A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed!! To those that reviewed anonymously, thank you. I decided to update a little early because I won't be around to update for the next few days, so I thought I'd do it now. Again, a big thank you to my Beta, Bayre, for taking the time to go over this. I made a few changes, so any mistakes are mine.
A/N #2: Someone in the last chapter asked me why did I choose Cedar Falls for the city in Dean's flashback. The answer to that and to all the towns/cities that I use in my stories: random. I pick a State, then I just browse through town and city names until I come across one I like or one that fits my story. :p lol. (for some of my stories, not all of the towns have been real. Most are though.) I have never been to Cedar Falls, so all info about the city in this story is fictitious. Hope it doesn't detract from the story for you!
Disclaimer: I still don't own the Winchester boys. Kripke and the CW keep them under lock and key.
Sam and Dean decided to tackle the neighbours together, after they talked with the deceased's friends. They had no new leads, the friends weepy or solemn in their grief, telling the brothers nothing they didn't already know. Two hours had the brothers back at square one, heading back towards the neighbourhood where the youth had died.
Dean had been quiet for most of the trip, and Sam could only sit and wonder what it was that had riled his brother so badly. Looking out the window, Sam thought back on Dean's strange behaviour after his pal left the diner. His brother was tense, that was certain. His answers were generic and very simplistic. The fact he had his hand near his gun while talking with the man was a clear indication something heavy had happened between them and Sam wondered what could have caused such a strain. Dean almost never lost his cool, and this was a close to losing it that Sam had seen in quite some time.
It bothered Sam that he knew practically nothing about Dean's two years in the hunting world while he was at Stanford. Sam had seen bits and pieces of it unravel slowly over the last two and a half years, having met more of Dean's 'friends' and acquaintances from his days away from his brother. Sam wanted his big brother to let him in on what happened, but knew pushing his brother wouldn't get him any answers. Then again, Sam thought, I haven't told him everything about what I did at school either. Sam shook his head slightly, trying to get the image of a hunt gone horribly astray while he was at school. It had happened years ago, and Sam had learned painfully the past should stay buried.
Glancing at his brother, Sam held back a sigh, seeing Dean so closed off. Even the music was on low, which was unusual for his brother who liked it ear splitting loud. Returning his gaze to the outside world passing by, Sam only hoped this hunt would be over sooner, rather than later.
The boys asked a few more questions to the neighbours in the surrounding area, finishing with Mr. and Mrs. Kallers, the older couple three houses down from the Moralzin place. Taking their leave, the boys walked down the porch stairs and made their way back towards the Impala.
"So all we have is a missing teen from the eighties, and a bunch of dead frat boys. Wonderful." Dean grumbled as snow started falling from the sky, dusting the street in cold flakes.
"Well it's still a lead. Until now we had squat. Look, we'll go grab some food and then I'll hit the computer and see if I can find some information on our mystery girl."
Dean nodded and zipped up his coat a little higher.
"Bloody snow. I swear, if anything else goes…." Dean's words were cut off with a resounding 'squelching' sound. Both brothers stopped in their tracks. Sam slowly turned his head and looked at his brother, an unreadable look on his face. Dean closed his eyes and exhaled a long sigh. Lifting up his right foot, Dean could clearly see dark brown gunk on the bottom of his shoe. Dean summed it up with two words.
"Well, shit." He grumbled, with as much disdain as he could muster.
"Yes it is." Sam couldn't help but laugh at the deadly glare he received from his brother, even as the owner's poodle strutted past the two hunters, its tail wagging back and forth in a steady rhythm. If Dean didn't know better, he would have sworn the dumb mutt had a smug look on its face.
"Just rub it off on the grass and get in the car, Dr. Dolittle." Sam remarked and left his brother seething by the driveway.
Sliding into his seat and closing the door, Sam couldn't help but roar with laughter as his usually calm and stoic brother let the gravel and grass fly, trying desperately to get the grime off the bottom of his shoe. It was like watching a raging monkey try to do a fast pace moonwalk with one foot. By the time Dean made it to the car, tears were rolling down Sam's face, and he had an arm wrapped protectively around his now tender ribs.
