You guys are bloody amazing with all your reviews, you are :) It's really fun to read the reactions you have to my chapters. Thanks for that!
Good news: after reading some reviews for Nightmare Beyond the Song, there's definitely a sequel in the works (won't be set up until Once upon a Memory is finished, though, since I don't like starting several stories at a time).
Even better news: older brother hinted he'll order this awesome Universal Mythology book for me for Christmas (since we unfortunately cannot travel to have Christmas together this year, our only solution is to order gifts in each other's names…). So I'm sure I'll have plenty of inspiration for new stuff in the months to come.
Chapter 7
I am the way, I will take you home, lead you astray
I am the way, shadows under skies, the truth and lies
Houses of high heaven, houses of the damned, sixes and seven
I am the way, darling take my hand,
I'll take you home, lead you astray
Marko Hietala – I am the way
Sam and Dean's next moves was to talk to the people who remembered the original case. Small towns, fortunately, had long memories and there were many people who recalled what had happened more than twenty years ago. Sometimes, word of mouth could be more helpful then official archives.
Their rescue of Jim Hayes that morning had made the townspeople open up to them. It wasn't clear if they believed the two were really FBI – and they obviously remembered two people arriving out of the blue and claiming the same thing the first time kids had started disappearing – but Sam and Dean had already shown their work yielded results. Which was the only thing the people of Rattigan cared about.
They could have gotten their answers quicker if they had split up to cover more ground. But, after Dean had burst into the hotel room to find Sam on the floor, he was not too inclined to let his brother out of his sight. Sam had huffed and rolled his eyes and protested, but he was secretly glad. He did not want to be alone, either. He had the sneaky suspicion that Dean was very much aware of that.
It was late afternoon and they were sitting at the local diner, enjoying warm food and summing up their findings.
"So, we can finally separate the kids that were taken by the boogeyman from those who were definitely taken by the Pied Piper," Sam said.
Dean nodded.
"Right, the boogeyman took kids who were clearly on Santa's naughty list. Truants, bullies, a few cases of animal cruelty here and there." He paused and shook his head. "Man, kids can be worse than demons, you know."
The corners of Sam's mouth curled slightly upwards.
"Not if they're raised right." He paused and cleared his throat awkwardly, sensing Dean's eyes on him. "So, the victims of the Pied Piper were generally good kids. Maybe a few behavioral issues here and there. They were vulnerable for one reason or another – they felt unloved at home, invalidated, lonely…"
Sam trailed off watching Dean's features darken. He shook his head.
"Dean, look, I know I wasn't any of that."
Dean snorted, shaking his head in disgust that was not directed at Sam.
"You might know that now. You obviously didn't know it then. And I'm the one who caused that."
Sam looked away, suddenly fascinated by the salt-shaker on the table.
"Technically, Dad's the one who caused it," he said cautiously. "Besides, whoever caused it, you're the one who ended it. I still remember what you said to me at Pastor Jim's place. It…it's kept me going through a lot of crap."
Dean's face brightened.
"Really?" he asked, sounding incredibly hopeful.
xxxXXXXxxxx
They had been at Pastor Jim's two days when John announced he was going to leave. That was hardly unusual, their father often took on Hunts unexpectedly. Jim threw him a few loaded glances and made several hints about the importance of family, but Sam and Dean took it in their stride. It hadn't been the first time it had happened.
By then, Sam and Dean seemed to have settled back in their normal routine. Sam spent a lot of time helping Pastor Jim around the church and playing with some of the dogs that always seemed to find themselves around Jim's house. Dean had renewed the connection with several boys his age who thought he and Sam were the pastor's nephews. The brothers still did not like to be separated for too long, but that, too, was more or less normal for them.
And then came the evening when they had their argument.
They were brothers with a four-year age difference between them. They had fundamentally different personalities and wanted different things in life – which would later lead to them becoming the perfect hunting team, but which also caused incendiary rows between them, at times. They lived in each other's pockets most of the time with privacy being in short supply. Of course they were going to argue. Of course they were going to shout and hurl insults at each other.
But, if there was one thing they both knew, was never to take those fights seriously. They blew off some steam, maybe sulked a little in separate corners for the rest of the day, but the next morning they acted as if nothing had happened. It was just some stress that needed to come out, and nothing personal. No fight, however bad, had changed anything between them. They had their own ways to apologize for arguments, by doing something the other liked, or offering a favorite food as a peace offering. It worked with them more than "sorrys" ever would.
