Chapter 12
If Not For Me Then You'd Be Dead
Sam was busy shoving something into the bottom of his duffle bag when Dean returned from England. "So," the younger man said, spinning around and zipping up his duffle bag as if he was trying to hide something, "you kill her?"
Dean shook his head. "It wasn't her."
"All right. So, we're gonna start trailing that Jen girl tomorrow?"
"Yeah, um, about that," Dean muttered, "see, I stopped by a crime scene on the way back here, and-"
"She killed again?"
"I don't think Jen's our girl."
"Why not?"
"Well, for one thing, the cops just found her dead-"
"What?"
"With a bullet in her left shoulder-"
"But that wouldn't have killed her unless-"
"And lungs full of water-"
"She drowned?"
"Under a boulder."
Sam blinked. "Ouch."
"Yeah. Guess someone really sadistic really wanted her gone. She pissed someone off big time, anyway."
Sammy shook his head. "That's so weird. Why do all of that to her? I mean, that seems pretty specific and brutal… and final. There's gotta be some reason."
"Maybe there is," Dean shrugged, "and I would suggest going back to the comic shop and asking if Lex Luthor ever shot, drowned, and stoned anyone, but our local Smallville fanatic was just crushed to death."
"Any other ideas?"
The older man sighed, crossing his arms over his chest and flopping down on his bed, which buckled even farther under the added force. "Just one. We need to go to Blockbuster."
o0o0o0o0o0o
"I can't believe we had to buy it," Dean griped, swinging the plastic bag wildly as he walked down the street.
"I can't believe this was your idea," Sam said, glancing once more at their purchases. The first six seasons of Smallville.
"They don't even have good gag reels. Nobody picks their nose, or farts, or even rips their pants. Hell, they don't even break their props."
"That's because they're professionals, Dean. Now, run this plan by me again."
The older man sighed. "I figure, since our only suspect died a horrible death, we need to rethink this who thing. And there's no better way to do that than to get inside the killer's head. Our killer just so happens to be a young Lex Luthor, and young Lex just so happens to be one of the stars of Smallville. We watch the show, we get a better feel for this, and we can figure out who our villain is and why she's doing what she's doing."
"You still think it's a girl?"
"I don't think," Dean corrected, "I know."
"Well, how do know it's a girl?"
"Because the show's on the CW."
"So?"
"So, what is the CW, Sam?"
"Sickeningly green?"
"Try again."
Sam thought about it, following his brother down the sidewalk back to the motel room, trying to keep all thoughts of how much easier it would have been to drive from his head. Dean still hadn't quite gotten used to his newly acquired strength, and wasn't about to put a hole in the floor of his car. Apparently, letting Sam drive was also out of the question.
"Um, lacking in decent programming since the end of February?"
"True, but not what I was looking for."
"I don't know, Dean. Run by an idiot?"
"Closer. Want a hint?"
"Just tell me."
"Jeez," Dean muttered, "Mr. Impatient over here. The CW is a chick network. It's like Lifetime For Teenagers. Therefore, our villain must be female."
"That's horrible logic," Sam reasoned, "guys watch the CW. They have wrestling."
"Bulging muscles in spandex. You're proving my point."
"All I'm trying to say is that-" Sam stumbled over his words as a teenage girl nearly bowled him over. She slammed into him, dropping the cell phone she had been rapidly typing on and hurtling out into the street as the hunter attempted to right himself.
Dean saw the whole thing in slow motion, his mind flashing back to the night that Emmanuelle Baker had died. Everything was exactly the same. The girl fell from the sidewalk and into the street, into the path of an on-coming school bus full of members of some sports team or another.
Thinking fast and determined to not make the same mistake twice, Dean dropped his bag and dove into the road after her, reaching down and scooping her up in his arms before dashing out of the bus's path and onto the opposite sidewalk.
The bus driver, who had seen the girl fall into the street, slammed on the brake, trying to avoid killing the innocent teen, his head hitting the wheel suddenly and sounding the horn as Dean turned back to the careening bus.
The driver looked down for the count, and the vehicle was spinning as the brakes gave out. Looking across the street as the bus passed, Dean yelled for his brother to look after the girl before taking off after the out-of-control bus.
Like the thief that had, only a couple of days before, been supermanned by a hoe, the bus was fairly easy to catch. Unlike the semi truck that had, only a couple of years before, nearly been the death of Dean Winchester, the bus didn't hurt. Nor did it send the hero into a deadly coma, so, bonus points for that.
It did, however, crash upon impact with the hunter's body, its grille wrapping itself around him, closing him in tight. As soon as he was certain that the vehicle had completely finished moving, Dean risked exposing himself as the hero that he was and pushed his way out of his metal prison. The on-lookers hadn't assembled by that point, and he considered himself lucky. He ran all the way back to the motel.