Drive to the night
Far as it goes
Away from the daylight
Into the afterglow
...
Down on the street
Just let the engine run
'Til there's nothing left
Except the damage done
...
Somewhere unforgiven
Time will wait for you
Somewhere unforgiven
I will wait for you
Beck - Unforgiven
The days back at Bobby's were spent with Sam doing everything possible for Dean, Bobby, and me. Trying to fix what he could, just like he said. A good chunk of time was spent with him asking about things that happened while he didn't have a soul. Some we answered, others we refused. At one point, he started bringing up the baby. I quickly shot him down, promptly saying I wasn't ready to talk about that. I probably never would be.
Even though we'd only been here with Sam back to his normal self for a couple of days, I started to feel antsy. Not only was it exhausting waking up to him having made a great breakfast every morning, standing in the middle of the kitchen with his puppy dog eyes on full display, the news we'd received about the mother of all, whatever the fuck that was, didn't help to make matters better. I just wanted to get out, do something, find something. Though I had no idea what. It felt as though I was on the computer every second checking for something, anything, that could be a job, or give us some kind of lead. Anytime I asked Bobby, I was always met with the same response; unless you know how to find the mother of all, I got nothin'.
Things were quiet. But in no way was it a good silence. It was foreboding. There was a lingering sense of dread every time we spoke about her.
In the living room, Sam and I both sat on opposite ends of the couch while the TV played quietly. In the kitchen, Dean grabbed a few beers from the fridge, the glass clinking together as he held them in one hand to shut the door. Sam flicked through the stations on TV, but I didn't pay attention to what he finally settled on. A few moments later, I heard the front door shut, glancing up from the laptop that was perched on my crossed legs to see Bobby enter the kitchen with a few grocery bags in hand. He placed them on the table and Dean immediately began sifting through them.
"You fuckin' mind?" Bobby slapped Dean's hands out of the bag, pulling it away. Bobby reached into the bag and took out something, as he handed it to Dean he nodded my way. "Here."
"Aw, you big softie," Dean grinned. Bobby huffed, turning around. Dean peered over his shoulder. "Did you remember the pie?"
Bobby narrowed his eyes at Dean, taking a pie out of the bag and setting it on the counter. I scoffed out a laugh, smiling at Dean when he looked my way. Bobby continued grumbling. "World's crumbling and you're worried about pie. Idjit."
"Somebody's cranky," Dean commented. Bobby shot him a hard glare and, with that, Dean quickly scurried out of the kitchen. It was then that I noticed Sam's eyes glued to the television which happened to be playing some kind of celebrity gossip show.
"Sources said prosecutors were getting closer to a decision on whether to charge the actor," The blonde host said in a forced sympathetic tone. "But they adamantly denied that any prosecution was in any-"
"What are you watching?" Dean asked handing Sam a beer.
"Just trying to catch up," Sam defended his choice of entertainment. He cleared his throat. "So...Mel Gibson really took a turn this past year, huh?"
"Or he's possessed," Dean said, plopping down in between Sam and me on the couch. I rose an eyebrow at his assumption. Dean saw my expression and shrugged. "Seriously, think about it."
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the actor's mugshot pop up on the screen and pursed my lips in thought. I turned my attention back to Dean. "Know what, you could be right."
Dean nodded in response before handing me whatever it was that Bobby had given him. I looked down, seeing my favorite candy bar in his outstretched hand. I took it with a grateful smile, looking in Bobby's direction, even though his back was to me.
"Thanks, Bobby," I called. He simply threw a hand up in the air, waving it once. I chuckled, opening the wrapper. I broke off a chunk of the bar and handed it to Dean before offering the same to Sam, who declined.
"No thanks," he shook his head.
Suddenly, his phone went off, the chime calling our attention to it as it vibrated on the armrest. Sam picked it up, his brows furrowing at the screen. Dean glanced over at me mid-chew, shooting me a skeptical look. I shrugged, not having any more of an idea who the hell that would be than he did.
"Hm," Sam mumbled, handing Dean his phone. I peered at the screen over his shoulder, seeing a text message filled with numbers there.
"What are these, coordinates?" Dean questioned. "Who's it from?"
"I have no idea," Sam replied.
"Let me see?" I asked. Dean held the phone up for me to read the numbers as I typed them into the search bar. Dean handed Sam his phone back and he promptly called the number he received the text from. I hit enter on the search bar, the image zoomed into the map, coming to a stop on t the east coast. "Bristol, Rhode Island."
"Bristol?" Bobby questioned, leaning in the doorway. I nodded in response. Bobby sighed, pushing his hands into his pockets. "In the past week, three women have gone missing up there. Vanished into thin air."
I balked. "You're kidding."
"'Fraid not."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Slipped my mind."
"Oh, really?" I pressed, narrowing my eyes.
"Who was it?" Dean asked his brother.
I looked away from Bobby, seeing Sam shake his head. "I don't know, it just kept ringing."
Dean furrowed his brow. "What the hell's that about?"
"Who knows how many hunters I even met, working with the Campbells, you know? Could be one of them looking for backup, throwing us a case?"
"Gee. That'd be nice of them," I scoffed, shooting Bobby a hard look. He shook his head and turned away, heading back into the kitchen.
"I think we should go," Sam announced, ignoring me and Bobby.
"Wait, we're just gonna drop everything?" Dean questioned, throwing his arms up.
"Drop what? We haven't been doing anything," I pointed out, the prospect of actually going on a hunt making me feel "We've been sitting around twiddling our thumbs waiting for something to come up. This is something."
"Mysterious coordinates from a mysterious Mr. X leading to a mysterious town? That doesn't throw up red flags to either of you?" Dean asked, looking back and forth to Sam and me.
"I don't know," Sam shrugged. "Maybe. But that doesn't mean we can just ignore a bunch of missing girls."
