Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Three weeks.

It had been three weeks since Castiel, the angel of the Lord had died. Three weeks since Dean hadn’t had a good night's rest. Three weeks he had drunk himself to sleep.

“Look for help in improbable places, yeah right” Dean said aloud bitterly. The hunter was slouching on his bed, surrounded by books that, so far, had led him nowhere.

On the desk, a bowl had been toppled over with burnt herbs and incense scattered around, near a half-erased sigil.

Dirty plates were piling up on the bedside table and there was a bottle of whiskey within arm’s reach from the bed.

Dean pressed his fingers on his closed eyelids. His attempts at summoning Crowley had been pointless. Of course, he knew the King of Hell had sacrificed himself to close the rift, but he had faked his death so many times, that the hunter had hoped this was one of those times.

His mom was also gone, and Dean knew Lucifer had killed her as soon as they had disappeared through that rift. Sammy was the only person he cared about and loved who was still alive. The only one left, and somehow Dean felt aloof with him.

Most of the time, they barely spoke unless they were working a job. The last one they had was a rougarou case in Louisiana, and that was a week ago.

Sam always wanted to hunt when Dean only wanted to stay in and do researches. Oh, how the tables had turned!

Dean didn’t understand Sam’s eagerness. His brother never spoke about Cas, he barely mentioned their mom, and he always went out so early in the morning.

After another long sleepless night, Dean finally decided to get out of his room for coffee. He wasn’t surprised when he walked past Sam in running clothes heading for the showers.

“Hello, Dean” Sam greeted him with a tentative smile.

“Morning,” Dean grumbled raising his hand over his head without even a glance at his brother.

Sam’s smile faded. He sighed and shook his head.

He entered the shower room and chose his favorite stall, second to the left.

After a nice warm shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist, grabbed his running clothes, and reached his room just as his phone chimed in his shorts.

The name “Lucy” appeared on the screen, Sam tapped on her message which appeared fullscreen:

He smiled. Three weeks ago, he had met her in Jacksonville and had saved her and the children she babysat from a tulpa. They had been talking ever since. He hadn’t told Dean, how could he? His brother was always moody, anything Sam said could trigger a negative reaction and he didn’t want his relationship with Lucy, or whatever it was, to be tainted by Dean.

He put his phone on the bed and went for his chest of drawers. He picked regular jeans, a t-shirt, and a plaid shirt. He was going crazy in the bunker. Dean barely went out, but Sam couldn’t stay idle. He had to be active otherwise he would just end up like his brother: ruminating dark thoughts and spiraling downward. If he’d stopped even for one minute to think about what had happened, he’d crumble. Dean was broken, and Sam was seeing it firsthand. So obviously, he couldn’t afford to break down too, because then, who would be there to pick them both up?

Sam had spent every waking hour of every day pretending everything was okay and acting strong for the both of them. Even behind closed doors, he was keeping up appearances, it was easier this way: he didn’t have to take off the mask only to put it back on.

Three weeks… How had it been three weeks already? Three weeks since his best friend had passed away, and on the same day, his mom got lost into another dimension. Three weeks since the woman they were supposed to protect had died giving birth to Lucifer’s spawn, his former torturer. And of course, three weeks since Sam hadn’t shed a tear for any of them.

And because of this, he felt a constant weight on his chest, a bubble aching to burst. But of course, he wasn’t allowed to complain to Dean, and thus he had never felt so lonely in his entire life, that’s why talking to Lucy had been so refreshing. It was random and cute flirty texts, nothing much, but it was a ray of sunshine in Sam’s gray days.

After saving her, they had started talking. She was funny and witty, and she was always curious about Sam. She also was quite the adventurer. She had roamed the world with her ex-girlfriend, but it all ended with her last trip to Tibet, where she got a tattoo that led to the tulpa fiasco. She didn’t see it as a bad thing, though. She thought it was a funny stroke of fate that had led her to meet Sam, and though she was getting her tattoo-covered sometime soon, she saw that anecdote as utterly amusing! “That’ll teach me to get tattooed for someone! Also, it’ll be something worth telling my grandkids” she had said with a throaty laugh.

Sam picked up a newspaper he had collected on his way back from his jog.

One headline had caught his eye: Dubious circumstances around a helicopter accident see p.4. He flicked through the pages:

Sam frowned. Yes, it was suspicious indeed. He looked up the article online and the link leading to Jeremy Dupree’s story, it was good enough for him.

He went to the library where he found Dean sipping a coffee and mindlessly eating his first of two cream-filled donuts while looking at his phone.

“Erm, Dean?” Sam asked tentatively.

Without looking away from his phone, Dean grumbled a “yes”.

“I think I found us a job” Sam went on. Dean’s eyes shot up to his brother’s, eyebrows raised expectantly. Sam took it as an invitation to keep going.

“A helicopter accident. Apparently, the pilot crashed into a utility pole on purpose,” Sam explained.

Dean groaned his mouth filled with cream.

“That’s it? A helicopter crash?” Dean finally muttered.

“Yes, but the guy had been to his friend’s funeral the previous week and get this: the friend was a champion swimmer, yet he drowned… In his own tub…”

Without a word Dean held out his hand to read the newspaper Sam was still holding.

He perused the article and finally looked at his younger brother.

“What about the swimmer?” he inquired.

“Well, it’s all in here. That’s weird, right? Might be our kind of weird?”

“Mmhh,” Dean let out, setting the newspaper beside his mug. He went back to his phone.

Sam huffed and clenched his jaw.

“Well, we’ve checked out less than that…” he trailed off.

“Fine. Can I at least finish my breakfast in peace?” Dean asked.

Sam sighed.

“Sure, Dean,” he replied. He decided to go pack and he disappeared into the corridor as his phone chimed again.

Chapter Text

They arrived in Clarksville around 11 pm.

Sam checked them in while Dean parked the car. The room was a usual motel room with walls of a shabby brown hue.

Dean picked the bed that was the farthest from the door, throwing his bag on it and he headed for a shower without a word, leaving Sam alone in the main room.

Sam put his bag on the remaining bed, and took out his computer, wanting to get ahead on researches.

He waited until Dean was done and used the shower too. When he came back in the room his brother had his back turned on him and the lights were off.

He sighed, grumbled a “great” and went to bed.

When Sam woke up early the next day, Dean was already sitting at the table with bed hair and a creased t-shirt, cupping his mug of steaming coffee to warm his hands.

“There’s coffee left if you want some,” he yawned. Sam headed to the coffee machine stretching his arms high above his head, yawning, and helped himself. He leaned against the counter as Dean kept on.

“So, I made some researches, turns out our pilot was used to flying helicopters and his b—”

Sam held out his hand to stop his brother.

“Wait, researches? Did you sleep at all?” he asked, concerned.

“I had coffee” Dean replied dismissively. “As I was saying, his younger brother was there when he crashed. He’s the witness they mentioned in the newspaper. So, we should definitely talk to him, but I think we should go to the crash site first. What do you think?” he asked.

“Sure, yeah let’s start with that,” Sam replied.

Half an hour later, they arrived at the crash site.

Flowers had been laid at the foot of the broken utility pole where burnt marks appeared on the grass. Dean took out his EMF meter and the needle went all the way to the right emitting a high-pitched sound. Sam came closer to Dean.

“EMF’s going crazy here,” Dean said.

“Figures,” Sam replied, nodding towards the pole. “Look, even if this pole’s broken there are power lines everywhere,” he said looking around, “that’d mess up the EMF.”

Dean nodded with a wince and pocketed the device. He crouched by the flowers and read the notes.

“Excuse me?” a voice called, “what are you doing?”

A teenager with dark messy hair showing under his hoodie approached them, hands in his pocket. He looked at Dean defiantly.

Dean raised his eyebrows.

“What are you doing?” the boy asked again, frowning, “don’t you have any respect?” he added, reaching them.

“And you are…?” Dean trailed off as he got up.

“Seth Kaplan. I’m Karl’s brother,” he replied impatiently.

Sam intervened.

“We’re the FBI,” he said taking out his card “I’m agent Fogerty this is agent Cook.”

The teenage boy looked suspiciously at the brothers’ cards, but said nothing, if anything, he kept waiting for an explanation.

“You’re investigating my brother’s death?” he asked eventually.

“Yes, we are, and actually, we wanted to talk to you,” Dean replied.

The boy looked around nervously.

“Why me?” he paused, “I haven’t done anything!”

“No, of course not,” Sam said promptly, “it’s just that we know you were there and we wanted you to tell us what you saw.”

Seth wasn’t listening, he was eyeing Dean’s pocket where he put the EMF meter.

“What’s that thing you had earlier?” he inquired, “the beeping thingy?”

Dean tapped the pocket where the device was sitting hidden from view, then handed it to the boy, much to Sam’s surprise.

“That, kid, is an EMF meter,” he said with a smirk.

“It reads electromagnetic waves,” Dean explained. Seth took the small casing and examined it as Sam raised his eyebrows.

“I wanted to check the power in those lines,” Dean said.

The teenage boy switched the meter on and the needle instantly pointed right with a beeping sound.

“So, that means there’s power?”

“Yup,” Dean replied.

“Okay, that’s cool,” he said smiling faintly. He switched off the device and handed back to Dean. Dean mirrored his smile.

“So, do you mind telling us what you saw?” Dean asked.

Seth sighed.

“Sure,” he started. “Karl was flying his helicopter; he’s done it so many times. He loves—loved, that thing,” he paused, realizing what he had just said. His expression darkened but he kept going.

“I’m usually not there, but I turned 17 last month and he said he’d take me for a spin. We were just waiting for the perfect weather conditions. After his first flight on Sunday, I was supposed to join him…

“But he crashed in that pole right here,” he finished, snuffling.

Tears were now pooling in his eyes. He wiped his nose with his sleeve.

“I’m sorry about your loss Seth,” Sam said with a comforting smile. “So, have you noticed anything out of the ordinary that day?”

“Other than my brother crashing into a pole?” the teenager replied sarcastically.

Sam ignored the lashing out and kept on: “Anything really, was your brother acting weird lately? Did you feel the temperature dropping?”

“No, it was very sunny and very hot. And my brother was, as normal as ever… Just… Well…” he trailed off.

Both brothers cocked an eyebrow, not wanting to push him too much but obviously eager to know what Seth had to say.

“Must have been a reflection on the cockpit window, but I could have sworn he winked at me and kept smiling when piloting his helicopter straight into the pole,” he finished.

The brothers exchanged a look.

“Are you sure he headed to the pole?” Dean asked.

Seth glared “He stared at the pole and kept his hands on the stick. I couldn’t see perfectly, but he didn’t seem to be trying to avoid it,” Seth said crossing his arms.

“So,” Sam started, “we’ve heard your brother’s friend Jeremy died last week. How close were they?”

Seth frowned.

“What does it have to do with this?” he asked.

“We don’t know, yet, but we’re trying to be thorough,” Dean replied.

“They were best friends in high school. They kind of parted ways, but they still saw each other every time they were in town at the same time.”

“Is it correct to say that your brother attended his funeral last Thursday?” Dean inquired.

“Yes, we all did. Jeremy was a local celebrity we all liked him and wanted to pay our respect to his family. And to Nina,” Seth added.

“Who’s Nina?” Sam asked.

“Nina Hawthorne. She was his fiancée, they were supposed to get married right after Thanksgiving,” Seth said. “And now she’s a widow before she even got to be a wife,” he paused and added with a sigh, “They were a cute couple.”

“Do you know of anyone who would want to hurt your brother?” Sam inquired.

Seth frowned.

“No, of course not! My brother was the best, everyone loved him. He used to be very popular back in high school, but he still hung out with me, making sure I was okay,” he said defensively.

Dean put his hand on the teenager’s shoulder and squeezed it lightly.

 “Okay, thank you I think that’s all we need for now,” Dean said. “Hang in there, buddy,”

He gave Seth his card.

“Call us if you remember something,” Dean said, “anything.”

They left the site, Seth staring at them and turning the card between his fingers before pocketing it. He then crouched and arranged the flowers as he cried silently his back turned on the backtracking car.

After a knock the door, Sam saw an elderly woman’s face appear in the ajar door.

“May I help you?” the lady asked.