Dean's face was beat red as he slammed the door shut. He grumbled about running over the pompous pooch before they left.
"I don't need this kind of crap. Not one word Sam." Dean growled out between clenched teeth as Sam desperately tried not to burst out laughing at his brother's unintentional pun.
"Not a word." Sam muttered quietly and turned his head toward the passenger window and tried not to laugh, as the car lurched forward towards town.
Dean opened the door and kicked it closed, jostling the bag filled with food in his arms. Sam was busy clicking away on the computer, papers strewn across the table, and Dean silently watched as one paper fell off the table and onto the floor.
"Find anything on our mystery girl?" Dean asked after clearing off some of the papers on the table so the food could be laid out. Sam sighed and rubbed his forehead, trying to scrub the weariness away.
"Yeah I think I know who she is." Sam answered as Dean passed over a foil wrapped burger and a can of sprite. Sam nodded thanks and continued on.
"After checking back in the police records, I came across a woman that matches the descriptions. Kalie Walten, a 26 year-old pharmaceutical student, went missing in late November of '88. The boyfriend, David Roy, also 26, was interviewed by police, but they had nothing to tie him to the disappearance. He was let go and he left town. No body has ever been found, and the case went cold." Dean sat there munching on fries, going over what Sam had just explained.
"So you thinking that this David guy, drowned his girlfriend in the lake, and the body just got swept away? Or did he drown her and bury her body somewhere else?" Dean suggested.
"Well going over the police report, it states that David and Kalie were supposed to meet at Divers Cove, a small localized swimming area not far from where the other attacks happened. According to police records, David said she never showed, and after not hearing a word from her, he called the police the next day to report her missing."
"He called it in? Well, I could see him trying to get the police off his back if he acts all worried and crap about her, when he's the one that probably off'ed her in the first place. Throw suspicion elsewhere, ya know? Sly bastard."
Sam just shook his head and finished swallowing his mouthful of burger.
"They had a domestic dispute filed under a police report about two and a half months previous. Apparently, he hit her when he thought she cheated on him. He left a nasty bruise on her face, one that left the impression of a handprint. Similar to the ones found on the Moralzin kid. The guy was a lifeguard during the summer, and used to be on the swim team at the local college. So yeah, he could have very well drowned her. Either way, we have to find her remains, and salt n' burn them."
"Well that's like looking for a needle in a freaking hay stack. The remains could be anywhere. Generally, spirits haunt the area around where they died, but we're looking at a 7 mile stretch of beach front, with how many acres of forest behind us on land. Freaking hell, this is going to be a bitch to finish." Dean groaned as he leaned back in his chair, feet splayed apart in an almost exhausted manner. In all truth, he was. This hunt was beginning to be more problematic than was originally thought.
"The bones do give off EMF readings, so I guess we'll just have to sweep over the whole area, starting with Divers Cove. Then sweep back. If need be, we'll have to go into the woods, and start looking through there." Sam added as he tried to stifle a yawn.
Dean shook his head slightly and pushed back his chair and stood up, moving over to his bed where he had tossed his jacket earlier and picked it up, slipping his arms through the sleeves and flipping the collar of his jacket up.
"Where are you going?" Sam asked quizzically as he watched his brother shrug on his jacket and grab the car keys.
"I figure I may as well hustle some money while we're here. Grab a beer or two, talk with the locals…." Dean answered as he slipped on his shoes. Sam was about to get up and get his own gear on, when Dean shook his head.
"Dude, I'll go by myself. You look like crap anyways, bro. I'll be back in a couple of hours."
"You sure Dean?" Sam asked hesitantly, not sure whether he wanted his brother running off on his own. Ever since the incident with Casey, Sam had been more leery about his brother going off to bars alone, especially with how many demons were now out there, and seemingly gunning for both he and his brother. Even if Sam did go, it didn't mean his brother would stay out of trouble. Dean had a knack for finding it in even the most remote places.
