AN: My apologies for being a day late posting, it's been one of those weeks. I hope everyone is well.
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Previously: Dean's blood was pumping as he marched from the hospital. Jorge had not been the target. The monster had been after the kid. He'd died saving his daughter. Angry heat was flooding his body. Thea was Sammy's age, younger even. She'd given him the whole story; walking home, slipping down the shortcut to avoid an angry confrontation between some teenagers that was taking place on the main street, playing an innocent game until …
Leaving the hospital, Dean headed straight for the scene. He was going to find this thing. Find it and stop it.
Chapter 5: Called to Hunt
Dean's sharp eyes took in details as he strolled casually past the police tape that cordoned off the alley. Identifying escape routes was chapter one of the John Winchester play book. You needed both to have an out for yourself and to be aware of where a monster might go or a monster's buddy might come from.
He only saw one officer keeping watch inside the tape, but there was no way past him without a good chance of being spotted. The teen eyed the buildings either side. Thea's story suggested the monster had popped up out of nowhere. It was likely this meant through the sewers or other underground passageway. But Dean was looking to go up-and-over, not under.
Firstly, it would allow him to escape the filth and smells, not to mention the risk of these lingering tellingly on his clothes when he returned to Dad. The thought of his father caused an uncomfortable squirm in his belly. But it wasn't like he was looking to kill the thing right this moment. He just needed more information. So okay, sure, if it showed up he wasn't just going to let it wander off again but that wasn't the same as actually hunting it, right?
Moving further along the street, he slipped into the next alley. As he'd hoped, about halfway down he could see what had once been a fire escape. The lower platform hung limply by what looked like one remaining rusty bolt. There was a large dumpster further along that he thought might work. Checking he was alone, he pulled on the dumpster, digging his heels in to drag it until it was beneath the fire escape.
With only a few close calls and marginal loss of skin, he made it to the roof. After crossing it, he was able to look down on the alley where Jorge had been killed. There was no fire escape on this side of the building. He wasn't sure if there used to be one or if the builders just wanted to give the tenants of the other side of the building a better chance in the event of a fire.
There was a fire escape on the adjacent building but to reach it he'd have to jump across or find something he could use as a bridge. He estimated the distance at about two meters. At ground level it would probably seem doable but eight floors up even the thought made him dizzy.
Dean's eyes searched the rooftop he was on. There was an old ladder that he thought would be just long enough.
He lost a few years of his life when it wobbled precariously when he was about halfway across. Safely on the other side, he collapsed on his back, staring up at the sky and trying to get his heart rate to slow down. There damn well better be a monster tunnel, or something, down there. Not only did he not want to have gone through all the perils of his journey for no good reason, there was no way he was getting back out the way he'd come in.
Thoughts of Thea, her large scared eyes trimmed with tear-dewed lashes, got him moving again. Gingerly he made his way down the creaky fire escape, reassured that if a monster appeared below, it would probably only take a jump to bring the entire thing down on its head.
When he finally reached the ground he took a deep breath. He glanced to the end of the alley where the policeman was still at his post. His relief didn't last long. He sensed a movement behind him. Spinning, he thrust out the heel of his hand much to the displeasure of a second police officer who managed to block the strike but only just.
"How the hell did you get down here boy?"
Dean's eyes glanced up before he could stop them and the officer's eyes followed. Seeing the still balanced ladder he appraised the young boy.
"And now for the million dollar question, why are you down here?"
Dean grimaced awkwardly, he had nothing.
Damn, he thought as the cuffs went on, Dad was gonna kill him.
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John got off the phone and thumped the wall. Dean knew better! He was lucky it was the police that had picked him and not someone or something worse. The chat with the youths had only confirmed what the police report said. They hadn't seen the attacker. Hearing the girl scream, they had run into the alley but only caught a brief glimpse of a large figure that was gone when they reached her. At the time, their focus was on the terrified little girl. Then they'd seen the remains of her father. They'd pulled her away and called the police.
It was not long after he returned that John's police contact had called with the update of an arrest. A young teenager who'd been caught inside the police cordon, possibly trying to remove evidence.
John would be having words with that boy of his as soon as he got his hands on him. But first he needed to make a call.
Two minutes later he hung up.
Although he had his doubts, John was pleased with the level of enthusiasm there had been in his youngest's voice. He had already decided that it was time for Sam to start getting some practical experience and that maybe it would get rid of this 'imaginary friend'. There was the added benefit that Dean would be less reckless with his brother to watch. Sam's excitement to join them made John confident that he had made the right call.
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S11E08 Just My Imagination
SAM: My dad just called.
SULLY: Yeah?
SAM: He changed his mind. Wants me to come with him.
SULLY: On a... on a hunt?
SAM: Finally! He thinks I'm ready. I have to catch the next bus to Milwaukee.
SULLY: Are you sure this is what you want?
SAM: I'm a Winchester. I hunt monsters. Why would I want anything else?