Sam showed his badge and introduced himself and Dean. The lady opened the door and let them in.

“Is this about Jeremy?” she asked with a soft voice.

“Yes, Jeremy and Karl. We’re looking for… Nina? Nina Hawthorne.” Dean replied.

The lady nodded and prompted them to sit in the living room while she went to fetch her granddaughter.

Upon entering the room, Dean looked around taking in the outdated décor: the frames on the wall with yellowing sepia pictures, the sofa that adorned a worn flowery pattern on which a chubby old tabby cat was drowsing, the time-beaten wallpaper… There was no way anyone under seventy lived here. But sure enough, a young woman with a blond bob cut and big crystal blue eyes appeared at the top of the stairs her right shoulder wrapped in a sling. She was wearing warm socks over her black leggings, and a white pullover hoodie displaying bright orange lettering that read “Tennessee” that must have belonged to her late fiancé.

She walked down the stairs and entered the living room as Dean sneezed.

“My grandmother told me you wanted to see me?” she asked with a broken voice. She looked at Dean and added: “Bless you.” To which Dean smiled apologetically.

Sam cleared his throat after glancing at his brother.

“Please, Ms. Hawthorne, have a seat with us,” he said in his most soothing voice.

She chose the armchair, Sam sat on the edge of the sofa closest to the armchair, leaving Dean to sit next to the cat. Dean eyed the cat suspiciously and sneezed again. Sam turned to him and gave him a look that said “Come on, get a grip!” which was easier said than done. The cat yawned lazily and stretched its hind paws against Dean’s thigh. Dean tried to sit closer to Sam to avoid any contact with it but the cat decided to climb on his lap and settle there, where it started to purr.

“He seems to like you,” Nina said with a smile that wasn’t quite reaching her beautiful eyes. “He’s not great with strangers usually, but somehow you’re different.”

“Great,” Dean grumbled. And he sneezed. The cat glared at him, annoyed at the sneezing human.

Sam looked over his shoulder, an eyebrow cocked and turned his attention back to the young woman.

“So, Ms. Hawthorne, we’re here about—” Sam started.

“You’re here about Jeremy. And Karl,” she interrupted. “Right?”

Sam nodded.

“Please call me Nina. I can’t stand hearing my last name, now. I suppose I was getting used to the idea of taking Jeremy’s and now—” she trailed off with tears in her voice. She wiped her eyes.

 “Oh, of course! I’m sorry Ms. Hawth— Nina. We would like to know if you noticed anything out of the ordinary a few days before your fiancé’s death,” Sam said.

She squinted to jog her memory and fiddled mindlessly with her engagement ring.

“I… No. Three weeks ago he received an award for his swimming performances. The County Mayor wanted to celebrate him, and have him become an inspiration to all the young people in Clarksville,” she said her voice breaking on the last word. “I can’t believe he died less than two weeks after that!” she started sobbing heavily, her crystal blue eyes gleaming even more than before.

Dean sat on the edge of the sofa trying to push away the cat that had burrowed its claws into his pants. He gave up and rubbed his itchy nose with his left hand while scratching the cat behind his ear with his right hand.

“What can you tell us about his relationship with Karl?” Dean asked.

“Well, they used to be best friends. We all were,” she blew her nose and wiped her eyes.

“This is unbelievable, how can two best friends die of freaky accidents a week apart?”

“Who said they were freaky?” Sam asked.

“Well what would you call them?” she asked. “Karl was a good pilot and he crashed in perfect weather conditions exactly a week after his former friend, best swimmer of his generation and about to join the Olympic team, drowned in his bathtub.”

Dean raised his eyebrows and tilted his head in agreement.

“Do you know of anyone who would want to hurt them?” Dean inquired.

“I thought their deaths were accidental,” Nina said suspiciously.

“We’re not ruling out any possibility at the moment” Dean quickly added.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so,” she pondered, “they were very popular, ever since high school. Everyone wanted to be part of their little gang.

“They hung out all the time. Karl, Jeremy, David, and Julian. All four of them. Getting in the group was like becoming instantly important. I met Jeremy back then, and we started dating in secret because he didn’t want his friends to see him as the sappy romantic he really was,” she smiled sadly in remembrance and fiddled her ring again.

Sam squeezed her hand and she smiled weakly.

“Thank you, Agent,” she said.

“So, could you tell us exactly what happened to Jeremy? We read in the file that you were the one who found him?” Sam trod carefully.

She sighed deeply, tears instantly pooling in her eyes. She looked away. Sam and Dean allowed her some time. Her eyes settled on the tabby cat now lying on its back purring loudly on Dean’s lap while the hunter was lazily scratching its belly, his eyes clearly watering from the allergy.

“Last summer we bought a house,” Nina started, “it’s a small house but I’m a real estate agent and when I saw it, I didn’t even bother showing it to clients, I knew it was a perfect fit for us and it was a great first purchase. We really saw a future in this house: we grew up in Clarksville, both our families live here, and that’s what we wanted for our future children.

“So, when Jeremy was off to college, I would be there decorating or planning the wedding. But on the weekends or every time he had some time off, he’d drive all the way from Knoxville and would help me with the works in the house,” she paused and bit her bottom lip: she was getting to the hard part.

“That day, we had finished furnishing my office and he decided to have a bath,” Nina continued. “The week had been exhausting: receiving the award from the mayor, visiting every school around to meet the students, meeting with a lot of town officials, and reuniting with some old friends, including Karl.

“So, he went to the bathroom and I was downstairs on the phone with my grandmother, whom you’ve met. I heard him put on some music and run the water, as usual. Then I hung up and made myself a cup of tea. I heard splashing and a crash in the bathroom so I came running and tried to open the door, but it was jammed.”

Nina was lost in her memories and kept talking not aware of the brother’s exchanged looks.

“The music was very loud, I knocked on the door and begged Jeremy to open it and to reply.  But he didn’t. So, I started banging and pushing but nothing worked. When I couldn’t hear any more splashing, I just gave a final push with my shoulder, but the door swung open and I fell hard against the cabinet,” she paused and displayed her shoulder sling. “That’s when this happened,” she explained.

“It was— It was too late, he was in the bathtub and he had stopped breathing.”

Tears were now streaming down Nina’s face.

“I tried my best to revive him” she wailed, “I pulled him out of the tub, even with my cracked shoulder, I did mouth to mouth and CPR but—” she let out a loud sob, unable to speak anymore as she cried uncontrollably.

“We’re sorry about your loss, Nina,” Sam uttered, his throat tightening at her breakdown.

There was a ruffle of fabric followed by a low unhappy meow from the cat as Dean shifted awkwardly, Nina’s eyes shot up and Dean avoided her stare. After a few seconds, she turned to Sam again. He smiled warmly ignoring Dean’s lack of empathy.

The latter cleared his throat “I’m sorry, but I have to ask,” he started, “have you noticed anything strange that day?”

Nina frowned as her cerulean eyes peered at Dean’s. Dean managed to hold her gaze this time.

“And I mean anything,” he kept on, “was it suddenly cold in the bathroom? Or did you hear any strange noise? Or smell something weird?” he inquired.

“Well, the door wouldn’t budge and then it did. The radio was on, so I couldn’t hear anything else other than the music and the splashing, it smelled of soap and about the temperature, I was in such a rush to get him out of there that I didn’t pay attention to those things—” she paused. “But I really don’t see how any of this is relevant, Agent. I told you that my fiancé, a professional swimmer, drowned in his bathtub and you’re asking me about temperature—”

Sam was quick to come to Dean’s rescue “This is standard procedure. Again, we’re very sorry.”

He stood up, instantly followed by Nina and Dean from whose lap the cat jumped unhappily.

“Would you mind taking us to your home?” Sam asked.

Nina froze.

“No.” Her eyes had turned an icy shade of blue as they held Sam’s gaze. “I’m sorry. I can’t go back—”

She shivered.

“And it’s not my home anymore. It’s just an empty house, and it embodies everything I’ve lost. I’m selling it as soon as I get the chance!” she said harshly.

Sam nodded. “Fine, could you just give us the address? We need to inspect it.”

“Sure,” she replied. She went into the hallway where she grabbed some keys into her coat’s pocket and wrote down an address. Sam and Dean joined her by the door.

“There you go,” she said dropping the keys in Dean’s open hand with a look that was both disgusted and terrified.

“I’m sorry I can’t come with you. It’s just too hard,” she explained.

“Thank you, we’ll bring them back as soon as we’re done,” Dean said.

And they left.

The house looked quaint and peaceful.

With its Cape Cod-style, its white clapboard, white picket fence, and grey roof tiles, it was obvious why Nina and Jeremy had deemed this house perfect to start a happy family. The colorful flower beds on the front yard alone were enough to give a feeling of welcome.

They climbed the three porch steps and opened the door. They were greeted by a smell of fresh paint. Sam decided to go explore the first floor while Dean went upstairs.

The first door on the left was apparently Nina’s office. He opened the next door on the right of the corridor and he found himself in the bathroom.

Everything had been left as it was. The radio had toppled over the cabinet, while some cream and other beauty products were scattered on the floor, from when Nina supposedly fell. Footprints also tainted the scene all over, but given the different sizes and their angle, Dean assumed they came from the emergency people who attempted to save poor Jeremy.

Dean also noticed some darker spots. He crouched and examined them. Dried blood. Given the broken glass all around, Nina must also have cut herself on the broken bottles trying to rescue her fiancé. He mainly focused his attention towards the bathtub where the mat was crumpled from Nina’s supposed efforts to get Jeremy out and the shower curtain was half ripped from its rod which had fallen into the bathtub. Unless Nina also pulled on the curtain, this was the telltale of a struggle and possibly the origin of the crash she had heard.

Sam entered the bathroom.

“Oh whoa,” he let out. Dean stood up and turned to face his brother.

“So, have you found anything?” Sam asked snooping around, his back turned on Dean.

“Not, yet,” Dean replied getting his EMF meter out. As soon as he switched it on, it emitted a high-pitched sound and the needle unmistakably pointed right. Dean raised his eyebrows and Sam spun.

“Well, I don’t think the power lines are to blame this time,” Dean stated.

Sam nodded in agreement and resumed his investigation.

“So, ghost?” Sam proclaimed.

“Looks like it,” Dean echoed, “and given that it manifested over two weeks ago and that the signal is still going strong, I’d say it was pretty pissed.”

Sam put the radio back up to examine the front of the device and grimaced in surprise: he had put his thumb in a slimy black substance that came out of the speaker.

“I have to agree with you on that,” he muttered with a disgusted face.

Dean came closer and examined his brother’s finger. He patted Sam on the shoulder with a smirk just before heading to the door.

“Good, you found ectoplasm Sammy,” Dean praised ironically. “Way to prove a theory,” he added halfway down the stairs.

Sam huffed, wiped his hand on his pants, and followed his brother out.

Chapter Text

As they approached a diner, Sam suggested grabbing a bite to which Dean didn’t reply and simply grunted in agreement. Once, at their table, Sam took out his computer while Dean read the menu.

“I’m starving,” he said.

Sam peeked over his computer with his eyebrows raised and looked around.

“Oh, I’m sorry, you were talking to me?” he asked with a hint of sarcasm.

Dean frowned.

“What’s up with you?” he inquired defensively.

Sam rolled his eyes and let out a heavy sigh.

“Nothing, Dean. Everything’s all right” he replied wearily. “So, I was thinking about what Nina said,” Sam started, “I’ve looked up the other guys' names and—”

He frowned.

“Are you even listening to me?”

Dean looked up from his phone.

“Yeah sure,” he said.

Sam shifted clenching his jaw and giving Dean a glassy stare.

“No, because it really feels like I’m the only one working the case and—” he was interrupted by his own phone put face down on the table which had just chimed for the umpteenth time that morning.

Dean looked at it suspiciously and grabbed it faster than his brother.

“It’s the fourth time today”, he said, “and that’s only when I was around. Who is it, Sammy?”

He peeked at the screen while Sam glared at him.

“Lucy? Who’s Lucy” Dean asked.

Sam cocked an eyebrow.

“Lucy. The girl from Jacksonville,” he replied.

No reaction from Dean.

