Wicked Intent
Coffeemaniac
Warnings: Suggestive situations, Violence
Season 1
Set between The Benders and Shadow
February 20, 2006
"She stood in the storm, and when the wind did not blow her away, she adjusted her sails." (Elizabeth Edwards)
Sam watched the clock turn to 12:01am and drank the last of the whiskey in his glass.
Three months, almost four months, had passed since Sam told Jessica he'd be back in a few days, since he found her burning on the ceiling, since he abandoned Stanford to find his father. Sometimes it felt like she'd been gone for a week, sometimes it felt like years. He could still imagine her warmth and smell her perfume, but sometimes he couldn't picture her in his head.
Very recently, he'd spent too much time locked in a cage while degenerate hillbillies devised interesting ways to hunt him. Consequently, Sam had been left with too much time to think. The quiet hours between terrifying encounters were filled with regrets about his lost future with Jess and he hadn't quite shaken the feelings.
He leaned over the nightstand setting the empty plastic cup there. Settling back on the motel bed, he folded his hands over his chest and stared at the water-stained ceiling.
In a few months, he'd turn 23. He and Jess had already started planning how they'd celebrate. Her birthday was January 24th, the same as Dean's and they were going to take a road trip to Vegas. Then on his birthday in May, they were going to drive the Pacific Coast Highway.
His last birthday, not quite a year ago, he had told Jess that he didn't celebrate, that he didn't need gifts or a cake and she ignored him. She invited Brady and a few other friends to meet at a campus bar despite Sam's objections. She baked a cake, decorating it herself then stood on a bar stool to pull everyone there into a rousing, drunken chorus of "Happy Birthday". Sam wanted to hate it but he didn't. Even when Brady grew a little too boisterous and they had to drive him home, Sam still counted it as one of his best birthdays ever.
He ached to celebrate with Jess again. He wanted to make her day amazing just the way she had made his.
Sam rolled on to his side wondering why he was contemplating birthdays. He tucked his arm under the pillow. Dean had left shortly after dinner to go carousing so Sam expected to be alone until morning. His brother would likely wander in around dawn, still drunk, wanting a shower and four hours of sleep before hitting the road again.
Sam set his phone alarm for eight, just in case. If Dean hadn't returned by then, he'd have to go look for him.
He closed his eyes and tried not to think of Jessica or their birthdays, or the Christmas they didn't have or the New Year's celebration they intended to have alone. He needed to focus on finding their father, and the thing that killed Jess and their mother. Nothing else mattered.
He drifted off, barely sleeping but not quite awake either. When his phone rang, he assumed it would be Dean. He picked up the small device as he rubbed his eyes. He glanced at the number and knew that it wasn't Dean, but there was no name associated with it.
"Hello," he said.
"Hi, um, is this Sam Winchester? I got this number from Zach Warren."
"Who's this?"
"My name is Kaylee Houston but Sam knew me as Kaylee Sullivan. We were in high school together for a really short time, but if this is you then you might remember me."
Sam recognized her name by the rock it created in the pit of his stomach. He remembered her by the dark hole of shame and regret that her voice conjured. After their one date that ended disastrously followed by his humiliating teenage beating no one spoke of her again and he had blocked the whole thing out of his mind.
"Yeah, Kaylee, this is Sam. I remember you."
"I'm sorry to track you down like this but I know you're involved with things that are…unusual…and I have a problem that I'm hoping…look, I know this is weird."
"How did you track me down?"
"Remember Sebastian?"
Sebastian Mumford had found Sam on MySpace and the two of them had posted messages to each other for the last year or so.
"He said you went to Stanford but you dropped out. He pointed me to a guy named Zach Warren who gave me a phone number. I told him I was an old girlfriend."
"Zach doesn't have this number."
She sighed. "Believe me, I know. I had to plug in all sorts of searches to get to this burner."
Sam scooted back in the bed, propping himself up against the creaky headboard and pushed the bangs out of his eyes. He switched the phone to his other ear.
"Why? What do you want?"
"Like I said, I'm in trouble."
Suspicion growing, he said, "What do you think you know about me?"
"I know that when you and your family were in town, one of the girls in school was having a ghost problem. I think it was a ghost problem. And then the problem went away but so did you. She never really confirmed anything but she said your dad helped her."
"So, you have a ghost problem?" Sam asked the question carefully, determined not to confirm anything yet. He kept his tone treading between amusement and concern.
"I think so. I don't know what it is. My parents," Kaylee's voice cracked. "My parents were killed last week and it was…it was odd."
Sam's mind tossed up his only memory of Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan. They were nice people.
The line grew quiet and Sam thought the call disconnected. Then Kaylee's voice came back, stronger and with less emotion. "My husband said something came out of the walls and started throwing them around. Look, I don't know what it is, but the police think Bill killed them. I don't know what to do."
