Jim

If there was one fact the pastor knew to be true concerning the current situation they were handling with Sam knowing nearly everything they did to save unfortunate victims from supernatural evil, it was how wrong it was for someone as young as him to know things that no child should have ever had to think about. The one aspect of the situation they were facing that Jim knew to be true, was that he and Caleb tried their best to shield Sam from the horrific knowledge of a world that only seemed to hand them more problems the longer time dragged on.

The night Sam found the journal of his Dad's that Dean stuffed under his bed, was one the pastor was certain he would never forget. Even though Sam was a naturally curious and brave little boy, the pastor saw his resolve crumble the instant he absorbed those horrifying words and confronted his family about it. There was no easy way to inform a small child that he was from a hunting legacy that included his parents, and now his new family. There was no simple way of sharing with him that his family died from separate supernatural events.

Sam, true to form, tried to be brave for those around him. His eyes were downcast but bright; his mouth was already forming a deceptive smile that was a mask to those around him. Jim could see through the act, could see how traumatized the small boy was after reading through the journal that gave him a glimpse inside his family that he most likely never thought he would get to read before. There was little anyone could do to ease the burden of what he discovered in Dean's room, but Jim was determined to do what he could to make it so that he was available for Sam whenever (and wherever) he needed him.

The question of whether to start training Sam, or wait for awhile so he would have the chance to become more acclimated to what he found out, was an issue he constantly found himself debating. In the world they lived in, Jim knew any number of monsters would take advantage of the fact Sam now knew more about their world. If that would be the case, Sam would need to know the very basics of how to hold a gun and how to use it appropriately. Those were lessons Dean learned early on, and ended up serving him well for those times he was allowed to accompany them on hunting trips.

In Sam's case, Jim had the feeling their approach would have to be tailored to fit his own individual needs. Scrubbing a hand down his face as he contemplated those heavy thoughts while perusing his Bible in his quiet office, he could hear nothing but the unmistakable sound of silence that was music to his ears. Dean left to go on a trip with his friend Matt, and Caleb was doing a hunt of his own a few miles away from them in the small town of Medina.

Sam was downstairs exploring some of the things his family used to hunt. In an effort to smooth the transition from complete ignorance of what they did, to now having that terrifying knowledge, Jim encouraged Sam to examine the weapons they used. The one instruction he gave to the boy, was to never use any of the equipment without one of his guardians or brother present. Sam immediately obeyed that order without question, and contented himself with just looking.

Setting his Bible aside when he caught sight of some of his new cases peeking at him from underneath some work papers, he sighed softly before easing the folders out. There was nothing that relaxed him more than switching his mind into the place where he searched for a common link that proved to be a supernatural threat. Looking at the papers that boasted a headline-grabbing murder in Ohio, he could almost see the tale unfold before him.

Grabbing his pen to circle points of interest for later pursual, he wondered what monster was tormenting its victims this time. In the unpredictable world he lived in, he knew it could be a type of monster he faced before, or something completely new to him. Writing down the names of the Ohio county morgue and police department, he made a note to call them later. First he had to make sure the scarce details of the case lined up with what he assumed was another job.

The trick of finding those crucial details, was all in the way he was able to perceive it. Hunters were able to pick up on things that the general population could not. Normally, it was not difficult to catch something that others were incapable of. The problem would be to form those details into something that resembled a hunt they could go on and successfully solve. His brow furrowed in concentration as he looked at the identifying details of a spirit problem that was harming the family of a small boy who died in the 1800s.

Spirit problems were his preferred monsters to hunt. There was next to nothing to do with them except find out who it was, and salt and burn the bones. The challenge was unique all on its own in finding the culprit, and digging into its history. Making a note of when he could go on the trip, he closed the file and tried to content himself with the truth of understanding the probability of what he was going after.