“The babysitter with the tulpa?” Sam added

“Oh, that Lucy!” Dean smirked. “So, what does she want? Have you gotten in her pants, yet?”

Sam glared and outstretched his arm to snatch his phone.

“Give it back!” he said, finally getting a hold of it.

Dean raised his hands in surrender.

“Whoa! Easy there, tiger. I was just being curious,” he smirked, “I see you’re taking my advice seriously: enjoying life, sex, and love.”

Sam kept glaring but said nothing.

Eventually, they ate in silence, only occasionally speaking and smiling at the bartender serving them food and drinks.

Back at the motel, Dean sat, focused, at the table making rock salt shells, when his phone lit up emitting a low vibrating sound, he picked it up and went out as Sam watched him curiously from the bed.

After a few minutes, Dean came back looking grimmer than before and Sam held back any comment or inquiries.

“Hey, so I think I’ve found something,” he offered, “I’ve looked for violent deaths, and the only two that could fit our ghost profile are an old man who died in a hit and run last year and—” Sam started.

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, pressed his eyes tight, and exhaled sharply.

“Are you all right?” Sam asked concerned setting aside his computer.

“Yeah keep going, I’m listening,” Dean said in a strained voice as he poured himself a glass of whiskey and leaned on the counter. Sam furrowed his eyebrows but kept going as his brother demanded.

“So, the other one was a teenager who drowned one night in his high school swimming pool. Now, I think he’s our guy if you ask me.”

He turned his computer screen towards Dean and showed him some junior yearbook photo.

“Look,” he pointed at a shy-looking boy, “Mike Surrow, he attended the same high school as both vics. And this here…” He pointed at three other pictures a blonde girl with crystal blue eyes, a warm umber-skinned jock with a broad smile and sparkle of mischief in his eye, and another jock with perfect hair. “This is Nina, that’s her late fiancé, Jeremy, and that one right there is our pilot, Karl Kaplan.”

The information seemed to pique Dean’s attention and curiosity. He sat at the table paying close attention to Sam who kept going.

He clicked on another picture to enlarge it. It portrayed Nina whose radiant smile was in total opposition with her expression from earlier, Jeremy was gazing at her and mirroring her bright smile with his arm wrapped around her shoulders, and Karl was laughing with them, his own arm wrapped around Jeremy. On Nina’s right, a tall looking boy was apparently shouting in pain and laughing at the same time, his hand, however, was set on Nina’s hip; and finally, to his right the last member of the group had his hand clasped on the previous boy’s shoulder, which might have been the reason for the general hilarity and shouting.

“As I said earlier, I looked up the other two guys Nina mentioned. I’m pretty sure their full names are David Chase and Julian Williams. They both live here in Clarksville, so maybe we should interrogate them, see how they react to Mike’s name, and ask if they’ve seen anything out of the ordinary… What do you think?”

“Yeah,” Dean glanced at his watch, “it’s a little too late to pay them a visit, though.” He paused to think.

“Do we know where Mike was buried?” Dean asked

“Nope, it doesn’t say, but I suppose his former classmates would know…”

“Okay, we’ll talk to them first thing tomorrow.”

Dean went back to making his shotgun shells and Sam joined him at the table to clean his gun.

After a few minutes, he broke the silence.

“So… Are you going to tell me who it was?” Sam prodded.

“Nope,” Dean simply answered without so much as glancing at his brother.

Sam clenched his jaw and took a sharp breath.

“Fine,” he finally said, “but whatever’s going on with you, you can’t just— You can’t just lock me out, Dean,” he said. “I’m here for you and I just wish that you kne—”

“Look, Sammy,” Dean sighed, “can we just— Not?”

Sam furrowed his eyebrows.

“Okay?” Dean went on, “I mean, let’s work the case. It was just a phone call, man. I’m not asking you what you talk about with Lucy, and why she keeps texting or calling you— Yeah, I’ve noticed. So, just leave it, okay?”

“Whatever,” Sam replied going back to cleaning his gun. And silence fell except for the few exchanged words when Dean decided to go out to what Sam assumed was the nearest bar.

While Dean was gone and Sam was left alone ruminating thoughts, his phone rang.

Lucy.

Sam smiled weakly and picked up.

“Hey, how are you?” he asked with a weary voice.

“Oh whoa, is this a bad time?” Lucy’s pleasant but concerned voice asked.

“No, I’m sorry,” he replied, “Dean’s just being an ass again. He got a phone call and left the room. When I asked him who it was, he wouldn’t even answer me, then he diverted the conversation to talk about us, and now he’s out. Drinking I suppose.”

“Us?” Lucy repeated playfully. Sam pictured her smiling and smiled in return.

“You know what I mean,” he added.

“Yeah, I know,” she sighed, “well then, tell your mean big brother I’m not afraid of him and if he continues being a jerk to you, I’m going to kick his ass!” she laughed.

“Nah. Jerk or not, I wouldn’t dare to leave Dean in your merciless hands, I’d still need my brother after you’re done with him,” Sam chuckled.

“Good call, Big Bird!” Lucy jested. “No, but all jokes aside, I can come over to Tennessee. You know, just so that you’ll see a friendly face,” she proposed.

“That’s very nice of you, but I don’t know. I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Dean’s—”

“Hey, I’m not coming to see Dean, okay? Look, tomorrow won't do, but my shift at the diner ends at 6.00 pm the day after that. The Knights won’t need me afterward, so if I can get Rose to fill in for me, I’ll leave half an hour sooner and be in Clarksville by 10.30,” she paused and added quickly: “I’m buying dinner and we’ll have some wine,” Sam was about to retort but she interrupted with a smile: “I’m not taking no for an answer.”

He chuckled and raised his hands in surrender even though she couldn’t see him.

“Well, you’re leaving me no choice—” he said.

“Exactly. I’m glad we’re seeing eye to eye on this,” she rejoiced.

During the following hour, their conversation was more light-hearted than it had started and when Sam hung up, a content smile spread on his face.

He brushed his teeth and went to bed in his boxer shorts and t-shirt. He sent Lucy a good night text and fell asleep thinking of her.

In the middle of the night, Dean came back in a foul mood and smelling of cheap whiskey and jalapeño poppers. He emptied his pockets and put a folded napkin and a roll of twenty-dollar bills on the table. He had been quite successful at pool tonight. He undressed leaving his clothes in a pile at the bottom of his bed and, wearing only his boxer shorts, he sank into bed, not even bothering himself with the covers.

The next morning Dean woke up to a loud clang from the kitchen. He glared at Sam, his eyes still glassy from slumber and booze.

“What the hell, Sam?”

“Oh good, you’re awake,” Sam said sarcastically.

“You think?” Dean grumbled. He rolled over, turning his back on his brother.

“Dean, it’s almost quarter past ten,” Sam said reproachfully.

“So, what? I had a rough night” Dean replied, his voice muffled by his pillow.

Sam picked up the napkin from the table: it displayed a smear of red lipstick and a phone number.

“Yeah, I can see that,” he sneered as he dropped the napkin back on the table with contempt. “Okay, I’m leaving to interrogate Julian Williams in 5 minutes, whether you’re ready or not.”

Dean grunted and got up painstakingly. He headed to the bathroom.

“Give me 10 minutes,” he said.

Less than forty-five minutes later they were talking to Julian in his garage.

He had come up from under his car, switched the radio off, and wiped his greasy hands on a piece of cloth that he then buried in his tainted jeans as he welcomed the brothers.

“So, you’re saying you hadn’t seen Karl before his accident?” Dean inquired.

“Well I saw him at Jeremy’s funeral, but I haven’t seen him since,” Julian replied. “This is just so tragic,” he added, “We were all best friends in high school and now that Karl and Jeremy are gone, it’s only David and me.”

“We’re very sorry,” Sam said. “Do you have any idea as to who would want to hurt them?”

“Hurt them?!” he exclaimed half-laughing, “No, they were the best! In life and in their respective field.”

“So how would you explain that they both died doing what they were the best at?” Sam asked.

“I don’t,” Julian simply said. “I can’t explain it. It’s just a weird coincidence.”

“What can you tell us about Mike Surrow?” Dean asked out of the blue.

Taken aback, Julian’s eyes darted to him and then to Sam. Focusing on Dean once again he cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry who?” he asked squinting.

Dean took out his phone and showed him the picture from the previous night.

“Mike Surrow. You were in high school together,” Dean clarified as he pointed to Mike then zoomed on Julian’s younger face on the phone.

“Oh yeah, Mike Surrow,” he recalled. “Well, as you said, we were in high school together. He killed himself in the swimming pool. It was closed for two weeks after that: they had to investigate and empty it,” he explained.

“So, you do remember him,” Dean said.

Julian bit his bottom lip.

“Yes. Sorry agent,” he said “it’s just been a while since I’ve heard that name,” he conceded.

“So, what was your relation with him?” Dean asked.

“My relation? I didn’t have any relation with him, he was a loser!” Julian exclaimed.

Sam cleared his throat and raised an eyebrow.

“A loser?” he echoed.

Julian shifted his weight from one foot to the other averting his eyes.

“I mean, yeah, the guys and I, we were like the top shelf guys at school, and he was—”

“Below you?” Sam inquired.

“I wouldn’t say that but—” he started

“Well, you did call him a loser” Dean chimed in.

“That—That’s what we all thought at the time. We were young and stupid,” Julian replied. He looked up and stared at each Winchester fiercely.

“What does it have to do with anything, anyway? He died more than five years ago!”

“I don’t know, you tell us,” Dean said.

Julian looked at him with his eyebrow cocked.

“Look, the police said his death was an accident. So, if you’re implying that I had anything to do with it—”

“Mr. Williams, we’re not implying anything, but two of your best friends died a week apart from each other. We’re merely trying to make sure no-one is targeting you for any reason,” Sam said.

Julian snorted.

“Former best friends” he mumbled.

“What was that?” Dean asked.

“I said “former best friends”, he repeated more audibly. “Senior year of high school we started drifting apart. I wasn’t even invited to Nina and Jeremy’s wedding. Not that I would have gone anyway, but it would have been nice to get invited to that, you know” he paused. “For old time’s sake.”

While Dean was talking to Julian, Sam had stepped away glancing inside the garage and discreetly turned on his EMF reader, to check for any supernatural activity. The needle remained in the standard levels. He turned to Dean and mouthed “All clear”. Dean nodded surreptitiously. Sam walked back to Julian and his brother.

“Sorry, I have to ask, why did you all just part ways? You seemed to have been the best of friends, what happened?” Sam asked.

“Life happened, that’s what,” Julian replied.

Dean looked at him with a suspicious expression.

“Life happened? That’s what you’re going with?”

Julian sighed.

“What do you want me to tell you? That Nina and I broke up and she ended up with Jeremy? That Karl suddenly took interest in his little brother, because he realized life was precious? That Mike’s death took a toll on everyone at school, and because we bullied him and his friend, we felt guilty and couldn’t hang out with each other anymore?” he blurted out. “Yeah, well… Yes. Okay?” Julian sighed. “That’s what happened. As I said: that’s life,” he finally conceded.

Sam and Dean exchanged a look.

“Last question, do you think Mike could have any reason to be mad at you or your friends?” Sam asked.

“I don’t—” Julian started “I don’t understand. He’s dead, why is this relevant?”

“Just answer the question, please,” Dean said.

“Well… As I said, we were young and stupid we bullied him like boys do when they’re teenagers. We were the jocks he was the nerd,” Julian answered.

“How did you bully him, Mr. Williams?” Sam asked.

“Well I don’t know, we pushed him around, we made fun of him,” Julian said. “He used to draw comics, so we took his notebook. Or made fun of the girl he was hanging out with, nothing too serious”.

“Well maybe it wasn’t too serious for you, but it might have been devastating for him,” Sam said.

“I know, and I’ve had plenty of time to think about this,” Julian said. “I already feel bad enough. I still get flowers delivered to his grave every now and then, you know. And I know Jeremy visited him every time he was in town. But there’s nothing much I can do, is there?”

Dean glanced at Sam.

“Can you tell us, where he’s buried?” Sam asked.

“Erm… Sure…” he ventured.

“We’d like to pay our respect,” Sam explained.

