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Chapter Six: A Tale of Two Idjits

Ted didn't see the girl again. After lounging around the motel for a little while with nothing to do, he and Sammy had looked around town for more clues. What they found was best summed up as diddlysquat.

They came back to the motel in the evening, exhausted and frustrated. The kid disappeared into the bathroom to take a shower. Ted supposed he was really going to regret agreeing to alternate who got the bed. He flopped down on the bed while he still had it and decided to watch some tv.

The first thing he saw was the local news. There had been another fire, this time in somebody's home. None of the family had been home at the time except for a fourteen-year-old boy, who had died. He'd gone to the same school as the two girls who had died just last week. Authorities were blaming a gas leak.

Ted stared at the tv for a good long time. There was no way he and Sammy could have started that fire. They'd been too busy looking for skittish-blonde-girl and trying to figure out who they were. Was it possible, then, that they weren't responsible for the other fires either?

But then, that fire was being ruled as an accident. There was no indication, according to the news, that it was even connected to the previous fire. Besides, if they didn't have something to do with it, why had they collected newspaper clippings and obituaries concerned with the last fire?

Ted turned the tv off and sighed.

"Are you okay?" Sammy asked. He had just come out of the bathroom.

"Fine," Ted said wearily.

"You don't look so good," Sammy observed.

"Better looking than you," Ted quipped, brushing past Sammy to take his own shower. It was going to be a long night on the floor.

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It was official. Sleeping on the floor sucked. Ted tossed and turned all night trying to get comfortable, and when he finally found a spot that didn't seem like a spike was driving into his back he felt like his shoulder was being crushed against a rock. He woke up with a kink in his neck and a numb arm.

Sammy was already up and about, pacing, and had his jaw set in a stubborn way that didn't bode well. Ted had barely sat up when the kid launched his assault.

"We have to go check out that school," he said.

"What time is it?" Ted groaned.

"So far it's the only lead we have to who we are or what we were doing in this town before we lost our memories," Sammy went on, completely ignoring Ted's question. It seemed like he'd been practicing this speech while Ted was asleep.

"Is it still dark outside?" Ted asked, looking at the crack between the drawn up curtains over the window suspiciously.

"If we don't check it out we might never find out," Sammy continued, "We can't just keep holing up here in this crap motel, okay?"

Ted pulled himself to his feet and squinted at the digital clock on the side table. "Dude, it's four in the morning," he moaned. This was even earlier than when he'd gotten up yesterday.

"Look, Ted, we have to go," Sammy said firmly.

"Yeah, whatever. I'm going back to sleep," Ted grumbled, pushing his way past the kid and collapsing on the bed. If Sammy wasn't going to make use of it, he may as well.

He regretted it just a little in the morning. A couple extra hours in a real bed had not done wonders for the kink in his neck, and Sammy had taken his sleepy murmuring as a seal of approval and was now determined to go check out that school.

"I'm telling you, it's a bad idea." It was a little late to be saying this, perhaps, since they were already in the car and driving towards the school. Not to mention, it was becoming a little hard to convince the kid that it was actually a bad idea when Ted couldn't tell him why he thought so. He suspected Sammy might already have a few unhappy ideas about who they really were, but none so bad as psycho killers with an arsenal of shotguns in the trunk of their car.

No, that cheery thought was going to be Ted's alone.

"Have you got any better ideas?" the kid countered. Ted had been hoping he wouldn't say anything like that.

"Yeah, uh, how about we hit the bar this evening and find ourselves some babes? I haven't been laid in—"

"Wait, you're telling me that's the most important thing on your mind right now? You don't even know when you last got laid!" the kid snapped. "Maybe you've never been laid."

"Oh, I definitely have," Ted said, "You on the other hand. . ." he waved his hand in a gesture to indicate he thought it was unlikely.

The kid sulked, slouching down in his seat as far as he would go. It wasn't very far. He was just too tall.

"Well, it's been at least three days anyway," Ted went on, "And that's a pretty long time to go without—"

"You're right," the kid murmured distractedly, digging around in his pocket.

"Of course I'm right," Ted said, more caught off guard that the kid was actually agreeing with him. What was he up to?

"It has been three days," Sammy muttered, pulling out his cell phone and flipping through it. "No new messages. . ."

"So?" Ted wondered, not sure if the kid was still talking to him or just mumbling to himself.

