Once again, a huge, huge thank you to everyone who's showing interest in this! You're all so amazing!

A Case of Frost

Chapter 5: Cold Stories

"Get up," said Sam, kicking Dean's bed.

His brother jolted awake, reaching for the gun under his mattress. When he found no immediate threat, he glanced at the ticking alarm clock between the beds and groaned, smooshing his face back under his pillow.

"Somebody had better be dying, Sammy," he growled. The effect was killed, though, when his voice came out muffled and a bit nasally. "Damn it, it isn't even six yet."

"Somebody's dead," Sam replied, and felt satisfied when his brother lifted his head back up. "Another victim, Mrs Tina Birch. Two hours ago."

Dean took no time getting ready, and then they were on their way to the crime scene. The snow had stopped overnight, making for a clear, bright morning. And despite the overnight blizzard, the roads were mostly clear. Dean managed to navigate the car easily through the streets, only a small amount of snow getting in his way.

The Birch family's house was swarming with forensics when they arrived. The brothers got inside without issue after flashing their fake badges, and beheld the gory scene.

"Notice anything different here?" asked Dean sarcastically.

The woman on the floor, the puddle of blood in the carpet, the twisted bed sheets. All were identical to the descriptions of previous crime scenes. Unlike the others, though, was one small addition. The bottom of the bed and the carpet beneath was coated in a thick layer of ice, gleaming brightly under the flashes of cameras.

"That wasn't in the other reports," said Sam.

"Same as the frost in Mark's room?"

"Looks like it." Something he hadn't thought of earlier struck him. "It would make sense," he said quietly, "Ghosts of children who died in a frozen lake, leaving ice with their victims."

"But why didn't they leave it at the other murders?"

"Maybe," said Sam thoughtfully, "this is a warning. If they have to keep killing, it obviously means that their message isn't getting across. They're being louder about it."

"Angry ghosts are the worst kind of ghosts," Dean complained, "Right, so did Mrs Birch have a kid?"

Sam went over to talk with one of the detectives for a few brief minutes, before returning to Dean's side. "A daughter, Sarah. And from what Detective Parks just told me, we might be wanting to have a chat with her."

"Why?" asked Dean. They were already making their way out of the house.

"Well, apparently, Sarah showed up at her neighbour's house this morning. She was panicked and told them to call an ambulance immediately."

"So she discovered the body."

"No," said Sam, "Actually, Sarah didn't even know what had happened to her mother until after the police arrived."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, that's not suspicious. So where is she now?"

"Still at her neighbour's, under police supervision. Her father has been taken in for questioning."

"Let's go visit her, then."

Sarah was still a mess when they met her. Sam guessed that she hadn't stopped crying all morning. Nevertheless, she stared the brothers down bravely, only a wobbling of her bottom lip and trembling of her voice an indication of how she really felt.

"Hi, Sarah," said Sam gently, "I'm Agent Carter and this is Agent Reid. We just have a few questions, okay?"

"O-okay."

"Can you tell us exactly what happened when you woke up? How did you know to call the police?"

Sarah swallowed nervously. "I don't know. I heard Mom screaming and I got scared. So I ran here because Mrs Andrews is always really nice and I thought she'd help."

"Why did you come here?" asked Dean, "You didn't go see what was happening in your parents' room?"

"No," said Sarah shakily, "I wa-was scared."

"It's okay, Sarah," said Sam, "You're being very brave. Now, did you see anything in your house? Anything unusual?"

There was a moment of hesitation that tickled at Sam's instincts before she answered. "No."

He glanced at his brother, and saw that he had also noticed. She was lying? Sam didn't press the issue, however. "Sarah," he said slowly. The theory about the ghosts', if it was ghosts, motivation was strong in his mind. "Was your mother…good to you? Did she ever try to hurt you?"

The girl's eyes widened at the implication. She was smart for an eleven year old. "No! My mom never did anything like that. She wouldn't!"

Her voice was honest, as was her face. She wasn't lying. Sam frowned. If her mother wasn't a threat to her, why would the ghosts kill her? This meant that they would have to rethink their theory.

"Is there anything else you can tell us? Do you have any idea of what might have done this?"

Sarah bit her lip.

"Any…monsters?" Sam tried.

Her eyes widened again and she leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially. "You know about the monster? Mom said it wasn't real. But it got angry and hurt her."