"Not to mention, it seems like a legit case. One someone we know refused to tell us about," I spoke the last part louder, glaring daggers into the kitchen.
"Stop your whining!" Bobby retorted.
"Okay. We'll check it out," Dean relented, also ignoring mine and Bobby's bickering. "But if things get squirrely, we dump out, okay?"
With all of us in agreement that if things got bad, we'd leave, we packed up and headed out. I figured a twenty-three-hour car ride would be the perfect time to test the best dose of sleeping pills I could take without going completely unconscious as I did back in Portland. After a few hours, we decided to pull into a rest stop and get some sleep near Peoria, Illinois.
While the boys went to use the bathroom, I took the opportunity to pop one and a half sleeping pills and washed them down with whatever Dean had in his flask. By the time they came back, I was already curled up on my side in the backseat, leaning against the door with my jacket under my head, while Dean got in and laid on his back, out legs interlocked. Sam got the front seat all to himself, and we were out of it in no time.
The feeling of movement made my eyes crack open, and I up peered through my eyelashes to see trees flying by out of the window. I yawned and stretched, glancing over my shoulder to see Dean in the driver's seat. My vision blurred slightly, my surroundings spinning. Still, I could see the worried tint in Dean's eyes when he looked back at me, even though he tried to hide it.
"Morning, sleeping beauty," he muttered, returning his eyes to the road.
"How long was I out for?" I asked, sitting upright, running my hands through my hair to get the tangles out.
"Long enough for us to hit Pittsburg."
"Why didn't you wake me up when you started driving?"
"We tried," Sam piped up. "You were out."
"So we just let you sleep," Dean said, glancing back at me in the rear-view mirror, that same look of worry in his eyes. I quickly averted mine, training them on the floor of the car.
The look in Dean's eyes made me want to take that bottle and chuck it out of the window, but the fear that crept up inside of me when that thought crossed my mind quickly stopped me from entertaining that idea. Surprisingly, the rest of the drive was filled with music blaring from the speakers and fast food. Neither of us really talked much, but the silence wasn't totally uncomfortable, save for the looks Dean kept giving me. It seemed like old times, something that was rare these days.
Before I knew it, we were crossing over into Bristol. As we passed the town's welcome sigh, Sam pulled in a sharp breath, his head fixated in the direction of the sign long after Dean drove past. I tapped him on the shoulder, and he jumped about ten feet in the ait.
"Are you okay?" I questioned Sam, sharing a concerned look with Dean.
"Yeah," Sam nodded, swallowing audibly.
After driving through town for a little while to get our bearings, we luckily found an abaonded house, seemingly no one around for miles. While setting up inside, it was like we all silently decided to leave what happened before in the past and tried to act as if nothing weird occurred. Once we were done, the sun had risen and when Dean's stomach growled, we realized it'd been a few hours since we'd eaten, so we decided to head over to one of the restaurants we passed on the way in.
We spent our breakfast going over what we knew about the case, including looking over the missing persons' leaflets we printed off before leaving Bobby's for what felt like the millionth time. Still, we couldn't find anything that linked these girls. Usually, there was some kind of pattern, but this - it didn't make sense.
"Well, freak's got a type. Brunettes," Dean commented. Suddenly, his eyes went wide. "Whoa."
"What is it?" I asked, sitting up a little straighter, thinking he'd found something interesting.
"This one's got a little bit of a wild side," Dean smirked, turning the page around for Sam and me to see her picture.
I huffed, leaning back in my seat. "You're kidding me."
"It's all in the eyes," Dean pointed to his own eyes, still referencing the girl. "See it?"
"I see something," I commented, nodding in his direction to let him know I was talking about him and not the girl. "Not so much wild. More like crazy."
"God, I love it when you talk dirty," Dean smirked, playfully winking at me. I laughed, taking the papers from him.
Sam smiled at us, shaking his head as he picked up his glass and took a sip of his drink. He set the cup back down onto the table with a quiet clink. "Well, aside from your little deep insight there, these women actually have nothing in common. Different jobs, different friends, different everything. So, what's the connection?"
"I don't know. Why don't you two figure that out?" Dean suggested, standing to his feet. "I'm gonna go hit the poop deck."
I followed his gaze, seeing the large neon sign above the bathrooms that read poop deck. I let out a breathy laugh, shaking my head as I picked up a fry off my plate. "You're exhausting."
"Love you too," Dean winked, heading away from the table.
Sam cleared his throat, ruffling the napkin that sat beside his plate. I glanced up at him, seeing that he was already looking my way, eyes slightly glazed over.
"You okay?" I asked.
"Yeah," he nodded, blinking a few times. "Yeah, I'm good. I'm- yeah."
"Sam, if something's bothering you-"
"Agent Roark?" A brunette smiled at Sam as she approached the table, a shorter balding man directly behind her. Sam glanced over at me nervously before his eyes flickered back to the woman. She smiled wider when he made eye contact. "It's good to see you again."
"It is," Sam nodded convincingly.
"You remember my husband," she gestured to the man behind her.
"Right."
"Don."
"Of course, right. Hi," Sam said. Don simply nodded, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else right about now.
"And who's this?" She gestured my way, a hint of jealousy to her tone as she eyed me, her friendliness now much more forced.
"I'm his partner," I said confidently, not appreciating the dirty looks she was giving me. "Agent-"
"Partner?" She interrupted, looking back to Sam with a smile. "What happened to the older bald guy? Agent Wynand, right?"
Knowing exactly who she was talking about, my breath caught in my throat at the very mention of him and I quickly bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from saying anything stupid.
"Agent Wynand, of course," Sam nodded. "Well-"
"Sex rehab," Dean announced, walking up behind Sam. "You've heard of plushies, right?"
"These are my new partners," Sam told her when she shot a questioning look at Dean.