This time, it was different. Perhaps it was because, after a two-month separation, they had both forgotten their usual ways of communicating with each other. Or maybe it was because that separation needed to be addressed, and burying it in the usual Winchester way was not going to work.
Early that evening Sam walked into the guest room he and Dean shared to find Dean talking on the phone with their Dad.
"So, you want me to come join you?" Dean was asking.
Sam froze in the threshold, his hand clutching the doorknob. The previous anxiety that had vanished when he was finally reunited with Dean was back in full force. He listened to Dean's side of the conversation with breath held.
"Are you sure?" Dean asked, after a pause. "I could, you know…Whatever you're after, it sounds badass…And I missed Hunting."
Dean hadn't seemed to notice Sam's arrival. Either that or he did not care – or maybe even did not think that offering to leave was such a big deal. There was no mention of Sam being part of their expedition. The terrifying breathlessness of before was back in full force, threatening to overwhelm Sam.
"Yes, Sir," Dean said, sounding disappointed. "Of course, Sir…Take care."
Dean hung up the phone and turned to face Sam. His expression was unreadable.
"Are you leaving?" Sam asked, letting go of the door and taking a step inside the room.
Dean frowned slightly.
"Not going anywhere, Sam."
He did not sound too pleased. Sam took another step into the room.
"Why did you suggest leaving?"
Dean shrugged.
"Dad might've needed back-up."
"He can get back-up," Sam insisted stubbornly. "He has adults for that. Bobby. Caleb. Anyone else."
Dean's eyes narrowed at Sam's belligerent tone.
"Why are your panties in a twist this time, Samantha?"
Sam stomped his foot against the ground, frustration getting the better of him.
"I can't believe you! We barely just arrived here and instead of reconnecting as a family, Dad doesn't even last two days before he ups and leaves. And now you want to go too!"
Dean shrugged.
"It doesn't matter, because I can't go, can I? Dad said I've got to stay here and look after your princess feelings."
"Who said I need looking after?" huffed Sam. "I was alone for two months. Two months, Dean! You weren't there!"
Dean hesitated. Something in the back of his mind warned him to let it go before one of them said something that would haunt them for a very long time. But Sam's irritating, "poor me" attitude was beginning to get on his nerves.
"And you've been a moody, prissy bitch ever since I got back," he snapped. "Two months was far too short a time to be away from that."
"Is that why you took too long?" Sam snapped. "I mean, the great Dean Winchester lost for two months. You wanted to stay away didn't you?"
"Well can you blame me?" Dean said harshly. "After all, look at you."
The fight left Sam immediately. He took a step back, his face suddenly pale, his eyes too bright. It made Dean even more irritated, although, if he was honest, part of that irritation was directed more at himself.
"I'm going to clear my head," he said flatly heading for the door. "Don't wait up."
He was nearly out the door when Sam called his name in a small, subdued voice. Dean pretended not to hear him.
xxxXXXXXxxxxx
Dean had not intended to stay long. Even while he was leaving, he was starting to feel bad, remembering Sammy's hurt features after his parting words. He just needed to cool off a bit – and allow Sam to do so as well. That was how it usually worked. They fought, then they separated for a bit, allowing the other to work through his anger. But, recalling the way Sam had tried to call him back, Dean was beginning to wonder if maybe this time his brother needed something else.
Pastor Jim cornered Dean as he was about to go back to Sam and sent him for some groceries "quickly, before the store closes, you boys'll eat me out of house and home, I swear" – and Dean of course could not say no. He didn't mention the argument. That was something strictly between Sam and himself and they had never involved anyone else in their problems. Not even Dad, or Bobby.
So, Dean went to do Pastor Jim's errands and got some of the pastries Sam liked in the process. They were fresh from the oven and warm. Sam was going to love them. With his peace offering at the ready, he could face his brother once more.
When Dean walked into the room, though, he froze. Sam was sitting in his bed pressed against the headboard, hugging his knees. He was crying.
"Sam!"
Dean hastily dropped the bag of pastries into a chair and strode towards his brother. Sammy did not cry. He made noise and bitched about everything, but he did his best not to cry. Not like that. Certainly not because of some stupid fight they both knew didn't mean anything. Or, at least, Dean had known that.
"Sammy?" Dean asked uncertainly, his hand hovering above Sam's shoulder, not really sure if his touch would be welcome or not.
Sam sniffed, eyes looking anywhere but at Dean.
"I thought you left," he muttered.
Dean slowly sat down beside Sam, relieved when his brother did not seem to mind.
