2.
The Awful Names That They Stick
The car ride was eerily quiet, more so than usual because the antenna couldn't pick up any good radio stations within fifteen miles of the town. Dean believed that to be a sign. The place really was evil.
He had been pleasantly surprised to find that Sam hadn't mentioned the broken bathroom mirror or the unusual silence. He was usually the first to take advantage of any opportunity for a chick-flick moment.
"So," Sammy finally said, breaking the awkward silence and making his brother groan inwardly. He'd known the little emo couldn't resist. "This town. I don't really remember it. Just another place, you know? I remember the one after it, though."
Dean shot him a sideways glance. "Ok, random. Why bring this up?"
Sam shrugged. "I dunno. I just got to thinking last night and realized that I don't remember much about Stratlebie."
"Why the town after it?"
The younger man shrugged again. "It was the only time you and dad ever fought. I mean, really fought. I thought you were gonna kill each other."
Dean straightened up in his seat. All those years, and he'd never realized that Sam had listened in on that. "You remember what we were fighting about?"
"Naw. Just that there was some yelling and some cussing and that he told you to 'take it back,' whatever that meant."
"You seriously remember all of that?"
"Only time you two ever went at it," Sam said softly, "it was kind of scary."
"Well it didn't happen here," Dean reminded him as they finally reached the town limit, "so it doesn't matter. Nothing to do with this place."
Sammy nodded slowly, catching the tone in his brother's voice this time, the fact that he was hiding something. "Yeah. So, this woman that called said she lives about a half mile north of main street. Shouldn't be too hard to find."
Dean glanced over at him. "That's what they all say."
Roughly half an hour later, the Impala had pulled up in front of a large house with big bay windows that were covered with elaborate iron rods. The place looked exactly as Dean had imagined it would: imposing and mocking. It stared down at him with wide, sparklingly clean windows, the door sneering, telling him that he would never be good enough, never be rich enough, never really fit in.
"I still don't understand how you got us lost," Sam muttered, startling Dean out of his thoughts as he climbed out of the car, "there are, like, three streets in this entire town."
"All the houses look alike," he pointed out. It was a true statement. Every house on the black looked the same, big and full of wealth. He hated it.
"That's a crappy excuse, Dean," Sam argued, walking calmly up to the door, unaware of the evil that lay within, and knocked. Dean joined him slowly, secretly wishing that the home's occupants were gone for the day, but knowing all along that they weren't.
The door opened to reveal a woman about Dean's age with flowing blonde hair and the bluest eyes he'd ever seen, eyes he hadn't seen since his final day of school in the hellish town. "Hello?"
Sam nodded, flashing a smile as Dean felt his stomach twist itself into uncomfortable knots. "Hi. Um, Candace?"
"Candy," the woman said slowly, eyeing the brothers suspiciously.
"You called me the other day."
The woman scrunched her eyes up and appraised him. "Sam Winchester?"
"That's me."
"Who's that?" It was the question Dean had been dreading since she'd opened the door.
"My brother, Dean."
Her eyes went wide. "Dean," she paused, her tongue tracing its way across her teeth as her mouth curled into a wicked smile, "Winchester?"
"That's typically the way surnames work," Sam grinned.
"Your maiden name was Damien, wasn't it?" Dean asked, speaking up for the first time since being confronted with the adult version of the little girl that had made his junior high years a living Hell.
"Good memory," Candy grinned.
"You two know each other?" Sam asked, looking between the two.
"We went to middle school together."
"Friends?"
"Acquaintances," Dean clarified, unable to keep a slight quiver out of his voice as he stared into those pitiless blue eyes and two straight years of torture ran unbidden through his mind.
"I'm impressed," the woman said, her grin turning from something almost innocent to something malicious, "that's a four syllable word."
"You haven't changed a bit," Dean growled, though, to him, it sounded more like a whimper.
"Neither have you," she smirked, looking him up and down, her eyes sparkling with menace, "Goodwill."
Dean felt himself flinch, his heart skipping a beat as his face reddened. He could see Sam out of the corner of his eye, hated the way the younger man squinted and looked between the two old classmates, knowing that he'd seen the automatic reaction. He knew the question was inevitable.
Sam opened his mouth to speak, but didn't say anything. He just stood there, looking between Dean and Candy, as if he had no idea what to say. Finally, he found his voice. "So, what's the problem?"
Candace never took her eyes off Dean. "Come on in and we'll chat." She turned and walked into the spacious house. Reluctantly, Dean followed her, Sam tagging along behind.
"How'd you get his number?" Dean asked, his voice soft, almost timid, hands in his pockets, head down.
"A friend of mine had a problem a while back and called one of her friends, who referred her to this chick in Nebraska, who referred someone else who helped her and referred Sammy." Dean just nodded weakly, not even challenging her use of his brother's nickname.
"What's the problem?" Sam asked, trying to hide his concern at his brother's actions and attitude. Dean was normally so gung-ho, so confident, especially around the opposite sex. Something was wrong.
"Things go flying," Candy said, sitting down on the couch and patting the seat next to her. Sam sat down, but Dean remained standing, his head still down. "Furniture and stuff. My things go missing. I hear weird noises at night. But, mostly, it's the flying objects."
"You said you have a daughter?"
She nodded. "Melanie. She's off at cheerleading practice right now. I think that whatever this is, it's after her. This stuff only seems to happen when Mel's around."
"When did it start?"
"About three years ago. It was small at first. Nothing like it is now. I'm getting desperate."
"And how old is this house?"
"If you're trying to ask if anyone's ever died here, no. It's new." She looked pointedly at Dean, "brand new."
Sammy looked between them again, starting to figure out the puzzle, but still unsure as to how some of the bigger pieces fit together. He knew one thing for sure, though. They couldn't stay. This woman did something to Dean, and he didn't like it.
"Ok," Sam said, standing up and catching his brother's eye, choosing to ignore the confused expression that came from abandoning the Q and A session so early in the game, "we should get going. We've got some stuff we need to discuss."
"I'll walk you to the door," she said, standing up and flashing a bright smile. She led them through the house and back to the front door, pulling it open and standing back. "I'll see you soon, then."
"Yeah," Sam nodded, heading out towards the car with Dean right behind him. He was almost to the Impala when Candy called out after them.
"Oh, Goodwill!" Sam looked back at her, surprised to find that Dean had stopped in his tracks and actually turned to face her. "Come here." The older hunter stared at her. "Well, come on." Slowly, he trudged back up to her front door.
"What?" he asked, hating the way his voice sounded, so small and weak and pathetic, almost as if he'd gone back in time.
"You didn't think I forgot, did you?" She smiled sweetly and began digging through her pocket. She pulled out a crumpled five dollar bill and held it out to him. "Go on," she urged, "take it."
His lip twitching, from shame or sadness or anger, he couldn't quite tell, Dean reached out and took the money, stuffing it into his own pocket.
"There," Candy cooed, "go buy yourself something nice." She slammed the door.
Slowly, the older hunter turned back to the car, looking at his brother for the first time since arriving at the house, his eyes telling tales of torment and humiliation that made the younger man's heart ache.