"Hi," Dean smiled, shaking her outstretched hand. The woman smiled seductively at Dean, holding onto his hand for a bit longer than necessary for a handshake. I let my foot slip off of the stool's rung, the side of my boot hitting her in the leg.
"Ow!" She exclaimed, dropping Dean's hand. She looked over at me with wide eyes.
"Oh, I'm sorry. My foot slipped," I laughed it off.
The woman readjusted her purse strap, hiking it up on her shoulder. She pursed her lips, training her eyes onto Sam again. "So, you're back 'cause it started again, right? The disappearances?
"Uh, yeah. Right," Sam replied. "So, if either of you two hear anything, please let us know."
"Of course, we will," She muttered, her eyes darkening as she looked Sam up and down. Sam quickly averted his eyes down to the table. Dean and I shared an astounded look at the bedroom eyes this woman was giving Sam right in front of her husband.
"You know, I think it's time we head out," Dean declared.
"Oh," The woman finally broke her gaze from Sam for a moment to glance at Dean before returning her eyes to Sam. "Nice chatting with you, Agent Roark."
"You too," Sam nodded. The woman smiled.
As she and her husband walked away from the table, the woman waited until Don was in front of her to place a hand on Sam's shoulder, letting it slide off slowly. Sam's head whipped around to watch her as she walked away, shooting him a wink.
"What was that?" Dean pressed, gesturing over to her with his thumb. "She just cougar-eyed you."
Sam swallowed hard, pulling in a deep breath. "I think Samuel and I have worked a case in this town.
"You think?" Dean scoffed, throwing a polaroid photo down onto the table. I craned my neck to see it.
In the picture was a man and woman standing in the foreground the former of whom was wearing a large pirate hat, a big, empty plate sitting in front of him on the table. Behind the waitress who stood in the back of him, was Sam and Samuel sitting at a table. Chills ran down my spine looking into Sam's eyes. The lifeless version of him I wanted so badly to forget was staring into the lens.
"Come on," Dean called, picking up the picture. "Let's get the hell out of here."
I didn't hesitate to stand up, grabbing the missing person flyers off of the table as I went. Sam tossed his napkin down onto the plate and got up, looking like he wanted to get out of here even faster than I did. Dean threw down a couple of bills onto the table, enough to cover the meals and a tip, and we were gone.
Back at the abandoned house we set up in, Sam sat at the table on his laptop while Dean and I started packing up some of the stuff that we already laid out in anticipation of being here for a couple of days.
"Hop to, would you?" Dean called out to Sam for about the fifth time.
Sam shook his head. "We can't go, Dean."
"I'm sorry?" I questioned, hurriedly stuffing the shirt I was holding into the bag in front of me to make my way into the other room. On my way there, Dean sighed, pulling the shirt out of the bag to fold it. I leaned in the doorway, an eyebrow raised at Sam. "What?"
"Listen, five guys went missing a year ago. They never found the bodies. I mean, that's got to be the job me and Samuel worked, right?"
"Who cares?"
"Who-" Sam shook his head. "A year ago, five guys go missing, and now suddenly all these women go missing. Something's here. So either we just didn't stop it, or we only thought we did."
"Fine, but why the gender-bend, huh?" Dean pressed. "First, it's dudes. Now it's chicks? That's a totally different M.O."
"I don't know. Who knows? The point is, something's still here."
"Great," Dean shrugged. "We'll call Bobby. He can deal with it."
"Why? We can deal with it."
"Are you serious? Sam, there is a reason that hunters don't hit the same town over again - 'cause we have a habit of leaving messes behind."
"Right," Sam nodded. "I agree."
"One of dad's rules," Dean held up a finger, walking around to stand in front of Sam. "You never use the same crapper twice."
"Everyone uses the same crapper twice."
"Not us," Dean argued. Sam furrowed his brow, looking up at him in question. I couldn't help but sport a similar look. Dean rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean."
"Dad also said, you finish what you start," Sam said, looking over at Dean pointedly."This creature is still walking around 'cause of me, right? I mean, I let it go."
I let out a heavy breath. "Sam, please."
"Guys, I get it," Sam announced, looking between Dean and me.
Dean raised an eyebrow, pushing his hands into his pockets. "Do you?"
"Yes. You're afraid I'll stroll down memory lane and I'll kick this wall in my head so hard, hell comes flooding through, right? And then all of a sudden, I'm some drooling mess on the floor," Sam said through a tight-lipped smile, trying to make light of it. I flinched at the very thought.
"It's not a joke," Dean stated flatly.
"Okay," The smile quickly faded from Sam's face. "I know. But listen, what's happening here right now, it's because I messed up somehow, in some big way."
"You don't know that for sure," I challenged, folding my arms.
"But what if," Sam urged. "All I can think, is every person who gets taken, every person who dies...that's on me. I have to stop it. And you'd do the same thing. You know you would."
Knowing he wasn't about to let this go, Dean and I silently agreed to relent, on one condition. He's not left alone. No matter what. After a big sigh, Sam agreed and Dean made up the plan for him to go follow up with the missing girls' family and friends while Sam and I went to ask the cops for more info. The three of us changed into our suits and we were off.
In the Impala, I sat behind the wheel, driving us to the station. In the passenger seat, Sam flipped through some newspaper clippings. I drove into the parking lot, pulling into an empty spot in front of the station. Putting the car in park, Sam got out. Just when I was about to follow suit, I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket. I took it out, seeing Dean's name flash across the screen.
"Hey," I answered the call, waving for Sam to start heading in without me so I could speak to Dean. He nodded and shut the door, heading towards the station.
"Hey," Dean said.
"What's up?"
"You know the first girl that went missing?"
"Ashley Holt?" I recalled, putting the call on speaker so I could reach for the missing persons flyers on the passenger seat floor.
