Sam gently nudged open another door then peeked past it. The furniture and décor indicated adults had slept within but above all else, a flavor of stillness pervaded throughout from one dim corner to the next. Time seemed to stand still in the space before him; it was eerie, the air of death lingered and masterfully invaded as gentle tendrils grasping deep down into his chest making it difficult to breathe.
Sam knew he had arrived at the right bedroom. However, for the first time since his confrontation with Amy's monster mother, a level of uncertainty rendered him immobile - but only briefly.
With deliberate speed Sam imagined Dean's voice scolding him - 'you are an intruder...you're supposed to feel unwelcome, dumbass' - and so the paralysis was broken. Sam squared his shoulders and shook off any remaining misgivings then emphatically stepped into the room and shut the door behind him.
First, a cursory glance around whereupon, without a sound, he strode to the opposite side of the victim's bed, got down on his knees and reached in between the box spring and the mattress. After a few seconds of feeling around, his fingers touched something he knew could only be a hex bag.
'Ha!' A small grin lit up Sam's face as he thought, 'hey Dad, what do you think of me now? Mission accomplished...now it's you who's gonna make me wait...'
Sam secured the object in his hand and just as he was starting to pull it out, detected a slight tremor from below. 'What was that?' He jerked his head up, stiffened and held his breath to listen. The floor subsequently vibrated with the distinctive sound of the front door being closed. 'Shit! The family's back!' Then he heard a female voice replying affirmatively to some question and suddenly there was no mistaking the sound of feet pounding on the stairs and up the hall to where he was!
In a single movement, Sam yanked his arm out from the bed and scuttled around the side table then pulled his legs in tightly just when he heard what sounded like two young boys - 'must be the son and a friend' - chatting animatedly as they passed by and entered into the room across the hall. 'Well, at least I don't think anyone will actually come in here,' he reasoned.
Sam relaxed his legs a little, looked down to his hand which unclenched to reveal he was, in fact, holding a hex bag. He tucked it into his pocket whereby his directive now became the rendezvous with his dad and brother. Sam then realized the boys had not closed their door and if he were to leave the way he came, there would be a great chance he would be seen.
After a moment, Sam contemplated jumping out a window to freedom and took a quick look over the sill. A neighbor's house was very close by from this vantage point and nothing but open space in between. With the risk of being spotted coupled with the possibility of a broken leg, he immediately called off that idea.
Sam shut his eyes, huffed out a breath and leaned his head against the wall. However he detested the idea of his delayed return, he decided it would be best to bide his time and wait for another opportunity of escape to present itself.
Though sitting composed, his mind was like a ship tossing on a turbulent sea. To reassure himself this was not his fault, the young Winchester went over the steps taken that brought him up to this point, because everything had gone smoothly.
The heat was so oppressive…no one was out of their dwellings and he had reached the target house unobserved. He jumped over the fence and crept to the back door...was prepared to pick the lock but found it was not required.
Once inside, murmured conversation of the officers could be heard coming from what seemed to be one of the front rooms. Pausing in the kitchen, he did not even try to decipher what was being said, rather, he just strained to hear for any abrupt pauses in their speech which would indicate his presence was detected. Looking around, he was thankful the house was not designed with an open floor plan and simultaneously decided it was the nicest home he had ever broken into.
Cautiously making his way to the stairs...having to stop only once at the sound of approaching footsteps...he willed himself to be invisible. However, no one came near and a second later he deemed it safe to continue up.
The second floor was less of a challenge for it was entirely carpeted. A long hallway was laid out before him, dim for each door was closed. He silently strode from room to room, praying for floors and doors that would not creak.
'And here I am,' Sam concluded with a grimace. 'I should have guessed I had it too easy.' Eyes still closed, he picked up on the fact that the boys were engrossed in whatever activity they were playing at and it seemed they would be there for a while.
Sitting still in the air-conditioning, the next thing Sam registered was being uncomfortably chilled with his sweaty shirt clinging to him. Miserable and bitter at his plight, Sam was inclined to further invade their privacy; he harbored an irrational need for some payback against a family that could not have waited five more minutes to return home.
He opened his eyes to look about. First object to search was the brushing against his left shoulder, the bedside table. Sam angled around, pulled open the drawer, peered inside and saw a pile of pictures with which to start. Without using his fingers, he placed a large stack between his palms and lifted it out. Then, with his shirt as a barrier around his fingers, he examined each photo one by one.
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"Where could he be," Caleb ground out between clenched teeth. He scanned the surroundings once again then returned his focus toward the sun's location; he was dismayed to see it was no longer visible.
'I can handle transient devients coming to my house at two a.m. demanding a weapon…there's a skin walker? I will take care of it…but a missing fifteen-year-old son of Winchester's...' Caleb raised his hands, palms turned up in supplication and gazed skyward through the window '…what did I ever do to deserve this?'
Caleb shook his head at the rhetorical question and mentally added, 'John, what are you trying to do to me?Honestly, I'd rather make a demon deal to get Sam out of whatever trouble he's in than face John's wrath...and Dean's too, I'm sure.' Caleb let escape a slight growl of frustration. 'I'll give him five more minutes before I go get him myself.'
Caleb glanced at the dashboard clock, another five minutes had passed. "Aw, Hell," he said as he reached for the door handle then caught sight of Sam in the distance and sighed loudly in relief. He watched as the young Winchester sped toward his location…thankful to see he appeared to be fine.
"Oh thank God," Caleb said when Sam jumped into the car a minute later. Sam flashed Caleb a contrite smile but was silent; clearly registering the fact his dad and brother weren't in the car.
"Where're Dean and my dad?"