Stretching his sore muscles from too long of sitting still in his office chair, he got up and went out to investigate the unusual silence that encompassed his home. In a way, the silence was peaceful. In another way, it was unsettling because of how unusual it was. The light down in the basement was still on. When Jim listened clearly enough, he could hear Sam moving through their various weapons in the storage area of their basement.

Deciding to interrupt him to see if he could offer any support or training, he took the stairs quietly. The basement was a place for them to go to unwind. The open space served as a makeshift training floor for Dean when he worked out with Caleb, and now for Sam and Bobby. In the corner of the room, a TV stand stood unnoticed.

The bright light from the storage area was turned on. Sure enough, Sam's shadow moved imperceptibly as he looked through everything that was in his family's possession. Moving into the storage area, he wondered what all of those weapons would signify to a child who was just starting to get an understanding of what his family did. Unsure of how to broach this touchy subject with someone who was still so young, he took his time approaching Sam.

Sam was lost in thought as his finger moved over the grip of a gun, and the handle on a knife.

The innocence of the small boy was striking. Even after everything Sam went through in his short life, he was still grasping that childhood sweetness that was somehow still part of him. Sam turned to look at him when he could hear his guardian move behind him, and Jim could see the look of bewilderment in his focused eyes as he took in everything he was looking at.

For someone who only recently found out the truth about his family, the arsenal they had in their basement, had to be overwhelming to him. Giving Sam a smile of what he hoped was comfort and support, Jim reached for one of the handguns that was mounted on the wall. This piece was a limited capacity one that Dean used to practice on before he was entrusted with using some of the more advanced weapons.

Sam studied the weapon that was balanced in the palm of Jim's hand. The pastor could see a look of nervousness and uncertainty decorate his eyes at what he was about to do. Willing to follow Sam's lead where it concerned how much training he received right away, he saw the little boy contemplate his feelings on the matter, before he nodded his head in a silent gesture that he was ready to explore some of what his family did.

Leading the way out of the storage room and up the stairs, he led him outside toward the massive field that adorned the back part of their property. It was here that Dean first learned to hone his shooting skills, and where he also learned to use a bow and arrow set. The targets they routinely used to brush up on their skills, was still standing valiantly against the gentle breeze.

Being outdoors for the training session was what Jim thought would be the easiest way for Sam to pick up on some of the things his family already knew by heart. Gauging Sam's reaction to everything that was unfolding around him, he could tell he was ready to embrace the hunting legacy he was born into. Holding the gun out for Sam to take, the child did so reluctantly and tested the power and weight of the weapon he was handling on his palm.

Reaching for another gun that was tucked behind him, he loaded the magazine inside, before turning his posture toward the targets. Timing the trigger pulls in his steady hand, he pulled the trigger three times in quick succession. Sam watched everything he did with a sharp focus that nearly reminded him of his brother, who was always ready to learn something new about what they did.

The targets were human-sized ones that provided as real of an experience for the students as it could. Watching Sam as he turned his body toward the targets, a part of him could not believe he and Caleb were teaching children how to use those weapons. In another lifetime, he would have been horrified to see such a thing, but he acknowledged the grim reality of a world that did not afford anyone to be unprepared for the job they had to do.

Sam only learned the truth about his family a few days previously, but already he was putting on that confident air of being able to handle everything that was being thrown at him. Giving Sam an encouraging smile, he watched as Sam shook off his unease and came up to the target.

"I feel different" Sam started to say, his stance tense and his hands shaken when he pointed the gun toward the targets.

"Do you feel nervous?" Jim prompted, filling in the missing word he could almost guarantee was on Sam's mind.

"Sorta. I feel kinda...bunched up."

Jim understood what that was like. During his early years as a hunter when he trained under the watchful gaze of an experienced hunter, he could remember walking through the same block Sam was. Theorizing holding a gun was one thing, but actually following through on it was another matter altogether. Stepping up to Sam's side when he could understand the issue, he corrected Sam's grip on the weapon.

