July 17, 2012
Gainsburg, Iowa
Some Run Down Motel
If Sam had to list the one thing that he admired most about his brother, Dean, it was the fact that the Dean was one of the most stubborn fools Sam had ever met (if not the most stubborn). As much as the youngest Winchester hated to admit it, he admired that fact about his brother. Even after everything he had been through, Dean kept pushing on. Above all else, the oldest Winchester had a certain... grace about him. Sure, picturing grace in conjunction with Dean Winchester would make even the most hard-faced angel laugh (which that happened more than once, ie Castiel), but that is the only word that can accurately describe Dean.
"Son of a bitch!" Dean said through a yell, almost by que.
That, and dimwitted.
Sam chuckled to himself and looked over his laptop. "What did you do this time?"
"Oh, nothing," Dean huffed as he sucked on his finger. "Just slammed my finger in the fucking door. Damn, that freaking hurts!"
Sam cocked his head to the side and held back a laugh. "You are cussing and swearing up a storm because of your finger?"
Dean paused, looked at Sam for a moment before he said, "Yeah, well when you put it like that..."
Yeah, gracefully ungraceful, Sam thought to himself as he went back to his laptop.
The oldest Winchester took a look at his brother before he chuckled and sighed. It had been nearly four weeks since Castiel "vanquished" the Lucifer in Sam's mind. As the days went by, Dean was starting to see the brother that he thought was lost forever. Sure, Sam isn't innocent like he was in his Stanford days. However, that undeniable Sam Winchester glimmer was back in his eyes. That hopeful look that made Dean smile from ear to ear and sick to his stomach at the same time. It was nice to see that again.
But, Cass...
Dean tries to not think about it. He tries to not think about the sacrifice that Castiel made for Sam. However, every now and then, that haunting thought comes to the surface of Dean's consciousness. And, every time that the thoughts do come, the oldest Winchester doesn't know what to do. Like now, when Sam is reading the obits trying to find a case. Or, when Sam brings Dean his favorite kind of coffee from Starbucks. Or when Sam scolds Dean about looking at the latest edition to Japanese porn (which he does just to get a rise out of Sam. Makes Dean nearly die of laughter every time).
None of it would be possible if it wasn't for Castiel. And Dean is forever grateful.
"This is odd," Sam said as narrowed his eyes at his laptop.
"Huh?"
Sam looked at Dean and turned his laptop towards his brother. "This. I was just going over the obits and there hasn't been a single death in two weeks."
Dean looked at the laptop and frowned slightly. "Yeah, that is weird. But, so? Ya know, it isn't unheard of."
"True," Sam said after he scoffed. "But, take a look as to where I am reading."
Glancing over the article that Sam was reading, Dean stopped when he found the city's name. "San Francisco..."
"More specifically, Stanford," Sam said. "There hasn't been a single death located within 50 miles of Stanford University. Not since a death that happened two weeks ago, on July 2."
"Hm..." Dean said thoughtfully. That is weird, especially in San Francisco. Usually, in a city such as San Francisco, you can't go a day without some sort of death either by natural causes or crime related. Dean's mind instantly went back to a case that happened a few years prior, and his stomach dropped.
"You don't think..."
"That Death has taken a holiday? Again?" Sam asked as he shrugged. "It's possible. I'm not sure though. The only thing I am sure of is that this is weird, even by our standards."
"Great," Dean said through a groan. "I freaking hate reapers."
Sam chuckled before he said, "The last death was one that was reported to have happened on Stanford's campus. One of their students –"
Sam paused and his breath caught in his throat. Dean could instantly tell that what he was going to hear next was something he wouldn't like. "What?" Dean asked.
"Well," Sam said as he cleared his throat. "The student that died... I knew her. Or, I should say Jess knew her. They were friends. Jess was an upperclassmen when the student came onto campus. Mariah. Yeah, that was her name. They became really close: They studied together and everything. God... To think that she committed suicide..."
"Suicide?" Dean asked.
"Yeah... says that she managed to sneak a handgun onto campus."
"Um... why the hell was she on campus? It's summer for crying out loud."
"Mariah had no family," Sam said. "She was put into the system for foster children when she was five years old. Never got adopted. Because of that, she usually stayed on campus during holidays and the like."
"Damn," Dean said as he hunched over the table. "That's gotta be rough."
"It was. She never really got over it. Abandonment issues and the like. Every now and then, Jess would try to get her to talk about what happened to her parents. Her family. But, she would always close up tighter than a clam. In the end, Jess just gave up."
"How did she even get the gun on campus? I mean, Stanford has security and stuff like that, right?"
"Yeah," Sam said before he smiled. "But she was resourceful. Very stubborn. And, above everything else, she was smart. If she wanted something, she would get it. No questions asked. But, why she would kill herself... God, I have no idea."
Dean leaned back in his chair and sighed once more. A suicide is never a pretty thing, both because of what it does to the spirit/hunting world, and what it does to the mortal realm. Every time there is a suicide, the whole works (both spiritual and physical) gets clogged up and gets all "screwy." For the physical world, it is traumatic for all parties involved: Everyone is scarred in one form or another. For the spiritual/hunting world, it almost acts like a backed up sewer: Everything starts to spill out of the pipework and desecrate the surrounding areas. And the plumbers are hunters that are in the surrounding areas. Some of the hardest cases Dean ever worked were suicide-related, and he has grown to dread them more so than the normal civilian.
The oldest Winchester looked at his brother and could tell that Sam was troubled by what happened. Dean knew Sam pretty well and could tell that there was one thing one Sam's mind: Why?
"Dean, I know you don't like to do stuff like this, but..." Sam said finally.
"But, you want to go Stanford and see what's going on," Dean said, finishing Sam's statement. "Ghost or no ghost."
Sam smiled slightly before he nodded and said, "Yeah. I would like that."
"Yeah, I figured as much."