PART 3
Sam followed the others back to the camp. He maintained his weaving and slurring, said his goodbyes to the other two counselors and made his stumbling way into his cabin, crawling directly into his bunk with a groan. He took some good-natured ribbing from his cabin-mates, and quickly pretended to fall asleep. Jeff and Randy hit their bunks shortly after, and Sam listened intently to their quiet conversation.
When they believed his even breathing to be slumber, they discussed his inclusion, and Jeff sounded particularly pleased to have another reliable and proper-thinking ally. Sam detected a note of something in Randy's voice though...jealousy? –distrust? He no doubt felt his status threatened by this big affable newcomer. Sam thought he'd better stay wary of the weasel. Once the conversation stopped, he felt safe in allowing himself to sleep. Had to be up at six, bright and enthusiastic for the kids' sake.
It was getting late, Dean wanted to call Sam in private.
"Well, Maggie...you know I'd like to spend some more quality time with you." Dean said, with a lascivious grin. "But I guess I should get back to my charming little fleabag. I need to get some things done for tomorrow. Which reminds me—is there a car rental place around here? I need wheels to trade with Sam, he's got my car."
She pouted. "No free time with this job of yours either? Ever thought of doing something else?"
"God yeah, on an hourly basis. But-" he yawned, getting up and locating his clothes, "No rest for the wicked."
"Well, you're out of luck with a proper rental place, but the used car dealership here sometimes rents them out. Bill knows them, he could probably get something for you." She got up herself and dressed. "Gotta take poor Ivan out, he's overdue."
"Why don't you walk him my way?"
"Sure. Just need to grab some plastic bags."
Dean headed to the porch as Maggie collected what she needed, put Ivan's halti on and joined him. They walked side by side, enjoying the cool night air after their busy evening.
"Did you say your brother has your car?"
"Yeah. Sam's working at that camp, posing as a counselor and seeing what he can learn there. He had to take my car to get out there."
She stopped walking. "Sam is at that camp? With everything going on there? Are you sure he'll be ok?"
"Sam's a big boy, he can take care of himself. And if he did get into any trouble, he's got his big brother right here, ready." he assured. But her worry was contagious and he felt a pang of nerves. He was going to be sure to call him asap.
"Oh. Well, good, then."
The short walk to the motel was quickly completed. Dean put the key in, opened the door and turned to face her. He pulled her close and nuzzled her hair. "Oh, man..." he groaned. "I so want to pull you in here!"
"Mmmmm... Shut-up, you. You're a bad influence, some of us have to work at our normal jobs first thing." But she didn't release him. Ivan whined and tugged at the leash. "Ok, dummy, we're going. " she directed to the big dog. She turned back to Dean. "I'm off at four tomorrow, I've got the breakfast shift. You should come by in the morning for some bacon & eggs before you go out and do your battles. Then you can talk to Bill about a getting car."
"Sounds good. I'll see you tomorrow morning then." he said, still not letting go, and inching the both of them towards the open door. She laughed and gave the back of his head a smack. "Let go, you're traumatizing the dog!"
He reluctantly did. "Better be a good breakfast!" he called out, stepping into the dingy room as she was towed by Ivan back up the street. She waved and jogged out of view. He smiled to himself stupidly as he shut the door. Throwing himself onto his bed, he relaxed for a minute, and then found his cell, typing in Sam's number. Sam's phone rang endlessly until finally a groggy and irritated voice answered.
"What? Do you know what time it is!"
"Hi to you too, bitch. It's only midnight, anyway, why are you so crabby?"
Sam groaned. "Call me tomorrow, I'm way too loaded to talk to you. Besides, you're waking everybody else up here."
Dean took the hint. There were too many ears close by, Sam couldn't talk. "Fine, call me first thing."
"Yeah, yeah, now go away." With that, Sam hung up. He felt bad, being so unfriendly to his brother, but it had to be that way. Jeff and Randy undoubtedly had their ears pricked up. "Asshole brother." he mumbled to himself, dropping the phone. That too was for their benefit.
Dean hung up with a frown. He understood Sam's veiled meaning, although he didn't understand the loaded part, but what-ever. Probably a bit of a party to welcome the new guy. He had to go speak to the coroner in the morning. If he was going to be posing as a Nat'l Center for Disease Control investigator, he'd better get some false ID prepared. He turned on the laptop and sought the small printer from their gear, hooking it up. Internet made their job so much easier, he found the department site and downloaded the logo and pertinent info, putting it together along with his name and some made up numbers in the drawing program. It had taken Sam days and days to teach him how to do it and they'd nearly come to blows over it. He didn't like the damn computer and it hated him back. But he was reasonably proficient at it now. Satisfied with the result, he printed it off and laminated it. Another handy little invention—that laminating gizmo. Everything looked good and official.