"Yeah. I just got finished talking to her sister. Told me a freakishly tall FBI agent spoke to Ashley a while back. Had a big, bald dude with him. Sound like anyone you know?" Dean asked rhetorically.
"Sadly, yeah," I mumbled, seeing a sheriff's car pull up in front of the building. I focused back on my conversation with Dean. "So?"
"Her sister said Ashley and Sam kept making eyes at each other until Sam asked to speak to her in private."
"Are you-" I paused, lowering my voice. "Are you saying that Sam slept with Ashley while her sister and Samuel were in the other room?"
"Yeah!" Dean answered, sounding a little more enthused than he probably should, given the situation. "Speaking of...how's Sam?"
"Okay," I pulled in a deep breath. "For now, anyway."
"Yeah, well, let's hope he stays that way."
"I dont like this, Dean," I said, glancing back in the rearview mirror to see Sam about to reach the sidewalk.
"Me either," Dean muttered. "But hey, maybe if we finish this job, he'll get it out of his system."
"This is Sam we're talking about."
Outside, I heard some commotion and shouting, looking in the side mirror to see a sheriff slam Sam down on the hood of his car, cuffing him.
"Oh, shit!" I exclaimed. Through the speaker, I heard Dean asking what was wrong, but quickly pushed the phone into my pocket and jumped out of the car.
Across the parking lot, Sam shot me a look silently telling me to stay where I was and not try to intervene. I watched as the sheriff brought Sam into the station, the door shutting behind them. It wasn't until I couldn't see them any more that I finally noticed muffled, static shouting coming from my pants pocket. I quickly pulled my phone out and took it off speaker, holding it to my ear.
"Tori!" Dean all but screamed into the phone.
"I'm here," I told him. "Sorry, I-"
"What the hell happened?! Are you okay?!"
"I"m fine. Sam just got arrested," I explained.
"What?"
"I don't- I don't know what happened, I was in the car."
"Alright, I'm coming."
"No, no. I'll handle it. You just- you keep up at it over there."
"You sure?"
"Yeah. I'm sure." I wasn't. "I got this."
With that, I hung up with Dean and got back in the car, attempting to come up with some sort of plan to break Sam out of there. I pulled in a deep breath and got out of the car, straightening my jacket as I made my way up to the door. I headed inside, seeing the sheriff that arrested Sam sitting behind one of the desks in the room, raising an eyebrow at me when I entered. I held up my badge as I approached the desk, pushing it into my back pocket before they could get a good look.
"Agest Easton, FBI," I announced.
"More FBI?" The sheriff questioned, a suspicious look in his eyes.
"More?" I questioned, raising an eyebrow.
He laughed bitterly. "You heard of an Agent Roark? Agent Wynyard?"
"Can't say I have," I shrugged. The sheriff looked away for a moment, seemingly contemplating whether or not to believe me. I continued. "Three women have gone missing in the same week under mysterious circumstances. It's all getting a little out of hand, don't you think-" I squinted my eyes to see the name on his tag. "-Sheriff Atkins? First those men, now these women? You don't seem to be any closer to fixing this problem. So, here I am. You can talk to my supervisor about it if you want."
"I'd love to," he said. I nodded and pulled out my wallet, taking out the business card Sam had forced us all to get a while back. I handed it over to the sheriff, who all but snatched it from my hands. I waited there as he picked up the phone and dialed the number.
On the other end, I heard Bobby's voice mutter a gruff Willis, FBI. The sheriff went through the standard questioning, asking if I was legit. By the sound of his responses, I could tell Bobby was snapping at him, most likely telling him he wasted his time and to let me go in. When he finally hung up, Sheriff Atkins looked like he'd run a marathon.
"So?" I asked, an eyebrow raised.
"We have a suspect in custody," he told me.
"Oh, do you? What makes you think it's them?"
He laughed bitterly. "The same guy was here a year ago when five men went missing. He was posing as an FBI agent. He beat me within an inch of my life in the backroads where he and his partner left me for dead."
"That's horrible," I swallowed hard, genuinely sorry for what had happened.
Sheriff Atkins nodded, letting out a heavy breath. "No coincidence that these girls go missing and he shows up."
"Mind if I talk to him?"
After a beat of silence, sheriff Atkins pushed away from the desk to lead me to the holding cells. Inside the room sat two small cells, one of them occupied by Sam, who sat on the small cot in the corner staring down at the floor.
"Hey," The sheriff called, gaining Sam's attention. His eyes widened slightly when he saw me, but he quickly changed his expression to one of pleading. Sheriff Atkins grinned. "You've got yourself in deep shit, buddy."
"I didn't do anything," Sam insisted.
"That's what they always say," I mumbled, turning back to the sheriff. "Mind if you give us some time alone?"
Atkins glanced at Sam over my shoulder before returning his eyes to me. "Okay."
"Thanks," I smiled tightly, waiting for him to leave the room before I spun around to face Sam, keeping my voice low. "What the fuck, dude?"
"I know, okay?" Sam hissed quietly, walking over to the bars. "I almost killed him."
My eyes widened. "Do you-"
"Remember?" Sam finished. "Yeah."
"See? We should've left before. I knew this shit was gonna happen."
"You knew I was gonna get arrested for beating up a cop when I had no soul?" Sam deadpanned.
"Don't be a smartass, you're the one behind bars," I retorted. "We have to leave this palace, Sam."
"Tori, if I did that to him, I- I don't know what else I did. I need to know-"
"No, you don't!" I exclaimed quietly. "You don't need to know Sam. Better yet, you don't want to know!"
"I have to fix this, Tori."
"Do you want something bad to happen?" I pressed. "What, do you feel like you deserve it or something?"
Sam's jaw clenched, and he looked away, but before he could answer, the door flew open. I turned on my heel to see a woman with dark hair storming in, glaring daggers at Sam. "What happened to my husband?"
