Haze Chapter 6
Here 'tis! Maybe chapters 5 and 6 should've been one chapter, but it just got too long. I'm so psyched for the new season starting soon -- I've even remained spoiler free! -- but I will complete Haze even with the distractions of my new DVD set and the new season!
On a completely unrelated note, I find it hilarious that WordPerfect’s grammar check is offended by my use of low-grade cursing.
Title: Haze Chapter 6
Rating: PG-13 (violence, mild language -- I'm sticking to the curses you'd hear on TV)
Category: Gen
Characters: Teen Dean and Sam (ages 17 and 13)
Word Count: 2184
Spoilers: None
Summary: High school is a difficult place, especially when you're at the bottom of the social ladder. But there are worse things out there than jocks, pop quizzes and Dostoevsky. When students start dying, can Dean keep Sam safe?
Disclaimer: Dean owns me. I don't own Dean, Sam, or anything else involving Supernatural. The original characters, however, are mine.
Chapter 6
Dean flipped the radio on out of habit but turned down the volume so the Skynard song playing was barely audible. Anger still seethed through him, but he held his peace. Right now he had more important things to think about.
“Whatcha think, Sammy? Maybe this Jason guy’s another vic?” he asked as he pulled out his cell phone and checked the display for messages. There was one, left by Pastor Jim. Swearing too loudly to hear his brother’s tentative response, he thumbed in the password even as he pulled roughly into a nearby parking lot.
“Is that Jim?” Sam asked, transforming from upset to anxious in a heartbeat.
He nodded, jacked up the phone’s volume, and leaned over so they both could listen.
“Dean, this is Jim. Your dad’s fine, so you and Sam don’t need to worry. He managed to get himself arrested; we’re going to have to sort it out. But I’m not worried. Give me a call when you get this and I’ll fill you in.”
Matching sighs of relief escaped them. Dean immediately dialed the clergyman’s number, ignoring the tickle of Sam’s long hair against his ear.
“Dean, are you boys okay?” the familiar voice answered after the second ring.
“Yeh, we’re fine,” he answered impatiently. “What happened? How much trouble is he in?”
“He’s okay,” Jim said soothingly. “He’s in a little hot water, but I should be able to get him out. He doesn’t want you two involved, though, so are you going to be good on your own for a few days?”
Dean paused to glance at Sam, then answered with a firm “Yes.”
“Good.” They could almost hear the smile on Jim’s careworn face.
“What happened?” Sam asked.
“Is that Sam? Hey kiddo. John found the angiak and put it to rest, but someone saw him go into the woods where it resided. They called in to report a trespasser, if you can believe it. The police checked out the call, found him, then one of them found the remains.”
Dean groaned. “Looking exactly like a murdered child.”
“Exactly.” Jim’s voice was serious but not grim. “The only thing they have on him is proximity. I’ll find out who the parents were. Once the police realize they have a local child whose birth was never even reported they’ll focus on the parents, which is only just.”
“What if the parents say dad snatched the kid?” Dean asked. He figured anyone who could abandon a newborn to the wilds could just as easily abandon an innocent man to the cops.
“Son, I’m a priest,” Jim replied, and there was no question now that he was smiling. “Confessions are my specialty.”
Sam managed a wan smile and Dean laughed ruefully; they’d experienced Jim’s guilt-trips firsthand.
“John gave them a fake I.D. when they arrested him, so he can’t call you. He asked me to pass on that he knows you’ll do fine, he expects you not to get into trouble, and not to worry about him.”
Dean glanced at Sam, who looked about to burst with questions - or worse, a certain ghost story. He shook his head gently. “Okay. You’ll keep us updated, right? Tell us when you find the bast- um, people who did it.”
“Of course, and mind your language,” Jim replied mildly. “Now is there anything else I can do for you?”
“No sir,” he answered, wishing he had a dollar for every time he’d gotten that particular admonishment from the preacher.
“Just help dad,” Sam chimed in.
“Will do.”
The line disconnected. Dean switched the phone back to ring and stuffed it into his pocket.
“Maybe we should have told him about the ghost?” Sam ventured.