"I'll explain it to you on the way home. What took…"
"Do you have any water?"
"'Do you have any water? Do you have any water?!' That's what you have to say next?" Caleb threw his hands up. "I've been going out of my mind..." Caleb snapped "...and you need a drink of water."
Sam sat frozen across from him, eyes still widened. "Sorry, Caleb."
Caleb huffed, reached down to the door cup holder and grabbed the bottle that was nestled inside. "Well...at least you're back, that's what's important," he said as he tossed the bottle to Sam.
Before responding further, Sam immediately needed to quench his thirst; he removed the top and took a few deep swallows. He then set the bottle between his legs and faced his father's friend. "The family came home and, oh yeah, it turns out they have a dog…which was actually a good thing for me because it needed to be taken out for a walk and that's how I could get back out."
Caleb looked properly mollified. "Sorry to hear that...in that case I take back every bad thought I was thinking just now."
Sam offered a lopsided grin in return and said, "I'm sorry you had to worry but am glad Dad decided to take Dean somewhere then...I'd never hear the end of it."
"I can imagine." Caleb looked closely at Sam and shook his head. "You are still just a kid…I don't get they include you on hunts but at the same time worry about you so much other times."
"Yeah, it's pretty fucked up," Sam replied with a shrug. Not comfortable discussing personal matters with someone he himself did not know too well, he changed the subject. "Anyway..." Sam pulled the hex bag out of his pocket "...I found this." He held up the small square of cloth that was tied around its contents. "It was in between his mattress and box spring."
"Exactly like where I found mine. Let's get back home...we'll open them and look inside."
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John and Dean had found the address easily with Caleb's competent directions. The residential area was rather thickly settled and so they parked several yards away, in front of a house that appeared to have no one home. John turned off the engine, looked toward his son and said, "we'll stake out the place for about thirty minutes."
Dean nodded, rolled down his window and groaned when he remembered opened windows did nothing to bring relief. "It's still hotter than hell here...even with no daylight!"
John handed Dean a bottle of water and said,"here, take this" then opened his own to take a drink. Once they both were sated as best as possible, John took note of his oldest son acting nervous and he knew why. He was starting to think his plan to separate his sons for the previous part of this mission was not such a bad idea but to keep them separated for this next part could turn into a disaster.
'Come to think of it, this was the first time they've been separated while both directly involved in a hunt,' John realized.
"Dean, I need you to stay sharp," John said.
Dean was fidgeting and gave voice to his uneasy behavior. "You're not worried that Sam..."
"Focus on where we are Dean," John snapped. "I mean it…not another word about Sam! Don't think I can't see it…you've been worried about him when he started acting differently since Lincoln…worried about him taking more on…I get that…but from this point on it stops, you understand me?"
Dean swallowed, "Yes sir."
But John wasn't finished. "It won't do you or him any good. I'm not saying don't watch out for him but you've got to know Sam is more than ready…what kind of future will he have as a hunter if he can't manage a simple mission? I don't know what happened in Lincoln but I'm certainly not going to question something that brought him around, doing what he's supposed to be doing in the first place. Stop putting this under a microscope...we're on a hunt now, you should know this."
John was breathing heavily when he finished his rant. He glanced at Dean once again, saw him staring at his hands resting on his legs. "I can't risk losing you or him," he added with a whisper.
Dean then raised his head and made eye contact with his father. Their expressions conveyed understanding over the truth of what was just verbalized; expressions not quite mirror images for John's contained a degree of relief over Dean's acknowledgement.
"We're good?" John asked.
Dean nodded with a small smile.
Father and son turned their attention back to the object of their focus. The woman's house remained dark throughout, even under the bright moon and stayed that way for thirty minutes more.
John turned to look at Dean. "It would appear no one is home…let's have a look inside, shall we?"
They both stepped out of the car and made their way to the back yard. Under the cover of shadows, they found the sliding glass door. And that it had been left open. They both gave each other a look of warning, an unspoken 'something's not right' and proceeded inside, activated their flashlights. Their attention was immediately drawn to a woman's body on the kitchen floor.
They simultaneously gasped in surprise. "What the hell..." Dean whispered.
"I'll make sure all the blinds are down and turn on the lights," John said.
Now able to see better, the woman appeared to have been in her mid-twenties with blonde hair and pajamas on. They did not need to touch her to know she was very cold and stiff.
"She's been gone for several hours but not long enough for anyone to report her missing obviously," John said.
Dean's face puckered as he scrutinized her more. "Look, she's holding a knife, but she couldn't have killed herself…not like that…could she?" he wondered out loud.
"I don't think she did. However, on that note, if this is the witch, how is it she had the mojo to kill three men and couldn't defend herself?"
"Unless she pissed off some other witch."
"I don't know…I would think another witch would be more creative."
"Unless whoever is trying to make it look like an ordinary murder...yet 'another cut and dry cold case' for the authorities."
"Here," John said, handing over a pair of gloves. "I got these from the hospital...put them on and we'll search the place." They opened all the cabinets and drawers. Except for the dead body there was nothing suspicious.
Some of the light in the kitchen traveled into the living room where they combed through next and continued to find only normal household items; all the books were mainstream titles.
"I found nothing," Dean announced after twenty minutes of searching.
"Shades of Lincoln," John murmured. "I'm not going to accept the end of this case so easily, witches are not as easily determined as kitsune are."
"Hunting the kitsune didn't make our highlights reel," Dean added before quickly running up the stairs. He poked around the bathroom the the bedrooms.
On her nightstand was a picture of her next to a boy. It was black and white and on closer look his breath caught. He grabbed it up, returned to his father and showed it to him. "Kinda looks like Sammy."