"I was away longer than I wanted," he admitted. "I was actually about to come back when the Padre cornered me. But, hey, I got your favorite pastries."
Sam ignored that.
"I was so sure you were gonna disappear again," he whispered.
Dean shook his head.
"Sammy, we talked about this…"
"We didn't," Sam insisted. "Not really. You never told me where you were. No one did."
Dean took a deep breath. So their father had kept Dean's whereabouts a secret from Sam, which meant he had had his reasons. Well, Dean could care less about them right now. If knowing where Dean had been those two months would put Sam's mind at ease, then Dean was going to give that to him.
"Hey, you remember that Boys' Home where you got me from?" he asked casually, then went on, after Sam's curt nod. "I was there all that time. I…uhh…got caught doing something. Cops sent me to Sonny's. Dad was fine with it. Said it would teach me consequences and all."
Sam raised his eyebrows.
"Dad doesn't know about consequences," he pointed out. "Why should you?"
Good question. Sam was now leaning cautiously against him, half-expecting Dean to shove him away. Which, under any other circumstances, Dean would have been tempted to do. But not after walking in on Sammy looking so vulnerable.
"Did you…did you enjoy it there?" Sam asked cautiously. "Did you thought of maybe staying there for good?"
Dean hesitated. He was prepared to deliver one of his usual quips. But Sam deserved the truth. Sam had deserved the truth before, even if Bobby and Dad had been keeping it for him. He took a deep breath. He'd walk through Hell for Sam. Baring his heart to him shouldn't be so difficult, should it?
"It was fun," he admitted. "The guys were cool. Sonny was cool. And there was this hot chick…"
Sam huffed in what Dean was pretty sure was disgust.
"There's always a hot chick when you're involved."
Dean sniggered, then grew serious.
"The point is – despite all that, there was always this emptiness around me. I looked for you and realized you weren't with me. And that made me scared. Anything could be happening to you and I would not know about it. That was terrifying, Sammy. I don't like having you out of my sight. It often kept me awake at night."
"I often felt like I couldn't breathe," Sam admitted, leaning more heavily against Dean's side. "And since you came back, I've been wondering – what if next time, it's because of me? What if you won't come back, then?"
Dean's arm tightened around Sam. Had his brother really been feeling like that? He cursed himself for not tackling this sooner.
"Listen to me," he said fiercely. "You could do anything, Sam. Make any mistakes. Hell, you could stand in front of a Hunters' bar with a placard saying monsters are misunderstood and Hunters should leave them alone. It still won't change who you are to me. Well, I'll think you're the world's biggest idiot and tell you that, but I won't leave your side. Because you're Sammy. And nothing else matters, got that?"
He half expected Sam to object the name. He had been doing that for a while. But, if seemed that little brother had no desire to be independent right then. He looked long and hard at Dean, then broke into a smile.
"You said you got pastries?"
xxxXXXXxxxx
Dean eyed Sam from across the table.
"Did you still remember then? What had happened to you?"
Sam shrugged.
"I remembered going on the hunt, I think," he admitted. "Dad had told me you'd feel much better if you thought I'd been at Bobby's all the time. He told everyone else I was at Bobby's too. I had no idea how he got Greenberg to shut up, though. But I think I finally understand why. If the Pied Piper had indeed showed me some of my future with Lucifer and if I'd let anything about that slip while I was delirious – well, any Hunter worth their salt would have executed me then and there."
Dean frowned.
"Dad wouldn't have."
Sam nodded, patiently.
"I know he wouldn't have, Dean. But a lot of other Hunters could have. I mean, Gordon went after me on less. If he'd have gotten wind of what had happened to me…I would have been fair game. I think you would have too, just by association. Dad was just trying to prevent that." He paused and looked down at his hands. "By that time at Jim's, I really didn't remember anything about the Pied Piper, though. That he took me…or what he told me. I don't know how I escaped him either."
Dean got up and left some money on the table. Sam followed his lead.
"We'll do some more research on who the Pied Piper could be," Dean said. "Then we'll go back to the woods tonight. As for you…maybe it's better not to try to remember anything else. We've got enough."
XXXxxxxXXXX
Sam and Dean spent the afternoon and evening in their hotel room, going over the information about the missing kids, both past and present and looking into the histories of the townspeople. The Pied Piper seemed to have hit the town at the same time as the boogeyman, some twenty-five years back. Sam focused on archives from that time.
It was nine o'clock and it had gotten dark outside. Dean had just finished talking to Bobby on the phone, bringing him up to speed and trying to arrange a face-to-face with Greenberg that would have sent him back to the hospital. Sam was following a new lead. He was engrossed in whatever he was, not paying any attention to Dean's rant to Bobby.