"I- I don't know," Sam replied, holding his hands up.
I began to speak. "Excuse me, I'm trying to speak to this suspect. You're interfering."
"Interfering?" she snapped.
"I'm with the FBI. Agent-"
"FBI?" she paused, her eyes widening in realization, flickering over to Sam before coming back to me. "You're with him."
I raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"
"Don't lie to me. I know who you are. I know what you do."
"Oh, really?" I laughed. "I think you're confused."
"You kill monsters," she said point-blank.
I attempted to keep my expression neutral, but it was hard considering what she just said. "How do you know what?"
"Because he told me," she nodded to Sam, who got the same clouded look in his eyes that I'd seen a couple of times since we'd come to this stupid town. One that worried me.
"Why would he tell you?"
"I worked here with my husband. He was the sheriff until he vanished...and you vanished," she turned back to Sam, tears forming in her eyes. "What was I supposed to think? That thing got him, or that you killed him? I just want to know what happened."
"So do I," Sam told her. "Believe me. Something happened to me. I have no memory of being here, ever."
"What is this, Days of Our Lives? You're telling me you have some sort of amnesia?"
"Look, if I knew any of this, would I have stepped foot into this station?" Sam questioned. The woman looked over at him. Sam continued, his eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry. I- I don't even know your name."
"If this is some sort of a game, you're either incredibly clever or incredibly stupid."
"Look...I don't know what happened to your husband. But I can find out," Sam told her, glancing over to me. "We can find out."
"He's telling the truth," I interjected.
"And I'm just supposed to buy that?" She asked. "I don't even know you."
"But you said you know me, right?" Sam pressed. She nodded, albeit hesitantly. "Then if you really know me, then you know that's my job."
I could see in her eyes that her resolve had broken. She believed him. "You really don't remember?"
"No, I really don't."
"What happened to you?" She asked Sam. When he didn't answer, she looked at me.
"It's a lot," I told her. "Too much to explain if you want us to figure out what's going on in this town."
After a beat of silence, she nodded. "I'm Brenna Dobbs."
"Brenna…" Sam began, putting every ounce of genuine emotion into his voice. "I'm sorry about what happened to your husband. But I can find the answers...just not from in here."
"You told them you were FBI?" She asked me. I nodded. Brenna took a set of keys from her belt and unlocked the cell. "Good. Then you're taking Sam in for questioning."
"Sounds good to me," I replied, pulling the cuffs from my back pocket. I grinned at Sam. "Hands behind your back, buddy."
"Why do I feel like you've done this before," Sam asked in disgust, turning around with his arms outstretched behind him.
"What can I say? Dean likes it," I smiled even wider when Sam cringed.
On the way out, Sheriff Atkins immediately shot up in his seat and began asking where I was taking Sam. I informed him my supervisor told me to take him in for questioning. He finally laid off when I threatened to charge him with interfering with an investigation. In the car, I texted Dean to tell him I got Sam, and that we were heading back to the house.
When we arrived, Sam immediately grabbed his laptop, turned on the police scanner, and went through the same newspaper articles for the millionth time. He seemed fine for the moment, other than a little seeming manic while trying to dig up information, but that was normal for him. Still, I was worried that all this stress would eventually take its toll on him. In some attempt to relieve some of it, I grabbed a stack of papers and started leafing through them.
After what felt like hours, the sound of footsteps outside called our attention. Sam and I both looked up at the same time, each of us taking on a defensive posture. He stood to his feet and pulled o t pulling his gun out as he walked towards the door. I hurried to the other side of it, waiting for his nod before I opened it.
"Jesus Christ!" Dean exclaimed, rolling his eyes as he pushed into the room. Sam let out a heavy breath, pushing his gun back into his belt.
"You could've called," I told Dean as I shut the door behind him.
"How does it feel to be a fugitive again?" Dean asked Sam, who let out an annoyed huff and trudged back into the other room. Dean followed, pulling off his jacket as he went. "Hate to say, I told you so."
Sam scoffed. "You love to say I told you so."
"Actually, you're right, I do love to say, I told you so."
"Tori already told me off, so you actually don't need to," Sam complained.
"Damn right I did," I mumbled, making my way into the room both boys were in.
"I'll think about it," Dean mumbled. "So, I found out something on, crazy eyes McGee. Turns out you two knew each other."
"What?"
"Biblically."
"Another one?" I questioned.
"Another one?" Sam repeated in confusion. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"You screwed Ashley Holt," Dean said flatly.
"And that woman at the bar," I added.
"And this girl," Dean said. "I just spoke to her roommate. I got to say, man - you really got around. I mean, soulless or not I'm actually kind of impressed."
The police scanner crackled, a male voice coming through the speaker. "Eight Sierra Papa. Got a ten-fifty-seven, eleven-hundredth block of Hope Street. Over."
"Missing person - another one," Sam said.
"You go, I'll stay here," I told Dean, looking pointedly at Sam. "With you. And we're not gonna leave. Right?"
"Yeah," Sam mumbled, looking down.
Dean narrowed his eyes. "Sam."
Sam let out an irritated sigh, looking up at him. "Fine! Go!"
With that, Dean grabbed his jacket and slipped out the door. I mumbled a come on, gesturing for Sam to follow me back into the other room where we could resume our investigating. About a half-hour passed since Dean left. The sun was setting, and snow began falling. I texted to make sure he was okay, but he didn't answer. I wasn't too worried, assuming he was speaking to the cops at the scene. Before long I had to use the bathroom. I debated waiting but finally decided that I could slip away for a minute without Sam getting himself into trouble. I announced I was going to the bathroom, to which Sam shrugged.
"I swear to God if I come back and you're gone-"
"I'll be here," Sam said, not looking up at me from the laptop.
