Chapter Four: Strange Out Here
Bangor, Maine-1999
Dean opened the passenger door of the Impala for Samuel and the younger man easily slid into the seat. Walking around the car to the driver's side, Dean decided he didn't really want to see his father so soon. He decided that they could both use some time apart.
Buckling his seatbelt, Dean turned the key in the ignition and the Impala rumbled to life.
Looking at Samuel from the corner of his eye, Dean frowned.
The kid needs some new clothes at least; he can't keep wearing mine.
Samuel huddled in the passenger seat, staring out the window.
Dean tapped his hands on the steering wheel as he kept his eyes peeled for a clothing store.
He was a little concerned that he still didn't know where the teenager had come from. Sure, Samuel had mentioned some school but that was about as vague as it was possible to be.
You know he's scared to go back there, Dean told himself, now that's something.
He didn't want to start badgering the younger man though; Dean knew that the kid would shut down if he started.
Dean caught sight of a small Target store and pulled into the parking lot.
Samuel peered at him quizzically as he cut the engine.
"We're going to get you some clothes of your own," Dean explained and opened the car door.
Samuel looked down at the clothing he wore; Dean's hand-me-downs and was surprised that they were getting more clothes. Back at the school he had only one shirt and one pair of pants- the same as all the other children- and had often been told to be grateful for that.
He eagerly climbed from the passenger seat and followed Dean inside the building. Samuel was shocked at how big the Target store was- it was even bigger than the Biggerson's they'd eaten breakfast at.
"C'mon," Dean called and Samuel jogged to catch up to the older boy.
Dean chuckled at the wide-eyed look on the teen's face and suddenly felt sad.
He's never been to a restaurant or a department store, Dean thought, what kind of life has he been living?
"The School", State Unknown-1993
The ten year-old boy sat quietly on the low stone wall behind the farmhouse. Only his legs, kicking slightly against the rough rocks, moved. His green eyes stared out toward the forest beyond his perch. The early-morning air was warm and moist but the light yellow sun rising in the east promised a hot, dry day.
Holding his breath, Samuel smiled when the branches at the tree line rustled and a doe stepped into the meadow, her nose sniffing delicately for any scent of danger. The boy's legs froze and he leaned forward eagerly. The doe stepped forward and looked over her shoulder. A single fawn stumbled out from the forest, his gangly legs shaking excitedly.
"Samuel!" the barking voice shouted across the still morning, startling the child and the deer. The doe and her fawn bounded back into the forests and disappeared. The boy looked over his shoulder somewhat guiltily and slid down from the stone wall, brushing bits of moss and stone crumbs from his pants.
LeGraine was storming across the field, clearly angry.
"What the hell are you doing?" the man demanded as Samuel slowly approached him, knowing that he was in trouble.
Pointing toward the forest, the boy tried to explain, "I just wanted to see the deer."
Samuel smiled nervously up at the man. LeGraine hit the boy across the face, causing Samuel to stumble backwards.
Tears welled up in Samuel's eyes as LeGraine grabbed his arm and began dragging him back towards the house.
"What did I do wrong?" Samuel asked, his voice almost a wail.
"Shut up!" LeGraine snarled, raising his free hand threateningly.
The boy lowered his head, sniffing, trying to figure out what he'd done.
Every morning for the past several days, Samuel had watched from his bedroom window as the doe and her fawn slipped out from the forest to graze at the tender spring grass in the meadow. The animals were so calm and peaceful and the boy had just wanted to get a closer look at them. Waking up early that morning, Samuel had tiptoed out of the bedroom he shared with the other boys and out of the farmhouse. Creeping across the dewy grass, Samuel had made his way to the low stone wall before the meadow and sat down, waiting patiently for the deer to appear.
LeGraine pushed Samuel ahead of him, into the farmhouse. Truefold was standing in the narrow hallway, looking about as pleased as LeGraine did.
"Where was he?" the woman asked, not even looking at the boy.
"Edge of the property," LeGraine answered, preventing Samuel from slinking away by placing one hand on the boy's shoulder, "Because he wanted to see the deer."
Samuel lowered his gaze until he was staring at his feet. He didn't know why LeGraine and Truefold were so upset with him. He had only been outside for a half an hour at most and he still had been within sight of the house.
Truefold snorted in derision and LeGraine kicked at Samuel, "Get out of my sight."