“Okay… He’s in Greenwood cemetery,” Julian said.

“Ok, thank you, Mr. Williams,” Sam said.

Before leaving he gave him his card asking him to call if anything out of the ordinary arose, and he took his number to let him know if they had closed the case. Julian nodded, switched the music back on, and resumed working on his car.

The Winchesters decided to wait until it was past midnight to “pay their respect”. On the way to their motel room, Dean’s phone kept buzzing and flashing on the dashboard. He pretended to ignore it much to his brother’s dismay, but Sam could see the worried looks Dean shot his phone. When Sam tried to get a hold of it, his brother raised his hand to block him.

“Let it go, Sammy, it’s nothing.”

Sam’s expression closed up and he looked out the window for the remaining journey back.

The day passed without the brothers exchanging more than a few sentences. At some point early in the evening, Dean went to a bar, leaving Sam on his own since he refused to join.

Around ten-thirty, he came back and started filling his duffel bag with ammunition and useful tools.

They waited an additional hour, both captivated by their own phone: Sam smiling to himself, sitting at the table, Dean frowning and nervously biting his lips while lying on his bed, back against the wall.

When he deemed it late enough to go, he grabbed his car key and his bag. He turned around on the doorstep.

“You coming?” Dean asked his brother. “Or would you rather stay hear blushing like a sixteen-year-old virgin?”

Sam glared and followed him.

“So, Lucy…” Dean said breaking the silence in the car. 

Sam looked up from his phone and stared at his brother in the semi-darkness.

“What about her?” he asked.

“Exactly, what about her?!” Dean asked.

Sam sighed.

“I thought you said you weren’t asking about her. So, what do you want me to tell you, Dean?” he asked.

From the corner of his eyes, Dean shot a glance at his brother, cocking an eyebrow.

“Oh, come on, humor me, Sammy! I want to know the juicy stuff!” he said elbowing Sam.

Sam snorted.

“There’s nothing to tell,” he replied.

It was Dean’s turn to snort.

“Now that, I don’t believe,” Dean insisted, “Look, I saw you two kissing on her porch—right after she mentioned an ex-girlfriend, by the way. Did you get lucky and score two girls at the same time? She seems the kind of girl who’d easily be up for that!”

“Easily?” Sam retorted. “You think she’s easy?”

Dean parked the car a block away from the cemetery. He shut off the purring engine, crossed his arms on the wheel, and turned to his brother.

“Nah man, that’s not what I meant, she seems—” he was trying to pick his words wisely, but Sam stormed out of the car and headed towards the cemetery gates.

Dean grabbed the bag in the trunk of the Impala and jogged behind his brother. When he reached him, he exclaimed:

“Frisky! I meant frisky!”

Sam spun on the spot.

“How is that better than “easy”?” he fumed.

“Ah never mind, I was trying to have a conversation.”

“Look, I’m not asking about your sex life, ok, so you just leave mine alone,” Sam growled.

“Alone, huh?” Dean smirked. “Well then, I can tell you. What do you want to know?” he asked playfully.

Sam clenched his jaw and without further ado, he climbed the cemetery gates. Now on the other side, he waited for Dean to throw him the bag.

“You’re wondering about the phone number on the napkin, huh?” Dean ventured. “I wasn’t interested,” he concluded with a shrug.

“It’s not your sex life I want to hear about, Dean” Sam said.

“Good. It’s at a standstill, anyway,” he half-joked.

Dean threw his duffel bag over the gates and to his brother.

“Are you trying to Dr. Phil me, Sammy?” he asked. “You know everything already, mom and Cas are dead,” he added before he started to climb.

Sam shook his head and didn’t even wait for Dean to finish climbing before walking away to start looking for Mike’s grave.

They found it half an hour later.

Without a word, they proceeded to dig up the grave.

The gloomy silence that had set between them was punctuated by Dean’s phone faintly buzzing in his back pocket.

Thump!

They had hit something hard. Sam cleared out the top of the coffin, and he opened it with a crowbar. As expected, they found a skeleton. They climbed out of the hole they had just dug and Dean poured rock salt on the remains as Sam splashed it with gasoline. Dean cracked the motel’s matches and threw them into the open grave at their feet.

Two hours later, they were all done and Dean sat behind the wheel again.

Back at the motel, Dean got into bed right away while Sam left a voicemail to Julian, informing him the case was closed. He then hopped in the shower before calling it a night, not forgetting to send a text to Lucy.

Dean and Sam had barely spoken to each other that day and it was eating Sam up but what could he actually do? The worst thing was that they had to share such a small space. At least the next day they’d be headed back to the bunker and with all the space available they could pretend that they weren’t ignoring or avoiding each other.

Chapter Text

The next morning started much differently than the previous one for Dean: for one thing he was not hungover which wasn’t so bad, and for another, he had yet again dreamed about Cas’ death, which wasn’t so great. He woke up sweating and with a knot in his stomach.

“You’re up early Samm—” he started.

“Shh, I’m listening,” Sam interrupted.

“Well good day to you too,” Dean grumbled sitting reluctantly on the edge of his bed.

Sam turned up the radio volume.

“—third eerie death in the area in just over a week. As our reporter informs us, David Chase used to be a close friend to both Jeremy Dupree and Karl Kaplan, our two young local celebrities gone too soon. Stay tuned for more info after the break.”

Sam and Dean exchanged a look.

“You don’t think we burned the wrong bones, do you?” Sam asked doubtfully.

“No, it did say Mike Surrow on the stone and the dates matched. But he might be tethered to something else…” Dean replied. “Do we know of any living relatives he might have?”

“Well, we haven’t even bothered looking. But I do think we need to call Julian and tell him that the case isn’t closed after all— “

Sam was interrupted by his chiming phone on the table.

“Ah well, speaking of the devil…” he picked up “Hello, Mr. Williams?”

“We really should stop using that sentence,” Dean muttered. He motioned towards the bathroom signifying his brother he was going to have a shower. Sam nodded as he continued his conversation with Julian.

“Yeah, okay I hear you, listen,” Sam tried to interject. “Don’t panic, we’ll arrive as soon as possible—Ye…—Yes, we heard the news—Just stay calm, we’ll be right there.”

Sam knocked on the bathroom door

“We should go, Julian is having a panic attack,” Sam told Dean through the door.

Within the next 30 minutes, they were back in Julian’s garage. They found him pacing in front of his car and twisting his fingers.

When he recognized the car, he froze staring at them as they walked up his alley. Once they reached him, he shook their hand vigorously.

“Thank you! Thank you for coming!” he said his voice trembling.

“You have to help me. I’m going crazy,” he said. “Jeremy, Karl, and now David! I’m next! I know I’m next!”

Sam lifted his hands, palms showing in a soothing stance.

“It’s all right—”

“No! It’s not all right!” he exclaimed in a shrill voice. “You called me last night, saying the case was closed, but it’s not! David’s dead!” he panicked.

Sam put a hand on Julian’s shoulder: “We need to talk, may we come in?” he asked.

Julian was looking all around, completely lost.

“S—Sure, this way.”

He walked stiffly to his door and fumbled with his key.

Once in the living room, Sam got right to the point.

“We have every reason to think that a ghost might have been killing your friends, Mr. Williams. And if our theory proves right, you’ll be next on the list. You or Nina,” Sam added.

Julian stared at Sam with a dazed look.

“I’m sorry, what? A ghost?” he repeated incredulously.

“Yes,” Dean replied. “So now is the time to tell us what really happened with Mike Surrow,” he prodded unceremoniously.

“I don’t understand… You think Mike did this?” Julian shook his head vigorously.

“Mike’s ghost, yes” Sam replied glaring at his brother.

“No, no,” Julian sank into an armchair biting his upper lip. “No. There are no such things as ghosts, that’s impossible,” he proclaimed.

Dean sighed and rolled his eyes. Sam stepped forward and sat in the opposite armchair at eye level with Julian.

“Look, Julian, ghosts are real. So are vampires, and monsters, … And we hunt them,” Sam paused to let that sink in. “That’s what we do, we’re not really FBI. We’re hunters. And right now, we’re pretty sure that you have an angry ghost going after you.”

Julian’s glassy eyes shot up and went back and forth between the Winchesters.

“But, why? Why us? Why me?”

Sam grimaced.

“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Sam replied. “But we need your help.”

Julian was all ears and kept his eyes on the hunter.

“We think it has to do with Mike Surrow. So, we need you to tell us everything you know about him…”

Julian took a deep breath and averted his eyes.

“You have to know one thing, whatever we did, we were young and stupid and—”

“Just tell us,” Dean interrupted.

Julian nodded.

“Okay, okay. Well, as I told you, we were four best friends. Karl, Jeremy, David, and I,” he started. “I was also dating Nina at the time. She was breath-taking— still is.

“We were jocks, from the swimming team, with everything that it entails. We had the best girls, best cars— Everyone wanted to be like us. We were kings.

“But as jocks do, we kind of bullied a few people. And Mike, well, he was our target of choice. He was just dorky, asthmatic, and good at everything academics, so obviously we picked on him! He was always hanging out with that girl too. They kept whispering to themselves and drawing in a tacky sketchbook.”

“What girl?” Sam interrupted.

“I don’t remember. Chloe something…” Julian replied. “So yeah we bullied him, you know, like boys do.”

“No, I don’t know,” Sam said, “but keep going.”

“So even though he pretended that he didn’t care, Mike was just like the other guys. He wanted to join our swimming team. And with his build, you see how we could find it ridiculous.”

“Again, I don’t,” Sam replied.

Julian averted his eyes.

“Well, we told him he could join, but we wanted to have some fun first—”

Julian glanced at Sam, then Dean and kept going, reluctantly.

“So, we told him he’d need to pass some tests. They were innocent challenges really: he had to start a food fight at lunch, trigger the fire alarm, or do a keg stand, —”

“So, you hazed the poor guy?” Dean asked.

“Only slightly,” Julian protested. “We were young and stupid. We didn’t mean anything by it,” he added, but his face instantly darkened.

“So, the last thing we challenged him to do, just after the keg stand was to steal a swimming trophy from our coach’s office after hours. We all did it at some point, but— I swear we didn’t know what was going to happen!” he suddenly let out.

“What happened, Julian?” Sam asked calmly.

“He— He— I don’t really know what actually happened. But he was taking some time to come back, and we were all waiting outside of the building. After a while, we saw the janitor approaching so we ran. We met on the other side of the building and went home. We only heard the news of his drowning the next morning.”

Julian’s chin quivered.

“Do you really think Mike’s ghost came back to get us?” he asked in a trembling voice.

“Well, ghosts come from violent or wrongful deaths—” Sam explained

“But we were kids, we didn’t mean for it to happen, we just didn’t kno—”

“Mike’s ghost might disagree with you,” Dean replied. “If he deems his death unfair, he might hold a grudge…”

Julian bit his lip remorsefully.

“What can I do to explain it to him?”

“Unfortunately, nothing,” Dean said. “It’s too late now. He won’t stop until you’re all dead.”

“But you’ll protect me, right?” Julian insisted.

“Sure,” Dean sighed.

“Do you think he was the one who wrote “murderer” three weeks ago on my garage door?” Julian inquired.

The brothers exchanged a look.

“Possibly,” Sam said thoughtfully. “Was that before or after Jeremy’s death?” he asked.

“A couple of days before,” Julian replied. “Is this relevant?”

“I don’t know yet,” Sam replied.

“Is his family still around?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, his mother,” Julian replied. “His parents got divorced after his death and his dad left.”

“Can you give us a minute?” Sam asked.

Julian nodded and with his hand showed them the corridor.

Both brothers left the room.

“So, what do you think, Dean?” Sam asked with a half-whisper.

“Some things don’t add up,” his brother replied.

“Yeah, my thoughts exactly,” Sam said while making sure with a glance that Julian wasn’t within earshot.

“I mean, he died in the school building,” Dean started, “how would he travel from one house to the next?”

“Maybe he has other means of transportation. You said it yourself he must be tethered to something else.” Sam said.

“Yeah, maybe…” Dean said.

“Or possession?” Sam ventured.

“Yeah, that too… But something’s bothering me—Why now?” Dean asked. “That doesn’t make sense. He died five years ago, why would he go on a killing frenzy only now and not sooner?”

