Chapter Three

Dean couldn't sleep. It's not that he wasn't tired. Flirting with a bevy of girls who seemed to warship the very ground he walked on simply for existing (well, that's how he saw it, anyway) takes a lot out of a guy. But there was this annoying little … knot … in the back of his mind that just wouldn't leave him alone. He trusted his instincts – whether they were inherent or carefully honed by years of training drilled into him by his father – and something was off.

What he knew for sure was something was up with Sam. Dean could tune into that kid's emotional state quicker than anyone and even though he'd been initially … distracted … by their new surroundings and even though he'd been teasing Sam a lot lately (what else are little brothers for?), he could sense Sam was bothered by this town.

Maybe it had something to do with the limited number of boys his age around. Limited number of boys, period, actually. Dean had stopped by Sam's school during lunch to check on him and saw him sitting at the only table with boys, the rest of the lunchroom riddled with girls. At the time Dean hadn't really thought much of it – chalked it up to a weird town quirk – but when he returned to his own classes he suddenly noticed that the high school had much fewer guys than girls, too, though it wasn't as vast a difference as at the junior high.

The worst, though, was at dinner, when a local news report came on reporting the disappearance of 12-year-old David Saboti. Sam had practically choked on his hot dog upon hearing it and stayed glued to the set the rest of the night. Dean and John had asked him if he'd known the boy only to have Sam shrug his shoulders and say "not really," but both men could tell it was a less-than-truthful admission.

It was unusual that the boy had only been missing a few hours and yet it was all over the news and the local police had seemed to jump right on the case, 48 hours be damned. Dean figured it was because, according to the news, the town had a terrible history of like disappearances. Dean and John shared another look and John went to the computer to start some research on the area. He was still sticking to the idea it was the Jersey Devil – there were some similarities to the lesser-known hunting traits of the creature – but Dean wasn't going to rule out another possibility. And he was certainly going to keep a closer eye on his brother.

Dean looked over toward Sam's bed and listened to his brother's quiet breathing. Despite being obviously upset all evening, he seemed to be sleeping well enough. No nightmares yet, thank God. Dean was thankful for that.

He could never fully understand why Sam was constantly plagued by night terrors. He often wondered if perhaps Sam in his subconscious remembered the night their mother had died. But how could he? The kid was only six months old, for cripes sake. Dean also supposed it could be from hunting, but Sam had been on only a few and even then he had stayed safely behind in the car. John had wanted to begin exposing Sam to the realities of the job – after all, Dean hadn't been much older when he'd joined John on his first active hunt – but Dean had fought to keep Sam as untainted as possible for as long as possible and succeeded.

But maybe just being in their family was affecting Sam in his unconscious. Dean always made sure Sam knew he could come and talk to him – chick flick moments be damned – but so far Sam had rarely talked about his dreams. Never stopped him from climbing into Dean's bed for safety and comfort after a bad dream now and again.

As Dean turned his eyes back to the ceiling above, the knot began to nudge him again. You're missing something, Winchester, it pushed. Okay, I get it. Tomorrow we'll start figuring this out. And we'll be sure to keep Sam in our sights as much as possible. After all, his little brother fit the same description of the missing boys. Dean was damn certain no harm was going to come to Sam. Ever.

SNSNSN

The next morning Sam was particularly quiet and Dean decided he would try to get the kid to talk on the way to school. John had left before dawn, having found a news report online about an attack close to the Jersey Devil's suspected hunting grounds in south Jersey. John promised to try and be back before nightfall – though Dean knew his family was prone to the cliché "life is what happens when you're busy making other plans" – but promised to check in throughout the day. He also gave a stronger-than-usual instruction to Dean to watch out for Sammy and Dean responded with a very firm "Yes sir."

As the brothers walked the half-mile to school, Dean made his move.

"So kiddo, what's on that freaky mind of yours?"

Sam just shrugged, his eyes cast downward. The last thing he wanted was to see any of their neighbors staring at him, especially today. For all he knew, they'd be pissed at him for not being taken instead of one of their own.

"Don't give me that, Sammy. Talk to me."

"Just thinking about David, I guess," Sam answered quietly.

"Thought you didn't know him," Dean probed, already knowing the truth but giving Sam some berth to open up.

"I knew him as well as you can know someone in one day. He was in my classes and we had lunch together.

"I know, I saw."

"You did?"

"I popped in midday just to see what was what. Looks like you fit right in with the guys."

"Yeah, but did you notice how few guys there were to fit in with?" Sam said, looking at Dean, hoping he'd picked up on it too.

"I noticed. Kinda the same thing over at the high school, though the ratio was a little less unbalanced."

"Weird, huh?"

"I might define it as weird. What did you find online about it?"

Sam stopped in his tracks. How did he know? Sam had woken up around 1 a.m. and couldn't fall back asleep, so he'd quietly grabbed his dad's laptop, slid back under the covers and tried to do some research. He was sure he'd been quiet enough, but apparently not. "How did you…"

Been sharing a room with you your whole life, Sammy. I know when you're sleeping and when you're not. Just call me friggin' Santa."