Sam's mind was like a sponge the way it absorbed the information he was getting from his guardian. Sam's hands obediently held the position Jim shifted them in, and once again turned toward the target. Standing up to watch his progress, he could feel his eyes itch with tears when his eyes connected him to the sight of such a tiny body holding a massive weapon like that.

"One thing you can do," Jim counseled, clearing his throat. "You can roll your shoulders a little to loosen the tension. It works like a charm."

Sam instantly took his words to heart, and positioned his shoulders in a prime position before he started rolling them. Observing Sam work his body in a way that was unfamiliar to him, was strangely humorous for Jim as Sam began to relax enough so that the smile Jim longed to see on him, started to return before he picked up his weapon and faced his fears again.

"Now what?" Sam demanded, his voice wavering on the last word.

"Now you ease your finger over the trigger, and you pull it."

Sam looked uncertain about the instruction he was receiving, but nodded his head silently as he turned to face the target that seemed intent on keeping him from achieving what he knew he must do. Keeping his eyes trained on the small child, he shoved the thoughts that begged him to consider the implication of starting yet another child on this course, and set his thoughts on getting Sam through this exercise.

"How old was Dean when he did this?"

"You don't need to compare yourself to your brother, Sammy.

Of course Sam would feel the pressing temptation to compare himself to his brother. Dean was a natural at hunting, and that included the training that came with it.

When Sam finally shoved through his nervousness, and squeezed the trigger on the gun, Jim could feel a grim sort of pride in what Sam was able to do. The part of his mind that urged him to consider the dire consequences of exposing a child to the cruelty of that world, was not lost on him as he watched Sam's smile grow even larger when he realized he snagged the very edge of the target.

The field provided enough room to perfect their training when they needed it. When Sam was practicing the complicated art of shooting, he would have enough room to make mistakes and improve upon them. Hardly ready to quit when he shot the target on his very first try, Sam turned his body toward the second target that was positioned directly behind the one he just knocked down.

When Sam managed to hit the target that he was aiming for, Jim could feel his broken confidence increase with his success. Taking the gun from Sam when Sam handed it back to him, he could see the radiant smile coming from the child that he was able to knock the targets down and do it with a smile on his face.

"I did it," Sam whispered breathlessly.

"I know you did. I think you did a fantastic job, Sammy."

"I was so scared...but I did it."

"And I'm very proud of you for that."

Turning to walk back toward the house once the shooting exercise was over, Jim hoped Sam felt more secure in what it was he was walking into. The child was quiet, but Jim attributed the silence to any number of issues that could have been plaguing his mind. The important thing to the pastor was Sam pushing through his obvious fear, and shooting the targets.

"Dean told me my Dad died from something bad," Sam said, once they reached the house. "What kind of bad?"

Now it was Jim's turn to fall quiet. Ever since he could remember anything after Sam learned to walk and talk, they told him his parents died from accidents. That seemed to be the most appropriate answer for someone as young as him, and Sam never even questioned it.

Now that he knew everything, it was different. Shaking his head slowly at the enormity of what Sam was facing with knowing the truth, he simply let his nod be his answer to what Sam was already assuming in his mind. The only words he could offer the fractured boy as he melted into his arms, was how safe he was. Those words alone, would not cure everything, but he hoped it would be the start.


Caleb

How many times had Caleb been able to successfully complete a hunt without anyone knowing any different? How often was he able to sort through the different aspects of a case and come out of it in one piece? There was hardly ever a time where anything else happened except for him finding the monster responsible for hurting the person it was after, and sending it back to hell.

That was how it was supposed to be-how all of his hunts were supposed to turn out. In a way, he supposed his continued luck with evading anything serious happening to him, had created a false sense of security that enabled him to think he was invincible to the pitfalls of the life that was making itself abundantly clear to him in that moment as he stared down at the bloodied body of the woman who he thought he was trying to help. The woman whose family was the victim of a nasty shape-shifter, and the woman who was now lying dead in a pool of her own blood.

