Haze Chapter 7
Okay, so I got distracted by a job interview. I think it was a worthy reason for a writing delay! Here's Chapter 7. Things are beginning to move now -- and I have everything mapped out from here 'til the end. Up until now, everything's been building with a vague plan and a lot of organic flow. Now's when things begin to pull together. Yay!
Sooooo looking forward to Thursday. I cannot express just how much! Woo!
Title: Haze Chapter 7
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: 2300
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.
One Year Later, Jason Still Missing
Dean had a theory, one that he was becoming more confident of by the minute. It was all there, spread out in front of him on the Impala’s seat - anyone who knew how to read between the lines could see it in the headlines, suspiciously coinciding dates, and certain names that popped up in photocopies of the Marshalltown Times Republican.
“Love it when the research is easy,” he muttered as he took a swig of the Coke Akio’s mom had pressed into his hands when she realized he was going to sit in the car until Sam was finished with the school project. She’d been uncertain, maybe even a little offended, when he’d turned down her offer of waiting in the living room. He’d had to turn on the Winchester charm to persuade her that he really preferred staying outside.
Not like I could spread these out in there, he thought as he scanned the headlines again.
Police Search for Missing Student
Parents Plead for Jason’s Safe Return
Police Ask Students for Leads in Johnson Case
Did Jason Run Away?
The story was simple enough. Jason Johnson’s parents went to Des Moines for a few days to sign the papers selling their old home. When they returned, he was gone. No signs of foul play meant that, within a week, the police proclaimed the highschool senior a runaway and closed the case.
Dean, however, was more persuaded by the parents’ protestations that Jason - they called him JJ, just like Ms. Martin - wouldn’t have run away. Apparently none of his friends in Des Moines had heard from him after he disappeared, and he hadn’t had any trouble fitting in at Marshalltown High. He’d even won a coveted spot on the football team, as a starter no less, and he had no history of drugs or psychological problems.
It was the football detail that caught his and Sammy’s attention when they’d been quickly scanning the papers at the library. It seemed obvious that JJ was the first victim. The One Year Later story spawned the theory - it had been printed on Tuesday. Randy had supposedly tried to kill himself Tuesday night. This time around there were more victims, but that wasn’t so strange. Most of the creatures they dealt with were creatures of habit, but that didn’t mean they didn’t escalate. Sometimes escalation was the only thing that tipped John off to their existence at all.
So whatever got JJ was going after other football players and the cheerleaders (who might as well be officially part of the team). Dean knew it was a ghost; what he couldn’t figure out was why it had a thing for jocks and cheerleaders, or why it killed this time of year, other than it being football season. Of course, it didn’t really matter why, really, as long as they could figure out where it was so they could kill it.
Still, the facts and guesses weren’t quite adding up. He couldn’t say why he had the feeling that he was missing something; it was just there, right on the edge of his consciousness and about as annoying as an unreachable itch. Wishing Sam - or even better, their dad - was here to give him feedback, he started scanning the articles on the missing student again. Greg and his girlfriend Brandi had been interviewed in one, Randy and Wayne in another, Joel in a third. He didn’t see Mariah or Tom.
“But where you find one . . . ” he muttered, shuffling the pages into a stack. Maybe Jason’s family could give him some clue about what he was missing. “Okay Dean, think. How are you going to convince the parents to talk to you?”
Leaning back, he finished off the last bite of his fast-food hamburger and cranked the radio up as Rush came on.
Growing up it all seems so one-sided
Opinions all provided
The future pre-decided.
He wasn’t old enough to pull off using one of John’s fake police badges. That ruse would be pretty cruel anyway.
Detached and subdivided
In the mass production zone
Nowhere is the dreamer or misfit so alone.
“Working on a story for the school newspaper?” he pondered, looking out at the green lawns and large driveways of the houses around him. “Could work.”
(Subdivisions) In the highschool halls
In the shopping malls
Conform or be cast out.
A silver BMW cruised past the Impala, which stuck out like a sore thumb on a block where luxury European cars were the rule, and where none of those cars were more than five years old.
(Subdivisions) In the basement bars
In the back of cars
Conform or be cast out.
The BMW rolled to a silent stop in front of a big stone house two doors down. Dean barely paid attention as someone got out of the back seat, but right as he reached for his soda something clicked. Green eyes zeroed in on the girl letting herself into the house as the German sedan drove away. He’d know that backside anywhere.
“I can’t believe it,” he exclaimed as Mariah disappeared into the house. He looked down at his watch. It was after three; Sam was probably going to be finished with his silly project soon.
But it was too good a chance to pass up; in a matter of moments he was out and knocking on Akio’s door. When the boy’s mother answered she looked somewhat confused, but Dean smiled brightly. “Sorry to bother you again, ma’am, but I need to talk to Sam for a moment. Then I’ll be out of your hair.”