He pulled out a white shirt and boring tie from his bag, checked to see if he could avoid ironing it, which he couldn't, so he hung them up to be dealt with in the morning. And with that, he gave in to his need for sleep. Thoughts of his evening with Maggie carried him off to pleasant dreams.
The thought of breakfast made for a piss-poor job of the ironing, but at least the shirt didn't look like it had been rolled up in a gym bag for weeks anymore. Dean tied his tie on, making a lumpy mess of the knot. Sam usually tied it for him. Stupid things anyway, ties. He was still waiting for Sam's promised call, but he knew Sam had duties first thing and would have to find a spare moment to do it. It was either that or hear from him at 5:30 in the morning, and then he wouldn't be alert enough to remember what the hell Sam had said. He remembered to slip his ID into his pocket. He picked up his officious looking leatherette-bound notebook and started walking.
Halfway to Harry's he got the awaited call.
"What took you so long?"
"Had to get the kids all fed and sent out to their first activity. Are you going to the coroners?"
"Yeah. I got a line on another car, when I'm done here I'll drive up and trade with you. Learn anything useful?"
"Sort of. I know that these counselors are a bunch of hypocritical jerks, for one thing. And that they're the types that go gay-bashing. And that they harassed that guy who disappeared a month ago because he made the mistake of telling them that he was, apparently. They said they chased him all the way to hell, so whatever that means, I'll find out."
"Yeah, I already know about that guy. Daniel Williams. I spent some time with his sister and she filled me in. He was going to press charges next day, but he never made it. So that's a good lead as to what's taking these guys down, don't you think? A vengeful spirit."
"Sounds like it could be, and now he's going after the ones who did it, or helped. I can't picture these losers actually having the balls to kill someone, though. There's the alpha-guy, Jeff...he might have it in him, but the rest are just hangers-on. They actually put me through a little hazing thing last night. Tried to drug me with something in the booze but I faked it. They wanted me to admit the worst thing I'd ever done, and if they judged it to be cool enough I was in. I passed with flying colours, by the way. I should be able to ask some questions now without raising eyebrows too much."
"Sam, are you sure you're safe? I don't like the sound of this."
"Relax, Dean. I told you, I'm in the club."
"Well watch your back, Sam. I'll call you when I'm coming out with the car. See you later."
"Ok. 'Bye."
"Wait, Sam...so what was it?"
"What was what?"
"The worst thing you ever did?"
"Nice try. You'll be the last to know. Seeya."
Dean was perturbed by the situation at the camp. But he had to let Sam handle it, he wasn't a kid after all. He almost walked past Harry's as he was buried in thought, but Maggie tapped on the window and snapped him out of it. He came in, embarrassed.
"Day dreaming?" Maggie teased.
"Just thinking of you...naked." he whispered loudly.
Maggie blushed and looked at Bill to see if he'd heard. He whistled a tune and studiously concentrated on polishing the bar.
"You're gonna spit in my coffee now, aren't you?"
She gave him an evil grin and left to get him some breakfast. Bill put his cloth down and came over. "Heard you need to rent a vehicle."
"Yeah, just for a few days. I lent mine to my brother, he came out here with me to visit friends and I had to give it to him."
Bill handed him a scrap with a name and number on it. "Call him at nine. Tell him Bill sent you."
"Thanks, man."
"No problem. Just keep treating our Maggie well and it's all good." Bill smiled and returned to his tasks.
She brought him a breakfast that would feed three people. He complained and threatened to send it back to the chef. She pretended to hock a loogie into his coffee in front of him. He had no reply to that, so she won. She fixed his tie after mocking his own attempt.
When he was too full to move, he checked his watch. - 9:12. He called Bill's friend and was assured that they had a vehicle available. Armed with directions, he tried to pay for his meal, only to be rebuffed by Maggie. "You can pay me back this aft. when I'm done my shift. I'm sure you'll think of something…" she said with mock innocence. He raised an eyebrow and vowed to be creative. With a brotherly peck to her cheek, all for Bill's benefit, he promised to be by that evening and he left on his trek to get wheels.
Bill glanced at Maggie with a silly expression.