It was hard for Caleb not to immediately place the blame on himself after finding her in that state. He could remember the feelings of anxiousness after she failed to pick up the phone after the millionth time of trying to reach her. Driving over to her place with the rain splattering on his windshield, he could feel that tug on his heart that let him know something was very wrong. Never once did he heed those warnings until he walked through her house that was now a crime scene, and saw evidence of struggle.

His first instinct as a hunter was to clear the crime scene and divert as much of the attention away from him as he possibly could. The kind of monster who would do something as heinous as cold-blooded murder, would also hold zero compunctions with framing him for the crime. The problem resided in his own mistake when he first entered the house, and sank down to his knees beside her, drenching himself in her blood.

How hard would it be for a police officer to make the assumption he was the one responsible? How difficult would it be to mount a circumstantial evidence trial when there was plenty of it to go around? Those thoughts spun through his mind in a dizzying circle until he finally jumped into action, and rose to his feet as swiftly as he could without creating too much of a panic.

Understanding there was nothing more he could do for the poor woman, he stripped off his exposed clothes and threw them out the window into the bushes. It would buy him some time, create more of a problem for the police to sort through before they began questioning him. The next thing he did was remove the security footage from the room that was located in the corner of the living room, and placed it in his pocket.

Being a hunter had gifted him with the foresight to know when something looked bad for him. Being caught in the center of a crime scene where the shifter most likely took on his appearance to commit the murder, was most certainly a bad thing. Heaving a sigh when he thought about the torrential downpour of crap his family was about to endure, he pulled out his phone to report it.

There may have been nothing he could have done to prevent the crime from happening, but there was no way he would allow her body to be found hours after her death. At the very least, he owed it to this woman to honor her in her passing. Giving her one last look before he walked through the open door, he could not comprehend the bloody scene he walked into.

When he heard the wailing sirens pierce through his ears at a speed faster than he expected, he dropped the bloody knife that got stained in her blood when he got down beside her. Having his own weapon be at the forefront of the brutal slaying, was not anything that would look good for him. Understanding how smart the police were, only increased his anxiety when he considered how hard it would be for him to get away from the neighborhood without being caught.

The back alley that broke off into a street adjacent from the one he was just left, was his safest bet. His entire body ached with pressure and strain from both a serious case of nerves, and also the very real pain of running as fast as he could down the darkened roads to avoid capture for something he had nothing to do with. The sweat was shining on his face, mixing in with the dirt that was on his forehead and the blood on his palm that came from the woman he was trying to help.

The one thing he thought about as he rounded the corner and came face-to-face with the police car and the officer that was stepping out with his gun drawn, was the two boys he would be leaving behind. What would they think when they heard he had been arrested on suspicion of murder? How would they react when they understood the truth better than anyone else? Sam and Dean already went through so much loss in their young lives. How was it fair to expose them to losing anyone else?

It was those thoughts and more that raced through his mind. His heart was pounding painfully in his chest as he obeyed the officer and got down on his knees. The clothes he tossed into the bushes, did nothing for him when he looked down at himself and saw the clothes he had been wearing underneath them that had traces of the same blood as the clothes he was wearing over them.

Caleb's mind went into a complete fog of pain and confusion when the officer pulled his arms behind his back and handcuffed him. He was numbly aware of the officer saying something to him before he was roughly jerked to his feet, and led to one of the police cars that was parked alongside the curb.

There was nothing he could do except wait for the inevitable hellstorm to come down on him. The officer searched him, producing his gun and a knife he had that was not stained with her blood. The glare from the multicolored lights on the car, was blinding to him. Swallowing hard against the nausea he could feel permeate his system, he wondered what would happen to him. What kind of charges would he be brought up on? And what would happen to Sam and Dean?

Closing his eyes as he tried to center himself to the earth, it was harder than he thought.

"Do you understand these rights as I have read them to you?" The officer's voice sounded like it was coming from a long tunnel. Nodding his head, he felt like he was agreeing to something that was utterly wrong on all accounts.

"Y-yes," Caleb said, feeling his voice shake.