Sam frowned.

“Yeah. That can’t be right,” he said. “Or maybe we’re wrong entirely. Maybe he’s not our ghost?”

It was Dean’s turn to frown.

“What? You mean another person after the same guys?” Dean said unconvinced.

“Well, Julian did say they bullied a few people,” Sam reminded him.

“But none of them died,” Dean replied.

“Not that we know of. Or maybe it’s that Chloe, girl? What if she’s a witch?”

“Come on, Sammy. You found ectoplasm, it’s a ghost,” Dean objected.

“Ok, but hear me out. What if she somehow managed to bind Mike’s spirit to an object and unleash him on them? That would explain why burning his bones wouldn’t work,” Sam explained.

Dean paused to think.

“Okay, so we’ll start with her,” he said. He glanced at Julian in the living room. “Doesn’t it bother you that we get to gank a ghost who was innocent, in order to save his bullies?”

“Well, it’s not the first time and it won’t be the last.” Sam sighed. “But they were just bullies, not murderers. From what I gather, they were foolish, but they didn’t deserve to be killed.”

Dean grimaced.

“Well, if they hadn’t gotten him drunk, he would never have fallen into the pool to drown. She deems them responsible for her best friend’s death and she wants revenge,” he said. “I can relate.”

Sam motioned to squeeze his brother’s shoulder but Dean headed back to the living room leaving Sam’s hand hanging in mid-air. He sucked on his teeth bitterly and followed his brother back to Julian.

“Okay. We are going to protect you,” Sam said. He glanced at Dean. “I’ll be staying with you if you don’t mind, while my brother will try and deal with the ghost.”

Julian nodded.

Dean left as Sam was briefing Julian about how things might become hectic when Dean was close to killing the ghost. He told him about salt rings and warned him to stay inside them.

At the police station, Dean greeted the police officer sitting at the front desk.

“Hello, I’m looking for an address,” he fumbled with his phone. “Chloe Travers.”

The young man’s brow furrowed.

“I’m sorry, I’m not allowed to give out a person’s address just like that,” he said.

Dean smiled politely.

“Of course, what was I thinking! I’m FBI. Agent Cook. I’m investigating Jeremy Dupree’s, Karl Kaplan’s, and more recently David Chase’s deaths.”

He held out his badge and got a smile in return.

“Sure thing, sir, give me a sec,” the officer replied.

The young man stared at his screen while typing and frowned.

“Something wrong?” Dean asked.

“Well I can give you her LKA if that’s what you want, but you’re almost three weeks late…” the officer said.

“What do you mean three weeks late?” Dean asked.

“She passed away,” the officer replied.

“What? She died three weeks ago?” Dean asked, bemused.

“Well,” he paused as he counted “Nineteen days ago, yes.”

Dean nodded.

“Do you know the cause of death?” he asked.

“Yes, I remember, some officers were sent to her place. Her parents found her in her bathtub,” he said.

“Let me guess,” Dean said, “drowned?”

“No, electrocuted” the officer replied.

Dean frowned.

“Was it an accident too?” he asked.

“No, she left a note, she did it on purpose,”

“Okay, I’m gonna need this address please,” he concluded.

The young officer printed it and gave it to Dean who thanked him before heading to the car.

Once behind the wheel he called Sammy and put him on speakerphone as the engine purred.

“Hey, Sammy, I’ve got news for you. That Chloe girl? Dead.”

“What? When? How come we didn’t hear about this?” Sam’s voice asked.

“It’s because she killed herself almost three weeks ago. So now, my money’s on her,” Dean said.

“I’ll tell Julian,” Sam said.

“Okay, I’m headed to her parents’ now, ask them where she’s buried,” Dean replied before hanging up without further ado.

As Dean was about to press the doorbell a second time, a frail blonde woman dressed in black opened the door.

Dean smiled apologetically.

“Hello, Mrs. … Travers?”

She nodded.

“Yes, may I help you?”

“Yes, I’m agent Cook,” Dean showed her his badge. “I have a few questions to ask you about your late daughter, Chloe,” he said.

Mrs. Travers clutched her chest.

“My Chloe? Why?” she asked in a voice that trembled instantly.

“I’m sorry this will only take a few minutes. May I come in?” Dean asked in what he believed was his soothing voice.

“Yes, of course,” she stepped away to let Dean in, closed the door behind him, and gestured toward what the hunter assumed was the living room door.

She motioned towards the sofa but Dean refused politely, she, however, did sit.

“I’m not planning to stay too long. I am currently investigating the odd deaths in Clarksville,” he paused. “Surely you’ve heard about them?”

“No, I’m sorry, I haven’t left my home since Chloe’s passing, neither have I read nor listened to the news,” she replied with a voice as fragile as her frame.

“Of course, I understand,” Dean said. “Well, some of Chloe’s old school pals died this past couple of weeks and—”

Mrs. Travers scoffed dismissively.

“Old school pals? She had but one friend in high school: Michael Surrow,” she explained. “He was a very polite young man, a bit shy, but so was my Chloe, they were always together,” she said as her eyes filled with tears.

“Where is Sam when I need him?” Dean thought “He’s much better at this than me!”

The hunter sat beside Mrs. Travers on the sofa and put his hand on hers to encourage her to keep going.

“He died five years ago, and Chloe was never the same after that,” she sighed and a tear rolled down her cheek.

She looked up at Dean.

“I was downstairs when it happened. I was cooking roast beef for dinner, and Chloe was having a bath with the music on. The lights became very bright in the kitchen, I heard a scream and—” she sobbed loudly.

Dean froze, very aware of his lack of comforting skills, but she grasped his hands.

“And then the lights went off, and the oven stopped. Everything just stopped. It was so quiet!”

Dean opened his mouth to try and say something but she kept going.

“I’m the one who found her, you know,” she said.

“I’m very sorry,” Dean finally uttered, and he meant it.

“Have you ever held the lifeless body of your child, agent Cook?” she asked peering into Dean’s eyes.

“No, Ma’am, I can’t say that I have. And— And I can’t even begin to imagine what it’s like,” he said, his throat tightening.

Mrs. Travers sobbed and buried her face in his collar. Dean awkwardly wrapped his arms around her puny body, and she returned the embrace.

“Pray you never have to,” Mrs. Travers said, her voice muffled by Dean’s shirt. Dean swallowed hard, the lump in his throat growing bigger and bigger.

“I erm— I did lose someone, though. Recently. Not a child, no, but— someone very close.” Despite his efforts, his eyes filled with tears, and oh was he glad she couldn’t see him at that moment. “He died in my arms, and I had to carry his body to my car and I…” Dean clenched his jaw as Mrs. Travers pulled away softly. She searched in his glistening eyes, pursed her lips, and nodded.

“Then, you know,” she finally said reaching out to caress Dean’s cheek in a motherly fashion. Dean recoiled instinctively as he cleared his throat; she withdrew her hand quickly.

“I’m sorry, agent Cook. That was way out of line,” Mrs. Travers said.

Dean stood up and looked nervously around him.

“Where is your daughter buried, Mrs. Travers?” he inquired.

Her expression darkened “We didn’t bury her, she was cremated,” she said.

“May I see her room, then?” Dean asked.

The lady stood up too: “Sure, but why? My daughter was troubled, she had been battling depression for years. What could you possibly find in her room that would be slightly relevant to your case?” she asked.

“I just want to make sure there was no foul play, that’s all” Dean answered.

“…Okay. Follow me,” she said as she climbed the stairs to Chloe’s room.

She opened the door but didn’t go in. It was too painful for her to even glance inside.

“Nothing’s changed, my husband and I, we can’t do it,” she explained.

“Thank you,” Dean said. “You can wait for me in the living room if it’s easier for you,” he added.

“Thank you”, Mrs. Travers replied and she left him alone upstairs.

Chloe’s room was neat and tidy except for her desk. It was cluttered with all sorts of newspapers. Dean picked up a few and noticed one article that was circled.

“Local champion receives honors”, Dean read, “Oh Chloe.”

And over the article, written in a frenzy writing:

Buried under a stack of papers, a red notebook caught Dean’s eyes. It was a comic-book. Handmade. He flipped through the pages. It wasn’t half bad: a teenage superhero and her trusty sidekick were fighting bullies in high school.

The temperature in the room suddenly dropped a few degrees and Dean felt a chill running down his spine. When he turned around, it all went dark, and he felt a rush of pain and anger.

Someone had died.

“Cas,” Dean uttered.

“No. Not Cas. Who’s Cas? Mike.”

“Three down, one to go,” he said.

He rolled the notebook, tucked it in the waist of his suit pants, hurried down the stairs, and headed straight to the main door.

“Are you leaving agent Cook?” he heard calling from the living room.

“Mom?” Dean heard himself think.

No. Not himself, Chloe.

He stopped in his tracks and turned around. His eyes fell on Mrs. Travers and a wave of sadness rushed over him again. Something inside him wanted to run to her but he held back.

The woman peered into Dean’s glassy eyes.

“Are you okay, sir?” she walked toward Dean holding out her hand.

His expression hardened.

“I’ve got work to do, I’m sorry”.

He opened the door in a haste and fired up the car, driving straight to Julian’s.

Chapter Text

Dean knew exactly where to go. He had been there earlier, but this time… This time it felt different. He felt different. Like someone was riding with him. He glanced at the passenger seat mechanically and in the depth of his mind, he heard a girl sneering.

He slammed on the brake and the car came to a sudden stop. Fortunately for him, the road was empty.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Chloe’s ethereal voice barked.

“Get out” Dean growled.

“No, I’ve got work to do, places to be.”

“I won’t let you,” he retorted his hands clasping the wheel.

“Start the car! Start tHE CAR! START THE CAR!!” she screamed and Dean felt his feet leaving the brake pedal.

“Fuck you, bitch!” and he pressed harder.

“Now, now that’s not nice. Do you kiss your mom with this mouth?” she asked maliciously. “Oh, that’s right, she’s dead!”

Dean gritted his teeth and forced himself to turn the car off.                      
He then tried to reach for the glove compartment where he knew he would find an iron nail, but his hand slapped back on the wheel, and from deep within, Chloe pushed his head. The next thing he felt was a searing pain and a warm sensation of blood dripping from his brow ridge down his nose, where his face had slammed into the wheel.

Dean was expecting blind rage from Chloe but he was suddenly overwhelmed with profound sadness.

“Why are you doing this, Dean? Why are you trying to trick me? I see you, what you’re hiding. I know your thoughts and feelings,” Chloe said.

Dean clenched his jaw.

“How can you not get it? He died. They killed him!” she pleaded. “They took him from me!”

Dean felt a pang in his heart, he understood all too well.

Chloe kept going:

“He died because of them! I can’t let that go, Dean! I just can’t!” she cried.

Though his head was pulsating with pain, Dean couldn’t help but feel a kinship towards Chloe.

“You of all people should understand—”

“Shut up! I can’t believe I finally get to live out the plot of a Swayze movie and I get cast as Whoopie friggin’ Goldberg!”

“I need you, and you need me. You understand the pain, you understand the anger,” Chloe said inside Dean’s head. “And most of all, you understand payback.”

Dean grimaced, he knew she was right, but he couldn’t admit it.

Chloe kept going:

“You feel it, I feel it. So, let’s work together, Dean. It’s really easy, you just have to sit this one out…” she trailed off.

“No, I—” Dean felt his conviction weaken as Chloe continued.

“If you do, I’ll be calling the shots. And you can go to your happy place, where nothing hurts,” she said enticingly.

Dean scoffed, getting his grip back for a minute.

“Well, if you really knew me, you’d know I don’t have a happy place, so you should FUCKING LEAVE ME!”

That burst of anger felt alien. His own angry feelings were swirling around in his head mixed with Chloe’s.

“YOU’RE DEAD! AND YOUR LITTLE BOYFRIEND’S BEEN DEAD FOR YEARS, JUST FUCKING MOVE ON ALREADY!” he shouted.

A woman walking her dog nearby quickly changed direction glancing at Dean with fear.

“Like you could ever move on from Castiel!” Chloe hissed in an unnaturally deep voice.

The words echoed and repeated inside of him. His heart tightened at the mention of the angel.

