A/N: Can I get an amen for how quick this chapter came out? I got a bonus day off, so you guys get a bonus chapter. And I got my other WIP, "All the Pretty Monsters" updated this morning, too, so this is crazy.
Please please please review, and visit my profile to check out my other stories.
As Always,
EverReader
Disclaimer: Did you see me up there with my arms and legs wrapped around them during panel at Comic Con? No? That's because they're not mine...
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From the personal journal of John Henry Winchester
January 2nd, 1998
"I find myself watching Sammy all the time now. Dissecting every action, every response. I shouldn't. I know it's wrong. If there is any hope at all for my child, it will not be in casting him as the villain. I must strive to see the good inside him, not just the latent evil. I must be absolute and steadfast. Neither of the boys must ever find out. I will increase their training. I will remain watchful, and continue my research. The alternative is unthinkable."
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Sam closed the motel door behind him silently, thankful for once that the hinges weren't cursed with that tell-tale squeak common of rooms his family tended to favor.
He stood in the early morning fog, stretching. His dad and Dean were both still asleep. Sam was actually surprised he'd managed to make it past both of them, with their hunters instincts. He knew, however, that Dean had been exhausted and John more than half-drunk by the time they had gone to bed last night.
He stared off into the distance for a moment, planning his route across the small town. The motel, like practically everything else thereabouts, had a view of Lake Manitoc, and Sam could still see steam rising in the pre-dawn chill.
Setting off, he headed towards what served as 'downtown' for the small community, passing tiny storefronts still hours from opening. From somewhere up ahead, he could smell coffee and the smell of bacon, and he guessed the town's lone diner kept earlier hours than most of it's neighbors.
Speeding up to keep time with the changing music on his walkman, he increased his pace till he was almost flying along, a lone figure in an empty landscape. The lake was to his right now, and the water kept reflecting glimmers of daybreak into his eyes. Passing the motel, he noted that their room was still dark, and a quick check of his cell phone showed no missed calls, so he decided to indulge himself in another lap around the town. He wasn't eager to return to the too small motel room with his larger than life brother and father crammed inside.
Things had been tense, last night. Dean had been upset that Sam had somehow managed to hear the ghost while he hadn't heard anything. Sam had a theory, of course, as to why he had heard the spirit, but he couldn't exactly share it. Their father, of course, had remained silent of the subject of Sam's new found ghost whispering ability.
Sam hadn't expected anything less.
Dean had wanted to move motels, setting up base in another town nearby, further from the lake. Uncomfortable with Sam hearing the ghost from as far away as the playground, he had argued that it was the safest course of action. John had deemed it unnecessary, which had left Dean fuming, a sight both bizarre and slightly appealing to Sam.
Sam had offered no real input on the situation, simply agreeing with whatever John had said, then turning his own mind to the problem of identifying the ghost. Sam was certain it had been a child's voice yesterday, and the locale (playground) and his companion (a child) also confirmed this suspicion. But no matter where they looked, they could find no record of a drowning victim that fit the profile. There had been two boating accidents involving children in the past ten years, but nothing further back than that. Until recently, Lake Manitoc had been almost blessed with good luck in regards to the safety of it's citizens. All the other drowning victims were adults, or, almost, in Sophie and Will's cases.
Slowing as he once again neared the drive to the motel, he came to a stop, leaning over his knees, breathing hard. Pulling his headphones off his ears, he listened to the ringing silence. Feeling a coughing fit coming on, he walked slowly away from the motel again. With his luck, Dean would come out right while Sam was having a coughing attack, and go into over protective big brother mode all over again. Then John would get mad, and somehow it would be Sam's fault, and Sam was having none of it anymore.
He was done with all that. Approaching the waters edge, he noticed a dock a little ways away, with a drinking fountain at the end where it met the street. He walked over and gratefully gulped down the cool water, taking a moment to swallow down another couple of cold pills. He made a mental reminder to himself to grab more at the pharmacy before they left town, he didn't want to be stuck in a car with Dean for hours while he coughed and Dean fussed.
Walking out onto the dock, he studied the lake in the early morning stillness. He spent a moment enjoying the feeling of being the only person in the world. The water was a smooth mirror reaching out into the horizon.
