Nothing Else Matters
Chapter Two: Something stinks in Stonewater
.o0o.
The Stonewater Sheriff's station was a squat little brown brick building sitting right next to the train tracks that ran through down town.
The interior walls were painted a mellow yellow shade that reflected the fluorescent lighting, keeping the space dim rather than brightening it. Dark wood desks were spaced here and there, not a lot of paper pushers working evidently, the glass doors opened to an enclosed lobby with a receptionist sitting behind a low wall, separated from the waiting room by bullet proof glass.
There really wasn't much to it. Most of the cops probably drove around all day waiting for a call.
The Sheriff stood before the boys with his hands on his wide hips, glowering.
"Why are the Feds so interested in small town bullshit?"
Harrison Barns was a hard ass, plain and simple, and not the likable kind either.
'Two hundred and fifty pounds of self-righteous bully with a gun' Dean thought in scorn.
The man stood around five foot seven wearing a snug tan uniform, his belt decked out with every gizmo allowed and he wore it like some old west gunslinger.
Dean gave the man a stiff smile, his eyes hard.
"We tend to take missing people and blood sacrifices pretty serious at the Bureau."
Sam grimaced slightly at his brother's tone.
He had acknowledged this wasn't going to go well from the moment they'd flashed their badges, but Dean could be less of an ass about the whole thing.
Sheriff Barns hitched up his belt under his protruding gut, face reddening beneath a bushy white mustache.
It seemed as though he was gearing up to spit his wad of chew all over Dean's shoes.
Ever the mediator, Sam stepped up using his placating tone on the man.
"What my partner means is that this concerns everyone here, especially when good people go missing. We just want to give their families closure."
The Sheriff twitched his upper lip, making his facial hair resemble a caterpillar. He grumbled, waving them back to his office, away from the two other officers and nosy receptionist.
Sam shot his brother a 'behave' look but Dean just shrugged.
"You fella's will be glad to know that the blood we found on the walls was pig, not people." The man said as they walked back to the small office in the corner.
He shook his head slowly and then said to Sam "Now, these missing folks, we don't really have any leads. No security cameras in these parts aside from the one at the bank, the one here and a home system rigged up by Lenny down at the lumber yard."
He led them inside with a gesture to sit and rounded his desk. "Not much you Fed boys can help with really."
The man stared down his nose at Dean, hands back on his hips as he smiled smugly.
Dean felt those hackles of his rise up and wanted nothing more than to punch the arrogant fuck in the face, but he settled for a snarky "We'll see about that" giving the man his own version of hard-nosed Bureaucrat.
"I wouldn't try to impede a federal investigation Sheriff, you're not above reproach. I'm sure you know what that will mean for this sleepy little town and I don't want to have to put in a call to our supervisor."
He studiously ignored his brother, keeping his hard gaze on the pompous ass in front of him.
The Sheriff visibly deflated, capitulating quickly after that. "Of course" he laughed nervously, "We'll do all we can to help you agents. Just don't see a reason for all this fuss…"
Dean's brow creased deeply. "There are people missing, people that have families looking for them. These people disappeared from your town and you don't seem too inclined to look for them. So you tell me Sheriff, why shouldn't we be concerned?"
.o0o.
Dean pounded down the steps of the Station house, yanking at his tie, Sam hot on his heels.
"What the hell was that?"
He turned to his little brother with a hostile air, "Don't even start Sam, that guy was a dick."
Sam huffed, "It doesn't matter Dean. We're supposed to stay below the radar here; he's probably in there right now going through the data base." His hand was flung out to encompass the building behind them and Dean's mouth twisted into a sour sneer.
"Who gives a shit Sammy? Let Fife look, it's not like they are doing shit to find these people!"
Sam straightened his shoulders defensively, his face stoic.
"Is this really about those people Dean or is this about the fact that I didn't look for you?"
Dean threw his arms up, beyond caring at this point. "Take your pick" he snapped, then rubbed his face with one hand. He already needed a shave.
Sam looked away, hiding his reaction to Dean's sudden honesty.
Dean watched him for a second, then looked down the street and sighed.
"You check out the library, see what diner chick was looking at. I'll go talk to that Tommy guy and fill baby up while I'm at it."
Dean walked off towards the car, leaving a silent Sam standing in the middle of the parking lot.
.o0o.
As Dean questioned the gas attendant Sam did as he was told and slipped into the small library a block down the street from the Sheriff station.
The firehouse was in between them, making Sam marvel at how small the town really was. He could probably walk from one end to the other in an hour.
The librarian was all too happy to help him in his pursuit for information. Evidently she had a thing for tall, dark, awkward men, if her hovering over him was any clue.
She pulled most of the material she could remember the girl looking at, smiling dazedly at him all the while.
The woman was obviously starved for affection; single, in her early forties and living at home with her elderly mother, caring for her in her long time illness. A history lesson Sam could have done without but it helped get her to comply that much easier.