"So, you'd think someone would call!" Sammy said, "I mean, I have all these people on my contacts list, and as far as they know I've dropped off the face of the earth the past couple days. But no one's called, no text messages, no email – don't you think someone should care? Don't we have family or friends or anything?"

Nothing like that had ever occurred to Ted. "Maybe you told them you'd be gone for a while," he suggested.

"What about yours?" the kid asked suddenly.

"What?" Ted didn't want to think about having a family. Did they know about all the weapons in the back of his car?

"Your phone," the kid clarified, "Has anyone called you?"

"No." Maybe that was a relief. Maybe no one did care about him.

The kid was fiddling around with his own phone. "Give me yours," he commanded.

"What, my phone? What do you want my phone for?"

"There has to be someone who knows both of us," Sammy insisted. "Let me check your contacts against mine. Maybe there'll be a common name, or something."

Shrugging, Ted handed it over. He wasn't sure he'd miss the thing anyway.

After a few seconds Sammy exclaimed, "Dude! You have like, eight people on your contacts list."

"Yeah?" Ted replied. He hadn't actually bothered to look at his phone before.

"That's like, no one," the kid told him. "I have more like thirty on mine."

"Well, aren't you Mr. Popular," Ted said.

Sammy's face brightened. "Hey, there's a Sam on your list."

Ted smirked. "Told you your name was Sammy."

"No, it says Sam. And it's your phone, meaning you called me Sam. If it is me. . ." he added somewhat uncertainly.

"Why don't you call the number and find out?"

Sammy fidgeted nervously. "What if it's not me?"

Ted rolled his eyes. "Then you say 'Sorry, wrong number' and hang up. It's not rocket science."

The kid was still unconvinced. "What if they have caller ID and they're expecting you to answer?"

Ted sighed. "You think too much, Fruitcake."

The kid went silent for a while, scrolling through his phone list and checking Ted's occasionally to see if a name matched. They had already reached the school by the time he was done, but Ted parked a block or so away, still feeling uncomfortable coming to the place.

What if they had been here before? And not for anything good. . .

"So, I found a Bobby in both our phone books," Sammy said. "It's about the only name in common, but then you have hardly anyone on yours. Can't believe we didn't think of this earlier. . ."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll call him," Ted said, snatching his phone back. He was getting a little annoyed with the kid's tone. So what if he had friends and Ted didn't? Surely, he couldn't have dragged the kid on a murdering spree without anyone noticing, then.

As soon as the thought occurred to him he felt a little sick.

He dialed Bobby's number. It rang three times until a man's voice answered. He sounded a little worried. "Dean?"

"Uh. . . yeah," Ted said. He didn't really have a clue, but he figured why not? He could be Dean.

"You and Sam alright?"

Ted, or was he Dean now? looked at Sammy. "Yeah, uh, he's here. . ." I think, he added to himself. The kid watched him curiously, clearly wanting in on the conversation.

Bobby's next words threw him for a loop. "Did you find the witch?"

"Come again?" Ted asked.

"The witch, you know," Bobby told him. "The one you went up there looking for?"

Ted wondered if maybe he had heard wrong. "Uh. . . which one?"

"There's more than one?" Bobby asked, "Is there a whole coven? That's bad news. You boys are in some serious trouble. Listen, tell me where you are and I'll—"

By that point Ted had heard enough. He flipped the phone shut, effectively hanging up on Bobby. Sammy was looking at him expectantly.

"What is it? Does he know who we are? Did he say anything?"

"Oh, he said some things alright," Ted, or possibly Dean, muttered. "I don't know how we know him, but that guy is insane."

"Insane!" Sammy cried, "Ted, this guys knows us, we can't just hang up on him like that. Let me talk to him."

"Whatever," Ted said. Sammy was already dialing his own phone. "I'm telling you, complete nutjob."

He watched Sam's face as Bobby answered. "Yeah, Bobby? . . . Yeah, uh, Sam, that's me. . ." He glanced at Ted. "Dean? Uh. . . I guess he's here. . ."

Ted watched as Sam's eyes widened and then narrowed. He looked confused.

"Come again?" There was a slight pause, after which Sam said in a loud, incredulous voice, "Witch hunt?" Whatever Bobby was saying on the other end was abruptly cut off, because Sam shut his own phone not too long after that.

"Yeah," he turned to Ted finally, looking serious, "He's definitely insane."

"What did I tell you?" Ted said, swinging the car door open. "I guess we're on our own."