"Oh."

"Not to mention I could see the light from the computer and hear the hum from the modem."

Sam chuckled. "Sorry."

"So what'd you find?" Dean knew that if anyone could find out more than his dad did, it would be Sam.

"Not much. The modem connection sucked and I kept getting kicked off the net. Stupid dial-up. Hope some better connection system comes along someday."

"Well, I'll leave it to my trusty Geek Boy to find out something. Maybe you could ask one of your cute little female classmates…"

"Bite me."

"Nah, bite them! But never leave teeth marks."

"Gross!"

Dean grabbed Sam in a playful headlock and the two continued on to school.

SNSNSN

To say the school population was subdued was putting it mildly. It was downright maudlin. At lunch Sam sought out the boys table again hoping to hear the story David was going to relay to him the day before. But the only boys he saw were Jason and Lucas, who sat at a table with a couple of girls, and Terry, who was sitting with Ashley, a girl in his history class. There was no sign of Kurt, so he figured Kurt's father either got his new job or was just keeping his son safely at home until he did.

Sam went to the table where Terry and Ashley sat and was greeted with sad, cordial half-smiles.

"Tell me the story," Sam said to Terry. "The one David was going to tell me yesterday."

"What story?" asked Ashley, looking to Terry.

Terry looked at her then to Sam, debating whether to relay the tale. One he wasn't sure he fully believed himself.

"It's just a story, Sam."

"I'd still like to hear it. Please." Sam knew it was making Terry uncomfortable, but he need information. Knowledge is power, after all.

Ashley suddenly knew what the boys were referring to and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Go on, Ter," she said. "He should know."

"Well," Terry began. "Story goes, there was this woman, Hattie Drexler, whose son died when he fell through the ice at Papermill Lake and got trapped underneath. She was so torn up about it – her husband had, like, drunk himself to death right before or something – anyway, she locked herself up in her house out on Richard Drive and no one ever saw her again. The town tried to get into the house to check on her but they couldn't get in. Not through any door or window. It was like, fortified or something."

"Fortified?" asked Sam.

"Yeah, like they couldn't break any of the glass. Couldn't budge any of the doors. It was crazy weird. Her friends tried calling her but it was like she just disappeared. Left town, or something without anyone knowing."

Terry took a deep breath before continuing.

"Then local kids – boys our age, the age her son was when he died – started disappearing. One day there were here, then they were just gone. The first couple of kids people thought had just run away. They had hung out together and all. But about a week after each went missing, they'd be found down by the lake, frozen solid, eyes wide open, dead."

Sam shuddered. He was definitely beginning to suspect this wasn't the doing of the Jersey Devil at all. Definitely seemed like vengeful spirit material.

Terry continued. "A local girl said that after one boy, Vince? Victor? Something like that. Anyway, after he'd gone missing she was walking past the Drexler place and saw the kid banging on the window from the inside. She told her parents who told the cops and the fire department, everyone. Suddenly the whole town went out to the house and tried everything again to force their way in. Even tried blasting the front door open with explosives. But nothing worked. Then it got even weirder."

"How?" Sam asked, thoroughly engaged in the story and mentally writing down every detail.

"A bunch of people scattered and looked in through every window on every floor and there was nothing inside. It was completely empty. Looked no one had lived there in years, if ever at all. No one had ever seen a moving truck near the place. No one had word that Drexler had left. And no one could explain how if they couldn't get into the house, how'd all the stuff get out? Worst of all, of course, was that there was absolutely no sign of the kid – Wallace! That was his name. That is until he showed up lakeside a few days later, dead as a doornail."

"So they gave up trying to get into the house?" Sam asked.

"They tried burning it down, bulldozing it, brought in a wrecking ball, nothing. Just bounced right off of the house. Freaked everyone out big time. Rather than thinking about "other" possibilities, they just said the girl had to have been seeing things, figured there was no way the house or Drexler could be involved in the disappearances and chalked it up to their little local haunt. Declared the property completely off limits and never set foot near it again. Of course the disappearances and murders didn't stop."

Sam was speechless. No wonder everyone was reacting to him the way they were. A living, non-missing 12-year-old boy was a precious commodity in this town.

"So that's our legend," concluded Terry. "Of course, nothing's ever been proven, no answers given. Mystery unsolved. Town completely freaked. Then suddenly it just stopped. There hadn't been a boy gone missing in, what, (to Ashley) like a year? People though it was finally over. That maybe the killer got bored and moved on, or satisfied whatever he was after. Until…"

"Until David," Sam said solemnly.

"Be careful, Sam," Ashley said suddenly. She'd been so quiet Sam had almost forgotten she was there. But the way she told him to beware unnerved him even more. "Just …" she paused. "Just be careful." With that she got up and left.

Sam and Terry sat in silence, Sam taking everything he'd heard in, Terry thinking about his lost friend who he knew he'd be hearing about soon enough, and not in a good way.

TBC