The computer still wasn't yielding anything. Sam let his head flop forward onto his arm, staring blankly at the screen. The teeth marks were hard to see, and so far as Sam could tell, there was no history of violence on the land the city had been built on. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened anytime near the first disappearance, or the disappearances that had followed. No one had died violently around the time of the first disappearance, no one had gone missing. Just a single pond that was the size of a block, and not nearly a quarter as deep.
There was a tiny tug on his shirt, and Sam swiveled his head towards the source. Bright blue eyes stared back at him. "Fissy?" she asked plaintively.
"TV not very entertaining?" Sam asked, glancing around towards the screen. Some Japanese animation show was on, the character moving across a green lawn. "Don't blame you," he muttered.
There had to be something better for her than that. Unfortunately, she couldn't read, couldn't go outside, and her only attempt at speech was 'fissy'. Didn't make for great conversation.
When he moved his gaze back to her, however, her eyes were still locked on him with absolutely hope and trust. "Fissy?" she asked again.
Sam sighed and turned to the computer. "Okay, let's find you something to do." There had to be a website for little ones, right? Someplace they could play? Somewhere like...
Disney. He should've known.
"All right, you," Sam said. She was light enough, and with one swift lift he had her sitting on his knees in front of the laptop. "We're gonna pop some bubbles, okay?"
It was how Dean found them, ten minutes later, when he came back with lunch. She was giggling and shrieking with delight each time she popped one, and Dean merely raised an eyebrow at Sam, amusement obvious. "She seems to be enjoying herself," he said.
"TV sort of failed her," Sam said by way of explanation. He moved the mouse slightly once more, and her finger lifted accordingly almost to the top of her head. A moment of hesitation, before she plunged her finger down to the button on the mouse, which in turn popped the bubble on the screen. Another giggle resounded, and she bounced happily.
Sam winced, an action that didn't go unnoticed by Dean. "You all right?"
"Yeah, I just don't think my knees are supposed to endure constant bouncing," he admitted. It was keeping her happy though, and so far, he hadn't heard the word 'fissy' in over ten minutes. Sam was taking his miracles where he could.
"Yeah, I remember that," Dean said with a snort of amusement. Two bags that wafted a greasy aroma were set down on the other side of the table, but the two at the computer didn't really take notice. The little one was wrapped up in popping her bubbles, and Sam had his attention focused on his big brother.
"You did this with her earlier?" he asked, frowning slightly in confusion.
Dean paused, and the look on his face said he hadn't meant to let it slip. "Dean?" Sam pressed.
Dean coughed and suddenly found lunch highly interesting. "Not with her. With you. When you were little."
Sam blinked and tried to focus on what he remembered. He had to have been young, younger than five at least. His earliest recollection that he could think of was Dean pouring the milk for his Lucky Charms. "You did?" he asked softly.
Dean coughed and scratched the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at Sam. When Sam continued to gaze at him, Dean finally sighed and gave him a half-hearted glare. "Yeah, I did, okay? Mom used to do it for me, and...she wasn't there to do it for you. And lemme tell you, even at two, you were heavy."
Dean had only been five himself. Sam swallowed back the smile that Dean seemed to be waiting for, and decided to let his brother off the hook. "Probably didn't help that you were a shrimp back then, either."
"I was bigger than you," Dean said with annoyance, but the relief on his face was palpable. He'd suffer any injustice, Sam thought, if it meant him getting out of a chick-flick moment.
"You can actually remember that far back to what that felt like?"
A bunched up napkin bounced against the side of Sam's head, making the little one clap and giggle even more. Okay, maybe not suffer any injustice.
Trying to wash up a little one's face after fries and ketchup (and seriously, the hell could someone make that much of a mess with ketchup?) wasn't going on Dean's list of fun. Not that she throwing tantrums, or anything.
She just kept talking. And turning her face away whenever she did so.
After three minutes of attempting to get rid of the ketchup on the tip of her nose, Dean finally tossed the napkin aside with a sigh. "I give up," he surrendered. The little one bounced off the bed and straight to the computer again, eager to get back to her bubble popping. She grabbed as far back in the chair as she possibly could, but couldn't find the leverage to pull herself up. Her feet pushed against the chair legs to no avail.
Finally she turned to him, a pout on her face. "Fissy?" she asked plaintively.
"Can you say anything else?" Dean asked, but rose off the bed anyways. He caught her gently underneath her armpits and lifted her onto the seat. She bounced upon being seated and gave him a blinding smile, and Dean took his chance to wipe the last bit of ketchup off her nose.
"Fissy!" she exclaimed cheerfully.
He had her attention, at least. "How about 'puppy'," Dean tried, giving her as bright as smile as he could manage. "Can you say 'puppy'?"
"Fissy!"
Dean pursed his lips and tried again. "Kitty?"