“Stop lying to yourself, and stop lying to me, Dean. I know everything. How empty you feel. How the world has gone dark. You’ve lost your one good thing.”

His head reeled. That was a lie and he wanted to remind her that he still had another good thing.

“No… Sammy—”, he protested.

“—doesn’t get it. He doesn’t get us. We’ve lost someone special and Sammy doesn’t even care. What has he done since Cas’ death?” she said perniciously.

And Dean knew she was right because that was exactly how he had been feeling since he’d wrapped Castiel in his trench coat and buried him to the ground, hoping to bring him back.

“Shut up, please. Just— Just stop.” Dean begged.

“You and I, we’re the same. And we need vengeance. We need it!”

Dean felt a tear rolling down his cheek, not sure who it belonged to. He painstakingly started the car and headed to Julian’s house.

**

Dean parked in front of the house. He checked himself in the rearview mirror and wiped the blood off his face. He made sure that the notebook was still tucked in his waistband and inhale deeply.

“Let’s do this,” Chloe thought.

He knocked on the main door and after a few seconds, he heard movement on the other side and saw a tall silhouette appear through the window.

“Sammy it’s me, let me in,” Dean said.

The door opened and Sam stepped aside to let his brother in.

“Any news?” he asked

“Is everything in place?” Dean asked avoiding the question.

“Yes, Julian’s in the garage. We were waiting for you,” Sam said.

Dean headed to the garage. As they entered, Julian stood up from his chair which was surrounded by a ring of salt.

“So, is it that Chloe girl?” Julian asked nervously.

Dean’s eyes darted to Julian at the mention of Chloe.

“I don’t know, she was cremated,” he said eyeing the ring on the ground.

“Erm, that doesn’t mean she’s not the one, Dean” Sam argued.

“No, of course not. It’s just— I couldn’t find anything that would tether her in this plane, so I figured she might want to come here and finish the job” Dean said.

“But you won’t let her, right?” Julian asked, his eyes moving from Dean to Sam nervously.

They heard a sudden crash in the upper-floors.

“What was that?” Julian panicked.

“Sammy, go look upstairs,” Dean instructed.

Sam frowned at his brother’s tone but did as he was told. Somewhere in the house, a radio had started playing.

When his brother left, Dean turned his back on Julian who had sunk on the chair. He took the sawed-off shotgun that Sam had left for him on the stained workbench and weighed it up.

“So, what are you going to do to kill that bitch?” Julian asked.

Dean’s eyes shot up and he glared at him his nostrils flaring.

“Whoa, bitch, really?”

“Well, I kind of resent people who want to kill me,” Julian explained.

“Well, maybe you should have thought of that when you killed Mike,” Dean retorted.

Julian’s expression darkened.

“I told you it was an accident. We didn’t mean for him to die,”

“Mmh, that won’t bring him back though, will it?”

Dean crouched to tie his shoe. He glanced at Julian who was worriedly looking at the door, and with the end of his shotgun, he scraped the salt ring, breaking it minutely.

“Do you think she’ll come?” Julian asked.

“Oh sweetie, I’m already here” Dean replied.

Julian turned to face him horrified, but Dean was already on him.

The radio turned on, the light flickered, the door slammed and the temperature dropped all at the same time. The hunter grabbed Julian by the neck, choking him so he wouldn’t call Sam for help.

“Let…me…go,” Julian gargled.

But Dean was already leading him to a circular saw that had just started whirring.

As he was being pulled to the workbench, Julian managed to kick the chair down which fell with a loud crash.

“Did you really think you’d gotten away with it? Did you really think no one was watching? Guess again, chlorine boy!” Dean spat.

“Please—No!” Julian managed to utter. “I’m so sorry, please Chloe, stop!”

“Oh, so it’s Chloe now? I’m not a bitch anymore?” Dean said.

Dean had put Julian’s head against the workbench and he was forcing it toward the whirring saw. Only a few inches left…

He heard a bang on the door.

“Dean?! Are you okay? The door’s jammed” Sam shouted from the other side. He tried to break the door again.

Dean turned his attention back to Julian and grinned with a wild look in his eyes. He maintained his chokehold as Julian squirmed.

“She’s here Sammy, but I’ve got her!” he said with a smirk.

“HEL—” Julian cried out seconds before Dean slammed his head on the workbench.

“Shut the fuck up, this will be over soon,” Dean whispered with a clenched jaw.

Sam banged on the door a third time and Julian started sobbing loudly.

“HE’S TRYING TO KILL ME!” he bleated.

“DEAN!!” Sam shouted, and with a final push, the door gave in as he regained his balance in the middle of the garage. He quickly assessed the situation and aimed his shotgun at his brother. Dean waved his free arm and the hunter was sent flying against the back wall. With a painful “oomph” he let go of his weapon.

Dean tightened his grip on Julian’s neck.

“Go to sleep,” he hissed, and sure enough Julian’s eyes closed.

Dean walked over to his brother and kicked his shotgun away. Sam painstakingly tried to stand up, but Dean grabbed him by the neck and slammed him on the wall.

“Sammy’s been a bad boy,” Dean said. “He nearly shot his brother and won’t let us kill a murderer.”

Sam put his hand on his brother’s.

“Dean, please, you’re possessed, you’re stronger than this, you can fight this,” he said. “I know you’re in there somewhere, you can’t let that happen,” Sam pleaded, but his brother’s grip tightened around his throat.

“Dean’s not here at the moment, but you know what, Sammy? He actually did agree to this,” Dean’s voice was distorted and Chloe’s was piercing through in a very unnatural way.

“No. I know my brother, you bitch. Let him go!”

Dean sent Sam flying across the room and rushed before he could even get up in order to straddle him.

“ENOUGH WITH THAT WORD!” Dean roared with Chloe’s voice piercing through once again. The radio sang even louder and the ceiling lamp showered them with sparks.

“You think you know your brother, but you have no idea!”, he punched Sam without him even fighting back.        
“He’s hurting so much,” Dean continued. He landed another punch.        
“You see Sammy, I know his pain because I feel it too, we get each other,”

“It —am t—you,” Sam uttered.

“What was that?” Dean asked cocking an eyebrow.

“It’s Sam to you,” the hunter replied defiantly.

One final punch from his brother and Sam was on the verge of being knocked unconscious.

“Chloe. You don’t want to do this. There’s another way,” Sam pleaded.

“No there’s not! The most important person in my life is dead! And scums like him get to live!” Dean pointed an accusing finger toward Julian and turned to Sam again. A tear was rolling down his cheek. A black tear, full of ectoplasm.

“We can’t let that go, there’s a hole in our lives and nothing to fill it with, well except, killing little fuc—”

Sam covered his face: Julian had shot Dean in the back with rock salt. Sam gathered his strengths and pushed his brother away. Dean fell on his side, his eyes wide with shock.

Chloe materialized next to Julian.

“That was very rude, and a bad idea,” she snarled.

Julian screamed as she plunged her arm into his chest, clutching his heart. He let go of the shotgun.

Sam took a crowbar from the pegboard and swung it through Chloe’s transparent form. Julian collapsed and Chloe dissipated.

He turned to his brother who was still coming to his senses on the ground.

“Dean! What are you doing?!” Sam called out.

Dean’s eyes shot up to his brother, with an empty stare. Sam crouched beside Julian to make sure he was still breathing.

“How do we kill her?” he pressed Dean.

Dean looked around with glassy eyes and finally came out of his torpor. He remembered the notebook that was still tucked in his waistband. He took it out, and just as he was about to toss it to Sam, Chloe appeared between them with the saddest expression on her disembodied face. Dean hesitated for one second. It was one second too many. She spun and punched Sam with the back of her hand, knocking him out. She then proceeded to plunge her hand again into Julian’s chest who gasped awake with pain.

Dean stared at them and finally, very slowly, he took his lighter out.

“Don’t do this, Dean,” Chloe pleaded. “He needs to be punished; you know he does.”

Again, Dean hesitated, but a squirm and a gargle from Julian helped him decide.

His throat tightened.

“I’m sorry, Chloe,” he murmured, and he lit the notebook on fire.

With a sizzling sound and a shriek, she went up in flames in a split second, just as Sam sat up. He got to his feet and helped Julian up. The latter coughed and clasped his chest.

“Thank you,” he uttered. Dean left the garage without a word.

**

A few minutes later, Julian walked Sam out, as Dean was waiting, leaning on Baby, absorbed by his phone. When he saw them, he shut off the screen and crossed his arms, still clutching his phone.

“—Yes, yes, everything’s fine now, she won’t bother you anymore,” Sam said.

Julian thanked him profusely again and shook his hand with both hands.

Sam smiled and headed toward the car.

“Take care of you, Julian,” he said.

The latter waved to the brothers and Dean nodded goodbye before he walked around the car to sit behind the wheel. His phone buzzed in his hand which didn’t go unnoticed by his brother; he set it on the dashboard and Sam caught a glimpse at the screen that read “8 missed calls”. He frowned.

On the drive back to the motel Sam was thoughtful.

“There’s still one thing that I don’t understand,” he said breaking the silence.

Dean didn’t reply, so he took it for an invitation to keep speaking.

“I get that she was tethered to the notebook, but how did she manage to kill Jeremy, Karl, and David? They obviously didn’t have it with them when they died,” he ventured.

“It was the radio waves,” Dean replied sternly.

“The radio waves?” Sam pondered.

“Yes, she killed herself with an old plugged-in radio; she died and came back through the radio waves,” Dean explained. “That’s why Nina heard music before Jeremy died, he obviously was listening to the radio in his bath. I suppose Karl had a radio in his helicopter and they found one in David’s kitchen where he died. Also, that’s where you found ectoplasm at the lovely couple’s house, remember?”

Sam nodded.

“And, how do you know all this?” he asked.

“She was in my head Sammy, she could hear my thoughts and I could hear hers,” Dean said.

Dean’s phone buzzed on the dashboard again.

“Nine missed calls,” Sam counted mentally.

Dean parked in front of their motel room door.

**

On their doorstep, Dean exhorted his brother not to wait for him. Sam cocked an eyebrow, but he complied reluctantly. As he closed the door, he saw his brother reaching for his phone in his back pocket.

**

Ten minutes later, as Sam was sitting at the table his computer opened in front of him, he eyed Dean curiously and immediately noticed a shift in his brother’s attitude.

He watched Dean as he reached for his second duffel bag under his bed and settled it on top of it; he went to the bathroom and came back with his clipper and his toothbrush, he then proceeded to pick up his clothes on the back of the chair and shoved them into his bag.

“Is everything okay?” Sam inquired.

“Yeah, sure, why?” Dean replied absentmindedly. Upon realizing his own behavior, he stopped in his tracks.

“Why aren’t you packing, Sammy?” he asked.

Sam straightened up on his chair and cleared his throat.

Without taking his eyes off of Dean, he asked:

“Why the rush? I don’t need to pack now, plus, we’ve paid for one more night here,” he said. “I wouldn’t say no to a good night's sleep…”

Dean huffed and kept gathering his stuff.

“I miss my bed,” he lied, his back turned to his brother.

Sam gave a lopsided smile.

“And I’m supposed to buy that?” he retorted.

Dean spun.

“What? What do you mean?” Dean asked feeling less confident.

“You’re telling me it has nothing to do with your new obsession with your phone, then?” Sam inquired.

“No, it doesn’t. And I’m not obsessed.” Dean paused. “Just—let it go okay? Job’s done, there’s nothing more to do here. So, let’s go, stat!”

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on,” Sam stated crossing his arms, a visible tension in his jaw.

“I—”

Dean scoffed and bit his lip in frustration.

“D’you really want to know?” he asked wearily as he sat on the bed.

“Yes, Dean! I really want to know!”

“Okay. Well, I’ve been talking back and forth with Peterson, I put an APB on Jack a couple of weeks back and he told me he might have a lead.” Dean explained.

Sam cocked an eyebrow.

“So, the phone calls and messages were from him: he’s just confirmed his lead. So, we’re going,” Dean finished.

“What… W—Why would we go after Jack? He said he’d let us live if we didn’t stand in his way,” Sam said, puzzled.

“I just think he might be able to help us,” Dean explained.

