Chapter Five: Three's a Crowd
They pulled up to the building that had the sign labelled 'Morgue' outside of it but sat there unconvinced. The building didn't exactly give you the feeling of death so much as the urge to vomit. It sat in the middle of the parking lot on the outskirts of the town. It was a two-story building painted a nice pink salmon colour with cheery awnings and flowers beds on either side of the doors.
How does someone paint a morgue pink? That's just wrong on so many levels.
They picked a parking spot and got out of the car, Dean locking the doors out of protective habit. There was only two other cars in the lot so they figured they had to face a receptionist and a mortician. Should be simple enough…except for the one little snag they had come across. Not being able to talk was slowly starting to wear on the brothers; apparently it wasn't going to be as acceptable as they thought it would be originally.
They walked up to and through the doors. Just as Dean had suspected a jingling met their ears as the door opened and then again when it closed behind them. Cringing Dean stalked over to the receptionist's desk, Sam following him.
Dean visibly perked up when he saw the young woman sitting behind the desk staring at her computer screen, clearly bored out of her mind. She heard their approaching footsteps and raised her head to see who would be at a morgue at eight in the morning, aside from herself of course.
As she looked over the men in front of her, her mood also visibly changed. She took in the worn clothing and the boys underneath them, every detail that she could pick up on them without staring. She liked the shorter one; he was definitely the bad boy of the group and just screamed talent. But the taller one didn't seem to match his friend; he seemed to be intellectual and caring. Just looking into his eyes she felt safer and trusted him.
Dean came to a stop in front of the desk as he did an inspection of his own. Red hair, blue eyes, fair skin, full lips and a shapely body. Definitely his kind of woman and he quickly let his award winning, 'melt any girls heart' smile spread across his face.
He opened his mouth to say something when he felt a nudge in his side. Looking over at the source, Sam stared back at him with a 'what are you doing' look on his face. Dean looked at him like he was crazy for a second before remembering, then turned back to the girl slightly embarrassed.
Damn…I can't even flirt? Come on aren't there exceptions for special cases!?
He pulled three things out of his inner jacket pocket: a pad of paper, a pen and his 'ID'. Putting the paper on the desk, he quickly scribbled a note on the paper casting a glance out of the corner of his eye at Sam who looked like he would say "DUH" if he could.
His note finished, he handed the pad to the girl. She took it and read through it before glancing back up at him and mouthing "ID?" Which Dean quickly flipped open to show her, leaving it for a few seconds before flipping it back closed. She seemed to accept the fed's ID he had shown her and quickly scribbled a note on the paper.
When she was done she gave it to Dean who read it. "Who are you here to see?". Dean scribbled as quickly as he could and gave it back. Sam stood behind Dean not bothering to interject because Dean had the only pad of paper they currently possessed. The stores weren't open yet otherwise they would have bought more. So instead he let himself be a bystander and accepted that Dean was doing all the work, that thought didn't bother him at all.
Finished, and quickly loosing his patience with the whole writing thing, Dean passed the note back to the woman who read it then pointed to a door just down the hallway to their left. Dean and Sam both looked at the door then back to the woman, smiled their thanks and turning to follow the directions she had just given them.
She watched after them momentarily admiring both boys but one more than the other.
Why couldn't I ever find a man like that? I wonder what his voice would sound like…
The boys approached the door with the name tag declaring that the was the office of "Evans M.E." They knocked and waited for an answer as they heard someone scuffling around in the room hidden behind the door. Evans opened the door and cast a questioning glance over the two men in front of him. Dean quickly responded by pulling out his 'ID' and flashing it for the man.
Accepting the two men in front of him as feds he opened the door wider to grant the men entry into the office. Sam followed Dean in and glanced around the mid-sized space. It was simple but cozy with a desk and chair on one side of the room. Filing cabinets were lined against the wall behind the desk and another wall on the other side of the room.
Evans walked over to one of the filing cabinets and opened the top drawer. He rummaged around for a few minutes then produced a faded orange file and placed it on the desk that was standing in between him and the feds. Dean stepped forward and picked up the rather large file. He quickly flipped through it, casting a questioning look at the M.E. in front of him. Evans then reached over to his laptop and began to type.
Sam stepped closer to the desk, trying to read over Dean's shoulder but was distracted when Evans turned the computer to face him. He then leaned forward, eyes squinting, to read the message written across the screen in a small font. Finished, he shot a glance at the mortician, amusement evident on his face as he straightened, the older man sharing Sam's expression. Dean then leaned forward to read the message for himself.
"I got so damn tired of writing the same answers to the same damn questions over and over every time the cops came in. So I put everything I possibly could in that file. Every detail about the deceased, their current condition, possibilities about what could have happened and how. Also all my theories and everything else that I could think of. Everything you gentlemen need should be there."