He cast his mind back to yesterday, at the playground. Finally letting himself think about it, to feel about it. He locked everything done tightly yesterday, in front of Lucas and Dean and John. Now, though, he allowed himself to go over the memory again slowly, examining his impressions, his feelings.
It had frightened Sam. He'd heard voices before, of course. Cold spots, knocking, flickering lights, EVP, all were common in hauntings. But being the only one who heard something because he was the only one in the room was different than being surrounded by a crowd of people and still being the only one who heard anything, and Sam knew it.
So did Dean.
He hadn't let Dean see just how much it frightened him, though. Because part of the reason it frightened him so much was because it just seemed to solidify everything Sam had read. He had vowed never to tell Dean the truth about himself, couldn't bear to see the hate and disgust on Dean's face as he learned his little brother's true nature.
His father's darkest secrets and worst fears cast into the light.
Something was wrong with Sam. Very, very wrong, and it had been for a long time.
Forcing his thoughts back to their more pressing issue, he studied the lake once again with a more critical eye. Nestled between the mountains, Lake Manitoc was created by a dam at it's far end. The dam was failing though, and budgetary shortfalls meant that soon the Lake would be non-existent. If whatever ghost they were hunting was based in the lake, that could be the reason for it's escalation.
They hadn't been able to find the link between the victims yet, though Sam had a nagging feeling they were missing something.
Lost in his thoughts, he failed at first to register the drop in the temperature. Suddenly realizing he had quickly gone from sweaty to clammy, he stiffened as his breath came out in a frozen cloud in front of him. One part of him wanted to run back to the hotel as fast as he could, screaming for Dean.
He stood his ground, however, instead bracing his feet and waiting. It obviously wanted something. Perhaps Sam could figure it out.
"Come play with me."
The voice was as eery as it had been the first time Sam had heard it, and he repressed the urge to shudder at the sound, the unnatural wrongness of it. He could smell the ghost now too, wet and damp, rank with mildew and things left to long in the dark.
If this was what was happening to Lucas all the time, no wonder he was nearly catatonic.
The thought of Lucas spurred Sam on, and he stepped out closer to the end of the dock. He knew how dangerous it was, he was alone and clearly on the ghost's home turf. But they had been doing nothing but hitting dead ends and counting corpses for three days now.
It was time to up the ante a little.
"Tell me who you are?" He called out, proud that his voice didn't shake, didn't hesitate. Sam did wish for a gun with some salt rounds about then, though.
"What do you want?" Sam tried again. He didn't expect to get a reply. He was more certain than ever now that the ghost was the spirit of a child. It probably wasn't interested in conversation.
It appeared to be very interested in Sam, however.
Sam felt as much as he heard the impact from underneath the dock. Caught off guard, he went to his hands and knees, twisting his head around vainly to try to get a sight line on the spirit. It failed to appear, though,and with a second thud, the dock shuddered again.
Sam did his best to simply hold on. He was fairly certain that as long as he wasn't touching the water, he was safe.
Probably.
He held his breath, waiting the the spirit to make it's next move.
Waited.
Waited.
A ripple in the water to his right cast a fracture of light into his eyes, and he turned his head, searching for the cause of the disturbance. The water undulated smoothly, the top looking almost oily, a rainbow of colors swirling across the top.
Sam frowned, leaning forward despite his best intentions.
The colors almost seemed to form...pictures?
Before Sam's eyes the colors danced and changed. As he watched, the almost-images seemed to solidify, forming a silent movie, frozen in place yet rising and falling gently with the motion of the water.
The details were vague, but Sam could make out what appeared to be a child, a boy, he thought, maybe ten or so. He was pushing a red bicycle, and as Sam watched he, looked up, tensing as something or someone approached.
Sensing that he was nearing the heart of the matter, Sam leaned even closer to the water.
He could almost make out the child's face...
"Sammy!" The sudden voice in his ear, the rough hand on his shoulder, pulling him back nearly gave Sam a heart attack, and he fell back onto his butt in the center of the dock.
The images in the water dissolved as if they had never been, and Sam found himself face to face with a furious and terrified Dean.
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Dean had awoken slowly to the nagging feeling of something being wrong.
The room was quiet and dim still, the sounds of his father's gentle snoring nearly reassuring Dean back into sleep.
Suddenly he shot straight up as memories of yesterday's incident at the playground flooded his mind.
Sam.