"Just...be quiet, you! " she warned him, blushing furiously.
Sam spent the afternoon teaching the kids to use the kayaks. It was hopeless, but it was a lot of fun. Once they knew how to tip each other's crafts it was mayhem on the lake. He could admonish them until he was blue in the face, but they still insisted on trying to drown each other, all in good fun. He was beat by the afternoon. When he'd gotten them settled for their dinner, he collapsed into an adirondack chair. James, one of the last two he'd met, joined him.
"They wear you out, don't they?" he laughed.
Sam closed his eyes and pressed his head back against the slats. "Are they always like this?"
"Yep. Eat your wheaties, Sam, or these rugrats'll kill ya." James was quiet for a moment. "God you remind me of Jason."
"Who's Jason?"
James studied his shoes. "Jay was a counselor here. Jason Hughes. He died a couple of weeks ago."
Sam sat up. He feigned surprise. "Man...I'm so sorry. What happened?"
James hesitated. It was obviously a painful subject. "He just up and died. Young guy, a lot of fun, you know? Dropped dead in the park here, during a hike, for no reason. I dunno, maybe a hidden heart thing, who knows?"
Sam nodded. "Too bad."
James shook himself out of his funk. "Yeah. Anyway, Sam. I'm glad you're fitting in here. It really is a good place to work. I'm going to college next year, in sciences. Can't wait to get out of here and live away from the folks, you know? What are you doing next year?"
It was a painful discussion. "Well, I was in Stanford, studying law. I started, but my girlfriend passed away...an accident. So I took some time off. Been hanging out with my brother since then. But I want to go back...eventually."
"Um...same brother you've been shooting?"
Sam laughed. "Yeah, same one. But it really wasn't on purpose, just a couple of weird accidents. He's a good guy, just a pain in the ass sometimes, you know?"
James nodded. He had a number of siblings himself. "Well...lucky thing you're a lousy shot, then, eh?" he teased.
Sam smiled wryly. "Guess so!"
James rose to leave. "Well, I'd better head. I'm on wash detail. Seeya Sam, I'll talk to you later."
James left to see to his duties, leaving Sam to contemplate their exchange. He seemed ok, even decent, on his own. It was amazing how mob mentality changed people.
Once the kids were fed, Sam was free again for the evening. He'd learned a bit about one dead victim, maybe he could learn something about the other. He headed back to his cabin, settled on his bunk with a book after checking his phone for messages.
Weasel-boy, Randy, came in. "Whatcha reading?" he asked.
Sam looked up and feigned surprise. "Oh—hi Randy. Just a Stephen King piece of crap."
Randy approached him with studied disinterest. ''Yeah, I read most of those. Wanna beer?"
Sam looked around nervously. "I guess, as long as it's kosher, you know?"
"Hey, you're on your own time and in your own space. You can pretty much do anything, just don't wander around outside with it." He handed him a bottle and got one for himself.. Sam examined it surreptitiously. It looked sealed, he figured it should be ok.
"Thanks." He cracked it open and took a swig, and decided it was fine. Watching Randy, he thought he'd start. "This your first stint here? Or are you a veteran?"
"I've been here for a few summers. Both me and Jeff. Good money, for a summer gig, you know.?"
Sam nodded.
Randy leaned closer. "Guess you heard a couple of people kicked off here in the last couple of weeks?"
Sam was instantly wary. "Uh…Yeah, I heard some guy named Jason died here. Were there more?"
Randy drained his bottle. "Yeah, another guy... Peter McAuley. Just last week. He keeled over, they couldn't do anything. I dunno, maybe he had asthma, or who knows. Weird, though, after the other one."
"Yeah, James mentioned the first one…must have been rough on you guys."
Randy said nothing. He handed Sam another bottle. "Seriously, Sam...what the hell are you doing here?"
Sam was a little taken aback be the directness of the question. "Same as everyone else...get some cash in the bank for school. Why?"
"Why? You regularly shoot your family members. Hardly the usual college boy activity."
Sam regarded him shrewdly. Weasel boy wanted something...answers, reassurances, what?
"Yeah, well...truth be told, it was an accident both times. My brother and I are ok. I was at Stanford before, I'll be going back soon. But it's kind of expensive. Are going to school?"
"Not really. College isn't my thing. I've got other plans."
Sam didn't ask what, he really didn't care to know. But it probably involved riding around in Jeff's back pocket.
Randy rose. "Well, I'm gonna get some shit done. You coming out to the fire tonight again, Sam?"