Dean, sensing what was on his brother's mind, tried to put him at ease. "I'm twenty-eight dude. And don't worry, I'll make sure to give any chick I hit it off with a taste of holy water before I take her back to her place, okay? I'll be fine. I'll see you later. Don't wait up for me." Dean added as he slipped out the door and closed it behind him.
Sam merely shook his head and sighed, moving over to the small kitchenette and grabbed the kettle. He ran the tap and stuck the kettle under the running water, planning on making some coffee to help him stay awake long enough to get a few hours in of research. It would be another search filled evening in hopes of finding a way to get Dean out of his deal.
Turing the tap off and plugging the kettle in, Sam sat down and began plunking away on the computer while he waited for the water to boil.
Dean situated himself at the bar, nursing his second beer as he wondered whether he should bother waiting for an opening into another pool game, or to just head back to the motel. Four local boys were already in the middle of a game, one already setting up for another shot. The five bikers in the corner were already plastered and looking for a brawl that Dean figured would be best if he stayed out of.
Looking around the room, Dean took in the dusty pictures of lakes and forests, hanging over the bar and along the far wall by the pool tables. The paint on the wall was peeling off in tufts, and the wooden bar counter had deep gouges from overuse and time. Dean absently traced the lines in the wood with a calloused finger while reaching into his pocket and feeling the wad of cash he'd made so far tonight. He had already pocketed an impressive amount in the short time that he had been here, but during the whole time, his mind was elsewhere. His thoughts kept going back to the hunt he had been on with Declan, and his sudden appearance here, after all this time did not sit well with the eldest Winchester. It made Dean edgy. He tipped the still cold beer bottle to his lips and let the alcohol slide down his throat. Leaving the now empty beer bottle on the table, Dean stood up and moved towards the exit, deciding he'd head back to the motel and try and get a few hours sleep. The smell of alcohol and the haze of smoke was heavy, but even that didn't dull Dean's senses as he felt a pair of eyes watching him from one of the booths off to his left, just before he heard a booming voice filter across the room.
"Dean!" He knew that voice. It was one he had hoped would stay the hell away while he and Sam finished up the case.
A set of heavy boots on the old wooden floor walked up behind him and Dean turned around and came face to face with Declan.
"Dude, were you just going to take off and not have a beer with me, man? We haven't talked in ages." Declan steered the hesitant Winchester to the nearest booth. Dean's whole body tensed just being in the same room with the arrogant hunter. Declan signalled to the waitress and ordered two beers, and dismissed her with the same frivolous manner in which he beckoned her.
"So, any luck on the gig you're working? Got to admit, made me interested, even after getting out of the 'business' as it were." He asked, taking a swig of his beer.
"We're looking into it. Got a few ideas on who it could be." Dean kept his voice casual, but he was anything but.
"Well you know water spirits are a bitch to deal with, don't cha?" Dean ground his teeth and bit back a retort. He did not want to think about what happened a few years ago, but the memories came unabashed and with perfect recollection.
Cedar Falls, Iowa, June, 2004.
The tunnels were dark, and crisscrossed each other in a grid like pattern. Water leaked and dripped down from the cracks above their heads, and when someone slipped, they braced themselves against the slick wall, feeling grime mixed with dirt and cement fall away with just the brush of a hand. Another slip and Dean decided right then and there that he hated the sewers. Always rank with human waste, and not to mention rats. He HATED rats. The little rodent devils that nibbled at your feet and wormed there way between your legs, scurrying away and hiding in a dark corner. Evil bastards were out to get him.
When the hunters reached another intersection, the tunnels splitting in two different directions, Declan and Blake teamed up and went down one tunnel, while John and Dean went down the other, their flashlights a small flicker in the encompassing darkness.
So far, big bad ass ghostie hadn't made an appearance, but the EMF had been sporadically going off and on the farther down the tunnel they went. The ghost was a maintenance worker who had got caught during a torrential downpour and was pulled under the water and drowned in one of the flooded tunnels over 15 years ago. Since then, 8 other workers disappeared in the tunnels, and eye witness accounts claim that they had seen the dead worker wandering the tunnels just after each disappearance.
"Dean, you getting any readings on the EMF?" John's gruff voice echoed in the narrow passageway. Dean checked the home-made machine in his hand, sweeping the flashlight in his other hand over it to see the readings.