"It's okay," Sam assured her quickly, "Your mom was right. The monster isn't real. No such thing, right?"
He tried to smile at her, but her eyes filled with tears again.

"Are we done here?" muttered Dean so that only Sam could hear. He looked extremely uncomfortable.

"Yeah, we're done," Sam replied, "Thank you, Sarah. You've been very helpful."

Sarah nodded, and when the brothers left the living room, Sam saw Mrs Andrews sweep in to pull her into a hug.

"This case just keeps getting weirder and weirder," said Dean on their way out. Sam could only agree.

Outside the house, a small crowd of kids had gathered. They were dressed in warm clothes, scarves and beanies layered over their coats. They were talking quietly to each other. As Sam and Dean walked by, one of them looked up. He was a boy about Sarah's age, and he held a wooden sled up in front of him.

"Did you just see Sarah?" he asked.

Sam was surprised at the question. "What?"

"Sarah," he repeated, "Is she okay?"

He wasn't sure how to answer that. "Are you two friends?"

"We all are," the boy said, gesturing to the other kids, "But no one will tell us what's going on. Did her dad get hurt, too?"

"Her mom did," Dean replied for Sam, who felt like he couldn't speak around the lump in his throat.

The kids' faces all fell. One larger girl looked close to tears. "But he promised no one else would get hurt!"

"Who promised?" asked Sam.

The boy with the sled nudged the girl. "Cupcake," he growled. It took a moment for Sam to realise that it was the girl's name.

"But he promised, Jamie," Cupcake said, her voice breaking slightly, "He promised he was going to protect us!" The last part was almost a wail. But then her face softened. "I'm sorry. I know it wasn't his fault."

"Who?" Sam asked again.

"No one!" the boy named Jamie snapped.

"Is there something you can tell us about our investigation?" asked Dean. He put on the voice that Sam recognised as his most authoritative.

"No," said Jamie. He was lying through his teeth, Sam could tell. "We're going to go play now. Right, guys? We're going to have some fun."

A murmur spread through the group, and the kids shuffled off towards the park down the street. They were soon enthralled in a snowball fight. One of the kids, though, looked familiar to Sam. He nudged his brother.

"Is that Mark?" he asked, pointing.

Dean squinted, and saw the boy Sam was gesturing at. "Looks like it."

"Is it just me, or does he look like he's having way too much fun?" And it did. The boy was laughing more than any of them, pelting snowballs left, right, and centre.

"So? He's a kid."

"Yeah, Dean. A kid who lost his father just days ago. Not to mention that the thing that killed his father just killed his friend's mom a few hours ago."

"Huh," said Dean, brilliantly, "Now you mention it, that Cupcake girl is looking pretty happy, too."

He was right. Although close to tears just minutes ago, she was having as much fun as the rest of the kids.

"That Jamie knew something," said Dean, starting towards them.

"You think he'll tell us anything?"

"Only one way to find out. Hey! Kid!"

Jamie looked up as they approached. "You guys again?"

"It's Jamie, right? We need to ask you a few questions," said Sam, in the friendliest voice he could manage, "It'll really help us out. You want us to catch whoever hurt your friends' parents, don't you?"

Jamie's wide brown eyes widened further. "Of course. But I don't think you'll be able to."

"Why not?" asked Dean, "We've caught a lot of bad guys before."

"It's not that," said Jamie.

"Then what is it?"

Jamie looked nervous. "You wouldn't believe me."

They'd heard that before. "Try us," said Sam.

The boy lowered his voice. "It was a monster that hurt them."

Again with the monster. The kids were all so very sure about it.

"What kind of monster?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. A bad one."

"Real helpful," muttered Dean, and Sam elbowed him. The kid was secretive, but he was also talking to them, and he was the first kid to do so that wasn't busy grieving. He would be harder to upset than Mark or Sarah.

"Jamie," he said, "have you noticed anything weird?"

The brown eyes were careful. "Anything like what?"

Oh, he definitely knew something. "Have you smelled anything bad, like rotten eggs?" At this point the case had gotten so weird that Sam wasn't about to rule out demon involvement. But Jamie shook his head, so he tried again. "Maybe you've seen something that other people couldn't. Or heard something. Or have their been any cold spots where there shouldn't be? Colder than normal for winter, anyway."

As Sam spoke, Jamie's eyes grew wider and wider. He fidgeted and looked around nervously. Wind and snow swirled up behind him just then, like it had been disturbed by something landing in it. Maybe a stray snowball or something.