"You guys do that every night? How do you keep it up?"
Randy smirked. "Gonna have to get used to it, Sam. Remember, you're in the club now."
Dean thanked Bill's friend for the loaner. His face was frozen into a rictus, but it was still a thank-you. It was a Ford Fiesta. It was orange. Lettered up in such a way that no one would ever mistake it for anything but a Davis Used Cars Courtesy Vehicle. But he was going to trade it to Sam for the Impala, so in a way it was a good thing too. At least he'd have the satisfaction that he wasn't going to be the only one driving it with a paper bag over their head. He looked up the number for the county morgue, and called, falsely identifying himself and his purpose, and setting up an appointment. The coroner was a pleasant man, eager to help and even more eager to discuss the details of the two cases.
"Thanks for seeing me on short notice, Doctor. I don't understand why my office didn't set this up, crossed wires I guess." Dean lied.
"No trouble at all. Actually, I'm glad to speak to another professional about this." He handed two files to Dean. "These are the autopsy reports on both the young men. No cause of death was found, and we ruled out foul play, accidents, pathogens, accidental poisoning, pre-existing medical conditions, —everything. Very perplexing. But I really have to show you these."
They were pictures of both bodies, focusing on the back area.
"These were taken under UV light. What do you make of that?"
Dean looked closely. Both victims showed the same feature; large, faint bruise-like marks, all over the back and shoulders.
"It looks like they beaten with something...but you ruled that out."
"Yes, exactly! But here's the thing; these marks don't show under the normal spectrum, only with the UV. And even more odd, there is absolutely no trauma to the bodies, nothing even sub-cutaneous. They look like bruises, but they aren't. They're more like ghosted images of bruising. Never seen anything like it."
"Huh.." Dean hid his shock. This was definitely in the realm of the supernatural. Something was punishing these men...killing them, and leaving marks as…what, a calling card? Or echoing something related to the spirit's demise? If it was Daniel Williams, what had happened to him that he felt the need to mark his victims in this way? Maggie had said he was beaten, but not too badly, it had been more wounded pride than wounded body. These marks could relate to whatever befell him later. "I wish I could solve your mystery, Doctor. But to be honest, I've never seen anything like this before either. Hopefully we won't see anymore of these. I'll need copies of these files, if you don't mind."
"My secretary is doing that now."
"Thanks. Uh...did both victims die in the camp area?"
"Yes, both were found on the hiking trail, and both in the same close area. We've taken samples of soil, water, plants, and nothing is showing anything unusual. It's just a real head-scratcher, I tell you."
"Hmm. Well, Doc, thanks for your time. My department will be calling you with any follow up. If we can cross-reference this with anything in our database, we may be able to shed some light on this." Dean rose and shook his hand. The secretary brought in the two file copies and handed them to him. He thanked her. "I'll be in touch."
On his way back Dean called Sam with an update. There was no answer, so he left a message that he'd come out in the late afternoon or early evening. His next call was Maggie, at the restaurant.
"Hey Bill. it's Dean Winchester...is Maggie available?"
Maggie knew him by his real name, he figured Bill might as well too. He waited on the line while Bill left to get her.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Maggie...it's Dean."
"Dean who?"
"Funny. You still off at four?"
"uh-huh."
"I have to switch cars with Sam, can I pick you up after that? Maybe around five or six? We can grab some dinner somewhere, or maybe you can suggest something to do."
She giggled. "I might have an idea. Or two…"
He tsked. "You're naughty. I like that…"
"Dean, are you getting those funny ideas again? Listen, pick me up at six, I have to walk Ivan and do a few things."
"Good, I'll see you then."
He hung up, pleased with himself. He was having a helluva better time on this gig than Sam was. That left a few hours to kill. He went back to his motel and sat down with a beer, flipping through the files. Both had died of heart failure, but not like the usual heart attack, where there was damage to arteries etc that precipitated it. These guys just had their hearts stop. He looked at the photos again. -Weird- Sure looked like marks from being hit with something. When he saw Sam he'd ask him to take the EMF over that hiking trail and see if any readings showed. He yawned, deciding to take a nap while he had a chance. He had to be bright and fresh for six o'clock…
Dean awoke at four, shocked that he'd napped so damn long. It annoyed him that he still felt the effects from the last few batterings he'd taken. He tired after activities that never used to sap his energy quite so much before. -Getting old.- he thought. Or maybe he should eat more green crap.