“Of course, come in. Though you really wouldn’t be bothering anyone if you stayed inside. You could watch TV if you want,” she offered, gesturing toward the den where a very nice looking 36-inch TV beckoned.
“No thanks, ma’am, though it’s nice of you to offer,” he replied, and was rewarded by a charmed smile.
“Your parents must be proud of how polite they’ve raised you and your brother,” she said, oblivious to how his smile tightened just a little at the compliment. “Go on then. They’re where you left them.”
Dean walked into the kitchen, which opened out onto a dining area; he figured that together, the two rooms were about half the size of the house they were renting. Sam, Akio, and a few other freshmen were gathered around the table, chattering away about the American Revolution.
“Yo Sammy, c’mere for a moment,” he called as he walked across the tiled floor.
His brother looked up, a bit startled, then hopped up and came over.
“What’s going on?” he asked quickly, dark eyes alert. “Have you heard from Jim?”
He shook his head. “Nothing new. Look, I just spotted Mariah. Two doors up to the left, if you’re facing the car. I’m gonna see if she’ll talk to me. You think you could stay here after the project if I’m not back?”
“Yeh, I guess so, but-”
“I promise I’ll fill you in,” Dean grinned. “Get back to work.”
Minutes later he stood in front of a very large brick house, knocking on a red-painted door. He reviewed what he’d say to a wary parent as he smoothed his hair down, then smiled as the door opened to reveal . . . nothing?
“Oh, hey,” he said when he finally realized it was a short kid who’d opened the door - a girl probably a few years younger than Sammy. “Is Mariah here?”
The girl rolled her eyes, turned away, and yelled the cheerleader’s name at a volume that impressed him.
“What?” an irritated voice shouted back. The girl shrugged, turned and abandoned him where he stood.
Dean floundered for a moment, not sure exactly what to do, but then decided to head upstairs. It sounded like Mariah was up there, and obviously little sis here didn’t care if he was there to deliver pizza or make out with her older sister. Since no one else showed up, Dean climbed the carpeted stairs; the only sound that came from downstairs was the very recognizable Mario Brothers theme. No parents home, then. Sometimes he wondered at how stupid people were.
He wandered down halls until he found a door decorated with pompoms, ribbons, and pictures of the cheerleading squad. He didn’t even bother waiting for a response to his knock on the half-open door before pushing it open.
“Go away, Sarah!” the cheerleader yelled from where she was curled on her bed, her back to the door and her arms around an oversized pillow.
“Can I come in?” he asked, causing her to sit up with a cry of surprise. Dean couldn’t help frowning when he saw she was crying. “Are you okay?”
“What are you doing here?” she demanded, running the back of her hand over her wet cheeks. “Go away.”
He took a step forward instead. “Did he hurt you?” It didn’t take to much imagination to think Joel was capable of hitting a girl.
“What? No, are you insane? He wouldn’t do that!” She stood and walked up to him. “Leave.”
“Not until you tell me what happened,” he said simply.
“Nothing happened!”
“Yes it did. You were crying, your eyes are red, and - oh yeah - we were attacked by a ghost two days ago! Now what’s going on?” He paused as a thought came to him. “It didn’t attack you again, did it?”
Mariah tried to give him another look telling him just how insane he was, but this one wasn’t nearly as successful as the first. “No, look, just go. Nothing happened.” As she spoke, she wrapped her arms around her stomach ad turned her face away.
Someone else might have felt sympathetic; Dean just felt frustrated. He leaned against the doorframe and hooked his thumbs in his pockets. “It did happen. You got attacked; Randy got attacked; Wayne got attacked. You’re just lucky you got off as easy as you did, and unless you tell me what’s going on it’ll happen again. Maybe to you, maybe to someone else, but it’ll happen. And whoever it is will probably die.”
Blue eyes widened; Mariah gasped and turned away, trembling as she sat gracelessly. This time Dean did move, crossing the room to sit beside her. “Who?” he asked simply.
“Amy,” she answered, her voice so soft he had to strain to hear her. “We had a fight; I left her in the dark. She’s gone.”
Dean could only stare at her in amazement as she began to cry again. What the hell were you thinking? was the obvious question, but it was also useless. “Where was she when she disappeared?” he asked instead.
“The locker room. It’s like she just left, but she wouldn’t have missed the game.” Mariah pulled at a lock of her hair. “I turned off the lights.”
He reached out and put a hand carefully around hers, trapping her fingers so she’d stop. “If it helps, the lights didn’t matter. It’s just sunlight that scares off most ghosts.”
“How do you know that?” she asked uncertainly, still refusing to look at him.
“I just do,” he answered, then continued before she realized she’d just accepted the existence of ghosts. “Look, Mariah, I need you to tell me about Jason Johnson. What happened to him?”
She wrenched her hand out of his so fast his skin burned. “This doesn’t have anything to with JJ!”