"Minimal activity, Dad. Trace amounts, but not enough to indicate a spirit is hovering nearby." A quick nod of approval and Dean moved the device back to his inner jacket pocket, grabbing instead his sawed-off shotgun he had tucked into the belt of his pant. He checked to make sure it was loaded, and took up position behind his Dad, covering their backs in case the psychotic, slightly-postal spirit didn't attack them from the rear.
Coming to an abrupt halt, Dean saw that once again, they reached a crossroads. John gave Dean a knowing look, and he nodded wordlessly, and took the left passageway, while John slipped into the right tunnel, but not before John called back, "Keep sharp, Dean. If you're in trouble, use the radio. Keep it on, and check in every 15 minutes." Dean waved at his father in a 'yeah yeah' manner, and walked calmly into the darkness, shotgun at his side and ready to roll.
This was turning out to be a useless day, he mused, as water trickled down the back of his neck. Wiping the offending liquid away, Dean trudged along the desolate maze of sludge and grimy passageways, waiting for some ghost to materialize so he could shoot the damn thing in the face, before it really pissed him off. He did find himself chuckling at the thought of his too tall little brother slouching and ducking in these tunnels just to fit into them. The smile faded, replaced by a flicker of pain and desolation, before the mask was back in place. God, how he missed his kid brother.
Turning the corner, the air grew heavy, and a cold presence pushed its way past Dean, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. Small pebbles slipping into the water was all the warning he got that something was behind him, and Dean gripped the shotgun tightly before spinning around, bringing the shotgun up to eye level. A sudden beam of light in his face had Dean covering his eyes, and trying to catch glimpse of who it was.
"Winchester? What the hell? Were you going to shoot me you stupid ass?" Blake's snide remarks hissed out between clenched teeth, echoed in the small passageway they found themselves in, water trickling from open storm drains and collecting in the stream not three feet off to Dean's right.
"Keep your voice down! Freaking cold spot here. And if I had wanted to shoot your ass, you'd already be on the damn floor!" Dean snapped back, lowering his shotgun, and pulling out his EMF, watching as the lights lit up like a Christmas tree. Blake rolled his eyes and moved to stand next to Dean, taking a look at the readings for himself.
"Great." Blake threw his arms upwards in a frustrated manner. "Well you can stay and twiddle your thumbs, and I'll go take care of our pesky dead worker." Blake pushed past Dean and made for the far tunnel, pulling his own shotgun out and flashlight pointing him in the right direction.
"Hey! We gotta let the others know where we are. We may need…" Dean found himself cut off by the agitated hunter.
"Go cry to Daddy then, Winchester, I don't care. I want this thing taken care of. If you're not man enough to do it, I'll do it myself." With that, he disappeared into one of the tunnels without even a backwards glance.
"Arrogant bastard." Dean seethed, before pulling the radio from where it was clipped to his belt and flicked it on.
"Dad? I've got a cold spot here, by…" he checked the walls, looking for the land marker that would tell him where he was. He spied the metal plaque on the opposite wall.
"… 21st Avenue and Columbus. Blake's gone ahead to try and banish our ghost. You copy? Over." Dean waited, and listened to the crackle on his radio. It would be his luck that the ghost would have screwed with the radio transmission, but his father's husky voice filtered through the radio.
"Copy that Dean. I'm heading your way. Stay where you are, and keep sharp, over." Dean heard no communication from either Declan or Blake, even with both of them carrying radios.
"Idiot." Dean muttered to himself as he paced silently back and forth by one of the tunnel entrances, his senses on high alert. He could only wait until John showed up, and then they'd find this pesky ghost and end this aneurysm-inducing hunt before his brain imploded.
A blood curdling scream echoed through the hollow tunnels and Dean felt the hairs on his arms and neck stand on end. His feet were moving before his brain registered the movement, and he raced down the empty tunnels trying to offset the carnage he was about to find.