He shook his head. “All he’ll do is worry. He’ll probably tell Jim to come help us instead of getting him out of jail, and that’s just a really bad idea. The longer he’s in there, the more they’re going to think he’s the only possible suspect. And soon enough they’ll figure out who he really is.”
Dean didn’t need to say what would happen then. Child services, separation, foster homes or worse - threats they were always conscious of, right up there with ghosts and demons. “We’re just gonna have to stay away from the school as much as we can; keep our heads down until he gets home.”
“What happens if someone else gets hurt, though?” his brother asked softly. “If dad isn’t back for days, someone could die. It could go after Mariah again.”
Dean didn’t answer for a moment, and when he did his voice was gruff. “You know the rules, Sammy. No hunting without dad.” Putting the Impala into gear, he pulled back out onto the road.
“We could go to the library,” Sam suggested after they’d gone through two lights. “We could find out who Jason is. See if there’s something behind what happened to Randy and Wayne. It wouldn’t really be hunting, just research.”
Dean glanced at him, worry warring with pride for dominance. “I was thinking the same thing yesterday. But you got hurt just on research detail; I think it’s better to wait it out, even if...” He let the words trail off - it was better than actually saying them.
Even if more people die.
“Dean, didn’t you hear what I told Ms. Martin? It wasn’t your fault. I wasn’t lying.”
“Doesn’t change the fact that it was on my watch,” he said, keeping green eyes glued to the road before him. He could still hear that awful crack when Sam’s head hit the floor. He knew now it sounded a lot worse than it really was, but that didn’t change the fact that he never wanted to hear anything like it ever again. Nor could he forget the sickening feeling of helplessness when the ghost was dragging him into the dark. No, he wasn’t getting Sammy involved in this.
“Earth to Dean.” Sam poked his arm, pulling him out of the spiral of his thoughts.
“Ow, what?”
“I said you don’t have to worry about me getting into any more fights. It’s easy.”
“Oh yeah? How’s that?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.
“We’ll go to the library before I go over to Akio’s for our history project. I guarantee you that not one member of the football team will be there on a Saturday morning.” Sam grinned. “I mean, think about it.”
Dean paused, then smiled and shoved his younger brother playfully. “You’re smarter than you look, you know that?”
“And twice as smart as you,” he shot back, grinning.
“Don’t press your luck, geek-boy.”
“Three times smarter,” he laughed, ducking Dean’s blow.
He pulled the car into their driveway and pretended to listen to the end of the Stones’ Paint it Black so he could take his time getting out. Maybe Sam bought the act and maybe he didn’t; Dean was just happy to get out and inside the house without groaning.
“I think we get to take a break from training tonight,” he declared, stretching out on the couch with a sigh.
There was no response from Sam, who’d already disappeared into the kitchen. After a few moments he started to get worried - then two gel-paks straight from the freezer landed on his stomach. Grinning at Dean’s surprised yelp, Sam handed him a Mountain Dew and a bag of Cheetos. Then he plopped down on the floor, leaned against the couch, and flipped on the TV.
Dean grinned and adjusted the gel-paks gratefully across his bruised stomach. “Sometimes you’re not too bad, Sammy,” he said, ruffling his brother’s hair playfully as they settled in for a night of The Visitor and Millennium. If either of them thought about the football game that was about to start or the ghost haunting the field, neither brother breathed a word of it.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Interlude
“I can’t believe you did that, Amy!” Mariah whispered fiercely as she pulled her hair back.
Amy glanced at her reflection in the locker-room mirror where they both stood, then applied another layer of color to her already pink lips. “I can’t believe you like him. I mean, slumming, much? He’s hot, but you know he’s Section Eight - assuming he doesn’t live in the trailer park.”
“I was just going to talk to him. You didn’t have to tell Joel.” She twisted a green band fiercely around her ponytail.
“Whatever.” Amy rolled her eyes and applied more blush.
“He could’ve gotten suspended, and now he won’t even speak to me!” Mariah hissed, whirling to face the other cheerleader.
