean hadn't had this mission before he'd found a friendly bar in Pittsfield the night before. He'd chosen it because it was far enough away from where they were staying for him to be comfortable hustling up some cash (because when you were spending more than a night or two in one place, it was really important to remember you never shit where you eat).Thoughts of the bar and the cash he'd garnered there reminded Dean of the other errand that he wanted to do.
The North Adams Goodwill store was both bigger and nicer than Dean had expected. He might have a real chance to find Winchester-sized clothes here. The woman minding the till watched him unabashedly until her older coworker elbowed her. It was the older one he asked for advice to choose a coat that would still fit a skinny but rapidly-growing teenage next winter. He also found boots a full size and a half bigger than his own and figured that was the best he could do. He grabbed some jeans that would be too big around but at least keep Sam's ankles warm but didn't find any flannels. Still, it was a great haul. He had both women completely in his pocket by the time he was counting out his cash. They happily spilled all the local gossip and pointed him to a diner that served comfort food and would do takeout. Dean stopped there next and heard much of the same stuff from a bored and gabby waitress named Christie.
He was thoughtful by the time he entered the library again. Sam was ready to go. "Ms. Cordona is letting me borrow these books even though I don't have my school ID yet," he said loudly enough for the woman he was talking about to hear his appreciation. "Once I get one, I can use that for a library card."
Dean snickered a little. He was sure the puppy-dog eyes had come out when Sam had asked, and he was equally sure that they weren't even needed. The weather had graduated to pelting ice sideways, and Dean found himself actually glad to be staying in on a Friday night to build what he liked to call a stalker wall with his little brother. They were so wet they actually changed their clothes back at the house. Sam mumbled his thanks for the new clothes, and Dean told him to shut up, glad for the real gratitude he could read on his face.
As they inhaled the massive pieces of meatloaf and the piles of mashed potatoes and gravy that had been heaped on top, Dean told Sam what he'd heard. "So, not only was there an earthquake on February 16, there was also either red lightning or St. Elmo's fire over the mountains visible from town. And that night, the weather went from record highs to this crap, which has been going on and off ever since, near record lows," Dean recited, watching the way Sam's brow furrowed at the revelations. The kid didn't stop eating, though. "Only one building was damaged in the quake, but it had major damage. A whole wall fell down."
Seeing Sam was finishing, Dean popped open another big styrofoam container. Sam's eyes lit up to see that it was full of fries. (Three orders. Dean knew how much they ate, and when he had money on hand, he made sure that that there was more than enough to make up for the times there really hadn't been.) Sam grabbed a few and dragged them through some of the leftover gravy on his plate. "That's all really weird. I still...don't really know if it's just weird or, ya know, weird weird yet," the teen admitted, almost sounding embarrassed.
"We crossed three states on a single eye-witness account once," Dean reminded him. "Dude was higher'n a kite, too, but he was still right about the ghouls. When you get a strong hunch that something hinky's going on, you gotta check it out."
He took a handful of fries, slightly concerned that he wouldn't get any if he didn't hurry. "Besides, it isn't just the weird stuff that's going on, it's also the way people are talking about it." He ate several mouthfuls of the fried goodness to give himself a chance to figure out how to say what he meant. "Everybody knows about it, but nobody really…cares. Like, the house that got messed up was some local landmark, really old and really famous. People should be upset, or at least realize how strange it was the only place with any damage – even the other old houses around it are completely untouched. But when I asked if they thought if it was strange or what they thought had happened, people were just like –" Dean shrugged like he couldn't care less. "And when I pressed them, they just changed the topic like it was boring."
"You think the people you talked to are hiding something?" Sam asked, barely taking the time to swallow before he asked.
"No, actually, I don't." Dean thought about it. "I don't know exactly what I think. Just that they couldn't be bothered to think more about it. The lightning, either. Or no, like it just didn't interest them even though towns like this pretty much run on local gossip. I mean, everyone I talked to told me that this guy named Quinn or Finn or something bought a new motorcycle and he's gonna get himself killed, I'm sure of it. But they can't be bothered to say more than a word or two about their founders' old house losing a wall in an earthquake that scientists can't explain?"
Sam ate the last of the fries and licked the salt off his fingers. "That's...I don't know what that means," he confessed. "But if you noticed, it means something."
Dean pretended to be unaffected by Sam's trust right back in him. "When is the next important date?" he asked.
"Tonight, actually. It's the first full moon of March. The Hunger Moon."
Dean contemplated that and pulled out two pieces of Dutch apple pie. Maybe it was because of the Hunger Moon that hunger was pretty much Sam's perpetual state lately. "You have any idea about what any of this could mean?"
"Nothing concrete at all." Sam sighed so hard his bangs ruffled.
"After dessert, let's put that wall up and take a good look at it all together. Then we'll see if any freaky crap happens overnight." He wasn't going to get a chance to change Baby's oil and grease all her fittings this weekend unless the weather broke, so he might as well chase this down with Sam. "If it does, maybe we should call...Bobby." He'd been about to suggest Dad, but knew that Sam would rebel at that. Dean would hold off on that until it looked like there might be some kind of danger. "We don't even have to tell him why we're askin' questions, just that you're reading that book that he let Dad borrow."