"So, um… Karen, did the girl ask to see any maps or blueprints of the town?" He smiled uncomfortably as she brushed against his arm for the third time. A breath nearly had him choking as the scent of her liberally applied hairspray hovered around his head. The poor woman was almost flammable.
Karen fluttered about like a girl half her age and brought an arm full of rolled papers over to spread before him. The maps took over the table and his mouth pulled down in an impressed manner.
Diner girl had really covered the bases. He could practically see her thought process as he dug through the information, jotting down his own notes on a yellow legal pad.
From what he gathered, she had come to town three days after her brother had gone missing, about a week and two days ago. She tried to work with the Sheriff but he knew how that had worked out. Sam shook his head at the thought of how inept the man acted.
He looked at another page of the report she'd filed. The guy, her brother, didn't sound like he would just up and leave his family. From what she had written on the form, he could tell she really respected the man.
A wave of remorse rushed through him when his thoughts turned to his own brother.
He'd tried to get Dean to tell him what happened while he was away but he just wouldn't open up. Sam knew it was his betrayal that had broke their trust, but he hadn't seen any other options at the time.
Sam remembered clearly his long ago rage, the toxic emotion that had cost him so much. It had suffocated him, like nothing else, but when Dean disappeared… after Bobby, and he'd lost everything, everything he believed in he just couldn't do it anymore.
So he let go.
Apathetic and numb, he had wandered like a ship without sails, drifting. He'd wanted to find something, anything that could help restore his faith and his will to live.
Then he met Amelia, and she was so familiar to him, a small piece of what he'd had before and he latched onto her.
When he found out that she was just as broken as he was, when she brought things he'd never had before into his life, it made him grab that last life-line and hold tight.
Slowly, he let himself move on.
But then Dean was back, and Amelia's husband was alive… Sam did the only thing he could, the right thing.
He stepped back from that happiness and towards his brother, who he now knew he'd basically abandoned to another kind of hell. Towards danger and uncertainty in the hopes that he could find his absolution somehow, and finally be at peace. Because he knew there was really only one way to find what he was looking for.
Guilt ate at him for the direction his thoughts were taking. It settled in his stomach like ice, but he knew he'd never be able to tell Dean how he felt. It would tear him apart and he had no desire to do that to the man that practically raised him.
Sam blinked, bringing him back to the stuffy little library that smelled like little kids and mold.
Clearing his throat he tapped a space on the map with his finger. "Karen, what is this?"
Karen came bustling over, her long beaded necklace clattering madly with her movement.
Squinting through her glasses she hummed. "Oh that's the old gravel pit. Delta Construction used it back before they went bankrupt. The property reverted back to the county so it's just been sitting there, like a lot of things in this town. The paper mill closed down five years ago and I heard the lumber yard was having problems now."
Sam nodded "Have there been any disappearances around these parts, like there are now I mean?"
"Oh honey, every ten years or so people just up and vanish. Drifters mostly, but nobody ever goes looking for them. Strange really, Harrison's family has been policing this town for generations so he'd be the one to ask. I'm not really surprised though, he's not exactly the reliable type you know?" She patted his arm fondly and Sam smiled clumsily once again, edging away from her by a fraction.
"That old codger thinks he's boss hog or something, still manages to get him-self reelected every year though. I suspect he's buying the votes, but that's just me."
Karen wandered off still muttering to herself, leaving Sam frowning over that last bit of news.
There was something wrong with this town.
.o0o.
"What is it with these back woods, hick towns man?"
Sam's brow shot up as he walked over to his brother, who was leaning against the Impala.
"What, did you get propositioned by a guy with a banjo?"
Dean's brow went down in a glower as his freakishly tall little brother's lips quirked, fighting a smile.
Sam's hair and dark red tie flapped in the heated breeze as he squinted against the sun, shading his eyes with the papers clutched in his hand.
"Well, evidently there have been reports of missing drifters like this before." He said as Dean scanned the area around them, his arms crossed over his chest.
"How many are we talkin about?"
"Uh, for the last sixty years, every ten years, about seven to ten people each time." Sam offered him the notes he'd made.
"Damn" Dean said taking the papers from his outstretched hand.
"Yeah" Sam huffed out. "And get this, the Sheriff inherited his candidacy."
He caught Deans look and nodded.
"Yep, all the way back to 1952, explains why he doesn't think it's that big a deal."
Dean huffed "Shit, and here I was thinking it just cut into miller time." He shook his head.
"I hate when this happens."
Sam looked around through the slits of his eyes "Seems like the old rock quarry is the place to scope out, it hasn't been used in years and it's big enough to hide a semi-truck and trailer."
Dean pushed himself to standing, folding the papers he held in half, gesturing with them.
"Tommy boy from the sip-n-go said diner chick headed out that way earlier. I say we slip out of these monkey suits and get down to business."
Sam agreed, waiting for Dean to round the car before opening the passenger side door.
"I just hope we don't have another missing persons on our hands."
A/N: I hope you enjoy the story. Please leave a review if you did so I know how I'm doing!