Amy shrugged, unconcerned. “You’re the one who’s always trashing Joel. Go find your bad boy’s trailer and let Joel have someone who appreciates him.”
“You are such a bitch!” Mariah turned and walked away, pausing at the door. “Like he’d ever care about you. You’re just the slut who’s gone through half the team.”
She threw the door open and switched the lights off on the way out. The hum of the fluorescents died, leaving Amy in total darkness.
“Damn it, Mariah!” she yelled, but the other girl was gone. Cursing, she reached out to touch the mirror she knew was to her left, and started walking forward slowly. Trailing her hand along the mirror and then the wall kept her walking in the right direction, but she rammed her shin into a low bench before she took six steps. “Ow! Damn!”
As Amy reached down to rub bruised skin, she heard it - a dry whisper of a laugh.
“Who’s there?” she demanded, but received no answer. “I heard you, creep! Where are you?”
Run
Every inch of her skin prickled as the word slid through her brain.
Run
“Go away, you freak!” She stumbled toward the door blindly and yanked at the handle. It didn’t budge. “Let me out! Help!”
The rumble of the Friday night football audience was barely audible through the opaque glass of the immovable door. Behind her was absolute silence. Amy shook at the door, then pounded on the glass; there had to be someone out there, someone to hear.
Run
Something freezing touched her back. Amy whirled, then screamed. A white/blue form shimmered in front of her, ripped and darkly stained clothes marred by transparent bones piercing transparent flesh.
Run
Lurching to the side, she obeyed. There was another door, one that led to the pool and escape. She ran as fast as she could, this time not caring about bashed shins and lockers that seemed to block her way.
Run coward fairy run
She could feel it right behind her as she slammed into a wall, and then tumbled through a swinging door into the unlit pool area. Amy ached all over but still she ran - and felt nothing under her feet. Her scream was cut short by a sharp crack as she hit the cement bottom of the waterless pool.
Wide eyes stared emptily up at a darkened ceiling, reflecting a flickering white/blue. Blood glinted black, then dulled as the solid shell that was meant to cover the empty pool slid silently back into place.
The faint sound of the game announcer and the cheers that accompanied each name echoed faintly in from the field outside. No one was there to hear.
(end Chapter 6)
On a completely unrelated note, I find it hilarious that WordPerfect’s grammar check is offended by my use of low-grade cursing.
Title: Haze Chapter 6
Rating: PG-13 (violence, mild language -- I'm sticking to the curses you'd hear on TV)
Category: Gen
Characters: Teen Dean and Sam (ages 17 and 13)
Word Count: 2184
Spoilers: None
Summary: High school is a difficult place, especially when you're at the bottom of the social ladder. But there are worse things out there than jocks, pop quizzes and Dostoevsky. When students start dying, can Dean keep Sam safe?
Disclaimer: Dean owns me. I don't own Dean, Sam, or anything else involving Supernatural. The original characters, however, are mine.
Chapter 6
Dean flipped the radio on out of habit but turned down the volume so the Skynard song playing was barely audible. Anger still seethed through him, but he held his peace. Right now he had more important things to think about.
“Whatcha think, Sammy? Maybe this Jason guy’s another vic?” he asked as he pulled out his cell phone and checked the display for messages. There was one, left by Pastor Jim. Swearing too loudly to hear his brother’s tentative response, he thumbed in the password even as he pulled roughly into a nearby parking lot.
“Is that Jim?” Sam asked, transforming from upset to anxious in a heartbeat.
He nodded, jacked up the phone’s volume, and leaned over so they both could listen.
“Dean, this is Jim. Your dad’s fine, so you and Sam don’t need to worry. He managed to get himself arrested; we’re going to have to sort it out. But I’m not worried. Give me a call when you get this and I’ll fill you in.”
Matching sighs of relief escaped them. Dean immediately dialed the clergyman’s number, ignoring the tickle of Sam’s long hair against his ear.
“Dean, are you boys okay?” the familiar voice answered after the second ring.
“Yeh, we’re fine,” he answered impatiently. “What happened? How much trouble is he in?”