Dean now mirrored his brother's expression and nodded his thanks, offering his hand to Evans as proof of his thanks. The man shook it and then offered his hand to Sam who immediately shook it and mouthed a thanks before following his brother to the door and exiting.
They headed back down the hall towards the front door which would then lead them to the horror that was the exterior of the building. Before Dean pulled himself out the door he glanced back at the woman sitting behind the counter in front of her computer. However, his glance went unnoticed as she was focused on something else. No, she didn't notice him at all.
Damn! Come on! What's wrong with these people! Did someone drop a 'everybody loves Sam' pill in the water or something!?
Then they left, Dean huffing silently, and got into the Impala. The next stop was the houses of the families of the two victims. They took off in the direction of the first victim's place which, as Evans had promised, was in the file.
Sam sat quietly (like he had a choice) in the passenger seat looking through the oversized file. He was gonna take in as much about this as he could before his brain would overload. But thankfully he had a large brain capacity, unlike his brother who HAD to have ADD, either that or something was just wrong.
Apparently the blood had coagulated post mortem, which meant that the girl must have been alive when they removed her heart. Sam shuddered despite himself. Imagine being alive and fighting as someone cuts into you, feeling them inside you, literally snatching your life away. And that wasn't even the worst part. He couldn't imagine how it would feel to scream for help, for your life, and have no one answer.
It was moments like these when he couldn't be more grateful that he had a brother like the one he had. He couldn't imagine screaming for someone and not have them answer, to have your pleas turned away. When he yelled for help there was always someone there, to help him, to protect him, to save him. He always had someone to back him up. All of a sudden he felt remorse for the girl who had died having no one to save her.
He glanced at Dean, worried that he might have noticed the myriad of emotions that had crossed his face. But it was safe to say Dean hadn't as he was busy silently cursing the street signs and trying to find his way to their destination. Sam took it as safe to give an appreciative, grateful smile towards his brother at that one moment before quickly smothering the smile but holding onto the emotions behind it.
He continued to read on through the file, finding things here or there that they didn't know before. The next time he looked up they were pulling up to 435 Yakima St. Sam and Dean got out of the car and approached the house. When they reached the door they knocked and waited for a reply. Sam mentally readied himself for the emotions they were about to witness while Dean readied himself for the hand cramps awaiting him on the other side of the door. When the door opened a man, looking to be in his late 50s answered the door flanked by a tired looking woman who they assumed was younger but could no longer tell.
They both observed the brothers, waiting for an explanation as to why they were on their doorstep at 10 in the morning. Sam reacted first this time and pulled out his 'id' to flash for their audience. The man glanced at his wife as if wondering if she was up to it, she merely nodded in response and so her husband opened the door and let them inside.
They were directed into the living room where they all sat in silence. Dean started to shift in his seat as comfort quickly fled the vicinity.
Well…this is….awkward. Now would be a good time to make a move Sammy.
As Dean reached into his jacket pocket to retrieve his pen and paper, Sam dug into his bag. Dean hadn't noticed that he had brought it and was immediately grateful when Sam pulled out his laptop.
Good thinking bro'. Just saved us from one nasty ass cramp session.
Sam then set computer on the table between the two couches that were currently being used and typed a quick message. He then angled it towards the couple and they leaned closer to read.
"We're sorry to bother you. We just need to ask you a few questions about you daughter and what happened. If that's alright."
The husband glanced at his wife who looked at him and they seemed to come to an understanding. The husband scooted forward in his seat and began to type his response with his wife hanging over his shoulder to input her thoughts when she saw fit. After a few minutes they angled the computer back to Sam and Dean who had been sitting quietly, watching the couple.
"We don't know much about what happened. We talked to the police before and told them everything we could. Angie was a good kid, she was always happy, loved her family and friends. She had a strength to her, like nothing could get her down. When this…whatever it is…came and we all lost our voices she kept on smiling and helped the town place an order for these white boards to help us write back and forth faster without using paper. That night…she had been here…she was just having dinner with us and everything was fine. Nothing seemed out of place…there wasn't any hint or warning at all. She left here around midnight and headed back to her apartment. After that I don't know what happened…she couldn't of called, we couldn't have known anything was wrong. When the police showed up the next day, we didn't understand…they had to SPELL it out for us!! We had to be told that our little girl was dead on a little piece of paper fished out of some guys pocket. They wouldn't tell us much…just that she died of a fatal stab wound to the chest. We didn't know her heart was missing until the next day when that boy was killed and some facts managed to leak out. Who would do that? Who would kill such a kind girl? She was so full of life, love, strength…what monster could have done this? We lost our little girl that night…that's all we know. I'm sorry we couldn't help you any more."
Dean and Sam finished reading and glanced at each other, both feeling a great deal of remorse for what these people had to deal with. Sam's concern stayed where it was in his eyes, but Dean's concern was quickly walled and replaced with a hatred for what had caused this heartache.