When the officer placed him in the back of the patrol car, he wondered what would happen to him after everything was said and done. Even though the police told him he was under arrest for 'suspicion of murder' he had the feeling that distinction was not anything they took seriously when he saw the looks on their faces. These people thought he was capable of a brutal murder, and why shouldn't they? He was caught red-handed with everything they needed, and that was on him.

Leaning his head back against the uncomfortable back of the police car, he wondered if the hard seat was put there on purpose to dissuade those troubled youth from repeating their offenses. Beside the humiliating feel of being handcuffed like a common criminal, he also knew that anyone who did not know what he did, would automatically think the worst of him.

This hunt was supposed to be a fast one while Dean was gone with his friend. Now he was staring at a potential trial if it ever got that far, and being separated from those two boys. The car ride down to the local police in Medina, only took a few minutes but seemed to take much longer in his overwhelmed mind that begged him to answer why he did not run faster. Why he did not do everything he could to escape apprehension.

"We found the knife on the street. The one we saw you drop."

"How did you-"

"We have ways to ascertain that kind of thing," the officer tersely interjected.

That was very bad. Not only was he caught with clothes that had stains of blood on them, but now they found the knife he tossed away when he caught wind of them. It was not possible for things to look worse for him than they were right then. The only confirmation they still needed to permanently tie him to the crime, was the DNA samples that would be collected at the crime lab.

"It wasn't mine-"

"We saw you drop it. Are you tell us you just happened to see it and foolishly picked it up? And in the process, opened yourself up to criminal prosecution?"

Now that the officer phrased his response in that way, Caleb more than saw how it looked. There was nothing he could do other than hope Dawn could get him out of it.


Dean

The small town Dean and Matt soon strolled through in Matt's beaten-up truck lived up to its name. Gazing around at the different shops and businesses all smushed together in one place, he looked at the sign that boasted its origins and the number of people who called this place their home. Less than two-thousand people, and that was not counting the amount of people who came by for curiosity sake after the string of murders and disappearances that shook the community to their core.

This was the kind of thing Dean lived for; the one thing that never failed to bring him to a certain awareness of himself and his abilities. Being able to walk through the town and face up against whatever was haunting those people, would be the only thing that promised to take his mind off the more pressing issues at hand. Not surprising to him, the only police station in the town was located just off the highway and was about as large as the grocery store they passed on the way through.

Dean was glad they reached the town as fast as they did. His mind was more than ready to sink into a new case that promised excitement, and also a welcome distraction. Stretching his sore muscles once he got out of the truck and walked up on the curb, he looked at his friend and saw Matt studying him with that concerned look he got on his face whenever he knew something was off with his best friend. Shaking his head, giving him the signal not to worry about it while they were hunting, he caught a glimpse of a man wearing a cowboy hat, step out of his truck and saunter over to them.

It did not take much to figure out this man must be Joshua. Dean was not familiar with any of Matt's hunting friends, but he knew this guy had to be one of the good ones in order for Matt to introduce them. Thinking about Matt and how overprotective he was of his "little brother" it made him think back to Caleb and Bobby, and how often they were counted on to be the exact same with him. Forcing a neutral expression on his face for the sake of friendliness, he was encouraged by the clap on the shoulder Joshua gave him instead of a formal handshake.

Letting Matt make the introductions, it was clear this was Matt's hunt from the get-go, and Joshua was only making sure he sailed through the police interviews without being asked a question that would pull the lid off his real age. Although Matt looked mature for his age, Dean wondered if an astute cop would be fooled by that alone.

Police station's always made Dean nervous. There was no reason for it other than the few times his guardians had been placed in the spotlight for a hunt gone wrong. That was when he was younger, and he was glad that nothing else happened since then. Stepping into the small office when the investigator came out to greet them, he was struck by the pictures that grazed this man's desk and wall. Memories capture of his family, and even his favorite sports team.

If nothing else could relax his naturally nervous spirit around police, this would do the trick.

