A/N: Yay! Finally a little bit of supernatural action in this chapter! In case you didn't catch the notes I corrected in the first chapter, the new chapter estimate for this story is probably around fifteen chapters. The goal for this story is to have Sunday and Thursday updates.
If you are following my other AU WIP, "All the Pretty Monsters", the posting schedule for that story is currently Tuesdays.
This story is Beta'd by the amazing and patient Sand_AllyMayhem.
Please please please review. Reviews are love and cookies and pixie dust for authors.
Disclaimer: Not mine, not mine, not mine.
"Playmates"
From the personal journal of John Henry Winchester:
December 8th, 1997
I haven't been home in nearly six weeks. I can tell Dean is growing frantic. I can't help it. I need more time to deal with what I've learned.
Demon's Blood.
Am I supposed to believe that my sweet, gentle Sam has demon blood in him? I refuse to believe my child is capable of such evil.
And yet...I cannot look him in the eye.
This is what Mary died trying to prevent. What if she was to late?
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Dean stared down at the array of newspaper clippings spread out before him. His father had been as thorough as usual, and there were over a dozen on the motel's wobbly table. Choosing one at random, he held it up for closer study.
"Twenty-nine year old man drowns, seven year child soul survivor. Is ancient man-eating lake monster to blame?..."
"Seriously? Lake monster? What kind of lame ass idea is that? And who the hell is Izzy Alexander? Half of these articles were wrote by the guy? Are we sure the guy's not some kind of fruitcake? What kind of man calls himself Izzy?" He tossed the clipping down in frustration.
Sam glanced up at him. "Probably the kind that's not a guy." He said calmly, before turning the next page in the book he had in front of him.
"Oh." Dean pursed his lips in thought. Then he grinned. "Think she's hot?" He asked Sam with a suggestive wink.
"I think..." He turned another page methodically, "That she's hunting a lake monster." He slammed the book closed with finality.
He stood up to cross the room to his duffel. Sam hoped to grab another dose of cough medicine while Dean was occupied with the potential hook up with the potentially hot reporter hunting the potential lake monster. Standing he casually slipped the bottle of cold pills into his pocket and walked to the bath room, running some water into the cheap plastic cup by the basin.
"Well, hot or not," Dean raised his voice to be heard over the running water in the bathroom. "This doesn't sound like any kind of lake monster I've ever heard of." For a minute, he thought he heard the sound of Sam coughing. "Hey, you all right in there?"
"No." Sam's voice sounded garbled, and Dean instinctively rose, heading towards the bathroom to check on him. At the door he and Sam practically ran into each other, Sam jerking his head back so fast he knocked his head on the door frame.
"What the hell, man?" Sam asked, his expression half-perplexed and half-scowl.
"You tell me, you're the one who said you needed help!" Dean scowled back reflexively, hands already reaching out to check the back of Sam's head.
Sam ducked to the side, frowning at Dean in confusion. "No, I didn't." He replied, looking at Dean as if Dean had been the one to hit his head.
"Dude, you totally did." Dean argued, gesturing with his hands to make his point.
"Noooo, I'm pretty sure I didn't" Sam's bitch face was only of shadow of what it used to be, but Dean relaxed a little at the sight, nonetheless.
"Sam, I asked you if you were all right, and you said no." Dean said, laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation.
Sam just shook his head. "No, Dean, I said no, it's not a lake monster. The police did a full sonar sweep of the lake after Sophie was killed. Twice. No bodies, no cave, no monster. Whatever it is, it's incorporeal."
Dean frowned. "Well, that narrows it down to just about everything but lake monsters."
Sam paced, hands shoved deep inside his jacket pockets. "We need more intel. I've checked all the local lore, all the Native American legends for this area. Nothing. This is strictly the last thirty years or so."
"You thinking the library?" Dean asked with a grimace. Man, he hated research.
"I think we need a witness." Sam said slowly.
"Good luck with that." Dean said sarcastically. "I've got twelve news articles on that table reading 'no survivors'". He gestured to the table tiredly and sat on his bed. Their father had charted a boat to take him around the lake and witness some of the crime scenes. He'd be back anytime now and Dean didn't have squat to report.
"No." Sam disagreed slowly.
He glanced up at his big brother, a searching look in his eye. "Eleven of these read 'no survivors'. This one," He held up the article Dean had been looking at just a few moments before, "Say's there was one. A kid, ummm, Lucas. Lucas Barr. Apparently saw his father drown." Sam watched Dean's reaction intently.
Dean scowled again. "And then it mentions he was so traumatized, he hasn't spoken since, Sam. Kinda makes for an unreliable witness."
Sam shrugged. "That or we get a Ouija Board and have ourselves a seance."
Dean stood and started pacing again. "No. No way. We're not interrogating some seven year old kid who watched his parent get killed. No."
Sam squared off, facing him, voice and posture relaxed, as if he were making a case for choosing what movie to go see. "Dean, I don't see what other choice we have. People are dying. We can't hunt it til we now what we're hunting. We gear up for the wrong flavor of monster, more people are just going to get killed."