In the bathroom, I splashed some water on my face, att rid my face of the visible tension I could see there. Once I finished, I headed back out into the living room to find it empty. My blood boiled when I saw a torn piece of paper on the table, the words I'm sorry scribbled on it.
I crumbled the paper in my hands, tossing it to the floor.
Wracking my brain as to where he could've gone, I grabbed the laptop and tracked the location of his phone. I watched him moving throughout the town, but he never stayed long enough for me to catch up with him. That is, until, he arrived at an address nearby and stopped moving altogether. . I hurriedly made my way there, finding myself at a small, two-story home. On my way to the steps, I texted Dean to come meet me here before knocking on the door, probably a bit too forcefully.
Quick footsteps sounded on the other side before the door was unlocked and opened, Brenna Dobbs peeked her head through the gap. Sam had one goal in this town as of late, and that was to find out what happened to Brenna Dobbs's husband. I should've known.
"Oh. It's you," Brenna said.
"Hi," I forced a small smile on my lips. "Is Sam here?"
"Yeah."
"Great," I said, practically pushing my way into her home. Brenna shut the door behind me as I marched in, looking around until I spotted Sam sitting at the dining room table where a box and files laid out in front of him.
Sam's eyes went wide when he saw me. He stood to his feet, holding his hands up in surrender. "Tori-"
"I'm gonna kill you!" I hissed through gritted teeth.
"Listen-"
"No! All we did was ask you to stay put, just for a little while, and you couldn't do it. Why don't you care, Sam?" I asked, tears forming in my eyes. I tried to blink them away, but it didn't work.
"I do, Tori," he said, sadness shining in his eyes. "I care a lot."
I folded my arms. "Not about yourself, apparently."
"Don't pretend that you wouldn't do the same exact thing if you were in my position."
"It's different," I argued.
"It's not," Sam stated. He gestured back to the files on the table. "These are the case files that Roy Dobbs created a year ago. There's a lot of information in there. If I hadn't come here, we never would've gotten it."
Suddenly, the realization that Brenna was standing not five feet behind us while we were having this conversation hit me. I forced myself to push this aside until we left.
"Okay," I nodded.
Sam looked like he wanted to question my one-word answer but instead turned to Brenna. "Do you mind if I, um, borrow all this stuff for a couple of hours?"
"Um, okay. I guess," Brenna blinked a few times, looking as though she was reeling from the conversation she just witnessed. She pulled in a deep breath. "You really don't remember Roy, do you? He was a good man. I've made peace that he's dead. I have. But I just want to know what happened."
"I'm sure he died a hero," Sam told her, trying to comfort her in any way he could.
Piling everything back into the box, Sam and I left Brenna's house just as Dean pulled up in the Impala. We made our way to the car and I took the box from Sam, taking it into the backseat with me while he slipped into the passenger seat. We'd barely been in the car two seconds before Dean shot a hard glare at Sam.
"Do you know the meaning of stay put?" Dean questioned.
Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah, Dean. I do."
Dean shook his head, putting the car in drive, he pulled away from the house. "Did you get my message?"
"Message?" Sam asked, reaching into his pocket for his phone. Over his shoulder, I saw the notification reading Dean - one missed call. Sam pressed play on the voicemail, Dean's voice sounded over the speaker sounding annoyed and slightly fearful that Sam wasn't answering.
"Sam, answer the fucking phone, damn it. I found the connection between the missing chicks. They all banged the same dude - you. It's you, Sam. The texts, the victims, all of it. It's a trap for you. Call me back."
"See why it's important to answer your phone?" Dean snapped.
"I don't understand," Sam mumbled, brows furrowed. "Why the hell would a monster do this?"
"I don't know, maybe you fucked him over last year? Who cares, we got to get you out of here."
"It just doesn't add up."
"A monster with a good cell phone plan who wants to reel in and kill you specifically," I scoffed. "Adds up to me. We're leaving."
"It's an Arachne," Sam clarified, seemingly ignoring the tail end of the sentence.
"A what?" Dean asked.
"An Arachne. Like a human-spider hybrid. They haven't been seen outside Crete in two-thousand years. Well, other than last year."
"How the hell do you know that?" I questioned.
Sam cleared his throat, not looking at either me or Dean. "I remembered."
"You remembered?" Dean exploded at the same time I exclaimed. "What?"
"What else have you remembered?" Dean pressed.
"Don't worry, alright?" Sam brushed it off. "It's nothing to do with hell."
I scoffed. Dean shook his head. "Not yet, anyway."
"What can I do? The stuff is just starting to come back, alright? Maybe it's natural."
"We're leaving."
"I don't care if I have to drag you out of this town kicking and screaming," I demanded. "I'll fucking do it."
"We are not the only hunters on the planet, okay?" Dean pushed. "We can call Bobby. He and Rufus could come and wrap up."
"How?" Sam asked. "Like you said, it could be anybody, we got jack-shit for leads."
Dean pulled the Impala into the driveway of the abandoned house. "Well, we know that it hates you."
"I know who did this. I just- I can't remember."
"I don't think you get the risk here, Sam."
"Yes, I do."
"Really?" Dean questioned, putting the car in park. He turned to look at Sam. "You get that every time you scratch that wall, that you are playing Russian roulette?"
"Guys, I get you're worried, okay?" Sam looked between Dean and me. "And I know what you think is gonna happen. But you know what? It will or it won't."
I scoffed. "Sam-"
"Look, I'm starting to think that- that I might have done some bad stuff here. And so I don't care if it's dangerous. I have to set things right, 'cause I got a fucking soul now, and- and it won't let me just walk away. I'm staying here. And I need you two to back me up."
As much as I wanted to tell him he was wrong, I couldn't make myself. The desperate look in his eyes was enough to stop me. If this was something he had his mind and heart set on, there was no use us trying to get him to listen. The only thing we could do was be there and try to keep him together if something were to happen.