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John's confidence quickly vanished once he understood the reason for Dean's excursion to the scene of Clayton's murder. From what the boy had told the police, in a panicked attempt to at least put them on the right track, Mr Clayton hadn't been the target.
The hunter forced down his emotions, trying to think practically. Lingering on the problem wouldn't help anyone. What was done was done. But the fact remained that if the daughter had been the target, this thing, whatever it was, had gone after at least one kid. John should have sent Dean back to Sammy, rather than calling the younger boy here.
He decided to head to the police station to check the case files. He could check on Dean and he needed to know if there were any other missing kids that fit the pattern.
With a little nudging, luckily the police were able to establish Dean hadn't even been in town when Mr Clayton was killed. His contact had confirmed they would be releasing the boy with a warning to curb his macabre curiosity.
By the time Dean got back to the motel, John was pinning notes on the new files to the wall.
There were a couple of possible cases, neither had been seen as potential homicides. One missing kid was subject to a custody dispute and the other had a history of running away and usually showed up after a couple of days. Of course, the police hadn't linked the Clayton murder with child abduction because they hadn't believed Thea's story of a monster. They thought it was simply the child's way of processing what had been a violent attack on her dad.
The anger, or perhaps panic, that flashed across Dean's face at being told his brother was on the way, stabbed at John's raw emotions. He scabbed them over with a dark scowl at his firstborn.
"Sammy was very enthusiastic," he accused, parrying the strike by letting the boy know he was aware of the deception regarding the younger boy's wishes. But he felt no satisfaction when the reverb hit and guilt flashed in his son's eyes.
"He's only nine, Dad." There was less force in the statement than there had been in the earlier accusing look, more plea.
John moved forward and placed a firm hand on his boy's neck.
"He's safer with us." He could see his son wanted to believe that but was still uncertain. "Check the book and find us a motel further from the hunting grounds, preferably something near the bus station so we're close when Sammy arrives."
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Seven-year-old Brady peered down the side of the old warehouse. He could hear Billy counting near the fence behind him and turned to check the other boy's eyes were properly covered before slipping into the narrow passage. There were some bushes at the end, near the old storm drain. He would hide there.
Toby and the others had all gone inside but Brady had refused. It was not, he insisted, because of the dark, or because of the funky smell. It wasn't even because of the cobwebs that caught unsuspecting interlopers right in the face. It wasn't! It was because inside the abandoned old warehouse was the obvious place to hide. Billy was bound to go there first. He'd find Toby and the others and Brady would be the champion.
He grinned to himself. Billy would never think to look down here and the others hadn't seen where he was going either. They'd probably never find him.
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After moving to the new motel and a brief but heated last dispute by Dean, John had established their new base camp and the new rules. He'd commanded that Sammy would no longer be sheltered from the cases they worked. The kid needed to help. Fine, just with research for now, but in order to do that he needed to know what they were dealing with. Dean got on with his work, shoulders back, head up, but his eyes were bright and his jaw was hard. John knew he'd adjust, he always did, he just needed some time.
"Where are you going?" Dean asked as John headed out again.
"I'm going to check all three locations. We only have last sightings, not abduction points, for the other two kids but there may be something to link them."
John knew he wasn't managing his emotions as well as he should. Dean's keen eyes were watching him worriedly. He dumped a stack of books in front of the thirteen-year-old. "Get to work. We need to know what this thing is and where it is."
Dean didn't grumble about the research assignment, instead he inspected his father in that acute way he had, checking for any signs of deception, and asked:
"Do you think the kids could still be alive?"
"You know the rules kiddo, until we know otherwise, we proceed as if they are."
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The four boys had searched every inch of the old warehouse where they had been playing. Toby had even braved crawling into a dark hole in a crumbling plasterboard to wall to check, but they'd not been able to find Brady.
"Okay, you win, come out," Billy called, just as the others already had, several times. But still Brady did not appear. Irritation was warring with worry. They had been looking for ages and it was getting late.
"If you can hear us, we're going, so you may as well come out!" The biggest of the boys yelled, hands on his hips.
Still nothing.
They looked at each other. Panic was setting in.
After a hurried argument, they split up. Billy and Toby stayed to keep looking, the other two set off, as fast as they could, to Brady's house. Yelling for his parents.
Billy looked grimly at Toby, the sudden fear for Brady hitting them as they realised that they might never find him.
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As he'd promised he would, as soon as he got off the bus Sam called the number his dad had given him. He'd thought Dad would come and pick him up but Sam was just given directions to a motel and Dad and Dean's food orders. His initial excitement at finally being allowed to join his family was fast giving way to nerves as he made his way along the two blocks from the bus station to the motel. He missed Sully and was regretting sending him away.
His heart lifted briefly at the beaming smile of greeting Dean gave him as he walked in the door.
"Thank God you're here." But before Sam could bask in the warmth of the welcome, he noticed Dean's gaze was not directed at him but at the food he was carrying. "Come here beautiful," the teen said, snatching the bag and replacing it with a large book instead, without acknowledging or even looking at his brother. Dean moved to sit at the table and ripped open the food wrappings. Sam remained in the doorway taking in the room.