“Yeh, right.” He caught her hand again and leaned forward. “I knew he was more than a vic. Something happened to him; something bad, and you know what it was. You were there, weren’t you? You and Amy, Wayne, and Randy.”
She tried to pull away again, but this time he didn’t let her. After a moment she met his eyes, staring at him like a scared bird, and shook her head mutely.
“You have to tell me, Mariah, so I can do something about it. Otherwise it’s going to come back for you, and next time I won’t be there to save you.”
“You can’t do anything; he’s dead,” she moaned suddenly, tears rolling down her cheeks. “It was an accident, it was . . . it wasn’t supposed to happen!”
Wide-eyed, Dean watched her as she dissolved into tears. A chivalrous instinct told him to comfort her, but all he could do was stare. The instinct that had been itching at him in the car settled in morbid satisfaction - Jason hadn’t been killed by the ghost. He’d been killed by his friends. Jason was the ghost. And Mariah and the others had stayed quiet this whole time, while JJ was out there somewhere decaying.
Any attraction she held for him shattered like a broken window.
“Mariah.” He spoke her name slowly and firmly to win her attention. “You need to tell me what happened. And you need to tell me where he is.”
She shook her head a few more times, but after a long moment of looking into his eyes she began to speak.
(End chapter 7)
Sooooo looking forward to Thursday. I cannot express just how much! Woo!
Title: Haze Chapter 7
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: 2300
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.
One Year Later, Jason Still Missing
Dean had a theory, one that he was becoming more confident of by the minute. It was all there, spread out in front of him on the Impala’s seat - anyone who knew how to read between the lines could see it in the headlines, suspiciously coinciding dates, and certain names that popped up in photocopies of the Marshalltown Times Republican.
“Love it when the research is easy,” he muttered as he took a swig of the Coke Akio’s mom had pressed into his hands when she realized he was going to sit in the car until Sam was finished with the school project. She’d been uncertain, maybe even a little offended, when he’d turned down her offer of waiting in the living room. He’d had to turn on the Winchester charm to persuade her that he really preferred staying outside.
Not like I could spread these out in there, he thought as he scanned the headlines again.
Police Search for Missing Student
Parents Plead for Jason’s Safe Return
Police Ask Students for Leads in Johnson Case
Did Jason Run Away?
The story was simple enough. Jason Johnson’s parents went to Des Moines for a few days to sign the papers selling their old home. When they returned, he was gone. No signs of foul play meant that, within a week, the police proclaimed the highschool senior a runaway and closed the case.
Dean, however, was more persuaded by the parents’ protestations that Jason - they called him JJ, just like Ms. Martin - wouldn’t have run away. Apparently none of his friends in Des Moines had heard from him after he disappeared, and he hadn’t had any trouble fitting in at Marshalltown High. He’d even won a coveted spot on the football team, as a starter no less, and he had no history of drugs or psychological problems.
It was the football detail that caught his and Sammy’s attention when they’d been quickly scanning the papers at the library. It seemed obvious that JJ was the first victim. The One Year Later story spawned the theory - it had been printed on Tuesday. Randy had supposedly tried to kill himself Tuesday night. This time around there were more victims, but that wasn’t so strange. Most of the creatures they dealt with were creatures of habit, but that didn’t mean they didn’t escalate. Sometimes escalation was the only thing that tipped John off to their existence at all.
So whatever got JJ was going after other football players and the cheerleaders (who might as well be officially part of the team). Dean knew it was a ghost; what he couldn’t figure out was why it had a thing for jocks and cheerleaders, or why it killed this time of year, other than it being football season. Of course, it didn’t really matter why, really, as long as they could figure out where it was so they could kill it.
Still, the facts and guesses weren’t quite adding up. He couldn’t say why he had the feeling that he was missing something; it was just there, right on the edge of his consciousness and about as annoying as an unreachable itch. Wishing Sam - or even better, their dad - was here to give him feedback, he started scanning the articles on the missing student again. Greg and his girlfriend Brandi had been interviewed in one, Randy and Wayne in another, Joel in a third. He didn’t see Mariah or Tom.
“But where you find one . . . ” he muttered, shuffling the pages into a stack. Maybe Jason’s family could give him some clue about what he was missing. “Okay Dean, think. How are you going to convince the parents to talk to you?”
Leaning back, he finished off the last bite of his fast-food hamburger and cranked the radio up as Rush came on.
Growing up it all seems so one-sided
Opinions all provided
The future pre-decided.
He wasn’t old enough to pull off using one of John’s fake police badges. That ruse would be pretty cruel anyway.
Detached and subdivided
In the mass production zone
Nowhere is the dreamer or misfit so alone.
“Working on a story for the school newspaper?” he pondered, looking out at the green lawns and large driveways of the houses around him. “Could work.”