"Jamie," began Sam, "I can tell that you know something."

"It wasn't him, okay?" said Jamie suddenly, panic in his voice, "He hasn't done anything wrong! Cupcake was just angry. He's trying to protect us, really trying!"

"Who is?" Sam asked quickly, hoping he'd get an answer this time.

"I can't tell you. But he hasn't done anything bad."

"Who?"

The wind picked up again suddenly, and Jamie looked at something at his side. Sam couldn't see anything there. Then, after thinking for a short while, the boy seemed to come to a decision, and nodded. "Jack Frost."

*
Jack didn't like the two men. He had seen them around Burgess a couple of times since the day before. They were sticking their noses into everything, and he wished they would at least leave the kids alone. But right then Jack had a job to do. The kids were upset after another death, Mark was out of the house for the first time since his dad's death, and Jack could cheer them all up.

The snowball fight he had engineered was well and truly underway when the men approached Jamie. Jack continued playing with the other children, but half of him remained alert.

The men were asking questions. Lots of questions, and getting more and more unusual as they progressed. Cold spots, things that most people couldn't see. Jack didn't like the sound of it at all. He checked that the other kids were all having fun, and then flew over to Jamie, throwing up swirls of snow when he landed.

"Everything okay here, kiddo?"

Jamie didn't answer, but his expression was enough. Jack frowned at the men.

"Jamie," said the taller one, "I can tell that you know something."

And when Jamie answered defensively, panic in his voice, Jack understood why he was so anxious. His fondness for the kid only grew as he realised that Jamie was trying to protect him. Even after Jack had failed to protect Sarah's mother, Jamie still insisted that he hadn't done anything wrong.

"Who?" demanded the tall man, sounding almost desperate. It was that which made Jack realise that the strangers were only trying to help. They wanted to get rid of whatever was hurting the parents, whatever was causing the kids so much pain, as much as Jack did. And although he didn't think there was much they could do, he could respect them for it.

"It's okay, Jamie," he said, "You don't need to protect me. They probably won't believe you, anyway. Grown-ups don't believe in anything."

That was something even North and the others could attest to. The Guardians could count on one hand the number of times any of them had been seen by an adult. And it certainly hadn't happened in the last century. It didn't hurt as much as being invisible to the kids - it was just how things were, taken for granted by all of them.

Jamie nodded, encouraged by Jack's words. He looked back at the men, and answered their question. "Jack Frost."

The reactions were predictable. A skeptical look passed over both their faces, and there was a moment of bewildered disbelief before the shorter man responded.

"Jack Frost," he repeated, "You mean like the fairytale?"

"He's not a fairytale!" said Jamie. Jack smiled proudly. He could always count on the kid to defend him. "And he didn't hurt anyone."

"Right," said the taller man, "And this… Jack Frost. You know him?"

"Most of us do." Jamie waved a gloved hand towards the still-playing kids. "He gives us snow days like this."

The tall man nudged the other man suddenly. "The ice," he said quietly, and they shared a meaningful look. Jack felt oddly uncomfortable at that look.

"Thanks for your help, Jamie," said the taller man. He handed him a small card. "If you can think of anything else you want to tell us, give us a call."

Jamie pocketed the card. "Sure."

The men turned and headed back to their timeless black car. Jamie looked up at Jack.

"I'm sorry about that," he said, "I didn't want to tell them about you."

"Hey now," Jack said, taking the boy by the shoulders, "There's nothing to be sorry about. They couldn't see me, no harm done."

"I think they believed me, though."

Jack frowned. He'd gotten that impression, too. "They believed you, yes, Jamie. But they don't believe in me. Don't ask me how that works." He watched the black car drive away down the street. "I think they're just trying to help, but I have a bad feeling about them."

"Me too," said Jamie, shivering a little.

"I'm going to make sure they don't get into anything they're not supposed to," Jack said, making up his mind. He let the wind pick him up, so that he hovered a foot off the ground.

"What are you going to do?" asked Jamie uncertainly.

Jack grinned down at him. "What I do best," he replied, "I'm going to have some fun."

A/N: It's so awesome seeing you guys start theorising about where this is heading. Also kind of scary though, since I'm realising that there's a chance I could disappoint you. Nevertheless, keep up the amazing reviews!

Thanks for reading! Once again, I hope you enjoyed!