Heroes
By: Maygin
Summary: "The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing."
Edmund Burke (1729-1797)
And here it is as promised… chapter 7! I would just like to send out a quick thank you to Carikube once more… because the more reviews I'm reading, the more I'm realizing she practically threatened people to read this… and I really have no qualms with that (Dean's rubbin off on me). So, thank you Carikube for your disturbing persistence (j/k, you know I luv ya!) And Fireman Phil… thanks for your indebt reviews and support! There are a lot of people who have reviewed and been so very kind and I'm sorry I haven't been able to reply to everyone, but thankyouthankyouthankyou!! You have totally overinflated my ego and I think I kinda like that feeling ;) Okay- crap over – enjoy the chappie.
Chapter 7
Dean stormed into the Firehouse a half hour late for his shift.
"Where have you been?" P.B. casually inquired as he looked up from a pile of paperwork he was sorting through.
Dean grabbed the edge of the desk and leaned on it, rolling his neck. "There was a bit of an accident at Mable's."
That caused the other man to pause in his work, "Is she alright?"
"Yeah, it was nothing like that," Dean quickly waved the thought away. "I just had a bit of a run-in with the bus boy and now I'm out fifty bucks."
P.B. snickered at the other man. "That's it?"
Dean conceded, falling into the chair behind the other desk. "I offered to pay more but she wouldn't take it."
"Yeah I wouldn't imagine she would. That woman has five kids under her belt, not to mention all her 'projects' she likes to drag in outta the rain… you were one of those you know?"
Dean was actually a little taken aback by that. "What?"
"Yeah, back when you and your old man first moved to Chicago; I guess you were still a kid- I can't believe you haven't heard this story yet, she loves telling it to all of us over and over and over-"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Dean impatiently waved him on to continue.
"So your dad apparently stopped in the diner with you just as it was closing one night… Mable had just locked the door as your daddy got out of the car holding you in his arms." P.B. gave a little laugh and smiled. "Mable said you were a pretty goofy lookin kid."
"What?!" Dean looked slightly offended.
"Oh yeah…," he stated flippantly, "so anyways, she saw you and said she couldn't walk away. She invited you two in, cooked you something up and then took you into her own home for the night until your father could find an apartment the next day." P.B. studied the man quietly staring off into space. "You don't remember any of that?"
Dean shook his head slowly, "Mom had just died the night before… I really don't remember much after that until a few years down the road."
"Well they say that happens to a lot of people… something tragic happens and they just kind of shut down for a while. Can't remember things because the tragedy is always at the forefront of their thoughts."
"Huh," Dean chewed on his bottom lip, processing this unknown piece of his life.
"Course," P.B. refocused on the papers in front of him, "we always knew you was messed up in the head." Dean drew in a deep breath, not choosing to argue that one. "Jameson stopped by earlier," P.B. glanced over at the other desk, gesturing to a thick folder laying on top, "dropped that off for you."
Dean looked down at the folder in front of him, "Already? What a suck up."
P.B. snorted. "I suppose this means you'll be working on that all night," he stated rather than actually questioned, not even bothering to look at the other man as he read through a report.
"Maybe, why you need help with something?"
The other man shook his head. "Uh-uh man, I refuse to let you use me as an excuse to pull another all-nighter."
Dean held up his hands in surrender, "Fine with me, don't ever say I didn't offer."
"Hey P.B.," Myers stumbled into the Garage, "Captains on the phone upstairs, says he wants to talk to you about a budgeting issue or something?"
"Okay, send it on down."
Myers paused, a dumb look on his face. "How do I do that?"
P.B. looked up at the other man and then pushed out of his chair with a sigh. "Never-mind, I'll come up."
"Kay," Myers ran back up the stairs.
P.B. passed between the desks, rolling his eyes. Dean snorted, "Go get im Tiger." The other man responded with his middle finger before exiting the garage.
Dean looked at the folder eagerly flipping it open and started rifling through the papers. He pulled a binder clip off a stack of papers with colorful paper clips separating them. He started reading through the list of names, recognizing some of the infant victims that had died in the arson fires from his own investigations and on the news. He leaned forward and yanked a wrinkled piece of notebook paper from his back pocket and smoothed it out next to the stack of baby victims.
"Okay," he flexed his fingers and then read the first line of hand-scribbled information on the crinkled paper, "Rachel Brayman; Date of Birth unknown; church member as of April 30th, 2006." His eyes flitted over to the stack of other papers and he started searching through them, skimming over the nicely typed information. He paused on one paper, his eyebrows raising. "Tara Reed, Date of Birth- November 29th, 2005. Died… April 29th, 2006."
He licked his lips and then read the next line on the wrinkled paper. "Paul Brayman; Date of Birth unknown; church member as of July 15th, 2006." He shuffled through the other papers, pulling one out with a tilt of his head, "Timothy Harding, Date of Birth January 14th, 2006. Died, July 14th, 2006."
He took a deep breath and looked at the last name on his hand-scrawled note. "Sarah Brayman; Date of Birth unknown; church member as of September 24th, 2006." His head swiveled to the side, and pulled out a sheet from the middle that looked promising. "Alyson Briggs, Date of Birth March 23rd, 2006. Died, September 23rd, 2006," Dean finished, dropping the paper with a weary sigh and hiding his face behind his hands.
The arson case had just gotten a whole lot more complicated. He couldn't figure out the connection to the church. It couldn't be as simple as government support; stealing babies for financial childcare support. Dean shook his head; there was just something so wrong about that scenario. He quickly dumped the idea. He sighed and glanced at the remaining stack of baby victims. Apparently Jameson had found it humorous to ask their rookie to gather reports on ALL the baby victims in surrounding states as well. "Definitely a suck-up," Dean mumbled, remembering being a rookie himself not more than six years ago.
He lazily flipped through the other victim reports but stopped on one. He slowly slid it from the pile and rested it before him.
Samuel Winchester
Date of Birth: May 2nd, 1983
Died: November 2nd, 1983
Dean stared at the three simple lines. A whole life wrapped up in three short lines. He shook his head sadly at the injustice of it all and then slid the sheet to the side, pulling out a separately stapled document. He read the name along the top, "Jeremiah Brayman." A small grin pulled at the corner of his mouth, "Just what do you have to do with all this?" He started reading through the dead man's profile, seemingly impressed. "Guess you're exactly who the priest said you were."
Dean's eyes froze on one line in the report. "Died, November 3rd, 1983 in Kansas City, Kansas." He swallowed thickly, the lump in his throat becoming slightly painful. He read through the coroner's report, "…died of severe internal bleeding… had third degree burns along his arms and legs… was found dead in his hotel room. No signs of fire in hotel."
Dean brought a hand up across his mouth; a million thoughts suddenly fighting for attention in his head.
"Dean." Marris said as if she'd already called his name a couple times. She stood across from him, staring at him worriedly, "You okay? You look like death warmed over."
Dean blinked a few times, gathering his wits about him and then started shoving the papers back into the folder. "I gotta go."
"What?" Marris was obviously very worried at this point. "Dean you can't, you're on duty."
Dean stood and walked around the desks, "Call one of the back-ups. I've gotta go, it's an emergency."
She followed after him as he strode determinedly towards the garage's exit. "Wait- is it your dad? Is he sick?"
"No, Marris-" he stopped suddenly, turning to face her with a raised hand, "look I promise, I'll explain everything when I get back okay?"
Marris' shoulders slumped in defeat and she gave a small nod. He turned and continued his trek. "Just make sure you do," she called after him.
"What's that?" he turned at the door, leaning his back against it.
"Get back."
Dean winked at her and then pushed the door open and made his exit.
TBC...