"No." Dean fumed, crossing his arms angrily.
Just then, they heard the key turning in the lock as John entered the room. He eyed both boys, seemingly satisfied with the reactive stances they had automatically assumed at his entry.
"What have we got?" He ordered, straight to the point as always. He'd had a long day out on the water, and he only hoped that the boy's had had more luck.
Dean opened his mouth and shut it again quickly, reluctant to admit their failure to John.
Sam cut in just as Dean was working up his courage to finally reply. "We may have a witness." He refused to meet Dean's angry eyes.
"May?" John questioned, one brow lifted, his tone clearly stating that he was through with the dancing around.
Sam swallowed heavily, and Dean took the opportunity to cut him off this time.
'It's a little kid, Dad. Not only is he seven, but he's so messed up from seeing his Dad die, he's not even talking. To anyone." He finished, voice losing steam as he watched emotions flicker and fade quickly across his father's face.
His father glanced speculatively between Dean and Sam for a moment before turning to face Sam.
"Sammy, you think you can get anything usable out of the kid?" John asked.
Dean opened his mouth to object but Sam was already answering. "I don't want to read another obit because I didn't try." Dean snapped his mouth shut, fuming silently.
John nodded. "Fair enough. I know which kid your talking about. I've seen his mom take him to the park a couple of times. His grandfather's the damned Sheriff, though, so I've been hesitant to make a move. You boys might have better luck. Dean, you try distracting the mom, she's a looker, you won't have to try to hard to flirt." Dean sputtered while Sam snickered quietly behind him.
"Sammy, see what you can get out of the kid. I'm gonna hit the Sheriff's station again. Something about that man doesn't sit right with me, but I just can't put my finger on it. Call me if you boys run into any trouble."
John went into the bathroom and closed the door. Dean stood for a moment in the center of the room, attempting to understand what had just happened.
His Dad had just totally over ruled his opinion in favor of Sammy's idea, an idea, by the way, which was so UN-Sammy like he couldn't believe his gentle baby brother had even suggested it. Suddenly realizing that Sam had left the room while he'd been lost in thought, he grabbed his car keys and jacket then hurried out of the room, slamming the door behind him to engage the lock.
Quickening his pace to catch up to Sam, who had already nearly reached the Impala, he swung him around angrily.
"What the hell was that?" He yelled, shoving Sam a little for good measure.
"You totally blew off everything I said in there. And since when do you think it's acceptable to interrogate emotionally scarred second graders? What the hell is up with you Sam?"
Sam just stared at Dean for a moment and then shook his head.
"Look, Dean, I don't know what your problem is, but I just want to finish the hunt. People are dying, and it's escalating. Sophie was eighteen, Dean. That's only a year older than me, and she was the third death this year. You're the one who's always talking up how important our job is, how we're saving people. I'm just doing my job, Dean." Sam studied his older brother. His entire speech had been almost incredulous, as if he couldn't quite wrap his mind around what Dean was saying.
"Dad agreed with me, Dean. I know you got a thing about kids, man, if you don't wanna go, it's cool. I'll go by myself, we can just hook up at the library later or something." Sam paused, waiting for Dean's response.
"Like hell!" Dean growled in frustration. Their Dad had given an order, and even if he hadn't, Dean wasn't leaving Sam alone in this creepy town with potential lake monsters and crazy journalists.
"Come on, Sammy. We're going to the damn park."
He got in the driver's side of the Impala, slamming the door shut behind him. Sam got in with much less fanfare, as calm and implacable as he'd been the entire last three days.
As he started his baby, he wondered just when during the last two weeks his kind-hearted younger brother had started to put the hunt above the people they were saving.
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The late afternoon sunlight streamed through the trees, glinting off the lake in the distance as the boys approached the playground. Sharing a meaningful look, they split up, working in well practiced unison.
Sam leaned casually against a large oak tree, scanning the playing children until he finally recognized Lucas. He was sitting on the ground at the foot of the bench farthest from the other children. He was using the seat of the bench as a desk of sorts, and looked to be drawing something.
Sam waited until he could see Dean engaged with Lucas's mom in an animated conversation, before strolling over to the bench. He considered trying to sit cross legged beside Lucas, but decided against it. He'd reached 6'2 just last month, and legs that long weren't exactly easy to fold like a pretzel. He settled for sitting at the far end of the bench, easing his legs out before him.
Lucas stiffened, but didn't look at him. Sam remained silent, not making eye contact or any other threatening actions. Instead, he steadfastly stared out at the placid beauty of the water, idly wondering what hid beneath.
Eventually Lucas relaxed, resuming his almost frantic drawing. Sam studied the pictures out of the corner of his eye. They were good, or at least he thought they were, he didn't really remember how talented he'd been at seven.
Finally judging the moment right, he started by offering a simple "Hi, Lucas. My name's Sam."
The boy remained silent, pausing only a moment before returning to his picture.