“He’s okay,” Jim said soothingly. “He’s in a little hot water, but I should be able to get him out. He doesn’t want you two involved, though, so are you going to be good on your own for a few days?”
Dean paused to glance at Sam, then answered with a firm “Yes.”
“Good.” They could almost hear the smile on Jim’s careworn face.
“What happened?” Sam asked.
“Is that Sam? Hey kiddo. John found the angiak and put it to rest, but someone saw him go into the woods where it resided. They called in to report a trespasser, if you can believe it. The police checked out the call, found him, then one of them found the remains.”
Dean groaned. “Looking exactly like a murdered child.”
“Exactly.” Jim’s voice was serious but not grim. “The only thing they have on him is proximity. I’ll find out who the parents were. Once the police realize they have a local child whose birth was never even reported they’ll focus on the parents, which is only just.”
“What if the parents say dad snatched the kid?” Dean asked. He figured anyone who could abandon a newborn to the wilds could just as easily abandon an innocent man to the cops.
“Son, I’m a priest,” Jim replied, and there was no question now that he was smiling. “Confessions are my specialty.”
Sam managed a wan smile and Dean laughed ruefully; they’d experienced Jim’s guilt-trips firsthand.
“John gave them a fake I.D. when they arrested him, so he can’t call you. He asked me to pass on that he knows you’ll do fine, he expects you not to get into trouble, and not to worry about him.”
Dean glanced at Sam, who looked about to burst with questions - or worse, a certain ghost story. He shook his head gently. “Okay. You’ll keep us updated, right? Tell us when you find the bast- um, people who did it.”
“Of course, and mind your language,” Jim replied mildly. “Now is there anything else I can do for you?”
“No sir,” he answered, wishing he had a dollar for every time he’d gotten that particular admonishment from the preacher.
“Just help dad,” Sam chimed in.
“Will do.”
The line disconnected. Dean switched the phone back to ring and stuffed it into his pocket.
“Maybe we should have told him about the ghost?” Sam ventured.
He shook his head. “All he’ll do is worry. He’ll probably tell Jim to come help us instead of getting him out of jail, and that’s just a really bad idea. The longer he’s in there, the more they’re going to think he’s the only possible suspect. And soon enough they’ll figure out who he really is.”
Dean didn’t need to say what would happen then. Child services, separation, foster homes or worse - threats they were always conscious of, right up there with ghosts and demons. “We’re just gonna have to stay away from the school as much as we can; keep our heads down until he gets home.”
“What happens if someone else gets hurt, though?” his brother asked softly. “If dad isn’t back for days, someone could die. It could go after Mariah again.”
Dean didn’t answer for a moment, and when he did his voice was gruff. “You know the rules, Sammy. No hunting without dad.” Putting the Impala into gear, he pulled back out onto the road.
“We could go to the library,” Sam suggested after they’d gone through two lights. “We could find out who Jason is. See if there’s something behind what happened to Randy and Wayne. It wouldn’t really be hunting, just research.”
Dean glanced at him, worry warring with pride for dominance. “I was thinking the same thing yesterday. But you got hurt just on research detail; I think it’s better to wait it out, even if...” He let the words trail off - it was better than actually saying them.
Even if more people die.
“Dean, didn’t you hear what I told Ms. Martin? It wasn’t your fault. I wasn’t lying.”
“Doesn’t change the fact that it was on my watch,” he said, keeping green eyes glued to the road before him. He could still hear that awful crack when Sam’s head hit the floor. He knew now it sounded a lot worse than it really was, but that didn’t change the fact that he never wanted to hear anything like it ever again. Nor could he forget the sickening feeling of helplessness when the ghost was dragging him into the dark. No, he wasn’t getting Sammy involved in this.
“Earth to Dean.” Sam poked his arm, pulling him out of the spiral of his thoughts.
“Ow, what?”
“I said you don’t have to worry about me getting into any more fights. It’s easy.”
“Oh yeah? How’s that?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.
“We’ll go to the library before I go over to Akio’s for our history project. I guarantee you that not one member of the football team will be there on a Saturday morning.” Sam grinned. “I mean, think about it.”