“Help us?! Do what?!”

Dean’s expression darkened.

“What do you think?” he jeered.

“I don’t know what to think, Dean! But you got me worried!” he paused. “Look, we have no idea if he’s one of the good guys, but last time we met, he told us he’d kill us. Now, I’m not one to be scared by threats, but I don’t think we should go running ahead blindly and unprepared,” Sam lectured.

Dean clenched his jaw. “You don’t understand.”

“Trust me I do,” Sam soothed, raising his hands, palms showing, as he tried to defuse the situation. “And I want to help you get through it, but this? This hardly seems like a good idea!”

“Fine, suit yourself. She was right, you don’t get it,” Dean said as he was shoving items into his bag.

“Then tell me, Dean! I want to get it! I want to get you!” Sam pleaded.

His brother ignored him and Sam sighed, powerless.

“Does it have to do with Chloe? Because she said—” he ventured.

“Please, it hasn’t nothing to with her,” Dean snapped.

Sam nodded biting his bottom lip.   
“I miss him too, you know? I miss them both” he added as his shoulders drooped and a sad pained smile appeared on his face.

Dean scoffed and shook his head.

In the span of a millisecond Sam’s expression shifted from sad, to offended, to angry.

He slammed his computer shut as he got up in a huff. His brother only glanced at him from his bed, not paying much attention.

“You know what, Dean?” Sam started, “I’ve had it up to here with you and your grief!”

Dean looked up glaring, Sam was pointing an accusative finger at him.

“You’ve been a jerk since Cas’ death, but guess, what? You’re not alone in this! Also, stop acting like Mom’s dead, because as long I haven’t seen her body, I’ll still have hope that we’ll find her!” Sam said raising his voice.

“Do I really need to remind you what happened to her?” Dean asked coldly in a low voice, “She fell through the rift… With Lucifer. You’re fucking stupid if you think he didn’t kill her right away! So yes, even if we didn’t see it, she’s dead, or she might as well be Sam, just accept it.”

“I can’t, Dean. For all we know, she could have found Bobby and be alive,” Sam replied.

“Oh Sammy, ever the optimist!” Dean snarked.

“Well one of us has to be. And frankly, the fact that you’re giving up that easily baffles me!” He turned to sit back down but he heard his brother getting on his feet defiantly. Sam spun to face him again.

“And the fact that you’re ready to believe any little lie you tell yourself sickens me!” Dean replied seeing red by the second. “Also, I’m the one giving up? Seriously? You talk a great deal about Mom and Cas now, but all I hear is words!” Dean said angrily, “what do you do for them, huh? If you really believe that she’s alive, why aren’t you going after her, trying to find her?” he paused. “And if you really are sad that Cas is gone, why aren’t you trying to get him back?” he paused, expecting a reaction from Sam. When he received nothing but a red-hot glare he kept on:

“See, I’m busting my ass trying to find a solution, and if you cared about them as much as you claim, you’d do something t—”

A right hook landed on his jaw. Dean lost his balance and tripped on the bed.

He glared at his brother, at a loss for words. Sam glared back and said through gritted teeth:

“Never say that again, you hear me?”

Dean was about to retort but Sam started:

“You’re not the only one affected by this. Now, I’ve been patient, and I tried to understand your grief over Crowley, I did. But he was a fucking son of a bitch, and whether or not he helped us lately, won’t change that fact.
“I know in a twisted way you trusted him, and that piles up with what happened to Cas and Mom, but you don’t have a corner on pain!”

Dean stared in silence, feeling his jaw from the punch he had received. Sam, on the other hand, kept going, his repressed feelings bubbling to the surface:

“And even if you think you’re hurting more than me, well let me tell you one thing: we’re in that shithole together! And I’ve tried to be cautious around you and not to trigger you.    
“I’ve been kind, I’ve found us cases to keep you busy, but there’s seemingly nothing I can do to please you. You keep pushing me away because you’re too wrapped up in your self-centered egotistic pain to even acknowledge mine!”

His chest was heaving from the bottled-up pain finally bursting out, eyes flaring.

“Now, I know I didn’t share a “more profound bond” with Cas, like you two did, but we did share something! Cas is not only yours to grieve, okay? He pulled me out of Hell too; he took the bullet for me after destroying my mental wall; he accepted to be a vessel just so that Lucifer wouldn’t ride shotgun in my head again; he’s always chosen us over angels. So, I’ll be damned if I let you even just imply that I’m not crushed by his death too!”

He took a sharp breath staring at his brother, teary-eyed.

Dean got up to his feet, but Sam took a step back.

He glared at Dean and uttered: “Fuck you.” He left the room slamming the door behind him before his brother could get any closer.

“Shit,” Dean said as he sank back down on his bed, his head between his hands.

Chapter Text

Half an hour later Sam came back, he was still angry but after one drink at the bar, he felt stupidly idle and had no choice but to come back to the room.

Upon entering the room, he found a note on the table which had been hastily written by Dean:

A knock on the door.

Sam opened it swiftly, hoping that Dean had changed his mind, but his eyes fell on a much smaller frame.

A brunette was staring at him, with her big blue eyes, grinning.

“Lucy?” Sam said surprised.

“Jeez! Don’t sound too excited,” she said with a smirk.

“No, no I’m sorry. I was just expecting—Never mind, come on in,” Sam and he stepped aside to allow her in. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Lucy stepped into the motel room and turned to Sam showing off a paper bag.

“As promised, I bought us wine!” she reached in the bag and took out a bottle triumphantly. She set it on the table and glanced around visibly looking for something.

“He’s not here,” Sam explained.

“Yeah, I thought so. I didn’t see his badass car,” Lucy smiled but became serious again. “Should I rejoice or—?” she asked tentatively.

“We had a fight. I told him how I felt and…he left,” he paused. “I don’t know… I might have been a little too harsh on him…” Sam confessed.

Lucy took his hand.

“Hey, Sam,” she started, “he was harsh on you too. You had to endure his moods and overall jerkiness.”

“Yeah… I punched him,” he confessed.

“Oh! Well, I guess he deserved it?” she said tentatively.

Sam smiled sadly and sighed.

“You don’t have to find me excuses… So, what’s on the menu tonight?” he inquired, changing the subject to try and cheer himself up.

Lucy rubbed the back of her neck.

“I didn’t get us anything, I was thinking we could go and have Tennessee’s finest at your local bar…” she trailed off.

“But what about the wine?” Sam smiled.

“That’s for later, Big Bird” Lucy replied mirroring his smile with a glint of mischief in her eyes. “Come on, I promised I’d pay,” she said heading to the door.

Once at the bar, they picked a booth and sat across each other.

They ordered a plate of smoked ribs to share with a side of salad and fries.

Half an hour later they had each downed a bottle of beer and the plate was half empty.

At some point their waiter came up to ask them if they wanted another beer, to which they both agreed. He smiled and came back with the order. When he set the bottles on the table, he leaned toward Sam.

“I, um—Where’s the guy that was with you the other day?” he inquired with a half-whisper.

Sam’s expression darkened. “He left, why?”

The waiter straightened up and looked disappointed “Oh. He did?” he asked.

“Yes, he left earlier tonight,” Sam explained. “But anything you wanted to say to him, you can say to me. We’re working together.”

The waiter chuckled uneasily. “It’s not business related—I er… I gave him my number. I thought we’d clicked and that he’d call me, but I guess I read that wrong.” The waiter apologized and left.

Sam frowned as his gaze followed the waiter disappearing behind the kitchen doors.

Lucy, who had obviously followed the conversation mirrored Sam’s gaze, then turned to him.

“Something wrong?” she asked concerned.

Sam hesitated. “No… It’s nothing— Well, it’s just—” he replied, narrowing his eyes.

“I found a napkin on the table, the other day. It had lipstick and a phone number on it. The night before, Dean came back pretty drunk and I assumed it was a girl’s number… But, I mean—it can’t have been this guy, right?”

Lucy sat back on the bench.

“Why not?” she asked, seemingly offended. “Do you have a problem with gay people?”

Sam’s expression turned to shock.

“What? NO! And Dean’s not gay, I’ve seen him with so many girls!”

She crossed her arms.

“With bi people, then?” Lucy retorted, looking even more offended.

“N—” he huffed in frustration and instantly regain his composure.

“Of course not! Luce! I don’t care that you, or him , are bi,” Sam said.

Lucy uncrossed her arms and her face softened.

Sam went on: “It’s just that—he said he wasn’t interested, but why keep the number, then?”

“Maybe he wanted to keep his options open?” Lucy hinted jokingly. Sam snorted and shook his head.

“Okay, you know what? Never mind,” he dismissed smiling.

“No, but really, what is it?” she prodded.

“I don’t know…” Sam replied.

“You seem surprised about the whole thing… What's the real issue?”

“Nothing. It's not that. I just— We've been through so much, it's not something I'd expect him to hide from me. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah… Look, unless you want to inquire about what really happened, there’s a fifty per cent chance that the lipstick did belong to a girl who gave him her number, or that the waiter took the first napkin he found and wrote his own number on it. But it doesn’t really matter anyway, does it?” she asked with an eyebrow cocked.

Sam smiled.

“No, it doesn’t,” he concluded.

An hour and more beers later, the mood had significantly improved. And they both were all smiles, laughing and eyeing each other fondly.

“I need to use the ladies’ room,” she said standing up.

Sam stood up too. “You can use our bathroom,” he offered.

A glimmer passed through her eyes and she smirked.

“Okay Big Bird, I see right through you. You want to lure me into your room and do all sorts of unspeakable things to me,” she joked as Sam’s face turned red. “But I’m not falling for that. I’ll use the toilets here and then we’ll go to your room.”

Lucy made a beeline toward the bar to pay their bill. She looked over her shoulder and winked at Sam before disappearing behind the toilet door.

**

Back in the room, Lucy kicked off their shoes as she picked up the bottle of wine. She then went through drawers to find a corkscrew while Sam looked for glasses. He discreetly sneaked a peek into the trash can as he pretended to untie his shoes.

“Are you hoping to find glasses in there?” Lucy joked.

Sam jumped and looked embarrassed.

“No—I…”, he protested, and actually finished taking his shoes off.

Lucy cocked an eyebrow.

“Were you looking for the napkin?”

Sam stood up and averted his eyes.

“Yes,” he admitted. “I just need to know.”

Lucy went back to searching into the drawers

“Look, maybe he kept it, and maybe he didn’t, but in any case, if he wants to tell you, he will, in his own terms. In the meantime… TADA!”

She turned triumphantly to Sam holding the bottle in one hand and a corkscrew in the other.

She then puffed out her chest and said with very poor French accent:

“Tonight, we have a delicious and very fancy wine for you, sir,” she jested, heading to the table.

Sam chuckled “Yeah? What can you tell me about it?”

Lucy shrugged and raised the bottle to her eye level.

“It’s red,” she decided.

They both cracked up, definitely tipsier than they thought.

Half an hour later, they were both sitting at the table and Lucy was laughing wholeheartedly while Sam’s eyes trailed from her silky black hair, down to her rosy lips.

“—that’s why I finally decided to go through with it. My next session’s in two months,” she finished as she showed off her wrist catching Sam’s attention. He delicately took it in his hand to examine it more closely: on her pale skin, a tattoo had begun to fade. He winced.

“I heard it’s more painful to get it off,” Sam mused.

“Oh, yes! It hurts like a mother!” Lucy agreed. “But I suppose anything’s better than having a tulpa following me around…”

He chuckled “Yeah, it is!” He still hadn’t let go of her wrist and was gently stroking it with his thumb.

“Care to give it back sometime? I might need it”, Lucy joked.

Sam smiled sheepishly and let her go.

“Huh, yeah, sorry,” he said with a contrite smile.

The head slightly buzzing from the beer and wine, Lucy put her hand on Sam’s which was resting on his thigh.

He looked up and peered into her sky-blue eyes.

“So…” Lucy started, “are you about to do all sorts of unspeakable things to me?”

“I—I don’t know,” Sam hesitated. “Do you want me to?” he asked.

She simply replied with a mischievous smile and kissed him. Sam combed his fingers through her hair and pulled her in. She complied, straddling him without breaking the kiss as she wound her arms around his neck.