The boy scurried down the hallway and turned into the kitchen, seeing the other children sitting at the table already.
"What did you do?" Ava snapped, brushing her long dark hair over her shoulder.
Samuel glanced up at the girl, defiance in his green eyes.
"I didn't do anything!" he nearly shouted, "I didn't do anything wrong!"
The other children just stared at him.
"You went outside without permission," Lillian, a blonde-haired girl piped up from beside Ava.
Samuel's shoulders slumped.
"You shouldn't have done that; you could have gotten us all into trouble," Ava continued, distain colouring her youthful voice.
The boy opened his mouth to say something else but then closed it again. He looked up guiltily at LeGraine as the man walked up behind him.
"Are you stupid or something?" Samuel lowered his gaze sadly.
"No sir," he mumbled. He could feel the eyes of the other children on him and that only made him feel more ashamed.
"We have rules for a reason! We're not fucking around here!" LeGraine snapped and hit Samuel across the face, sending him staggering back to hit the edge of the table.
The boy didn't know why the man was so mad at him; he hadn't been hurting anything.
"I'm sorry!" Samuel tried to apologize but that didn't placate the man.
LeGraine grabbed the boy's t-shirt and Samuel stumbled forward, falling onto his hands and knees.
"It's dangerous! What if someone saw you?" LeGraine snarled and yanked the boy forward.
"We are only trying to protect you," the man said quietly and Samuel gulped, staring into the man's eyes.
"It won't happen again," Samuel whimpered and cringed away from LeGraine.
"See that it doesn't," the man warned and released his hold on the child. Sniffing, Sam walked around the table and squeezed onto the end of the long wooden bench, beside Andrew.
Stalking over to the fridge, LeGraine removed a large glass pitcher of red liquid. Samuel grimaced; he hated the stuff, it tasted awful! All the children had to drink it though, LeGraine and Truefold said it helped their powers become stronger so they could use them for 'the greater good.' Stomping over to the light blue-painted cupboard, the man began taking down the plastic cups sitting inside.
"Are you okay?" Andrew whispered to Samuel, one arm wrapping around his friend's shoulders.
Samuel nodded and stared at the wooden tabletop. He jumped when one of the cups was slammed down in front of him, the red juice inside nearly sloshing over the rim.
Grabbing the cup resolutely, Samuel closed his eyes and drank as fast as he could. The juice was slightly thick and chilly from being in the refrigerator; its sweet flavour barely hid the foreign tang underneath. Once he finished, Samuel rested his arms on the tabletop, his face buried in the crook of his arm as he waited for the warmth, the rush of energy and strength that always accompanied the juice, to spread throughout his body.
Bangor, Maine-1999
Dean's fingers flicked skillfully through the assorted t-shirts hanging on the racks. Samuel stood close by, watching other shoppers paw through the piles of clothes on shelves or on hangers.
"How about this?" Dean asked and held up a red t-shirt- that featured a black skull and crossbones for the teen's approval.
Samuel shrugged. Dean stared at the shirt for a long moment.
"You're right," Dean hung the t-shirt back on its rack, "Too juvenile."
Samuel just looked at the older boy. He waited patiently as Dean walked over to a rack full of plain black t-shirts and held one out to Samuel.
Dean smiled and grabbed three more shirts off the rack. Draping them over one arm, he reached out and grabbed Samuel's wrist.
"C'mon," he said, "We're not finished yet."
W
By the time the two young men were standing in the checkout line, Dean had a sizable pile of clothes in his arms.
T-shirts and long-sleeved button downs, blue jeans and even a pair of khakis that Samuel had been eyeing surreptitiously. Dean also had a few pairs of boxers, a package of socks and a shoebox with brand new runners inside.
Dean smiled at the middle-aged woman at the cash register and dumped the clothes onto the conveyer belt.
"Find everything you needed?" she asked, as she scanned the items.
"Yes, ma'am," Dean said and put an arm around Samuel's shoulder- although the boy tensed at the sudden touch- and grinned, "He's been growing like a weed, can't keep him in clothes."
The woman nodded and Dean paid with a fake credit card. She smiled as she packed their purchases into bag and bade the boys have a good day.
Dean hesitated when they reached the Impala. He knew he should really go back to the motel and help his Dad with the case but he really didn't want to if John was going to keep insisting they ditch Samuel.