"Hmmm. Yeah, we could do that. If we had to. It would be nice to talk to Bobby." Sam's desire to figure everything out on his own (reminding Dean so much of the toddler whose favorite phrase was 'I can do it' that he had to bite back a smile) obviously warred with a desire to talk to their old friend.
They ate their pie listening to the tiny taps of ice drops hitting the windows, then put up all of Sam's information to the same accompaniment. He'd compiled a whole lot of information in a short period of time but acted apologetic, like he hadn't done enough. He kept jotting down facts he'd taken from Bobby's book and making Dean add them to the growing collage until he asked if Sam had memorized the entire tome.
The most interesting thing to Dean, perhaps because it was actually concrete and physical, was the wall that had come down. The house was the local "haunted house," though it was probably just considered that because of its age. A newspaper page Sam had copied but not yet read had a picture of the damage. (Sam put a check mark in the upper right corner of every document after he finished reading it, so Dean knew he hadn't had a chance with the article yet.)
"Look at this, Sam. Look at the way the wall broke." The wall looked more like it had weathered an explosion rather than fallen down due to age and an earthquake.
"Yeah." Sam's leaned in close and read the blurb about the house's history aloud. "Local landmark Houghton Mansion was damaged in the unexpected earthquake yesterday. For those of you not familiar with its long history, it was built in the 1890's by Albert Charles Houghton, the first mayor of North Adams. The most luxurious of his three homes, it quickly became the family's primary residence. Rumors that it was haunted began in 1914, shortly after a car accident claimed the lives of Mr. Houghton, his daughter Mary, and another passenger, and the distraught chauffeur John Widders took his life in a fit of guilt. The surviving members of the family denounced such rumors and continued to reside at the house until 1926, when they sold it to The Masons. The house functioned as a masonic temple until recently, when the cost of its upkeep became prohibitive. It was added to the National Historical Register in 1982..."
Dean was inclined to dismiss the claims that the place was haunted, since the supposed ghosts had died far away, and a truly haunted location seldom stayed in use for long. While Sam was talking, he took a closer look at the picture and reconsidered his opinion. "Check out the fence," he directed. Sam squinted at the corner of the slightly grainy copy. In a direct line from the damaged house wall, the fence had been...flattened.
"It looks like…" Sam trailed off.
"Like something busted out of there like the Kool-Aid man," Dean concluded for him.
They stared at the picture together. The image of something physically bursting through a wall that had stood for a hundred years didn't fit at all into the cursed land or lingering witch spell that Dean had considered in light of the rarity of the moon's phases. And it sure as hell didn't feel like a haunting, the ghosts of the Houghtons or their guilt-laden driver rattling chains and stopping clocks.
"We –" he started, intending to say they should call Dad. If there was some kind of once-in-a-rarest-blue-moon werewolf or something out there, Dean would give his left nut to hunt it down and kill it. There wasn't much bigger rush than taking out some evil creature that they'd never heard of before. But he wouldn't go in blind, especially not alone. And as much as he'd love to take Sam, he wasn't about to do that either without additional back-up to make absolutely certain Sam was safe. Not that they had any idea of where or what to do any kind of hunting.
" -- need information," Sam blurted as if he knew what Dean had been about to say. Maybe he did. It wouldn't be the first time or even the thousandth. "All we know is that there's a bunch of weird moon phases and that a wall fell down. Not...nobody is dead or anything. Let's figure it out, just us."
There was a plea there that Dean both understood and didn't. Logically, he knew that Sam had a need to prove himself as not just the youngest and smallest of the family but as Sam, unique and smart and valuable. But Dean hadn't really experienced that himself. At the same age, he'd been ridiculously confident in his hunting skills (some older, more seasoned Hunters might say OVERconfident) and while he would probably never outgrow the need to seek Dad's approval, he was perfectly comfortable doing that as one third of their trio. He knew that there was a kind of freedom within the confines of their triangle. Sam hadn't learned that yet.
"Right," Dean agreed, since he really didn't want to go running to Dad either. "No need to put a bug up his butt when we don't know what this is, or if it even is anything. But if weird crap happens overnight, we can call...Bobby." That was the best concession he could think of.
"How about Caleb?" Sam asked, taping the article to the wall near the center of the mosaic of papers and Post-its. Dean silently agreed with the placement; the creepy old house definitely had something weird (and probably supernatural) happen to it.
"We could call Caleb," Dean conceded. Sam had a point; calling Bobby was pretty much the same thing as calling Dad, since he was at least as protective of the boys as Dad. If they called Bobby, he'd definitely tell Dad what was going on and neither man would hesitate to order Sam and Dean to leave if they believed that there was an unknown hunt in the area. Which was stupid. Dean was twenty and had killed plenty of nasty things, often on his own. And Sam was no dummy. He could figure it out and Dean could gank it.
Caleb wasn't that much older than Dean, but had been hunting for ten years, often on his own, and he had great instincts. He might already know something and was unlikely to call Dad. Most likely, he'd assume that they were calling on Dad's behalf.