"Alright, why not? Let's Memento this thing, shall we?" Dean said, getting out of the car.
Inside, Dean and Sam hung a large map up on the wall while I began sorting through the case files Roy Dobbs created. Sam sat down beside me and began going through a stack. Every so often we would hand Dean one of interest and he'd pin it up on the wall. After what felt like an eternity, the once empty wall was completely covered. Pictures of the victims and red pins corresponding to where they went missing dotted the map. I stood in front of it with Dean, the two of us trying to figure out where the central location was that this monster could be hiding out when we heard Sam pull in a sharp breath.
We spun around at the same time to see Sam sitting seemingly frozen with a police report in his hand. He stared off into space, not responding when we called him. It took Dean and I both shaking him for him to come back to reality.
"Hey!" I called, my voice shaking with fear.
Sam blinked once, his eyes focusing on us. "I remember."
"What do you remember?"
Not meeting my eyes, Sam swallowed audibly. "What happened."
"Okay..." Dean trailed off, gently gesturing for Sam to continue.
When he didn't say anything, I sat on the coffee table in front of him and grabbed his hand. "Sam, you have to tell us."
Suddenly Sam's phone began to ring and he quickly yanked his hand out of mine to pull it from his pocket, answering the call without looking at the screen. "Hello?" he paused, a shocked look on his face. "Yeah, of course, I can swing by. Okay. Yeah. Bye."
"What was that about?" Dean asked.
"Brenna wants me to swing by."
"For?"
"She said it's no big deal, but I can tell she's in deep trouble," Sam said standing up.
"How?"
"She sounds like she's been crying."
I clenched my jaw. "Sam, we-"
"Please," Sam implored. "We have to go."
The look in his eyes was one of deep regret. I didn't want to prod, to make things worse. As much as I wanted to know, he didn't do it to me, and I wouldn't do it to him.
Outside a thick layer of snow covered the ground and trees, still falling from the sky as we drove over to Brenna's. As the impala drove up to the house, I didn't immediately notice anything off or wrong. We exited the car, each of us readying the hunting knives we carried.
"Light's on in the shed," Dean observed, looking over at Sam and me. "My spidey senses are tingling."
With that, we crept over to the shed, making sure to keep quiet as we entered through the already open door. I stayed on high alert, keeping an eye out for anyone hiding in the large, cluttered space filled with boating and fishing gear as well as various other items.
"Sam?" Brenna called from behind a large file cabinet, the moonlight shining in through a window, illuminating her tear-stained face. She sat, her knees clutched to her chest.
"Brenna?" Sam crouched down in front of her. "Hey."
"What you did to Roy…is it true?"
Both Dean and I looked at Sam for confirmation, but before anything could be said, someone appeared behind Dean and grabbed him by the throat, throwing him across the room where he crashed through a net. I raised my hand to slice the creature with my knife, but he grabbed my wrist and landed a blow to my stomach. The hit stunned me as the air left my lungs and he tossed me back. I slid on the floor, my head smacking into a support beam. Through blurry eyes, I saw him grab Sam, pushing him up against a wall where he held him by the neck.
"Answer the question, Sam," Roy hissed through gritted teeth.
My head spun as I tried to sit up, but the moment I moved, it all went dark.
The sound of my own groans woke me up, the darkness clearing as I came to. I tried to move, but something was holding me down. Forcing my eyes open, I saw that my entire body was covered in webs. It didn't take long to realize that Sam and Dean were sitting to my right, both in the same state as I was. Breanna stood a few feet in front of us, her breathing ragged. Roy strolled into view, grinned widely at Sam. The moonlight shined on his green-tined skin, the deep pits and healed over burn marks indented in his face, and the raised, dark blue veins popping out. His eyes practically glowed in the darkness, the light blue tint of them offset by the two black pupils settled in the middle.
"You got to admit I look good, Sam. Well, except for your little souvenir," Roy pointed to the heal bullet hole in the middle of his forehead.
"You win," Sam said. "I'm here. Let Brenna go. This has nothing to do with her."
"You come back around, start hanging out with my wife, and you think this has nothing to do with her? But then...you thought I was out of the way, right? I got to say, you get a hell of a lot wrong, Sam, like that thing you threw me to. You thought it was here to feed."
A look of realization crossed Sam's features. "She was here to breed."
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dean reaching for something, and quickly looked back to Roy so as not to cause any suspicions. Roy didn't seem to notice anything other than Sam, who he was hyper-focused on, but I didn't want to take any chances.
"Yeah. That thing was playing the mating game, and I guess I fit her profile...me and all those other poor bastards. She bit us to turn us into what she was. By the time you pulled that trigger, I wasn't human. Not anymore," Roy muttered, looking down at his hands. His head quickly snapped back to Sam. "So bullets didn't hurt me much. Oh, and neither did fire. So after you left, well, we ran. Me - I hid for months, nearly starved. But you know what kept me going? Every night, I dreamed about ripping your throat out. I thought I was sending you a neon sign. The text? Taking all those girls you screwed? I was kicking so much sand in your eye, I couldn't figure out why you weren't getting it!" Roy spat, getting angry. He looked over at his wife, who stood there, eyes low and full of tears. "Then Bren tells me you've got brain damage. It's just too good."
"Where are they, Roy? The women?" Sam questioned, not falling for Roy egging him on.
"Scattered...In the wind. They're like me now. You killed one monster, you made so many more. Congratulations," he smiled sickeningly, the smirk falling from his lips, turning into a sneer. "The only question is, do I kill you...or turn you?"
Without warning, Dean cut through the web, breaking out and attacking Roy. He pushed him back, but Roy got the upper hand quickly and pucked Dean up by the throat, pinning him against the wall as he choked him.
"Dean!" I cried, fighting against the web to no avail.
