A Deadly Affair - Chapter 5: Wasted Secrets
Rating: T
Summary: Sam and Dean are in Blanket Town, Kentucky for another hunt...this one involving a nasty love affair that only leads to death and tracking down an unwanted spirit. Sam is hiding something from Dean, and Dean can tell. But is the older brother holding back some secrets as well? Maybe from his time in the fiery pits below should stay secret after all...
Pairings: None
Warnings: Mild Language, Mild Violence (Character Death -not major-)
Author's Notes: Enjoy! Working on DCBB at the moment!
It had been a rocky trip to the college for Sam and Dean. Sam tried sleeping during the ride, but most of the roads were bumpy twists and turns that easily kept Sam from drifting into a peaceful slumber. Dean kept the soft rock station on low volume for Sam’s benefit. Dean himself was a lover for something a bit more ACDC like, he supposed. None of this mushy crap Sam was into.
The sun was rising higher into the sky as the Impala pulled into the parking lot of Kentucky State College. Sam grumbled and tucked into his seat, refusing to get up. The interior of the car was comfortable warmth that served as a snug woolen duvet to Sam. He shook off Dean’s persistent whacks to the shoulder and closed his eyes tightly against the glare bouncing off the window. The inside of his eyelids was a deep crimson as it always is when the sun rays are shining on your face. He could hear Dean sighing impatiently and turning the radio back on. They had a few minutes to spare, and Sam was going to make the best of them.
He hadn’t been sleeping at all lately. Maybe it was the hunger, or maybe it was the anxiety of keeping his secret from Dean. His brother must be seeing the signs now because Sam was doing an awful job at hiding them. It was growing more and more difficult every day. He needed to meet up with Ruby soon if he was going to survive another day without lashing out in spasms from his lack of intake. Demon blood was his drug. Sam was a hopeless addict. There was no end to the dark tunnel of this fatal obsession; at least he didn’t think there was.
“Sam, get your ass out of this car before I shove it out,” Dean growled.
“Mm, Dean, five more minutes,” Sam mumbled sleepily, but he sat up anyway. He knew that if he resisted his brother any longer, Dean would get insanely pissed off. His cranky mood would ruin the entire investigation and they would be back at square one. Sam decided not to risk it.
“Alright, Keith, I’m up. Ready to dig deeper for Eastman’s dirty little secret?”
“You betcha, Keith,” Dean chuckled and stepped out of the Impala.
The air outside was cool despite the blazing sun above their heads. Although it was an early Saturday morning, a friend of Mr. Eastman’s had agreed to meet the Keiths in his office. It was down the hall from the guidance department, and the pair of dedicated “students” easily navigated through the small building. Once they reached the door labeled PROFESSOR CARLILE, a few knocks and a muffled response gained them entrance in the room. The fuzzy image that had been visible through the cloudy window was revealed as Sam and Dean stepped through the entrance.
“Welcome, boys. Take a seat,” Professor Carlile waved them to two ornate armchairs in front of his desk. He had wiry glasses that slid down his crooked nose slightly, and tufts of white hair protruded from his scalp in a ring around his head.
“Thank you for meeting with us, Mr. Carlile. It’s become a private investigation due to the recent evidence and threat towards the family. We appreciate you keeping our identities a secret,” Sam spoke quietly, eyeing the security cameras in the corner of the room.
“It’s no problem, detectives. I was close friends with Jon, and to see him pass like that was devastating. You wanted to know about the affair? That was quite a while ago, you know.”
“We understand that Samantha died three years ago, did Mr. Eastman see her around that time, or before?” Dean asked.
“It was a month or so before her death. They had been seeing each other on and off again while Jon was married to Samantha’s sister, Irene Jones. You must know that already though. Anyway, I told him that he wasn’t being faithful, and that he should end it immediately. He never listened to my warnings, but eventually he cut the whole thing off. It was done here, in fact. In his office one night, he told her he couldn’t see her anymore. From what I know, she was extremely upset about it. She must have really loved him because she left in tears. Not sure how she ran so fast in those heels, but she did. Then five weeks later, she had thrown herself off the balcony in the Eastman’s house while they were off on vacation. Tragic to commit suicide over something like that,” Professor Carlile’s voice faded as his story came to an end.
Sam and Dean sat speechless in their chairs. Samantha had been so upset with Jon for not choosing her over her sister that she killed him. It wasn’t exactly the strangest thing that the Winchesters had heard, but it was still eerie to hear the story so alike to many others they’ve dealt with. Dean cleared his throat gruffly, his Adam’s apple bobbing thickly in his throat.