When Matt took the seat next to him, he placed his posture in such a way that he was almost protecting Dean from anything that might happen. Even if that fear held no basis in reality, it was still something that Matt took seriously. Giving him a look that indicated to him he could take care of himself, he was still touched Matt felt so strongly about him that he would want to protect him from anyone (and anything) out there.

The police had next to no knowledge about what might be causing the problems with the murders and disappearances. The one common thread that linked all of them together, was the troubling reality of water being involved in each and every one of them. Leaning forward in his seat when the officer directed their gaze to the small computer screen that held the security footage from one of the houses that was hit by the monster, he could see nothing at first that grabbed his attention.

The first victim was a woman, mid to late twenties. Watching her intently while she got in the pool for the start of her morning swim, he watched for anything that was out of the ordinary. Nothing appeared to be, and that was what stumped him. When the young woman dragged her body toward the deep end of the pool, that was when he could see an imperceptible shape begin to emerge from the dark depths. This shape held no meaning to him, but it was strong enough to drag her under the water and drown her.

"She was a star swimmer," the officer said. "Things like this...they just don't happen."

"Was she...did she feel uncomfortable in the water?" Joshua asked.

"Not at all. She was comfortable in the pool as she was her own bathtub."

Dean nodded slowly, before reaching for the computer and rewinding the tape. Studying the contents of it again, it was hard to know what they were looking for. For all intents and purposes, this was a simple case of an unfortunate drowning. What made him stop and reconsider that stance, was the mysterious shape that resembled nothing more than a blob.

"How did you know her?" Dean asked.

"I was her uncle."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Matt said, clasping his hands in front of him. "Do you have any knowledge of any enemies she might have had?"

The officer shook his head, his eyes momentarily misting over before he collected himself. "No."

"Do you mind if we go and check the place out? Give it a once over?" Joshua inquired.

"Of course," the officer choked. "Be my guest."


Being in the same vicinity as the victim who drowned in the pool, was unsettling to say the least. Even though Dean was used to handling cases where there was a victim of what they were looking for, it never failed to raise a lump in his throat when he thought about the people who would be left to suffer after the hunt was finally through. Poking around the cobblestones near the pool, he felt a razor-sharp chill go down his spine when he directed his focus to the deeper end of the pool where the murder took place.

"So, this is where Alicia Evans took her last breath?" Matt said, shaking his head. "Poor girl."

"You sound so torn up about it," Dean said, looking up at him with his eyebrows raised.

"No, it's not that, man. I'm just-I've been around this for so long it sorta numbs me."

Dean shook his head, biting his lip to keep his emotions locked in place. "Not for me."

Walking away from Matt, he walked over to the far side of the pool where he would have a clear view of the deep end. There was nothing in the water that disturbed him. Nothing except faint traces of blood. Swallowing hard, not willing himself to get caught up in what he was seeing, he turned to look at his friend and saw his face was paling by the minute.

Everything appeared to be normal in the pool. It made the twelve-year-old wonder what could have grabbed her as quickly as it did, and then disappear. If the pool water was infused with a spirit, he contemplated the reason the spirit was there. Most spirits were the products of violent deaths, and sought revenge for those who it thought wronged it.

"What kind of shape do you think has been growing in this water?" Matt asked.

"Beats me," Dean said with a shrug. "Maybe a spirit."

"But how do we check that?" Matt pointed out. "Our EMF's aren't exactly waterproof."

That was the issue Dean found the most concerning. Without being able to effectively identify a problem like that, they would have no way of knowing what grave to dig up. His hand was already itching toward his pocket that held his bulky EMF. Without it , he felt naked going into he hunt.

"Don't we have an appointment with the coroner?"

"Yeah. Joshua's going to meet us there in an hour."

"So, I guess we can wait on exploring the pool until we know for certain how this girl died?"

The last thing Dean felt like doing was exploring a pool that most likely had a spirit in it that would drown him if he came too close to bothering it.