Another yell pulled Dean from his thoughts as his eyes drifted over to the pool table, where a beefy biker punched a newcomer in the face, blood splattering the guy's ham sized fist as the other man dropped to the floor in a boneless heap. A sharp snort brought Dean's attention back to Declan, who slugged back the rest of his beer and slammed the bottle down on the table.
"Stupid bastards. Always get riled up this time of night. Looking for a fight anywhere they can get it." He muttered hotly under his breath. He stood up abruptly, and barely acknowledged Dean as he sauntered past. "Better get my cousin off the floor. Take care of yourself and your brother, Dean. See you around."
Dean snorted. Interesting choice of words. Last time he'd seen Declan, the guy had threatened to dump Dean's ass on the floor and bash his head in till his brain leaked out of his ears. Course, due to the situation at the time, it's not like he didn't understand where the anger had come from. Hell, he probably deserved it too. He had been there at that hunt, after all. But regardless, Dean would be keeping a closer eye on the retired hunter, and would be keeping his brother out of Declan's reach, as best as he could. No need to set a match to a propane tank, as who knows what Declan was capable of now. The guy was a powder keg as it was.
Dean watched as Declan helped the battered man off the floor and led the broken, bleeding man outside, the door swinging behind them as they left the smoky bar.
Dean sipped his bear and watched the pool game start up again. He couldn't understand why this hunt had him so on edge. Declan being around, obviously, had him on alert already, but things about this hunt just seemed… off. The information was just… too easy to find. How Declan had known where he and Sam had been just a few days ago was also disconcerting. Hell, Bobby didn't know where they were half the time, and Dean knew he wouldn't have said anything to any other hunter that came to the con man's door. And Declan just happened to be in town after not a word or whisper about the guy since he disappeared after that botched hunt over three years ago just didn't sit right with him, even if his reason was legit.
A beer bottle smashing against the wall not four feet from him was enough to bring him out of his thoughts and Dean decided it was time to call it a night.
"Are you sure about this Dean?" Sam asked, zipping his jacket up all the way as they walked along the clay-like beach.
"No Sam, I thought we'd take a midnight stroll and see what bites us in the ass first – our ghost or the cold." Dean growled as he double checked the rounds in his gun before tucking it into the back of his jeans, while still holding onto the double barrel shotgun in his left hand.
"And you said I got bitchy when it gets cold." Sam murmured, dodging a heated glare by gazing towards the trees that wound itself around the shoreline. They'd had a cold front sweep in during the night, the temperature hovering around 16 degrees Fahrenheit. To Sam's dismay, he had been forced to listen to his brother's bitching all day long about the weather. Thank God they had picked up warmer jackets just a few weeks ago.
"You got the EMF?"
"Yeah, I got it, Sam. I've got nothing so far. Just traces around the dock back there." He nodded his head in the direction of the lone dock about a couple dozen feet behind them.
"Hmm…." Sam mumbled to himself, tucking his shotgun underneath his arm while unzipping his jacket and pulling out a worn map, before the jacket was zipped back up. He pulled a small flashlight from his pocket and clicked it on, the map held out in front of him and coming to a stop to examine it. Dean moved beside him to take a look at the map as well.
"Alright, so the attacks have been mainly centered around this area," Sam pointed to a specific area on the map, "and along this stretch of the lake." He pointed his flashlight in the direction north-east of their current position.
"Let me guess. We split up, we'll cover more ground?" Dean muttered already tucking his hands back into his pockets to keep them warm, his breath coming out in white puffs before lazily disappearing into the dark sky above them.
"Yeah. Pretty much sums it up." Sam answered curtly, tucking the map back inside his inner jacket pocket.
"Alright. I'll take the north-east side of the lake. You stick around this area. Keep an eye out for late night strollers, joggers, the Loch Ness monster, whatever shows up." Clapping a hand on his brother's shoulder, Dean headed off to comb his side of the lake front.
"Hey Sam?" He called back, watching as Sam's broad back shifted, and caught eyes with his younger sibling. "You watch yourself, ya here?" He got an affirmative nod, and thought he heard a muttered overprotective freak but couldn't be sure. He grinned, and moved at a more brisk pace as he started looking for signs of their elusive water-bobbing ghost.