“Wow, and then three years later the same happens to Mr. Eastman - Jon. That’s just…yikes,” Dean grunted, wiping a hand across his mouth and picking his lips together briefly.
Mr. Carlile coughed into his sleeve that was dressed in a fine work suit. The sun was beginning to settle comfortably in the middle of the sky, and the light in the small workplace was dimming slightly. Mr. Carlile’s eyes flicked to the clock on his desk, but it wasn’t as discreetly as he had intended it to be. Sam and Dean had taken up enough of his time with their disturbing case. Their conservation had come to a very unpleasant end, but it was the perfect place to stop.
“Well, thank you for taking with us, professor. We’re sorry we asked you to come out on a Saturday, and we’ll be sure to-“
“No, no, no. It was my pleasure to help in any way that I could. If you have any more questions, email me or call me at my personal number,” the professor interrupted Sam, handing him a business card that listed the mentioned methods of contact.
Mr. Carlile stood and walked the undercover detectives to the lobby, where he waved solemnly to them as they strolled leisurely to their car. He admired it and remembered when he had one similar to it. But that was years ago… A sudden flash of darkness sped towards his office, and Mr. Carlile spotted it from the corner of his eye. He hastily followed the unknown shadow down the hall and into his workspace, but there was nothing. Absolutely nothing. Mr. Carlile chuckled nervously to himself, trying to shake off that heavy, daunting feeling rising in his chest. It was like someone was watching him. That was ridiculous, of course. He was the only one left in the building.
Not for long, he thought. His hours were done today, and he packed up his things quickly. What he didn’t notice as he shut the door to his office and locked it tightly, was the tall gorgeous figure that stood hauntingly in the corner…hunger for more.
~*~
“Cas, I don’t know if you can hear me, and I hate doing this, but if you could, uh, pop in for a sec to talk…that’d be…um…” Dean stuttered and fumbled with the right words to say.
He didn’t exactly enjoy “praying” to Cas like this. It was uncomfortable and made him squirm when he had to talk to an empty room for five minutes before the angel actually showed up. Although he’s only done it once or twice before, Dean couldn’t stand doing it anymore. He opened his mouth as if to call out to Cas again, but thought better of it. The damn winged S.O.B. wasn’t coming, and Dean was going to have to deal with his own problems. Why am I even asking Cas for help? It’s not like he’ll fly right in and-
A soft whooshing noise came from the corner of the motel room, causing Dean to stop in his tracks. He was halfway to the front door when he spun around to see none other than Castiel. The nerdy angel, as Dean liked to call him, stood awkwardly in the crevice of the conjoining walls. His tie was crooked and his hair disheveled like he had hit turbulence or something on his way down to Middle Earth. Dean eyed him cautiously and rotated his torso so he was facing Cas fully. The silence was intensely painful for the both of them, like nails on a chalkboard. Cas was the first to speak.
“You…called.”
Dean nodded and swiftly turned around to head for the fridge. If he was going to endure this conversation without wanting to kill himself out of either embarrassment for praying or just plain ole’ awkwardness, then he was going to need a beer. The fridge interior was cool against his cheeks as he bent over to swipe a bottle from the back of the shelf. He turned back around and, closing the door slowly, nearly jumped out of his skin when he realized that Cas was standing right behind him. He could spot the patterns in Cas’ deep blue irises.
“Man, Cas, take a step back. Ever heard of personal space?” Dean chided, maneuvering himself around Cas and taking a seat at the small work table.
“Well, yes, I have heard of personal space, but I-“
“Cas, chill. It was a rhetorical question. Just…leave it. Anyway, I wanted to ask you for a favor,” Dean began, popping open the beer bottle and guzzling almost half of it. “Sam looks like he’s headed for crazy town lately. He gets all twitchy like a withdrawn addict and takes these sketchy calls that he won’t tell me about. Could you maybe go all Wonder Woman and use your angel mojo to spy on him without seeing you?”
Cas scrunched his eyebrows together and was obviously thinking quite deeply about Dean’s request. The angel took a step forward to sit down and respond, but quickly remembered what Dean said about personal space. He wouldn’t want to offend his…friend? Cas briefly compared Dean to the angels in his garrison that he considered friends, but he didn’t exactly meet their standards. Yet, Cas felt that he could trust the human.