"What are you drawing?" Sam tried again, hoping Dean hadn't been right and he was needlessly torturing a kid with PTSD.
Lucas still refused to respond, and Sam began to consider his other options.
"Come play with me."
Sam started, turning to locate the source of the voice. No other children were near them. No one was anywhere near them, in fact.
"Come play with me."
The voice had a strange, echoing quality to it, and Sam felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He looked at Lucas, who's eyes had widened dramatically. The boy was staring out at the lake, and Sam followed his gaze. He could discern no disturbance, nothing that appeared out of the ordinary. His skin continued to break out in gooseflesh, however, and Sam swore the temperature dropped ten degrees.
"You hear it too, don't you, Lucas?" He said calmly, trying not to startle the frightened boy any more. Lucas finally made eye contact with Sam but remained silent.
Sam crouched down beside Lucas, voice more urgent now. "Lucas, I'm here with my family. My father and my brother. We help people. People like you. I know you think no one will believe you, but I promise, we can help. You just have to let us."
Lucas only shook his head a little, biting his lip and Sam sighed. Lucas had been too frightened for too long to help them now. At least Sam now had a basic idea of what they were dealing with. Disembodied voices and cold spots usually meant ghost activity.
"Sam!" Dean and Lucas's mom were hurrying over to them, finally picking up on the obvious discomfort of the two boys.
"You okay?" Dean asked, pushing right up into Sam's space, searching Sam's face for some clue as to Sam's disturbance. Sam just nodded a little, reluctant to say more in front of Lucas's mom. Dean nodded imperceptibly, acknowledging Sam's message.
Smiling widely, he stepped back, smoothly segueing from protective big brother into smooth operator.
"Sam, this is Andrea Barr." He smiled faintly at the worried looking brunette.
She studied him for a moment before smiling reluctantly in return. "I don't suppose he spoke to you?" She asked, with only traces of faint hope in her voice.
"He doesn't seem to be much of a conversationalist." Sam offered apologetically and her shoulders sagged a moment before she resolutely straightened them.
"That's okay." She said. "He'll get there. When he's ready. Well, we'd better be going. It was nice to meet you Sam, Dean." She smiled once more before helping Lucas pack up his paper and crayons. Right before he left, he shoved a crumpled paper into Sam's startled hands. Andrea shepherded him out of the park while the two boys watched.
"It's a ghost." Sam said quietly, as the boys walked back to the car.
"How do you know?" Dean responded. "I thought he didn't talk to you."
"He didn't. But not because he can't. He's scared, Dean. He's scared of the ghost." Sam replied as they got into the car.
"And you know this, how?" Dean repeated in frustration.
Sam hesitated. "He's hearing him, Dean. Lucas is hearing the ghost."
Dean's eyes widened. "And just how did you figure this out, braniac?"
Sam licked his lips nervously. "I heard it, too." He didn't meet Dean's eyes. "I heard the ghost call out to Lucas."
"You what?" Dean exploded, voice echoing in the confines of the car.
Sam winced at Dean's volume, still refusing to make eye contact. Nothing like this had ever happened to him before, and he couldn't help but think back over everything he had learned while Dean was away.
Had it all been true?
"Sam, answer me, damn it! What the hell do you mean, you heard it? I didn't hear anything, what the hell was it-" Dean was cut off mid rant by the shrill ringing of his phone.
"This conversation isn't over!" Dean said threateningly to Sam before answering.
"You got me!" His voice showed his irritation at being interrupted. Suddenly, his voice changed.
"What? How long ago? Right, Sammy and I will meet you back at the room. We..." His eyes slid over to Sam for a moment, but Sam refused to engage. "Let's just say Sam's interview was...enlightening."
The conversation ended abruptly.
"Damn it!" Dean swore, smacking his palm against the steering wheel.
"What happened?" Sam asked, finally looking at Dean.
"They just found another body." Dean said with quiet anger. He hated the feeling of blood on his hands, hating feeling like they'd failed someone else.
"Who?" Sam asked with low intensity.
"Sophie's older brother, Will. They just found him a few moments ago." Dean replied, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the headrest.
Sam shook his head in confusion. "I can't believe Will would have got into that lake after what he saw happen to his sister."
"They didn't find him in the lake, Sammy. He drowned in his kitchen sink." Dean answered, turning his head to look at his brother.
Sam couldn't hold his gaze, and for one moment, he felt the crazy urge to just let all the words bubble out of him, his hurt, his anger, his fear, all the things that had happened.
But then he remembered hearing the ghost's voice. He remembered what he had read, and he swallowed down the words. He locked them away deep inside and blew out a long deep breath.
"We'd better go meet up with Dad." Sam offered finally.
Dean watched him for another moment before starting the car. As they drove, Sam looked down at the crinkled paper Lucas had given him right before Andrea had led him away. Smoothing the wrinkles, he studied the picture for a moment. A stick figure lay in a pool of blue, and the clear symbolism wasn't lost on Sam.
He wondered who the figure was supposed to be.