Brenna dashed across the room, picking up the knife I'd dropped before, using it to cut Sam, who was closest to her, free. He quickly stood and took the knife from Brenna. When Roy released Dean and turned to face Sam, he swung the knife. Roy's body fell to the ground with a thud, a pool of blood beneath his decapitated head. Dean took the knife from Sam's hand and came over to cut me out of the web while Brenna rushed to Roy's side. As Dean helped me to my feet, I heard Brenna begin to sob quietly. She stared down at Roy, tears streaming down her cheeks as she stared at his body.
After what felt like forever, I was finally able to coax Brenna out of the shed so Sam and Dean could get rid of Roy's body. Making sure she got a coat to keep warm, I sat with her on the porch. She didn't talk to me, she didn't look at me. I didn't ask her if she was okay, I already knew the answer.
When the boys were done, Brenna took one look at them before stepped inside. Sam attempted to apologize, but she slammed the door in his face. I placed a hand on his back, gently holding his arm as I brought him to the Impala. No matter what, there was nothing he could say to her that would change anything. There was no use in hanging around.
Out of the blue on the ride back to the house to collect our things, Sam began telling us everything that happened last time when was here. I couldn't stop myself from watching him closely as he recounted. I felt more on edge than I had in a long time. Sure, it was difficult to process what he was telling us - how he sacrificed Roy to kill the Arachne. But somehow, that wasn't what bothered me. Not wholly, anyway. What did, however, was the emotion in his voice as the reality of how ruthless he was when he was soulless had set in. No matter how hard he tried to hide it, we could tell.
Every time he stopped to pull in a breath, I held mine, waiting for him to finally break. He didn't.
Back at the house, Dean and I were packing up once again, only this time Sam was as well. We hadn't said a word to each other since he finished his story. I wanted to, but I also didn't want to put any more stress on him by saying the wrong thing. So, instead, I just put a hand on his shoulder, trying to offer some kind of comfort, even though I knew it was pointless.
From the other room, Sam let out a loud sigh. Dean and I shared a look, I handed him the gun I was about to put into the bag and peered into the room Sam was in. "You okay?" I asked.
"You guys were right," Sam replied. "We should've left."
"It's okay, Sam," I told him.
Sam tossed the shirt he'd just folded into a bag. "Sure, it is."
"hey, you did kill, uh, Spider-Man," Dean said, attempting to make Sam feel better.
Sam scoffed. "So, you're suggesting what I did back there was a good thing?"
Dean shrugged, walking over to us. "I'm just saying-"
"What? So it's fine that I used him as bait and fucked up his life? Killed him?" Sam asked, breathing heavily.
"Sam you can't do that to yourself," I said. He scoffed out a humorless laugh.
"She's right," Dean insisted. "You got to understand that all that shit last year, all of it, none of it was you."
"Let's be crystal clear, okay? It was me," Sam said flatly. Dean opened his mouth to disagree, but I placed a hand on his arm, silently telling him not to push it any further. Dean nodded to me, heading back to the bags we were packing. I followed along.
"Well, can I get you anything?" Dean asked.
"What are you now, my waitress?"
"I'm just trying to make you feel better. Don't be a bitch."
A moment of silence passed, Sam let out a sigh. "Yeah, I'm fine."
"Yeah, you look fine," Dean mumbled under his breath. I shot him a look. He nodded, waving me off.
"Everything's gonna be alright, Sam," I said, trying to force my voice to sound sure and stable when that was the exact opposite of how I felt.
"I don't know. If I did this here, then who knows how many oth-" Sam's voice cut off, a loud thud taking its place. Dean and I rushed into the room to find Sam convulsing on the floor, his hands clenched into fists held out in front of him.
"Sammy!?" Dean called, dropping to the ground next to Sam, frantically grabbing the front of his jacket. "Sammy, talk to me!"
"Sam!" I cried my knees hitting the floor on the other side of Sam. I held his head up so he wouldn't smack it into the ground while he shook.
"Sammy, talk to me!" Dean demanded, his voice shaking with fear. Sam's dull, glazed over eyes remained wide and trained on the ceiling, his teeth clamped shut, low groans attempting to break through.
"What do we do?" I asked, looking up at Dean, who stared down at Sam, unmoving. "Dean!" I shouted, getting his attention. "What do we do?"
"I don't know!" Dean exclaimed.
We watched helplessly, seemingly unable to do anything to help him, unable to bring him back from the horrible place he was in. Without warning, Sam's eyes widened even more than before as he let out a pained, blood-curdling scream. When his voice finally faded, Sam's eyes shut and his head lulled to the side, his body falling limp in our arms. The silence that overtook the room felt like a thick fog. It filled my lungs and weighed them down so heavily I couldn't take a deep breath.
There was too much damage done, too much weight put on his shoulders all at once. The wall couldn't hold, and the dam finally broke.
A feeling of dread settled in my stomach as the warnings we'd been given about putting Sam's soul back flooded my mind. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I watched Dean shake his brother, pleading for him to come back to us.
No matter how hard we tried, no matter what we did, there was no way to repair it.
Suddenly, Sam's eyes snapped open and he let out a loud groan. By some miracle, he was alive. Both Dean and I jumped, startled at his sudden movement. I quickly pushed his hair out of his eyes as he blinked them hard a couple of times.
"Hey, you with us?" Dean asked Sam desperately. Sam didn't respond with words but pulled in a deep breath. Dean looked up at me, but neither one of us had to speak to know what we needed to do.
We had to get him out of here. Now.
Another chapter done! I want to thank MGF for leaving such a kind review on my last chapter. It brought tears to my eyes. I wish you had an account so I could message you personally, but since you don't, this'll have to do. Again, thank you, and I'm glad you're enjoying my story :D
As always, thanks to everyone for reading! Don't forget to review, I love seeing what you guys have to say!