Sam talking to that kid, Lucas, and then the two of them hearing the ghost when no one else could.
Sam hearing something Dean couldn't, even though he was only a few yards away.
The whisper quick look of fear that had flashed across Sammy's face.
Sammy.
Dean couldn't hear Sam.
Turning, he saw the empty bed beside him and he cussed quietly. He had half a mind to start putting that damned kid on a leash.
Groaning, he got off from the floor. Sam had offered to take the pallet on the ground, had nearly insisted on it, as much as he insisted on anything these days, anyway.
Dean had remembered the bruises still covering his younger brother's body, though, and wouldn't have anything to do with it, finally threatening to tuck Sam in with a story if he didn't put himself in the other bed. Had the room had two queens, they probably would have just shared, it certainly not being the first time. The room contained two twins unfortunately, and the bed had barely managed to hold Sam by himself.
Now as he hurriedly pulled on his jeans and boots, he debated whether to wake their father. He was still upset with John for dismissing his concerns last night, though.
As uncomfortable as it was to be at odds with their father (was this how Sam felt all the time?) he couldn't quite bring himself to wake John up, instead deciding to go look for Sam on his own. He could always come back for reinforcements if he needed them.
Though he didn't intend on needing them.
Opening the motel door, he squinted into the dawn, wishing he had grabbed a pair of sunglasses. Not willing to waste the time to go back into the room, he went ahead and jogged down to the edge of the parking lot. Checking the Impala for any sign of Sam, he then ventured out to the sidewalk. Scanning both sides of the street yielded no evidence of Sam. Dean belatedly thought to pull out his cell phone and dial Sam's number.
The cell phone was a fairly recent acquisition for Sam. Dean had insisted on it shortly they had started leaving Sam alone two years ago when he and John had taken out of town hunts. They had returned early one night, and Sam hadn't been home yet. He'd only been at the library, but it had still given Dean fits.
Sam only used it when he wasn't somewhere with a land line, though, since minutes were so expensive. John had bitched about the extra cost of getting Sam his own phone, so unbeknownst to Sam, Dean had paid the bill himself, that first month and then every month after. It was worth it to Dean, at moments like this when he needed to locate his brother-fast.
It rang without answer, though, before going to voice mail, and Dean cursed again, slamming it shut. Picking a direction on instinct, he headed towards the lake. The water seemed to be the source of most of Dean's recent problems.
Dean's logic held, and as he neared he could see a dock up ahead. A figure was crouched on one side, looking down into the water and Dean's heart skipped a beat.
"Sam!" He cried, breaking into a run again. Sam didn't react, seemingly lost in whatever he was staring at.
He leaned even closer to the surface of the water and this time Dean's heart nearly crawled up his throat and out his mouth.
"Sammy!" He cried again, both louder and closer, but Sam still didn't react.
Dean could smell the water now, wet and dank and far to strong. He could feel the drop in the temperature as he neared his brother and now Dean was flat out running towards his kid, every instinct screaming danger-Sammy-danger-save-PROTECT.
He reached Sam just as Sam's finger tips brushed the surface of the water, and Dean hauled him back with him to the center of the dock. Sam was so startled he fell onto his ass, blinking at Dean in confusion, almost as if he were only just now waking up.
"Dean?" He asked, voice dripping confusion and alarm, and Dean exploded, fear making him stronger than normal as he hauled his little brother off the dock as if Sammy were a misbehaving five year old.
Dean didn't stop once they reached the street, instead dragging Sam behind him another several yards, until more than a hundred feet separated them from the water.
Stopping, he swung around, barely resisting the urge to take s swing at Sam for frightening him so badly.
"WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?" Dean roared, clenching his fists in a last ditch attempt to contain his shaking.
"I..." Sam trailed off, breathing heavy and still looking lost.
Dean noticed he was shaking, face gone white as a sheet. Cursing again, he tore off his jacket and wrapped his brother up in the warm leather, giving in to the urge to touch him, to reassure Dean that he'd gotten there in time.
He rubbed Sam's arms and sides vigorously, the rest of his anger melting away as the depth of his brothers confusion registered with him.
"That thing must have some major mojo to lay a whammy like that on you Sam! What the hell were you thinking, going out by yourself, out on to the dock no less! Didn't you hear me calling you!" Dean asked, more gently now as he led his shocky brother to their room.
