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The speaker didn't seem to sense Sam's thoughts and continued, its disembodied verbal style unwavering. "The firs…the firs in wals…firs in wals…"
Sam ignored Dean's panicked expression and simply frowned, the lines on his forehead creasing as he tried to fit together the distorted message from God only knew where. "I don't understand," he pleaded. "What does firs mean?"
As abruptly as it began, the unearthly message came to an end leaving Sam with just a regular dial tone. The hunter took the cell from his ear and stared at it in disbelief, uncertain whether to actually trust he'd heard the bizarre statement or not.
"Sam?" Dean took hold of his brother once more and looked straight in his eyes for signs of recognition. It was as if the younger Winchester was somehow catatonic for a second. "Sam, snap out of it already!"
The raised tone had the desired effect, and rubbing his temple once more, Sam finally closed his phone and refocused on his brother. "Dean, I think I just had a message from them…"
"From who?" Dean's eyes darted to the phone and then back to his disorientated sibling. "Sammy, who was on the phone? Friggin' "Psychics Anonymous" or what?"
Sam paused, swallowing hard before admitting his theory. "I think it was the mothman…I think something is going to happen here in Lawrence, Dean, and I think somehow all the kids like me are linked..."
Dean glanced to his beloved Chevy and then back to the Eagle Ridge apartment block, deciding whether to retreat or continue their research. For now, no one had noticed either brother's odd behavior on the sidewalk, so maybe they could get away with their little ruse – just as soon as he knew what Sam was thinking.
"Linked how?"
Sam finally let go of his head as the pain within subsided, and as he talked made his way towards the nearby building's entrance. "I think maybe all the gifted kids like me are more receptive. That's why two of the first sightings seem to have been made by people like me. That's maybe why I just got the message on my cell…"
Dean ambled alongside his brother, accepting his logic. "So you guys are like easier conduits to them, just like the gateways are? Just like the sick and elderly were in Point Pleasant back in the sixties?"
Sam bobbed his head and pushed the intercom button for one of the apartment block's inhabitants. "Hi, my name's Sam Homer, my partner and I are with Lawrence Fire Department's Prevention Division. We're here to ask you a few questions about the fire here last month…"
There was a short pause and then a buzz as the female occupant answered. "I…I don't really know anything about that. The fire was contained in Mark's apartment."
"Miss Gamble, can we come up and ask a few questions? It's just routine legwork. I promise we won't take too much of your time." Sam put on his best sympathetic voice and was glad the real police and fire department people had long since moved on to newer cases. If they'd still been around, it might have made things difficult.
After a long pause, the building's electronically controlled entrance clicked, signaling it had been opened by the woman they needed to talk to. Sam looked across to his brother, but neither spoke as they made their way to her section of the block.
-------
"Man, crispy or what?" Dean whistled softly as they turned a corner and were abruptly facing Mark Connors apartment door. The frame, along with the door were blackened and charred, and yet the walls surrounding it were completely free from damage.
Yellow police tape still hung loosely across the entrance, warning that this was still considered a crime scene until officially proven otherwise.
"Yeah," Sam agreed. "Definitely not your normal, every day fire." He turned, checking out the nearby door to Sue Gamble's adjoining apartment. "Think we should talk to the girl first, or check out the damage?"
Dean shook the tiny container that held his lock-picking tools in midair and smiled roguishly before tossing it over to his brother. "I'll take the girl, you start with room…"
Sam let his eyes roll to the ceiling in exasperation but caught their tools of the trade with just one hand. "Why am I so not surprised?" He deftly removed the first section of police tape, and with a quick glance around began working on the blackened lock before him. "Man, it would serve you right if she's about eighty with false teeth and an ear horn…"
Dean winked and tapped lightly on Sue Gamble's door. "So not gonna happen, dude. I checked up on her…um…assets while I was waiting in the copy shop." He pursed his lips but they soon curled into a smirk. "Purely research…"
"Riiighttt…" Sam shook his head and as the lock he was working on clicked, vanished into the remains of Mark Connors abode.
As he stepped inside, a small chill ran along the center of his spine, working its way between his shoulders until he couldn't help but shiver. Was this what their house had looked like after the fire?
Instinctively, Sam found himself looking up at the ceiling, but there were no scorch marks or evidence the victim had been pinned there, only a blackened grimy residue from the flames and smoke.
The hunter shook himself and moved on. He was here to solve a puzzle, not relive past nightmares he couldn't prevent.
Glancing around again to check for any unearthly presence, he tugged Dean's home-made EMF from his pocket and began to sweep the dead man's home. The dial remained annoyingly static as he paced from room to room until he found the epicenter of the blaze.
Connors' bed was nothing more than a burnt out hulk of springs on the floor, but it was obviously where the young man had met his maker.
Sam kneeled, running a hand along the mass of twisted metal in the hope it would give up some much needed clue. Why is it always the bedroom? Again, the hunter looked up, but there was still nothing to help him stop this happening again. No pointers to exactly which demon they were dealing with.
Sam sighed and jammed the meter back in his pocket. Their nemesis was immune to holy water; probably a puny EMF had no chance of detecting him.