Dean paused, then smiled and shoved his younger brother playfully. “You’re smarter than you look, you know that?”
“And twice as smart as you,” he shot back, grinning.
“Don’t press your luck, geek-boy.”
“Three times smarter,” he laughed, ducking Dean’s blow.
He pulled the car into their driveway and pretended to listen to the end of the Stones’ Paint it Black so he could take his time getting out. Maybe Sam bought the act and maybe he didn’t; Dean was just happy to get out and inside the house without groaning.
“I think we get to take a break from training tonight,” he declared, stretching out on the couch with a sigh.
There was no response from Sam, who’d already disappeared into the kitchen. After a few moments he started to get worried - then two gel-paks straight from the freezer landed on his stomach. Grinning at Dean’s surprised yelp, Sam handed him a Mountain Dew and a bag of Cheetos. Then he plopped down on the floor, leaned against the couch, and flipped on the TV.
Dean grinned and adjusted the gel-paks gratefully across his bruised stomach. “Sometimes you’re not too bad, Sammy,” he said, ruffling his brother’s hair playfully as they settled in for a night of The Visitor and Millennium. If either of them thought about the football game that was about to start or the ghost haunting the field, neither brother breathed a word of it.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Interlude
“I can’t believe you did that, Amy!” Mariah whispered fiercely as she pulled her hair back.
Amy glanced at her reflection in the locker-room mirror where they both stood, then applied another layer of color to her already pink lips. “I can’t believe you like him. I mean, slumming, much? He’s hot, but you know he’s Section Eight - assuming he doesn’t live in the trailer park.”
“I was just going to talk to him. You didn’t have to tell Joel.” She twisted a green band fiercely around her ponytail.
“Whatever.” Amy rolled her eyes and applied more blush.
“He could’ve gotten suspended, and now he won’t even speak to me!” Mariah hissed, whirling to face the other cheerleader.
Amy shrugged, unconcerned. “You’re the one who’s always trashing Joel. Go find your bad boy’s trailer and let Joel have someone who appreciates him.”
“You are such a bitch!” Mariah turned and walked away, pausing at the door. “Like he’d ever care about you. You’re just the slut who’s gone through half the team.”
She threw the door open and switched the lights off on the way out. The hum of the fluorescents died, leaving Amy in total darkness.
“Damn it, Mariah!” she yelled, but the other girl was gone. Cursing, she reached out to touch the mirror she knew was to her left, and started walking forward slowly. Trailing her hand along the mirror and then the wall kept her walking in the right direction, but she rammed her shin into a low bench before she took six steps. “Ow! Damn!”
As Amy reached down to rub bruised skin, she heard it - a dry whisper of a laugh.
“Who’s there?” she demanded, but received no answer. “I heard you, creep! Where are you?”
Run
Every inch of her skin prickled as the word slid through her brain.
Run
“Go away, you freak!” She stumbled toward the door blindly and yanked at the handle. It didn’t budge. “Let me out! Help!”
The rumble of the Friday night football audience was barely audible through the opaque glass of the immovable door. Behind her was absolute silence. Amy shook at the door, then pounded on the glass; there had to be someone out there, someone to hear.
Run
Something freezing touched her back. Amy whirled, then screamed. A white/blue form shimmered in front of her, ripped and darkly stained clothes marred by transparent bones piercing transparent flesh.
Run
Lurching to the side, she obeyed. There was another door, one that led to the pool and escape. She ran as fast as she could, this time not caring about bashed shins and lockers that seemed to block her way.
Run coward fairy run
She could feel it right behind her as she slammed into a wall, and then tumbled through a swinging door into the unlit pool area. Amy ached all over but still she ran - and felt nothing under her feet. Her scream was cut short by a sharp crack as she hit the cement bottom of the waterless pool.
Wide eyes stared emptily up at a darkened ceiling, reflecting a flickering white/blue. Blood glinted black, then dulled as the solid shell that was meant to cover the empty pool slid silently back into place.
The faint sound of the game announcer and the cheers that accompanied each name echoed faintly in from the field outside. No one was there to hear.
(end Chapter 6)