"Fissy!"
He didn't even have to look in Sam's direction to figure out the face his brother would be wearing. "Shut up, Sam," he warned.
"I didn't say anything," Sam objected, but Dean could hear the grin clearly in his tone. Bitch.
"Fissy fissy!" the little one chirped.
"Doggy?"
"Fissy!"
"Birdy?"
"Fissy!"
"You're not playing the game right," Sam said, and Dean glanced up as his brother came over and crouched down beside them. He smiled at the little one, and she in turn smiled back. "Honey, what's the thing that swims in the water with fins?"
"Fissy!" she answered dutifully.
"I win," Sam declared, standing and moving back to the bed. Dean leveled a glare at the back of his brother's head, but Sam ignored him.
The little one bounced again. "Fissy?" she asked.
Dean rolled his eyes and opened the laptop, then clicked the window of the bubble website up. The little one scooted up onto her knees and waited with her hand eagerly over the mouse. When Dean realized she was waiting for him to move the moused, he flicked it to the right and used his other hand to prop up his chin on the table. Down came her finger on the button, and a moment later, she shrieked in glee.
"Need any help with the research?" Dean asked hopefully towards Sam, who was sprawled out contentedly on the bed.
"Nope," Sam replied cheerfully. "I'm good, thanks."
"Fissy!" Two tiny hands caught hold of and shook Dean's arm slightly, dragging his attention back to the impatient toddler. "Fissy!" she demanded again.
Hadn't Dean had enough of obeying a toddler's orders to satisfy karma and the universe for one lifetime? Especially when the previous toddler was trying not to snicker at him from the bed?
Apparently not. Dean nudged the mouse again and watched her finger dive-bomb the button. More giggling exploded from the simple, animated bubble popping on the screen, and Sam wasn't able to hold back a snicker.
"Seriously Sammy, you don't have anything?" Dean asked, and he was not pleading. Really. The little one was adorable.
"Fissy!" Another impatient tug with her hands, and a frustrated pout on her face. He almost flicked the mouse again, then leaned forward, another idea in mind. He caught her tiny hand and placed it on the mouse, then slowly moved it, her hand guiding the way.
Her eyes widened in wonderment and joy. "Fissy!"
"Glad to make your day," Dean muttered, standing and heading over to Sam. The little one was completely entranced by being able to both move the mouse and click the button. It'd keep her occupied for the next five minutes, at least. "Anything at all?"
Sam looked at him with an odd expression for a moment, then finally shook his head. "Nothing. I'm telling you, if it weren't for the bodies showing up, I'd say this wasn't our type of thing at all. There's no pattern, no history of deaths...they're all just unrelated maulings at different times, different people."
"Like an animal attack," Dean said as he took a seat on the bed next to Sam.
"Except there's no tracks, either," Sam replied with a sigh. "So...don't ask me."
"But it could be an animal, right?" When Sam started to disagree, Dean glared at him. "Dude, gimme something here, all right? Just let me have one idea to hold onto for now."
Sam rolled his eyes. "Anything to help you sleep at night, Dean. Say it is an animal: there haven't been any tracks, or drag marks."
"It was muddy," Dean offered. Another shriek and chorus of giggles followed his reply.
Sam tossed a fond look towards the little one before turning back to Dean. "It'd have to be a water monster. And it's not that there's only a few of those."
"How many of them are actual animals, though?" Dean asked. "Nothing too supernatural about them, just wanting to chomp the nearest available person?"
"Fissy!" the little one said again. Dean glanced over and watched as she slid out of the chair, hurrying over to the side of the bed and gazing up at him with her big, blue eyes. "Fissy fissy!"
Dean rolled his eyes and turned back to Sam, who was staring at the little one as if he'd never seen her before. "Sammy?"
"We really are off our game, aren't we?" Sam said, before swiveling over to Dean.
Dean raised an eyebrow. "I'm not the one who's been gone for a few years; I've been hunting."
"Yeah, and you've been just as dense as I've been," Sam replied, then turned to the little one. "Say it again, sweetie."
"Fissy!" the little one supplied helpfully.
Sam turned back to Dean expectantly, and it suddenly hit him in a moment of realization. He could've sworn he even felt a little heat when the light bulb above his head went off. "Where did you find her?" Sam asked, as if Dean hadn't figured it out already.
"Around the pond," Dean said with a groan. Their biggest clue had been right there with them for the past several hours, saying again and again what they'd been trying to find.
"Fissy!" she said happily, clapping her hands together. "Fissy fissy fissy!"
Dean slowly turned back to Sam, who looked just as chagrined as Dean felt. "Guess it is an animal," Dean said with a weak grin. "Starting point, right?"
Sam merely sighed and stood. "Keep her occupied; I'm gonna need her bubble popping machine."