He ducked in for a quick shower, selected a comfortably snug grey tee-shirt and jeans, grabbed the file folders and a coat and hopped into the Davismobile. He was really looking forward to getting his Impala back.
Sam waited in his cabin, reading. Dean was due any minute. He wanted to go out and talk to James again, since he seemed to be willing to discuss the dead coworkers, and perhaps he'd open up some about Daniel Williams as well. But he'd have to wait until later. Weasel-boy wandered in again. "Hey, Sam, what did you say your last name was again?"
Sam stared at him, thinking –now what-? "Singer." He'd taken Bobby's surname earlier, when he was at a loss to think of any other.
"Oh, right..yeah. So Stanford, eh? That's pretty rich isn't it? Guess when you get your law papers you'll have it made."
"If I go back." Sam said cautiously, volunteering nothing more. He got a sense that Randy had more questions, but Jeff walked in.
"Sam, are you coming out tonight?" he asked, in such a manner that suggested there was only one answer.
"Natch. I just have to switch cars with my brother, but I should be back in plenty of time."
Before Jeff could ask the question as to whether it was the infamous bullet-riddled sibling, a weak little honk sounded from the parking lot. "That's him, I'll see you tonight. " Sam leapt up and left the cabin, jogging down to the parking lot. When he reached the pavement, he stopped short in horror. This was the other car?
He could see Dean's satisfied grin at his reaction. Dean stepped out of the thing and threw the keys to his brother. "There you go Sammy, ain't she a Beaut?"
Sam shook his head. "Nice work, Dean. Subtle."
"Hey, don't be so ungrateful. It's not like you have to drive all over the place in it anyway, you're pretty much stuck here. Gimme my keys!"
Sam unlocked his door and tossed them. Dean loaded his things into the back seat of the big black car and fired her up. He ran his hand over her dash, murmuring -Hi, baby-miss me…?- "What are you up to now, Sam?"
"I was going to ask around about Daniel Williams, see if I could find out about the night he was drummed out of here. And there's another campfire tonight for the counselors, I'm expected to be there…maybe I'll learn more then."
"Come for a quick drive. I have some stuff you should read, the autopsy files on those two guys. You probably shouldn't have those with you at your camp, anyway."
"Alright, just don't make it too long."
Dean squealed out of the parking-lot, much to Sam's annoyance, and headed in the direction of some open road. It felt sooo good to be back behind that big wheel, especially after having to drive the little orange pop-can. He checked his watch, figuring he had enough time to tour around for a little while. Baby needed her exercise…
Sam pored over the notes and pictures. "This is pretty weird—the marks on the bodies. Almost like a message, or warning."
"Yeah. Maggie said Dan was beat-up that night, but not too badly. I don't know yet how those marks fit into it all."
"Who's Maggie?"
"Daniel Williams' sister. I've spent some..uh, time with her."
"Oh yeah? Gonna spend some more? You know, for the sake of the hunt."
"Damn straight!" Dean grinned. "By the way, the two guys were found in the same area on the hiking trail there, do you know where that is?"
Sam nodded. "Yeah, there's only one trail that they use, it keeps track of the kids. You want me to walk it with the EMF?"
"Reading my mind, Sammy."
"Hmm. Could be that he's buried there...that'd be handy. Quick salt and burn and its over."
Dean nodded, only half paying attention, entranced by the joy of driving his car.
Sam rolled his eyes and tossed the files under the seat. "Watch your speed there, dummy. You don't want to blow the engine on this relic." he teased.
It wasn't the first time Dean found himself speeding since Bobby brought his baby back. It was just so damned hard not to. The Impala just begged to be let loose. And out here, miles away from any real civilization, nothing and nobody near, he red-lined her. He grinned widely, reveling in the roar from that powerful engine.
Even Sam had to admit it felt great, with the warm evening wind whipping his mop into a tangle, and the tape player pulsing out some Dean tunes that thankfully he felt more than heard. It was pretty much the epitome of freedom at that moment.
But freedom is flighty, and sadly, such moments have a way of evaporating in the ugly face of reality. The car actually left the road surface for a moment on the denouement of the last hill. Dean let loose with a rebel yell as Sam shook his head and laughed. But the bottom held just enough brushy cover at the side, and something waited there, patiently...for yet another jackass to speed by. The impala roared past the concealed car, and suddenly the Winchesters found themselves nervously slowing down and pulling over as the siren and lights flew up to the bumper.
Dean ran his hand through his hair, his stomach knotting. -shit—shit—shit-