“I don’t know if I should be intruding on your personal issues, Dean. This appears to be something you should confront Sam about yourself. I don’t want to get involved with whatever business you and Sam-“
“Cas, please? I’ve tried asking him if he was alright, but he always shrugs it off or mumbles something before completely ignoring my questions. My last resort was you. I just want to know if there’s anything wrong with him that could get us mixed up in some weird, messed up crap that will ruin everything…again,” Dean was practically whimpering, but he kept his voice steady. He wouldn’t cry about this, not one single tear, and especially not in front of Castiel. It wasn’t a manly thing to do and could ruin his reputation as a hunter.
“I’ll…” Cas hesitated. He wanted to help Dean, he really did, but there was something holding him back. He was familiar with the trouble the Winchesters normally got into, and several angels had warned him about their family. There was a possibility that getting involved with the Winchesters could mean Castiel’s imminent death. But Cas, for some reason, felt the need to risk his life for these two brothers. “I’ll see what I can do, Dean.”
With a sigh, Dean started to say, “Thank you, Cas”, but the angel had already disappeared. Dean was taken aback by the abrupt exit. He hadn’t gotten used to that yet, but it seemed to be Castiel’s signature departure: leaving without a goodbye. A sharp pang rippled like a wave through Dean’s heart. He tried to shake off the crippling memories that flooded his vision, and eventually the moment had passed. The amber liquid trickled down his throat and a familiar buzz came over Dean. He must be pretty beat if one beer was bringing on drunken comfort this fast. Dean sighed and leaned his head to check the time. Sam should be back any minute from his walk, and later tonight they were torching the bitch’s bones. Dean didn’t bother asking where he had gone because he would be met with more lies from his distant brother. And he couldn’t handle it anymore.
There was a click, and Sam’s tall figure appeared in the doorway. It was late afternoon, only a couple hours after their meeting with Professor Carlile, and an hour before they were going to gank the skank (Dean chuckled internally at his clever rhyme). But there was something about the way Sam’s shoulders slumped lethargically, and his breath was coming in short spurts.
“Dean…Irene…quick,” he panted, lunging for the car keys and sprinting after the Impala. Dean, not hesitating for a moment, dropped his beer to the floor and dashed after his brother. He hoped that whatever it was, they weren’t too late.
Summary: Sam and Dean are in Blanket Town, Kentucky for another hunt...this one involving a nasty love affair that only leads to death and tracking down an unwanted spirit. Sam is hiding something from Dean, and Dean can tell. But is the older brother holding back some secrets as well? Maybe from his time in the fiery pits below should stay secret after all...
Pairings: None
Warnings: Mild Language, Mild Violence (Character Death -not major-)
Author's Notes: Enjoy! Working on DCBB at the moment!
It had been a rocky trip to the college for Sam and Dean. Sam tried sleeping during the ride, but most of the roads were bumpy twists and turns that easily kept Sam from drifting into a peaceful slumber. Dean kept the soft rock station on low volume for Sam’s benefit. Dean himself was a lover for something a bit more ACDC like, he supposed. None of this mushy crap Sam was into.
The sun was rising higher into the sky as the Impala pulled into the parking lot of Kentucky State College. Sam grumbled and tucked into his seat, refusing to get up. The interior of the car was comfortable warmth that served as a snug woolen duvet to Sam. He shook off Dean’s persistent whacks to the shoulder and closed his eyes tightly against the glare bouncing off the window. The inside of his eyelids was a deep crimson as it always is when the sun rays are shining on your face. He could hear Dean sighing impatiently and turning the radio back on. They had a few minutes to spare, and Sam was going to make the best of them.
He hadn’t been sleeping at all lately. Maybe it was the hunger, or maybe it was the anxiety of keeping his secret from Dean. His brother must be seeing the signs now because Sam was doing an awful job at hiding them. It was growing more and more difficult every day. He needed to meet up with Ruby soon if he was going to survive another day without lashing out in spasms from his lack of intake. Demon blood was his drug. Sam was a hopeless addict. There was no end to the dark tunnel of this fatal obsession; at least he didn’t think there was.
“Sam, get your ass out of this car before I shove it out,” Dean growled.
“Mm, Dean, five more minutes,” Sam mumbled sleepily, but he sat up anyway. He knew that if he resisted his brother any longer, Dean would get insanely pissed off. His cranky mood would ruin the entire investigation and they would be back at square one. Sam decided not to risk it.