If it came back to Dad somehow Dean knew he could spin some bull about Caleb calling them first and Dean bringing it up just because they were already talking, and Caleb would back him automatically and uncaring. He'd never had a family of his own that he remembered and couldn't be bothered to follow the dynamics of theirs.
"Caleb's perfect, actually," Dean concluded. He penned Locals apathetic on a Post-it and stuck it in place. He ignored Sam's teasing look. It was a long-standing joke that Dean didn't use any words with more syllables than Impala, unless they actually involved the Impala (i.e. carburetor). "But you know, while this is a lot of weird, that doesn't necessarily mean it's a hunt. It's probably nothing." Dean's eyes skimmed over the hodgepodge of information: red lightning, blue moon, earthquake, haunted, convergence… Yeah, probably nothing. He'd keep telling himself that.
"Right." Sam's voice was distant as he, too, traced their art project with his gaze. "Probably nothing."
* * *
AN: All my oddments and references first. I really mixed fact and fiction in this one!
Beverly Hills, 90201 was a TV show on in the 90's about a group of high schoolers. I didn't watch it (but I did have a crush on the late Luke Perry, who was one of its stars).
All of the moon phase stuff, including the eclipse, is correct for 1999, except that the March new moon didn't fall on the 15th. The earthquake didn't really happen, nor the red lightning or sudden shift in weather.
The Houghton Mansion really exists, and my summary of what happened to some its original inhabitants is all true, right down to the masons buying it and its addition to the National Historical Register. It did not mysteriously lose a wall in 1999, however. Janice is the one who found it for the story.
The Kool-Aid man is an old advertising personality. A huge, anthropomorphic pitcher, it would make its entrance by crashing through the wall. It's also surprisingly hard to describe!
muffinroo: Thank you! Did you find the very hidden little Easter egg? I never would have if I hadn't been the one to stick it there. I'd certainly never heard of a unicursal hexagram until I looked it up!
Christine: I hope you don't mind me exploiting what I'm sure is a lovely little town for a story! The pictures on line certainly make it seem picturesque.
bagelcat1: What a nice thing to say! We caught the snow too, which was annoying, though we're pretty used to it. It's these really cold temps that followed that I really hate. We are close enough to Lake Michigan to stay a little warmer than the northern plains states and even other parts of Michigan. I'm afraid that the Easter egg isn't anything that exciting and it won't show up in this story again – it just reference the MoL because I thought that they might have been the ones to compile so much information. BTW, I actually asked my beta if people might not like a preseries/Teenchester story much and she said uh, no, a lot of readers love that, so it's nice to hear your confirmation of what she said. Sorry for the colloquialism about "tennies." That's what we call them around here and I totally didn't realize that I'd slipped that in. It wasn't dumb on your part at all – I know it's not a common term.
BruisedBloodyBroken: Yay! I'm so happy you're reading too! I think I've heard of a church grim. Isn't it similar to a graveyard dog, but protective? I swear my grandma used to talk about a spirit that protected the kirkyard (churchyard, meaning cemetery). She was Friesian, which is sort of a Dutch and German mix, so those are the origins of the stories she told.I could be wrong though. That was a LONG time ago.
ScealaitheRakker: Yes! Always! You must know I love your comments.
Colby's girl: Thank you. I feel bad for making y'all wait so long for the second chapter.
sfaulkenberry: Picture me bowing in a very I'm-no-worthy way! I'm so impressed that you found the little Easter egg. To quote the grandpa from Princess Bride "you are very smart." Seriously, I thought Janice figuring it out was a fluke because she's a crazy genius and nobody else stood a chance, but I shouldn't have underestimated you.
Atlasina7: Have I ever mentioned how much I appreciate the specificity of your comments? Because I do, immensely. They help me know what works in the writing, what details people notice, etc. They can even help direct how the story goes to a certain extent. So, thank you.
stedan: Oops, then I made you wait so long for the second chapter! *ducks head in shame* I didn't mean to. It's great to hear you say that you like the teenchesters...I often struggle most to decide where to put a story. I'll have an idea or a monster in mind but nothing more. The egg wasn't anything that exciting, just a hint that the book that Bobby lentto John came from the Men of Letters somehow. I cannot WAIT to reveal the monster! This whole story was so I could write about this specific monster.
Kathy: The only foreshadowing was really to the MoL with the book. Sorry it wasn't anything more interesting! I like to think that John and Sam weren't always fighting and that while he was driven that he gave the boys a little leeway once in a while. Like I told a few other commenters, I'm so glad to hear that you like the preseries setting because I was kinda nervous about people getting sick of that. (I seem to write a lot of early and pre- stuff.) So glad to have you reading and thank you for your lovely encouragement.
Guest: Thank you! I adjusted the story a bit so we will definitely be hearing from Caleb. It was a very good idea! I was going to cut out a lot of the part with Sam scheming and Janice, who beta's for me, strongly suggested I leave it in. I'll tell her that you support that decision! *g*
radpineapple: Go, you! You absolutely got the egg. I am beyond impressed because it was pretty obscure, or at least I thought it was. Thank you so much for such sweet and kind comments. You started reading at just the right time because I was very slow to get this chapter posted.