Sam reached forward to type his message. While Sam was typing, Dean realized he felt more grief for these people than he normally would. This couple wouldn't even get to hear Sam's soft and sympathetic voice telling them how sorry he was for their loss. Until now Dean hadn't realized how much that calmed the ones who heard it, how much it had calmed and reassured him. He began to miss his brother's voice.
Sam turned the computer back towards the couple opposite him, who were now clinging to each other, Mrs. Jones crying into her husbands chest as he held her. "We are very sorry for you loss. We'll tell you if we find out anything about who did this. We wish you the best and again we're sorry that this had to happen to anyone. We'll get out of your way."
And with that the boys got up, Sam saving the document on his computer, shutting it down and putting it away. They quietly left the house after Mr. Jones had shaken their hands around his wife's sobbing form. They headed back to the Impala and Sam put his bag in the backseat before they both situated themselves in their seats.
God. Why do these people have to go through this…I mean, to not even be able to talk to your daughter before she died. I wish I could have talked to Jess…
As soon as that thought came into his head, he pushed it out.
Come on Sam…you've got more important things to worry about…like this thing taking people's hearts for one… He told himself.
He knew that it was about time he started to move on from Jess' death. He knew it wasn't healthy to wallow in pity and consume yourself with 'what ifs'. It was just that every time he would start to get better, something would happen, and someone would bring it up.
The boys drove for about 20 more minutes trying to figure out where the hell Dustin Drive was before they finally found it. Sam brought his laptop in once again and by the time they were done the only thing they had managed to gain was a bunch of cookies, coffee and nothing they didn't already know.
James Smith's wife was handling her loss a little differently than Mr. Jones' wife was. Instead of crying it out, this woman had taken it upon herself to cheer everyone else up. She had scared the crap out of Dean when she pushed him into his seat and brought him back cookies covered in pink frosting. But then she brought out the coffee and got back into his good graces.
Sam had more or less stood back , watching his brother scarf down cookie after cookie and coffee after coffee. He wondered how the woman didn't see right through their false Ids with the way Dean was acting but he figured she just didn't care. When she had seen that Sam wasn't eating anything she had walked up to him and pushed a coffee into his hands along with a small plate of cookies and stood over him until he obediently nibbled on some of the biscuits.
After that interesting introduction they had run through everything about the night before it happened, what her son was like, who he was friends with…the usual. Jake Smith. He was a football player at his high school, twelfth grade, perfect health and golden boy. He, a lot like Angie, loved his family and friends, was filled with an inner strength and was determined to get somewhere in his life.
By the time they had left they'd spent well over two hours with the woman as she ranted on about her son and his past, present and would-be future achievements. They had allowed it considering all the woman had been through but once she had finished and they had said their good byes, they were having a really hard time not flat-out sprinting to the Impala and driving far, far away from her. As soon as they were a safe distance, Sam deleted the opus she had typed on his keyboard.
It was now one in the afternoon which only left about six more hours until curfew. Sam and Dean couldn't believe the curfew had been lowered to a time before it even got dark but considering the body count was going up and the previous curfew hadn't helped, the town officials had installed a new one.
The boys decided to hit the library to see what they could find on what ever it was that was taking these people's hearts. They got lots of hits on different demons, creatures, even some kinds of malevolent spirits that had the power to remove the heart of a still living human and devour it in order to keep them strong enough to stay on earth to haunt and kill.
But nothing that would steal voices on the side. Nothing about why something like that would be here. Nothing about why these things seemed to need hearts that were kind, strong and loving. Nothing about why these things were killing now, at this time. Nothing. Zero. Zilch.
They had to leave the library earlier than curfew in order to go back to the diner from this morning. If they didn't get there before seven…then they weren't eating until tomorrow. So they left the library, both finding an even newer level of frustration in their failure and sped off to the diner. At seven they were in their room, where they were supposed to be although both boys were restless.
We should still be working…what the hell are we doin' in this god forsaken room? We broke the law to get in here…why can't we break the law to get out there? This is ridiculous Sammy…what are we supposed to do until we get tired? Dean thought, only barely remembering that his brother couldn't hear him.
Deciding he had better do something before he takes rock salt to the walls in an attempt to see if that would make them disperse, he went into the bathroom to have a long shower, rather than the short ones he was always taking.
Sam was sitting at the small table in the room, typing away on the keyboard of his most loved possession. He was still trying desperately to come across anything that could help them…but was still coming up empty handed. He wanted to research a lot more but he could already feel himself getting bored, which meant that he would start getting tired soon. Maybe if he went to bed early he could stave off the nightmares, or at least try to get a few hours before they hit him.
Dean's shower ended, Sam's laptop closed, and eventually the lights went out. They had done a whole lot of nothing since they had gotten back to the room and had spent an excruciating four hours like that until they finally gave up and tried to get some sleep.