Disillusioned, the younger Winchester stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets and headed back out to the main corridor. If Dean hadn't held off flirting with Sue Gamble long enough to find a clue, they were about to hit their first brick wall.
Dean flashed his fake ID at the young woman, along with the notoriously mischievous grin that had won him so many hearts. This time, it didn't quite have the desired effect.
Sue Gamble unlocked her door, but kept the chain latched while she peered through the gap, seemingly terrified. "I…I told your partner, I really don't know anything…"
Dean smiled again, determined to break the ice and make the woman talk to him. She looked about twenty-five and definitely his type – pretty, athletic, and all the right curves. Except right now, saying she was having a bad hair day was an understatement. In fact, from the smell of liquor and her slightly "off" behavior, he suspected Sue Gamble had been drinking steadily for the past month. Considering what had happened to her neighbor, maybe she had.
"We have to find out what happened here, ma'am. Surely you understand if faulty wiring was the route cause you could be in danger too? We have to cover every angle." Dean moved closer to the door, hoping the young woman would succumb and open it if she believed there was a threat to the building.
"It wasn't faulty wiring…" Sue stepped back, her eyes flying to the chain and then to Dean as if she was in mortal danger simply by speaking about the fire.
Dean cocked his head. Sue might be half inebriated, but she also knew something about the blaze that had killed Mark Connors, something that was scaring her so badly she had retreated into some drunken stupor rather than face it.
The hunter's tone visibly changed. "We can help you. There's no need to be afraid. All you have to do is tell me and my partner what happened and we can protect you."
Sue half choked as she broke into an uncontrolled fit of laughter. "You can protect me? What do you think I'm afraid of? Some guy with a can of fuel and a match?" She retreated further into the room, leaving the door still ajar so that Dean could see inside. She was trying to pour a Scotch, but her hands were shaking so hard the liquid simply spilled out onto the floor.
"That's it, play times over…" Dean stepped back, kicking out at the door with his boot until the flimsy metal chain holding it snapped and the door slammed inwards.
Sue dropped the bottle in her hand and simply stood in the center of the apartment like a deer stunned by oncoming headlights. "It'll come back for me…don't you see? I saw it…" her voice trembled uncontrollably, as did her knees.
Without worrying about the possible ramifications, Dean wrapped an arm around her, taking her weight until he could guide her to the nearest chair. "It's alright. I think I know why you're scared…"
Dean glanced around as he removed his jacket, placing it across Sue's shoulders. The young woman's apartment was a mess, but under all the trash were the remains of a once tidy, fashionable home. Whatever had caused her spiral into the depths of a bottle had been recent, just like the fire. She saw it! She actually saw the thing that killed Dad, Mom and Jess and lived to tell the tale.
"Man, did you have to kick the door off its hinges?" Sam stood in what was left of the doorframe, his arms outstretched in despair at his brother's lack of restraint. When he noted Sue quivering in Dean's arms, he cut off any further sarcasm and quickly walked over. "You scared her half to death like this? Or did she just watch American Idol before breakfast?"
Sue smiled a little at the hunter's quip, but still didn't speak. What could she tell two fire investigators? I saw something on the stairs. Some thing, not someone…If they didn't already think she was a drunken liar, they soon would.
"She saw it the night of the fire." Dean shot his brother a glance, but didn't loosen his grip on Sue. She needed to feel protected if they were going to get her to talk.
Sam leaned closer, kneeling so that he was at eye-level with the girl. "Sue, what did you see? It doesn't matter if it sounds crazy. We believe you."
"It'll come back for me…it knows I saw it…"
"No, no it won't," Sam persuaded. "We'll take you away from here until it's over. We know a place were you'll be safe…"
Dean looked at Sam with a quirky expression that said "we do?" But he didn't outwardly say it. If Sam had a plan, that was good enough.
"How do you know I'll be safe?" Sue hunched her shoulders, but her body was shaking less as she finally believed the young man whose voice alone soothed her soul.
"Because we'll take you to a friend, one that knows how to ward off evil. You can trust us," Sam cajoled. "And you can trust our friend. She's an expert at what she does. Now, tell us what you saw the night of the fire so we can help…"
Sue swallowed, feeling her throat go dry until she wanted to beg for more liquor. Her eyes looked to the empty bottle she had recently dropped, and she breathed in heavily. This was the first time she'd told anyone the truth, and it was hard.
Memories of the building's fire alarm exploded in her mind, and she shuddered anew. It had been close to midnight, she'd been watching the TV, glass of wine in hand when the klaxon had begun to wail.
Panicking, Sue had tossed down the glass and headed for the door, her bare feet padding across the wooden floor without slipping. In the corridor, the sprinkler system had already kicked in, although she could see no outward signs of a fire. Maybe it was just a drill?
Sue recalled spouting a few curse words as she'd begun to scurry down the stairs rather than dare take the elevator. If this was a drill, she'd tear somebody a new one for their timing.