Something rattled outside their room, just as Dean ended their conversation. Footsteps, Dean thought, immediately on the alert. There were no other guests at the hotel – except for the judge and his fling, but by now Dean knew it was the evening when the judge and his wife had dinner with the vicar, so he wouldn't be sneaking for some not-so-secret-fun at the hotel.
"Sam," Dean called, his tone immediately putting Sam on the alert.
The sounds outside were more pronounced. It sounded like a hundred scuffling feet passing their door. Dean suddenly felt disgusted.
"Rats," he realized. "Must be tens of them."
But, as he met Sam's horrified gaze, he wondered if that was the only thing wrong.
"You OK, Sam?" he asked.
Sam shook his head slowly.
"Dean," he began and he sounded on the wrong side of freaked out. "Can you hear it?"
Dean frowned.
"What, the rats? Yeah, man, they're right outside the room. Kinda hard to miss."
But Sam shook his head furiously. Dean felt himself grow cold.
"Not the rats, Dean," Sam said. "The music."
Dean couldn't hear any kind of music. In fact, he was more than certain Sam shouldn't have been hearing it, either.
"Sam, you're not a kid anymore," he pointed out. "If that's the Pied Piper, how come you're hearing it?"
Sam shook his head vaguely. His eyes held a faraway look that immediately put Dean on the alert.
"I've heard it before, haven't I?" Sam reminded Dean and there was an impersonal note in his voice Dean didn't like one bit. "I've followed it before." He paused and made a visible effort to focus on Dean. "We've gotta follow it," he added.
He took several steps towards the door and Dean quickly grabbed his arm.
"Whoa! Sam, you don't want to go there!"
Sam tried to wrench his arm out of Dean's hold. He did not look about to turn violent though. Only irritated that Dean was holding him back.
"Dean, this is our only chance to find the Pied Piper and get the flute. Just…trust me, will you?"
Dean's hand tightened around Sam's arm.
"Trust you? Sammy, you're about to follow music that could very well lead you off a cliff."
"There are no cliffs nearby," Sam said smugly. "Besides, you're going with me, aren't you? If you think I'm too deep under the influence, you can stop me. But this is our best chance, and you know it."
Dean didn't like it. It felt too much like what Greenberg had done to Sam all those years ago. But Sam had not known the game back then, and he hadn't had Dean as back-up. Besides, Sam was a damn fine Hunter now. He could hold his own against the Piper. He let Sam go and took a step back.
"All right," he said. "Lead the way."
The corridor outside their room was dark and empty. Several rats scuttled away at their arrival. Some of them were heading towards the reception area. And Sam was following them. Dean shook his head, double-checking that his gun was loaded.
"None of this is natural," he muttered.
They reached the reception area. The room was empty and lit by a small lamp by the door. A rat was on the front desk. There was no sign of Loretta.
"Did she retire for the night?" Dean asked. "If so, why leave the light on?"
Sam shook his head. He had stopped in the middle of the room, his eyes bright. He did not look as if he was hearing anything right now, but Dean wasn't so sure that was a good thing.
"Loretta," Sam said. "You know she's descended from the original German settlers? I just found out."
Dean raised his eyebrows, skeptically.
"What, of the German Bracegirdles?"
Sam gave him a "don't-be-an-idiot" look.
"On her mother's side. Her mother's maiden name was Gärtner. I tracked the family to the founding of Rattigan."
Dean turned to face Sam. He could not really buy that plump, sweet Loretta had anything to do with the Pied Piper. And yet, Sam had heard the music now – after Dean had confirmed to her that his brother was the boy who had gotten away from the Pied Piper all those years ago.
"Sam," he began. "Are you saying…?"
Sam suddenly stiffened, grabbing Dean's arm in warning.
"Dean," he hissed.
Dean tensed, his hand going to his gun. There was a thud from somewhere in the shadows. Then Dean heard a whoosh and felt a sting in his neck. He put his hand up and looked at the dart that had hit him. Another woosh and Sam staggered into him.
"Dean…" he repeated.
Dean shook his head to clear it of the sudden fog. He tried to hold Sam up, but that wasn't easy considering his own legs felt like led. He felt to his knees. He had a brief moment of panic when he thought he could not feel Sam next to him anymore. Then, it too vanished in the swirling fog.
Uhhh…cliffhanger time? I mean, what's a story without the obligatory chapter ending on a cliffie, am I right?