In many respects it was similar to all the other motel rooms Sam had stayed in over the years except there was no effort to hide the nature of what the occupants were up to. Weapons littered surfaces, as did various other hunter's tools and pages torn from occult books. The main difference though was that one wall was covered in maps, newspaper clippings, and some photographs. Bits of string drew lines linking different items, and scrawled notes were added here and there in both his father's and brother's writing.
Dean dug into his burger with moans of appreciation, shovelling food into his mouth with indecent exuberance. Sam kept from watching by focusing on the book he'd been handed. The cover was old, worn leather. It had a musty smell and dusty creases. Opening to a random page, it didn't appear to be in English.
"Come on nerd-boy, get busy," Dean said, pausing between mouthfuls to take a swig of his coke. Sam sat at the table opposite his brother and opened the book properly.
"What am I looking for?"
"If we knew that we wouldn't need the book, would we?" Dean managed to sound condescending despite his mouth now being so full again it was impressive he could talk at all. Sam pulled a face of revulsion.
"I mean, jerk-face, what evidence do we have? Missing hearts, flickering lights, what?" Sam tried to match his brother's derision but wasn't sure he was successful. It didn't matter anyway, Dean had now added some fries to his already full mouth and just pointed in the direction of the investigation wall, though somehow managing to mumble ''itch' through his food, before opening a bag with onion rings in. He appeared to be contemplating whether he could fit one of these into his mouth as well. Sam turned away from him disgustedly.
A while later Sam was at the table, poring over the large, battered book, while referring to a newer smaller book. Beside him was a pad where he scribbled notes. Across the room Dean had spread several maps on the coffee table and was comparing sewer lines and the subway network with the over-ground sites they'd identified as the hunting grounds.
John stormed in, slamming the door behind him, removing his coat and throwing it down vehemently.
"Another kid has disappeared," he said, anger and frustration both radiating from him.
"Where?" Dean asked. His head had snapped up with an expression of queasy concern.
"Somewhere around Clifton and Sixth," John replied, passing Sam with no more acknowledgement than a quick stroke of his hair, his focus still on the older boy. "Tell me you've got something."
"Maybe," Dean said. John joined him as he marked the new location on his map then flipped between that one and another, which he'd spread out beneath. "Look, these tunnels would let you get between all the sites without hitting the street. What do you think?"
"It's worth checking out," John said. "Have you identified what we're up against yet?" Dean looked at Sam, and John followed suit. Having been pissed that his dad had barely noticed his presence a moment before, Sam suddenly wished that it were still the case. He glanced down at his scrawled notes.
"Er … no … not yet," he stumbled out.
"Right, you stay here and keep working while Dean and I go check out these tunnels," John said, already reaching for his coat again even though Dean was trying to hand him some food.
"I could come with you," Sam said, starting to stand.
"And do what?" John snapped. Sam stopped half out of his chair. "Sam, we need to know what this thing is, so sit down and find out."
"I could help," Sam insisted.
"This is helping," Dean said reassuringly, moving towards Sam. John advanced on Sam too and Dean's eyes flickered between them.
"If we don't know what we're hunting, we don't know how to kill it. Now sit down and do as you're told," John commanded.
"Why can't Dean do it?" Sam asked stubbornly.
"Because Dean knows what he's doing and follows orders." John turned away towards the door.
"Nice to see you too Dad," Sam mumbled bitterly. John rounded on him.
"Children are dying out there Sam, I don't have time to coddle you. You said you wanted to help, so shut up, and do your job. If you want to whine like a baby, do it to your imaginary friend." With that John left the room, calling, "hurry up Dean," over his shoulder. Dean scooped up the food his father had ignored and grabbed his gun. With an apologetic shrug at his brother, he scooted out after their dad.
Sam looked down at the big book written in Latin. He'd been working out what he could, using a translation dictionary, but he didn't need to look at the notes he'd made, to know there was nothing useful there yet. He slammed the book closed angrily. What was the point in him coming here if he was just going to be left in the motel like always? He stared around the empty room, blinking back the moisture in his eyes. He was half hoping to see Sully, but he had sent him away and he knew he wouldn't be back. He had chosen his family, hunting, though right at this moment he had no idea why.
His gaze fell on the wall of maps, notes, and pictures. Getting up, he moved before it. His attention was immediately drawn to the picture of a young boy. Judging by the number '2' written next to him, he was the second to go missing. He was about a year younger than Sam with the same colour hair. Children are dying out there, rang in his ears and tears stung his eyes again but he blinked them back and set his shoulders. He had to focus, he had to do his part. He was a Winchester! Wasn't he?
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AN: Apologies if the S11E08 Just My Imagination section feel clunky – I wanted to tie that moment in to the current story 'as is' (though hopefully context gives it a slightly different flavour) but to also be transparent that it is lifted directly from the show. As before text was taken from the supernaturalwiki, transcript.
As always many thanks to Meilean for her help and support and to everyone for reading with special thanks those kind enough to review, I do love hearing from you.