As she'd reached the bottom of the first flight of steps, Sue had paused to catch her breath, and it was then she had realized she was not alone. Someone else was in front of her, running down the second stairwell. Was it running, or gliding?
On impulse, she'd reached over and called out, thinking it was most probably Mark, her neighbor. But it was not Mark that had looked back up at her from below, not Mark, not any human…
Sue began to cry, curling up into Dean's jacket until her hitched sobbing and cowering posture made even the hardened hunter soften and want to pull her closer.
"What did you see on the stairwell, Sue?"
"A man in a long, dark overcoat…at least, I thought it was a man at first. Then when…when he looked up at me and I saw his face…" Sue brushed away more tears, but her voice still cracked with fear as she finished. "It was the face of evil…eyes glowing like the fire he'd made. Eyes of flame, and features almost feline…"
Sam's brow cocked. "Feline?" He offered up a hanky.
Sue nodded, using the handkerchief to wipe her reddening face. "It was almost like looking at a cat…"
-----
Outside Missouri Moseley's Residence
Lawrence, Kansas
Dean tapped on the Impala's steering wheel impatiently as he waited for his brother to return to the car. The young Winchester had taken Sue Gamble into Missouri's humble abode some forty minutes previously, and had yet to come back out.
No doubt Missouri was plying the pair with cakes, tea and stories from beyond the outer limits.
Dean huffed, knowing it was his own fault he'd waited outside. There was no reason why he couldn't have gone in with Sammy and the girl, but after his last encounter with Missouri he had the distinct feeling the first thing he'd get was a cuff around the ear and some verbal abuse for his trouble.
Missouri was smart, and above all else she had the ability to tell what Dean was thinking to the point where he dare not open his mouth in her presence. Maybe if she knew his thoughts of late she wouldn't be so quick to judge. Maybe she'd want to curl up and hide from the darkness that had crept into his soul.
Still, Dean's dreams, his nightmares, they didn't matter anymore, not now, because he at last believed he had found the demon. Convincing Sam that he was right might be the hard part, but in the end Sammy would yield, he always did for Dean.
The Impala's passenger door swung open and Sam deposited his gangly frame down on the seat, eliciting a small groan from the prehistoric springs. "Sue's all settled with Missouri. I think between us we finally convinced her she's safe here…"
"Is she really?" Dean shook his head, checking out Missouri's home from his side mirror. "Is anyone safe anywhere, Sammy while this thing is out there?"
Sam didn't have an answer. They were one step closer to their foe, but what good did "knowing" do? The demon had fried two special kids because they'd witnessed a mothman, exactly what the hell did that prove? It sure didn't bring them the demon's ass all neatly wrapped with a ribbon and bow on it, did it now?
"We're closer, Dean…" The thing was, did Sam want to be closer? Did he want to risk Dean being eviscerated before his eyes again?
"Damn straight we're closer. Sam, I think I finally figured out the sonofabitch we're dealing with. Think about it. The girl said it had feline features. Sound familiar? C'mon, dude, feline and yellow-eyed?"
"Flauros?" Sam wasn't impressed. "Dean, Dad discounted him years ago. He doesn't fit our demon's M.O."
"Dude, hello? Fire demon, fire demon with yellow eyes that in the old days took the form of a leopard. Leopard as in cat, as in feline…" Dean was getting frustrated. He'd never been patient, but since John's death he had no tolerance for time wasting, period. "Besides, you got a better theory, geekboy?"
Sam hadn't. Maybe he didn't want a theory at all. Maybe, just maybe, Dean had been right back in Oregon. They should have driven away from the demon, not towards it. He had wanted this, begged for it, but now they were getting close he could see what was left of his family being torn apart forever. Why won't he tell me Dad's damn secret? What if I need to know to deal with this? What if..?
"Even if you're right, and it is Flauros, what good is a name without the Colt? I researched this thing too, Dean, remember? Thirty-six legions of demons under his command, a great Duke in hell who basically kicks ass just slightly less than Satan himself. What do you plan on doing, invite him over for dinner and spike his fries with sanctified ketchup..?"
Dean couldn't at look Sam. Sometimes one glance towards his brother was enough to make his best plans melt away like Colorado snow in the spring. "You got the invite part right." He looked down to his lap, anywhere but to Sammy.
"Invite? Dean, now way! You want to summon this damn thing?" Sam's demeanor changed instantly from amazement to out and out incredulity. "Don't you remember anything that happened back at the cabin? You know, like being pinned to a wall or bleeding to death from the inside out?" He was angry now, angry that his brother could even consider trying to evoke Flauros when they had nothing to fight him with.
"I remember." The sentence was abrupt. Final.
Dean's throat bobbed convulsively as he reflexively swallowed several times in quick succession, thoughts resurfacing of the nightmares, the truth that he should have died that night and hadn't.
What's it going to be..?
What's it going to be..?
The elder hunter turned to his brother. The brother he kept a secret from that could tear them apart. He smirked, but it wasn't the mirthful offering Sam was used to, it was muted, dulled by the psychological pain Dean had endured and bottled up inside. "Don't worry, little brother. I've got a kick ass plan for this mother…"
Tbc...