Dumping the plastic bag of clothes into the backseat, Dean plopped down moodily into the driver's seat and glanced at the teenager as he climbed into the passenger side.
"You could use a haircut," Dean told Samuel and the boy's eyes went wide.
"Hey, hey," Dean said quickly, trying to do some damage control, "It's not what it sounds like; it doesn't hurt."
"Oh," Samuel muttered and blushed with embarrassment. He'd been shocked to learn that people could actually choose which clothes they wanted to wear and that it was more appropriate if the clothes fit well. Samuel thought about his old clothes, his oversized t-shirt and sweat pants that were far too short. Why had LeGraine and Truefold given him clothes that clearly weren't right for him? He had never worn shoes in his life before today- at least he couldn't recall ever wearing shoes- and although they felt a little confining at first, he'd grown used to them, starting to like them. The boots that Dean had given him protected his feet and kept them warm. Samuel wished he had something like them when he'd… before… at the school.
"Are you okay?" Dean's voice startled Samuel out of his reverie and the younger man nodded sheepishly.
"Look, you don't have to get a haircut if you don't want to," Dean began, "I just thought it might be a good idea… not many guys wear their hair long, you know."
Samuel smiled slightly, "No, I want to."
The older boy returned the smile and started the Impala, "Okay, let's go then!"
W
Dean couldn't believe his luck when he parallel-parked the classic Chevy in front of an unassuming barber's on the downtown strip. The shop had no name but it did have a faded green awning above the large plate-glass window and one of those old-fashioned red and white-striped poles beside the door.
Upon closer inspection, the young hunter caught sight of the single elderly man in the shop- probably the owner- and pushed the door open happily. A tiny bell tinkled, announcing their arrival. Samuel stood close to Dean- the barbershop was unlike anything he had ever seen before, not even in pictures- and he was a little nervous now, even though the older boy had insisted a haircut was painless.
"Ah, hello there!" the old man smiled and approached the two youngsters, wiping his hands on his black apron before holding one out to Dean and then Samuel.
"Hey, sorry to drop in," Dean said after taking the gent's offered hand, "Can you give my uh… friend here a haircut?"
Dean grimaced slightly; it wasn't really a matter of could the man- he was a barber, of course he could cut Samuel's hair- but more of a question of would he. Dean knew that he shouldn't be just walking in but he didn't really feel like booking an appointment and waiting. He wanted to show John that Samuel was more than some stray kid he'd picked up off the road, that he was an innocent, like the other people they helped and was worthy of their succor.
"I don't have anything until noon," the man said and grinned toothily, "Come with me, young man. I'll see what I can do."
SPN
John Winchester sighed and rubbed tiredly at his eyes before glancing down at the papers scattered over the motel room's small table.
He just didn't understand it. All the information that he had gathered on the case was right in front of him and yet he couldn't figure what the hell was going on. Young men were dying- drowning- at the manmade lake for no apparent reason.
John had even called Bobby Singer- more than once- but the veteran hunter was just as stumped as he was. With no sulfur or ectoplasm or signs of struggle this case was quickly growing cold. Despite the cooperation of local law enforcement, John was starting to think that maybe Bangor was just experiencing a rash of suicides with no supernatural connection whatsoever.
Closing his eyes and leaning back in his chair, John wished that Dean was with him. He could really use his son's help, use his perspective on things.
John didn't quite know what to make of Samuel. Besides his mysterious 'school' the boy had apparently come from nowhere. Not being sure where his parents were and lacking any identification, the teen would make it extremely difficult for even the police to locate his relatives. Although John appreciated what Dean was doing for the boy, the fact was, it wasn't his son's job. They hunted monsters and saved people from supernatural threats, they didn't take on strange teenagers who didn't even know their last names.
John thought back to the night before, when Dean had first introduced him to Samuel. The boy certainly didn't look like he was just some moody, overemotional teen runaway. It was clear, even to the eldest Winchester that something very odd was going on with the young man.
Dean said he'd rushed out onto the road, John recalled. His clothes were dirty and mismatched, he didn't have any shoes on his feet and his hair was a rat's nest of knots and twigs and leaves. And he was thin, clearly not well-cared for, even if he wasn't on the run from anything supernatural.
Now if that doesn't sound suspicious, than you're losing your touch, John thought to himself.