“Alright, Keith, I’m up. Ready to dig deeper for Eastman’s dirty little secret?”
“You betcha, Keith,” Dean chuckled and stepped out of the Impala.
The air outside was cool despite the blazing sun above their heads. Although it was an early Saturday morning, a friend of Mr. Eastman’s had agreed to meet the Keiths in his office. It was down the hall from the guidance department, and the pair of dedicated “students” easily navigated through the small building. Once they reached the door labeled PROFESSOR CARLILE, a few knocks and a muffled response gained them entrance in the room. The fuzzy image that had been visible through the cloudy window was revealed as Sam and Dean stepped through the entrance.
“Welcome, boys. Take a seat,” Professor Carlile waved them to two ornate armchairs in front of his desk. He had wiry glasses that slid down his crooked nose slightly, and tufts of white hair protruded from his scalp in a ring around his head.
“Thank you for meeting with us, Mr. Carlile. It’s become a private investigation due to the recent evidence and threat towards the family. We appreciate you keeping our identities a secret,” Sam spoke quietly, eyeing the security cameras in the corner of the room.
“It’s no problem, detectives. I was close friends with Jon, and to see him pass like that was devastating. You wanted to know about the affair? That was quite a while ago, you know.”
“We understand that Samantha died three years ago, did Mr. Eastman see her around that time, or before?” Dean asked.
“It was a month or so before her death. They had been seeing each other on and off again while Jon was married to Samantha’s sister, Irene Jones. You must know that already though. Anyway, I told him that he wasn’t being faithful, and that he should end it immediately. He never listened to my warnings, but eventually he cut the whole thing off. It was done here, in fact. In his office one night, he told her he couldn’t see her anymore. From what I know, she was extremely upset about it. She must have really loved him because she left in tears. Not sure how she ran so fast in those heels, but she did. Then five weeks later, she had thrown herself off the balcony in the Eastman’s house while they were off on vacation. Tragic to commit suicide over something like that,” Professor Carlile’s voice faded as his story came to an end.
Sam and Dean sat speechless in their chairs. Samantha had been so upset with Jon for not choosing her over her sister that she killed him. It wasn’t exactly the strangest thing that the Winchesters had heard, but it was still eerie to hear the story so alike to many others they’ve dealt with. Dean cleared his throat gruffly, his Adam’s apple bobbing thickly in his throat.
“Wow, and then three years later the same happens to Mr. Eastman - Jon. That’s just…yikes,” Dean grunted, wiping a hand across his mouth and picking his lips together briefly.
Mr. Carlile coughed into his sleeve that was dressed in a fine work suit. The sun was beginning to settle comfortably in the middle of the sky, and the light in the small workplace was dimming slightly. Mr. Carlile’s eyes flicked to the clock on his desk, but it wasn’t as discreetly as he had intended it to be. Sam and Dean had taken up enough of his time with their disturbing case. Their conservation had come to a very unpleasant end, but it was the perfect place to stop.
“Well, thank you for taking with us, professor. We’re sorry we asked you to come out on a Saturday, and we’ll be sure to-“
“No, no, no. It was my pleasure to help in any way that I could. If you have any more questions, email me or call me at my personal number,” the professor interrupted Sam, handing him a business card that listed the mentioned methods of contact.
Mr. Carlile stood and walked the undercover detectives to the lobby, where he waved solemnly to them as they strolled leisurely to their car. He admired it and remembered when he had one similar to it. But that was years ago… A sudden flash of darkness sped towards his office, and Mr. Carlile spotted it from the corner of his eye. He hastily followed the unknown shadow down the hall and into his workspace, but there was nothing. Absolutely nothing. Mr. Carlile chuckled nervously to himself, trying to shake off that heavy, daunting feeling rising in his chest. It was like someone was watching him. That was ridiculous, of course. He was the only one left in the building.
Not for long, he thought. His hours were done today, and he packed up his things quickly. What he didn’t notice as he shut the door to his office and locked it tightly, was the tall gorgeous figure that stood hauntingly in the corner…hunger for more.
~*~
“Cas, I don’t know if you can hear me, and I hate doing this, but if you could, uh, pop in for a sec to talk…that’d be…um…” Dean stuttered and fumbled with the right words to say.