Sam spun around on the bed. He put his feet on the floor as he pushed his bangs away from his face again. He didn't know if Kaylee was in denial about the murder of her parents. But, if something came out of the walls then it might be he and Dean's kind of thing.
"How about if you start from the beginning," he said. "And then I'll tell you if it's something I can help with?"
"Do we have to do this by phone, Sam?"
"If you want me to drive to Cherry Lane, I need more than what you've told me."
"Do you have a computer? You can look it up. The media is making a big deal of this. They're calling Bill's story 'the ghost defense.'"
Sam rubbed his eyes. He wanted to refuse. He needed to find his father, not investigate some random ghost event for a girl he didn't trust.
Instead of refusing, he said, "All right, let me do some research. I'll call you back in the morning."
"Will you? Really? It was very hard to find you this time."
Irritated, he almost told her to forget it but he didn't do that either.
"I said I'd call," he said.
Sam disconnected. He remembered Kaylee, with her long blond hair and smooth skin. His mind tossed out a different image though. He saw her standing by while her defenders beat the crap out of him and he shook his head.
Sam stretched and stood up. The cool room sent a spray of goosebumps over his skin but he didn't put a t-shirt on, or socks. Wearing just pajama pants, he sat down at the small table near the motel window. He opened the laptop and started searching for verification of Kaylee's story. Sam found the news stories describing Robert and Jane Sullivan's murders. Something had brutally ripped them to pieces. It was a terrible end for two decent people. As Kaylee said, her husband, Bill Houston, claimed something came out of the house walls, murdered Kaylee's parents then disappeared again. The police believed Houston killed them with serrated knives.
After confirming her story, Sam decided to go to sleep. The whiskey swished unhappily in his belly, he was cold, and Dean hadn't returned, so Sam settled back into bed. The motel blanket warmed him, and as he drifted he told himself he'd be more effective in the morning.
Sometime later he heard the room door open and felt the chill of the night sweep through. Then the door clicked shut and Dean loudly whispered, "Sammy, you awake?"
"No," Sam said. "Go to sleep. You're drunk."
"I am not."
Sam woke up enough to turn over. He found his brother hovering, probably wavering in his "non-drunk" status, between the beds.
"Then what.?" Sam said.
"You know that bartender we met a couple nights ago? Turns out she likes scruffy beards."
Sam chuckled. "Congratulations. Night, Dean."
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
Dean woke Sam just after nine in the morning. He shook his brother's foot telling him to get up. Sam grumbled softly but he rolled on to his back and scratched his forehead.
"I found us a job," Dean said. "Ghost ripped up a couple over in Cherry Lane, Pennsylvania. Witness says it was ghosts."
Sam raised his eyebrows and dropped his hand to rest against his belly.
"Funny you should mention that," Sam said.
"Why? What?"
"Do you remember working a job in Cherry Lane with Dad? Back when we were kids. I was still in high school, a poltergeist thing."
Dean sat on the bed trying to remember the poltergeist cases. As he put the information together he thought about the waitress and her cranky brothers first, then the details of the case started slipping through the cracks. Then, finally, he remembered Sam's crazy girlfriend.
"Oh yeah. We both got thumped in that town and it wasn't even the case that got us into trouble."
Sam sat up, turning to face Dean as he rubbed his face.
"Kaylee Sullivan was the reason I got thumped," he said.
"How is she related to Robert and Jane?"
"That's her parents. The main suspect is her husband."
"Did you find the same case?"
Sam stood up. As he crossed the room towards the bathroom, he said, "Kaylee called me last night. She wants us to look into it."
He closed the door behind him and Dean scowled. He hated unanswered questions like 'how did she find them' and 'how did she know to find them'.
He busied himself with packing up their stuff while he waited for Sam to re-emerge. Remembering the waitress from the night before, he flipped open his phone, listened to three rings then a sleepy voice answered.
"Good morning, Amber," he said, "It's Dean."
"Oh, hey, you didn't have to leave last night," she said. "I would've been happy to make you coffee."
"Thanks, but, I'm heading out today. I just wanted to say I had a nice time. I hope you don't get in trouble for bailing on your shift."
"I'm not worried. I had a good time too. If you come back to town, give me a call."
"I have your number," Dean said. "Take care of yourself."
He disconnected the call then shoved the phone back in his pocket. He pictured her for a moment, fondly remembering the reasons he had hit on her. The snick of the bathroom door opening distracted him and he stopped thinking about Amber.
Sam walked over to his bag, still damp and wearing a towel tucked around his hips. He started digging, searching for clothes.
"So, you want to fill me in?" Dean said.
"Kaylee Sullivan, uh, Houston now, called last night. She got my number from Zach…"
"Zach and the shapeshifter Zach?"