Sam trotted along the woodlands, staying a good twenty feet from the water. He had his own EMF meter out, having picked up some low frequency signals from this area. He hadn't asked Dean too much about Declan but all he got was, "You should stay away from him." Well, that's not a whole hell of a lot to go on, Dean. Still, if this guy was making Dean edgy, Sam would be foolish not to heed his brother's warning.
Sam stopped and glanced around him, feeling a prickle across the back of his neck. He felt like he was being watched.
I'm adapting Dean's paranoia again. He treaded lightly, listening for any movements or sounds that would be out of place.
He heard nothing.
Sighing, Sam continued his trek back towards the row of houses not more than a mile out, keeping the EMF meter out in front of him, scanning the area for any activity. He hadn't gone more than a couple dozen steps when the shrill sound of the EMF gave off its warning. Sam stuffed it back into his jacket pocket and pulled out his 12 gauge shotgun, sweeping the area with a trained eye, finger posed on the trigger. The air itself grew impossibly colder, his breaths coming out in white clouds as he continued to scan for the invisible spectre.
Sam didn't have a chance to do much of anything when he felt a harsh tug on the back of his jacket that sent him flying back into the thick brush, where he smashed into a gnarled tree, biting back a cry as he felt fire race up and down his left arm and shoulder where it had taken the most force, before he landed awkwardly on his legs and crashed down equally as hard on the ground. Sam groaned from the impact, the crash with the tree had hurt like hell, and his ankle had taken the brunt of the landing, burning with a dull throb. Freaking wonderful.
The spectral form of a young woman in a black dress appeared in front of him, her face aglow in the muted moonlight, as her form skittered and twitched back and forth about six feet away. Sam flipped over to his side, desperately looking for the shotgun he had dropped. He felt a cold hand clasp around his burning ankle and pulled, flipping Sam over onto his stomach with a groan as he was dragged back towards the beach.
A sudden gunshot and the pressure around his leg ceased, allowing the youngest Winchester a chance to pull in a few gulps of air before pushing himself up onto his knees with his one good arm, turning his head in the direction of the shot.
"Dean?" Sam called, expecting his brother's terse voice to answer back.
Instead of his brother, the hunter from the diner appeared, dark jacket, worn jeans, and hiking boots. He looked every part the hunter, including the way he held Sam's shotgun in his calloused hands.
Sam let out frustrated breath, but kept a wary eye on the former hunter, pulling himself up into a standing position, having to use the side of a tree as a crutch to keep his weight off his bad ankle.
"Thanks for that." Sam said, while watching wearily as the hunter approached him.
"That gal damn near made mince meat out of ya, kid." The former hunter drawled, the shotgun loose in his hands.
"What are you doing here?" Sam asked tersely, pain making his voice sharper than normal. He did not trust the guy's sudden appearance out of nowhere. He didn't believe in coincidences.
"Knew about the spirit roaming around here. I thought I could lend you and your brother a hand." Declan answered tentatively, choosing to stand a few steps in front of the younger man, leaning casually against one of the larger trees.
"Thanks for the offer," Sam replied, trying to shift some weight onto his bad leg, testing how much pressure he could put on it to walk out of here and back to his brother, "but we can handle things -" Sam's words were cut off as the base of his own shotgun smashed into his face, black dots dancing in front of his eyes from the hit, before he slumped bonelessly to the ground.
Declan was quiet for a moment, listening to see if anyone or anything else was stirring in the area, before moving over to the fallen Winchester and nudging him in the ribs with the side of his boot. The kid's head rocked with the movement, but stilled shortly after.
Leaning down, he grabbed a fist full of the younger man's hair and tilted the kid's head his way.
"See I don't think Dean's going to like my idea of 'lending a hand'". He murmured to the unconscious man in his grasp.
"I think by the end of tonight, Dean and I are finally going to understand one another. And you're going to help me, Sam."
A/N: Dun dun dun!! Looks like some of you guessed correctly about our mysterious little ex-hunter gone bad :p Sam's in trouble now!! *grins* Tune in for more action next chapter! Dean's got a rescue to put into action ;)