"Damn it all," John muttered and stretched, his spine popping. He heard the familiar rumble of the Impala over the steady drone of the traffic outside and stood up, walking to the door of the room.
Dean pulled the classic Chevy into the parking space in front of his room and cut the engine. John could make out Samuel sitting in the passenger seat and gave a dry smile when he saw that the young teen's hair was cut short.
Stepping out of the doorway, John went to greet his son.
Dean reached into the backseat and pulled out a white plastic bag and stood up, meeting his father's eye.
"Hey," his son said guardedly but John didn't explode like he thought he might.
"What've you got there, son?" he asked instead.
John almost laughed when Dean's eyebrows rose in astonishment but he quickly cleared his throat.
"Bought Samuel some clothes of his own," Dean explained, "At least until we find his family."
John grimaced at the speedy additive and turned to the boy in question. Samuel looked completely different with short hair. The style was similar to Dean's expect it was only slightly longer. The lack of hair made it easier to see the boy's face and made his features appear even leaner than before.
"Are you boys hungry? We could go to the diner across the street?" John asked, directing the question at Dean.
"Maybe in a half-hour, Dad," he answered, "I want Samuel to try on his new clothes."
John shrugged, "Alright."
"Do you… ah, wanna come in?" Dean offered but John shook his head.
"Nah," he said, "I've got a lot of paperwork to organize. I'll see you in a little bit."
Dean hesitated, "Sure?"
John nodded again, "I'll see you in thirty minutes."
"Okay, c'mon," Dean reached out for the other boy's arm and Samuel followed Dean into the motel room.
John stared after the two young men for a moment.
You know, he thought, with his hair short like that, he almost looks like Sam.
Drawing in a sharp breath, John pinched the bridge of his nose and retreated to his own room, closing the door softly behind him.
SPN
Dean pulled all of the new clothes out of the bag and arranged them on the bed so they could see all of the garments.
"You pick," Dean said, "What do you wanna wear?"
Samuel pointed to a pair of blue jeans and a black t-shirt. Dean smiled and handed the clothes over. The younger boy looked over towards the bathroom, unsure of what to do. He had seen Dean go into the bathroom that morning and the night before he had been directed into it.
"Do you want to go into the washroom?" Dean asked and Samuel shrugged.
Pulling his hand-me-down shirt over his head, Samuel jumped when Dean gasped.
"Oh my God!" Dean stammered, shocked.
There was a small, thin white scar on Samuel's shoulder, exactly in the same spot where his baby brother had been cut when he'd been playing with a knife their father had forgotten to pack away.
Dean almost leaped forward, grabbing Samuel's arm and startling the young man.
"Where did you get that scar?" Dean demanded, ignoring the tears welling up in the boy's eyes.
"I've always had it!" Samuel cried and Dean released him. Sinking to his knees, Dean gulped, "I'm sorry… sorry… it's just… I had a brother and he had a scar that looked exactly like that."
Samuel stared down at Dean, breathing hard, trying to calm down.
"Wh-what happened to him?" he asked the older boy.
"What?" Oh, he was kidnapped… uh, taken… a long time ago," Dean explained, a lump forming in his throat as he recalled that humid summer night in Kentucky when his negligence had caused his little brother to be stolen away.
Dean stared up at Samuel, looking into the younger man's mossy green eyes, his gaze running over his now-short chestnut hair.
Sammy would be sixteen by now, Dean thought sadly. Samuel got down on his knees in front of Dean, "I don't know who I am… I don't know where I came from…"
"Can you…" Dean hesitated, knowing what he was about to ask was a touchy subject with the boy, "What can you tell me about the school you came from?"
Author's Note:
1. Chapter title comes from a Screaming Trees song of the same name.
2. Thanks to cold kagome, Samstruck, SPN Mum, Demon2Angel, AlxM, L.A.H.H, julie, sarah, Jeanny, rozzy07, quoththeraven5, MysteryMadchen, HP4eva121995, Souless666, BranchSuper, mb64, TimeTravellingThestral, fixusi, peetalovesme124, Serenityhimesheppard and Guests for reviewing. Thanks for all the great reviews! I wasn't completely happy with the last chapter but I'm glad you all love it!
3. Thanks to everyone who alerted/favourited/alerted this story.
4. The reception for this story has been amazing with just three chapters so far! Your comments really mean a lot to me! Please leave a review!