"Yeah. Anyway, she asked me to look into her parents' murder."
"Unless you've been sending her updates, how did this girl find Zach Warren?"
"Called Stanford, got steered towards MySpace. Is it that big a stretch?"
"I think so, yeah. We're not easy to trace. Another good reason to cut ties with people."
Sam chose to ignore the last comment. "So, you want to steer away from it?" He said. "It might be a real case, Dean. She sounded pretty scared."
Dean started to tell him that he wanted to give the case to another hunter. They hadn't spoken to Bobby Singer in a while but he figured a phone call to him would get someone else to investigate.
A knock on the motel room door stopped him.
Dean looked at Sam who shook his head. Sam lifted the Taurus out of his bag then backed into the bathroom, standing to one side of the doorway. Dean pulled the Colt semi-automatic from the holster laying on the bed.
Whoever was knocking, knocked again.
Dean looked through the peephole to see a petite blonde woman standing outside. Dressed in a heavy overcoat she could easily be hiding any sort of weapon. She clearly was not a motel housekeeper but she looked human. He opened the door a few inches.
"Can I help you?"
"My name is Kaylee Houston. I'm looking for Sam Winchester," the woman said. She fixed a set of blue eyes on him but her lips stayed pressed together.
"Wrong room," Dean said but his chest clenched at her words.
"No, it's not. He checked in as Curtis Hofstetter but I know it's him."
"You have the wrong room."
"And you're Dean. Apparently you're not as dead as St. Louis reported."
Dean tossed open the door, grabbed her arm and pulled her into the room. She squeaked in surprise. Kicking the door closed, he flung her towards the center of the room and trained his gun on her.
"Wait, wait," she said. Her voice quavered. "Please. I'm sorry."
"How did you find us?" Dean said.
"GPS. GPS, okay? I hacked into Sam's phone after I called last night."
"That's not possible," Sam said. He entered the room, still wrapped in a towel but holding the Taurus.
"Yes, it is," Kaylee said. "If you're me. I could find an ant in a dust storm if it was carrying a cell phone, okay? I'm telling you."
"Bullshit," Dean said.
"It's what I do. I used to work for a cell phone designer. I helped write the application codes. Look, I just, I really need your help and I didn't think you'd call me back. After…what happened in high school…"
"You made a mistake," Dean said. "And you need to go."
Kaylee glanced towards the door then back at Dean. She hugged her arms to her chest.
"My husband will go to prison," she said. "He'll get the death penalty. I thought you two helped people with problems like this. How can you just tell me to leave?"
"I don't trust you," Dean said. "You call Sam out of nowhere with some weird connection to a friend of his and then you track us here? I don't think so."
Kaylee looked away from Dean towards Sam. The pleading look in her eyes, the shimmer of unshed tears irritated Dean because he knew what his brother would say next.
"My brother is right," Sam said.
Kaylee and Dean both said "What?"
"Find someone else to help," Sam said. "Assuming you're really in trouble, which…I don't know."
Her pleading look darted between them. She swiped at her eyes and shook her head. For a moment, she stared at the floor, apparently composing herself. A tiny light of remorse sparked inside him but Dean reminded himself that she crashed into their lives like a train wreck. They owed her nothing and he didn't trust her.
"All right, look, my husband isn't the only one in trouble. I'm being followed, stalked or something and I can't…look, I have to go out to my car. Will you please let me back in?"
"There's no reason to let you back in," Dean said.
"Just give me five more minutes and if I can't convince you then I'll give up and go. I'm really scared so, please…"
Dean glanced back at Sam. They both shrugged at the same time.
"All right," Sam said. "Who do you think is following you?"
"I have to go out to my car."
Kaylee spun around and walked out.
"What the hell?" Dean said to Sam.
Sam grabbed his clothes off the bed and went back in the bathroom. He dressed quickly with the handgun close by. He listened for the front door, wanting to be out there when she came back. If Kaylee was setting some sort of trap, he wanted to be ready. He didn't really think she was, knew the past was interfering with his judgment, but he refused to take any chances.
He returned to the main room to find Dean still standing near the front door, still holding the ivory handled Colt in his hand.
A knock on the door signaled Kaylee's return. Dean opened the door then stepped back several feet. He dropped the gun to hang at his side. Sam did the same.
Against her chest, Kaylee held an infant wrapped in a pink blanket. Brown waves curled from the baby's head and Sam noticed one of its tiny hands curled around the collar of Kaylee's jacket. Kaylee was gently patting the child's back as she stood to one side of the door.
"What is that?" Dean said.
"This is my daughter, Rose." She smiled as she said it.
She shifted the baby and looked into her face. She cooed at her before looking back up at Sam.
"If I'm in danger then so is she," Kaylee said. "I really do need your help."