He didn’t exactly enjoy “praying” to Cas like this. It was uncomfortable and made him squirm when he had to talk to an empty room for five minutes before the angel actually showed up. Although he’s only done it once or twice before, Dean couldn’t stand doing it anymore. He opened his mouth as if to call out to Cas again, but thought better of it. The damn winged S.O.B. wasn’t coming, and Dean was going to have to deal with his own problems. Why am I even asking Cas for help? It’s not like he’ll fly right in and-
A soft whooshing noise came from the corner of the motel room, causing Dean to stop in his tracks. He was halfway to the front door when he spun around to see none other than Castiel. The nerdy angel, as Dean liked to call him, stood awkwardly in the crevice of the conjoining walls. His tie was crooked and his hair disheveled like he had hit turbulence or something on his way down to Middle Earth. Dean eyed him cautiously and rotated his torso so he was facing Cas fully. The silence was intensely painful for the both of them, like nails on a chalkboard. Cas was the first to speak.
“You…called.”
Dean nodded and swiftly turned around to head for the fridge. If he was going to endure this conversation without wanting to kill himself out of either embarrassment for praying or just plain ole’ awkwardness, then he was going to need a beer. The fridge interior was cool against his cheeks as he bent over to swipe a bottle from the back of the shelf. He turned back around and, closing the door slowly, nearly jumped out of his skin when he realized that Cas was standing right behind him. He could spot the patterns in Cas’ deep blue irises.
“Man, Cas, take a step back. Ever heard of personal space?” Dean chided, maneuvering himself around Cas and taking a seat at the small work table.
“Well, yes, I have heard of personal space, but I-“
“Cas, chill. It was a rhetorical question. Just…leave it. Anyway, I wanted to ask you for a favor,” Dean began, popping open the beer bottle and guzzling almost half of it. “Sam looks like he’s headed for crazy town lately. He gets all twitchy like a withdrawn addict and takes these sketchy calls that he won’t tell me about. Could you maybe go all Wonder Woman and use your angel mojo to spy on him without seeing you?”
Cas scrunched his eyebrows together and was obviously thinking quite deeply about Dean’s request. The angel took a step forward to sit down and respond, but quickly remembered what Dean said about personal space. He wouldn’t want to offend his…friend? Cas briefly compared Dean to the angels in his garrison that he considered friends, but he didn’t exactly meet their standards. Yet, Cas felt that he could trust the human.
“I don’t know if I should be intruding on your personal issues, Dean. This appears to be something you should confront Sam about yourself. I don’t want to get involved with whatever business you and Sam-“
“Cas, please? I’ve tried asking him if he was alright, but he always shrugs it off or mumbles something before completely ignoring my questions. My last resort was you. I just want to know if there’s anything wrong with him that could get us mixed up in some weird, messed up crap that will ruin everything…again,” Dean was practically whimpering, but he kept his voice steady. He wouldn’t cry about this, not one single tear, and especially not in front of Castiel. It wasn’t a manly thing to do and could ruin his reputation as a hunter.
“I’ll…” Cas hesitated. He wanted to help Dean, he really did, but there was something holding him back. He was familiar with the trouble the Winchesters normally got into, and several angels had warned him about their family. There was a possibility that getting involved with the Winchesters could mean Castiel’s imminent death. But Cas, for some reason, felt the need to risk his life for these two brothers. “I’ll see what I can do, Dean.”
With a sigh, Dean started to say, “Thank you, Cas”, but the angel had already disappeared. Dean was taken aback by the abrupt exit. He hadn’t gotten used to that yet, but it seemed to be Castiel’s signature departure: leaving without a goodbye. A sharp pang rippled like a wave through Dean’s heart. He tried to shake off the crippling memories that flooded his vision, and eventually the moment had passed. The amber liquid trickled down his throat and a familiar buzz came over Dean. He must be pretty beat if one beer was bringing on drunken comfort this fast. Dean sighed and leaned his head to check the time. Sam should be back any minute from his walk, and later tonight they were torching the bitch’s bones. Dean didn’t bother asking where he had gone because he would be met with more lies from his distant brother. And he couldn’t handle it anymore.
There was a click, and Sam’s tall figure appeared in the doorway. It was late afternoon, only a couple hours after their meeting with Professor Carlile, and an hour before they were going to gank the skank (Dean chuckled internally at his clever rhyme). But there was something about the way Sam’s shoulders slumped lethargically, and his breath was coming in short spurts.
“Dean…Irene…quick,” he panted, lunging for the car keys and sprinting after the Impala. Dean, not hesitating for a moment, dropped his beer to the floor and dashed after his brother. He hoped that whatever it was, they weren’t too late.