"No. No. I didn't hear anything...but..." He trailed off, biting his lip.
"But..." Dean urged as gently as his impatience would allow. They were nearly to the room, now. Dean needed to get Sam out of his damp clothes. Sam had been jogging again, by the looks of things.
Dean had started to wish Sam still hated jogging as much as he used to.
"I..." Sam's reply was fractured by a cough and Dean frowned. It sounded harsh and wet and deeper than Dean liked.
That was all they needed on top on Sammy apparently being ghost-bait for this particular baddie.
"How long you been coughing, Sammy?" Dean asked, trying to think back and remember if Sam had seemed sick at any point over the last few days. Nothing sprang to mind, at least not since Dean's return.
"What? No, no, it's nothing, Dean. Just give the medicine a minute to kick in. Dean, I saw-"
"What medicine?" Dean interrupted, feeling like he was steadily losing ground with all the new information being thrown at him so quickly.
Sam waved him off. "Not important. Dean, listen to me. I SAW SOMETHING. In the water. The ghost was trying to communicate with me."
"More like make you victim number four!" Dean snarled as he dragged Sam into the motel room behind him and slammed the door.
Their father looked up, startled, a coffee cup half-way to his mouth. His brows came together.
"Well." He said, sitting the cup down. "Looks like we have a break in the case."
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John sat at the table watching his sons interact as they told the story. He'd had to wait, much to his annoyance, as Dean had bundled Sam into the shower to warm him up nearly the moment they had burst in the door.
Now Sam sat in front of him, in a clean set of clothes, a towel hanging around his neck to catch the runoff from his hair. He had a coffee cup in his hands, and John watched him twist it idly without drinking much of the hot liquid.
Dean noticed as well and stopped his pacing to scold Sammy. "Drink your damn coffee, already Sammy. We don't need you getting a migraine on top of everything else." He muttered before resuming his pacing.
Sam's shoulders tightened for a second before John watched as Sam forced himself to relax.
John nodded approvingly. Sam was really coming along. It had been foolish, of course, to go out on the dock alone, but Sam had managed to contact the entity, confirming positively that it was indeed a ghost, and the ghost of a child to boot.
Dean was being a problem this morning, unfortunately.
Sometimes John regretted all the times he had left Sammy in Dean's care. He hadn't felt he had a choice at the time. Too late, John had come to realize that in all likelihood, Dean was in for a world of heartbreak when the day came that he couldn't save his little brother.
Refocusing on Dean's telling of the events, he then questioned Sam carefully. Sam answered every question methodically and logically, seemingly almost disconnected from his own emotions. He could have easily been telling a story of something that had happened to someone else, and John nodded in approval once again.
The monsters didn't care if you were scared, after all.
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Sam listened as his father and brother tossed theories back in forth, his brother's knowledge of the lore making him almost a match for John's experience. Dean was a natural born hunter, his instincts like that of a jungle cat, and Sam seldom doubted them.
This morning, however, the only instincts Dean was listening to were his big brother instincts, which were screaming at him to take Sam and get the hell out of dodge.
Sam had no intention of leaving, however. This mornings events only acted to reassure him that the ghost was nowhere near finished.
A part of him wished he could stop and take a moment to enjoy not being the one at odds with everyone else in the room, but the memories of his vision that morning on the dock kept distracting him.
It had all seemed so clear while it was happening, but now, back in their hotel room, with his head full of Dean and John and should-could-woulds, he just couldn't focus. He couldn't quite recall what he'd seen happening. He knew it was important, though. Sam was sure, in fact, that it was the key to everything.
If only he could remember it clearly. Maybe if he tried to draw it out...
The thought came to him so suddenly that Sam felt stupid and slow for not thinking of it sooner, and he actually snorted a little at his own ineptitude.
Realizing the other occupants in the room were now staring at him, he hunched his shoulders down and ducked his head, suddenly reluctant to speak.
"Something funny about all this, Sammy?" Dean's voice was laced with anger which Sam correctly interpreted as concern and fear. Sam couldn't meet his brother's eyes, couldn't risk opening his mouth and having all the wrong words spill out.
So instead he addressed his words to their father. John was watching him intently, a careful, measuring look in his eyes. Well used to John's scrutiny by now, Sam met his eyes easily, betraying none of his thoughts.
"I need to talk to Lucas again."