Lucy’s hands travelled eagerly underneath Sam’s shirt from his hips to his chest. She dug her nails in his muscly chest eliciting a hiss from the hunter. She smiled against his lips as her hands left Sam’s skin to unbutton his shirt with haste. The hunter felt like they were still imprinting searing hot marks on him. Lucy paused to look at his torso.

“Whoa! Hunting monsters does wonders to a body” she panted.

Sam smiled and bit his lip. He unbuttoned her blouse and proceeded to suck and nip gently at her neck, grinning against her exposed skin when she responded positively. Lucy arched her shoulders back to allow the piece of clothing to gently slide off of her. It was Sam’s turn to look at her. Without a word he captured Lucy’s lips greedily with his own and with one hand he tightened his grasp, digging his fingers into her hips, while grabbing a handful of hair with the other.

She responded by nipping his bottom lip. Sam groaned and, as if on cue, he stood up carrying her to the kitchenette as she wrapped her legs around his hips.

Lucy chuckled.

“Bed’s the other way, Big Bird,” she said.

“We still have plenty of time to get there,” he replied with a husky voice.

Chapter Text

Lucy woke up to Sam buttoning his jeans.

“Are you actually leaving a girl in a motel room over 300 miles away from her home just after you had sex with her?” she asked sleepily.

Sam sat on the bed beside her. He looked down, embarrassed.

“You’re awake? I’m sorry Luce, I didn’t mean–”

“You didn’t mean to wake me up or to leave me here?” she asked propping on one elbow.

“I–,” he huffed, “it’s just that before you arrived, I found a note from Dean explaining his plan,” Sam replied.

Lucy sat up and stared at Sam expectantly.

“Apparently he’s following someone’s dumb piece of advice to ‘look for help in improbable places’, or something,” he explained.

“Oh…” Lucy replied with a hint of recognition in her voice. “I guess that would be my dumb piece of advice,” she smiled awkwardly.

“What? What are you saying?” Sam asked.

“Well, that night after you rescued me and the kids, when you were busy being thanked by the Knights, I might have gone back to the car and spoken to him.”

Sam turned to face her.

“He never told me. What did you say to him?”

“Well, I said exactly this, that with your line of work, and with what I had seen you two do, you were capable of anything,” she paused. “I knew he had lost someone, he had that look about him. So, I told him that he had done the impossible that night, and that if someone could bring a loved one back it was you two.”

Sam nodded in realization.

“I had no idea he would leave you behind though, I thought he would talk to you and you’d figure it out, the two of you. 

“I guess, somehow it got through to him and he found a way to get improbable help somewhere,” Lucy sighed. “I’m sorry I made things worse.”

Sam leaned in and gently kissed her on the lips. “No, don’t worry. You did great. You gave him a purpose. Something worth fighting for. It’s just that now I need to go after him–”.

“You can’t get in the way Sam, he has to do this–”

“I’m not trying to get in the way! I’m trying to prevent him from getting killed,” he exclaimed. “All I want to do is help him. Dean’s always been like that! He thinks he can do things alone, and he can! But he still doesn’t realize that though doing things on his own will get him somewhere faster, doing them together will get him further!”

Sam laced his shoes and went to fetch his t-shirt.

“I have to do this Luce, I have to go. I can’t wait. Who knows how far ahead he is, I might already be too late,” Sam explained.

Lucy stood up and wrapped the bed sheets around her toned body. She took the few steps that separated her from Sam and sighed.

“I know, Big Bird,” she framed his face in her small hands, “I know,” she planted a kissed on his lips. “You gotta do what you gotta do,” she planted another kiss on his lips.

She yawned and headed back toward the bed.

“I’ll just finish my night here, and show myself out in the morning. Just be careful, okay?”

Sam grabbed her hand, spun her and pulled her in. She let go of the bedsheets in surprise.

“Thank you for understanding,” Sam said just before kissing her.

Lucy slipped her tongue in Sam’s mouth and nipped at his bottom lip, and replied with a smile:

“Oh, don’t get this wrong. You will have to make it up to me,” she said mischievously. “But I’ll allow it for now. Plus, I need to sleep. I’m truly exhausted.”

Sam smiled. And ogled her as she headed back to bed.

“I’ll call you,” he said as he buttoned his shirt.

“Fine, now let me sleep”.

Sam smiled, kissed her on the forehead, grabbed his bag and money for the car and left.

**

Dean had been driving for four hours, he had stopped to sleep on the side of the road for four more hours and had left right after a quick morning sub. The whole following day had flown by and except for pit stops he had driven without interruptions, eating in the car.

Now that he knew what to do and who to ask for help, he’d let nothing get in his way. He had to bring Cas home, he had to.

He hoped that he had put enough distance between him and Sammy so that his brother wouldn’t be able to stop him, but there was just no way of knowing. So, he pressed on the gas pedal, the engine revved and the Impala zoomed ahead. Dean had little to no care for speed limits now.

He arrived at the Asylum a little before 9pm. He wouldn’t even know whether Sam had tried to call since he had put his phone on silent and shoved it in the glove box.

Dean parked the car at the bottom of the stairs. He grabbed the wheel with both hands and closed his eyes.

After a few minutes, he finally decided to go in, but not before he took his reliable colt with the ivory handle, some bullets, a shotgun and of course an angel blade.

Gun in hand, Dean proceeded to explore the building. The front door had been barred and he had to go through the back. The Asylum looked empty, and he was starting to think the lead was a bust, but he heard a voice from behind him.

“I told you I had no interest in you, I even allowed you to live.”

Dean spun and he aimed his gun at Jack. He was just as he had last seen him in the burning house, only dressed. Dean couldn’t help but feel a wave of resentment for the boy.

“Yeah, and now I’m here,” he said.

“Yes. And you’re pointing your weapon at me.”

“That’s for protection,” Dean replied.

“This won’t help you,” Jack said.

He waved his hand, and without realizing it, Dean put the gun back into its holster. He huffed.

Jack walked around Dean.

“I said, ‘Do not cross me, or it will be the last thing you’ll ever do.’ But you decided to come look for me anyway.” He stopped, his back turned to the hunter, as if he didn’t feel threatened in the slightest by his presence. “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you on the spot,” he simply finished.

He resumed walking away dismissively. Dean scoffed and threw his arms in exasperation. He followed him into the next room.

“Well, for starters, I haven’t done anything to cross you… Yet.”

“That’s not for you to decide,” Jack said.

He sat on Crowley’s old throne, and gave Dean a once-over.

“Why are you here?”

This was the moment.

“I’m here to ask for your help.”

“My help?”

“Yes. You’re the most powerful being around, and I figured if someone can help me, it’s you.”

Jack smirked.

“Now, why would I do that?”

“Because someone was taken from me,” he paused, “And I want him back.”

Jack leaned in, his elbows digging into his lap and crossing his fingers in front of his mouth. He stared at Dean, and the latter felt like he was peering into his soul.

“Ah. Castiel,” he said smiling. He leaned back into his chair.

Dean approached the throne.

“Yes, Castiel. Can you bring him back?”

“He’s gone.”

“I know. Bring him back.”

“No.”

“Come on, please,” Dean pleaded.

Jack stared at him with an unreadable expression on his face.

“You wouldn’t even be alive if it wasn’t for him!” Dean said. “He protected you and your mom. He made sure that Kelly would give birth to you. And look at you now, all mighty and powerful…”

Jack tilted his head, and Dean couldn’t help but feel a pang in his chest.

“You owe it to him.”

“Why do you think I can bring him back?”

“I have to believe someone can,” Dean said in a whisper.

“Why do you think I would?”

“Again, I have to. Because what’s the alternative? Him being dead and gone?”

Jack closed his eyes as if he was in a deep reflection, then opened them suddenly.

“Oh, he’s gone alright,” he said. He sat up straight. “You know, the balance of things is odd sometimes. I came to this world and my mother died. But before I was born, she taught me that the Seraphim Castiel would protect me. I even communicated with him briefly, I know him. I felt his essence, I saw his heart. You and your brother are both so important to him, like family. And he loves you.”

He inhaled and continued candidly. “And then the King of Hell left this world and died,” he squinted, “And for some reason this makes you sad.”

Dean lowered his head.

“Castiel went to… Bizarro world?” he chuckled. “He went there to protect you and Sam, of course. I felt it, you know?”

Dean’s heart ached at the retelling of the worst night of his life. Jack’s face took a grave expression, and his voice deepened, as if he was reciting a gospel.

“And then the angel stepped into this world, and the archangel– Lucifer, the one who created me, he followed him, and he killed him. And in the end he got sent back to…Bizarro…world with your mother.”

He smiled to himself.

“Life is funny this way.”

“I wouldn’t call that funny,” Dean said through gritted teeth.

“No?” He raised his eyebrows, then frowned. “I guess you wouldn’t. But isn’t it ironic, though?”

“Okay, Alanis,” Dean replied, struggling to contain his frustration.

Jack frowned and tilted his head again in such a Castiel way.

“So… Are you going to bring Cas back from the dead, if he’s supposed to protect you?”

“I can’t.”

“But you don’t understand, I– He was taken from me! From the world, I mean. He–He’s gone!” A tear rolled down his cheek. “I didn’t even have time to– I should have saved him, and I froze! I should have grabbed him, pulled him toward me!” His eyes darted around, not focusing on anything. He felt helpless, and again empty. Like something was missing.

He looked up at Jack with an imploring gaze.

“I was told to look for help in improbable places. You are the improbable help I need. So please, there must be something you can do. Just give him back to me… I’ll do anything, please!”

Jack smiled and nodded. 

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Dean sniffled and wiped his face.

“I’ll send you to my father. Bring him back, and you’ll get Castiel back. You have three days. I’ll reopen the portal then. But be careful, time is different there.”

Dean frowned.

“Wait, no! I’m not bringing Lu–”

 But Jack waved his hand, and just like that, the hunter was gone in a flash of yellow light.

**

At about 3 in the morning, a car slowed down, and stopped at the front gate. Jack, who hadn’t moved and was meditating on the throne, opened one eye.

He heard a voice booming from outside, and sighed. There went his quiet moment alone with his own thoughts.

A few minutes later, Sam came bursting into the throne room. He found Jack sitting straight, his hands on his lap, waiting for him and smiling. The hunter aimed his gun at the Nephilim.

“You humans with your toys,” he said, disappointed.

With a flick of the wrist, Sam’s gun flew out of his hands. The hunter considered fetching it, but he took out an angel blade from the inside of his jacket instead.

“Really?” Jack said. “You know that won’t work on me.”

“I can try,” Sam said. “Where’s my brother?”

“I don’t know.”

“I know he’s here, I saw his car at the front.”

“That right?”

Sam looked around, “DEAN?!”

“He can’t hear you,” Jack said matter-of-factly.

“WHERE IS HE?”

“He’s gone.”

Sam’s eyes widened and he took shallow breaths.

“What. Have. You. Done?” he articulated.

“He wanted my help. I helped him.”

“How?”

“He wanted Castiel back, and I wanted my father. We came to an understanding.”

“You– You sent him to–”

“Bizarro world, yes,” Jack said, smiling innocently. “That’s the only way he can bring my father back,” he explained.

“Your father can never come back here!”

Jack frowned. “Don’t you want the angel back?”

“Not if it means bringing your father to this world.”

The Nephilim’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand. If Dean brings him back, you get Castiel.”

“And how is he supposed to do that?”

“I’ll open a portal in three days.”

“Open it now!”

“No. He won’t have time to find him.”

“OPEN IT!”

“He’ll be back in three days, why can’t you just wait?”

“He might be dead in three days!”

Jack frowned, and bit his lower lip.

“Oh.”

“He needs my help!”

“Okay.” Jack said nodding. “Bring them back!”

Sam huffed.

“You’d better reopen the portal in three days!”

“I will, and I do not lie. Though, it will feel longer for you.”

“Longer how?”

But before he could hear the Nephilim’s reply, a bright yellow light engulfed him.

And thus Sam disappeared without a trace, like his brother before him.

"Well, Bizarro world better watch out, the Winchesters are coming to town!” Jack said enthusiastically.

He clapped his thighs and stood up.

“What to do for three days, now?”