(Subdivisions) In the highschool halls
In the shopping malls
Conform or be cast out.
A silver BMW cruised past the Impala, which stuck out like a sore thumb on a block where luxury European cars were the rule, and where none of those cars were more than five years old.
(Subdivisions) In the basement bars
In the back of cars
Conform or be cast out.
The BMW rolled to a silent stop in front of a big stone house two doors down. Dean barely paid attention as someone got out of the back seat, but right as he reached for his soda something clicked. Green eyes zeroed in on the girl letting herself into the house as the German sedan drove away. He’d know that backside anywhere.
“I can’t believe it,” he exclaimed as Mariah disappeared into the house. He looked down at his watch. It was after three; Sam was probably going to be finished with his silly project soon.
But it was too good a chance to pass up; in a matter of moments he was out and knocking on Akio’s door. When the boy’s mother answered she looked somewhat confused, but Dean smiled brightly. “Sorry to bother you again, ma’am, but I need to talk to Sam for a moment. Then I’ll be out of your hair.”
“Of course, come in. Though you really wouldn’t be bothering anyone if you stayed inside. You could watch TV if you want,” she offered, gesturing toward the den where a very nice looking 36-inch TV beckoned.
“No thanks, ma’am, though it’s nice of you to offer,” he replied, and was rewarded by a charmed smile.
“Your parents must be proud of how polite they’ve raised you and your brother,” she said, oblivious to how his smile tightened just a little at the compliment. “Go on then. They’re where you left them.”
Dean walked into the kitchen, which opened out onto a dining area; he figured that together, the two rooms were about half the size of the house they were renting. Sam, Akio, and a few other freshmen were gathered around the table, chattering away about the American Revolution.
“Yo Sammy, c’mere for a moment,” he called as he walked across the tiled floor.
His brother looked up, a bit startled, then hopped up and came over.
“What’s going on?” he asked quickly, dark eyes alert. “Have you heard from Jim?”
He shook his head. “Nothing new. Look, I just spotted Mariah. Two doors up to the left, if you’re facing the car. I’m gonna see if she’ll talk to me. You think you could stay here after the project if I’m not back?”
“Yeh, I guess so, but-”
“I promise I’ll fill you in,” Dean grinned. “Get back to work.”
Minutes later he stood in front of a very large brick house, knocking on a red-painted door. He reviewed what he’d say to a wary parent as he smoothed his hair down, then smiled as the door opened to reveal . . . nothing?
“Oh, hey,” he said when he finally realized it was a short kid who’d opened the door - a girl probably a few years younger than Sammy. “Is Mariah here?”
The girl rolled her eyes, turned away, and yelled the cheerleader’s name at a volume that impressed him.
“What?” an irritated voice shouted back. The girl shrugged, turned and abandoned him where he stood.
Dean floundered for a moment, not sure exactly what to do, but then decided to head upstairs. It sounded like Mariah was up there, and obviously little sis here didn’t care if he was there to deliver pizza or make out with her older sister. Since no one else showed up, Dean climbed the carpeted stairs; the only sound that came from downstairs was the very recognizable Mario Brothers theme. No parents home, then. Sometimes he wondered at how stupid people were.
He wandered down halls until he found a door decorated with pompoms, ribbons, and pictures of the cheerleading squad. He didn’t even bother waiting for a response to his knock on the half-open door before pushing it open.
“Go away, Sarah!” the cheerleader yelled from where she was curled on her bed, her back to the door and her arms around an oversized pillow.
“Can I come in?” he asked, causing her to sit up with a cry of surprise. Dean couldn’t help frowning when he saw she was crying. “Are you okay?”
“What are you doing here?” she demanded, running the back of her hand over her wet cheeks. “Go away.”
He took a step forward instead. “Did he hurt you?” It didn’t take to much imagination to think Joel was capable of hitting a girl.
“What? No, are you insane? He wouldn’t do that!” She stood and walked up to him. “Leave.”
“Not until you tell me what happened,” he said simply.
“Nothing happened!”
“Yes it did. You were crying, your eyes are red, and - oh yeah - we were attacked by a ghost two days ago! Now what’s going on?” He paused as a thought came to him. “It didn’t attack you again, did it?”
Mariah tried to give him another look telling him just how insane he was, but this one wasn’t nearly as successful as the first. “No, look, just go. Nothing happened.” As she spoke, she wrapped her arms around her stomach ad turned her face away.
Someone else might have felt sympathetic; Dean just felt frustrated. He leaned against the doorframe and hooked his thumbs in his pockets. “It did happen. You got attacked; Randy got attacked; Wayne got attacked. You’re just lucky you got off as easy as you did, and unless you tell me what’s going on it’ll happen again. Maybe to you, maybe to someone else, but it’ll happen. And whoever it is will probably die.”
Blue eyes widened; Mariah gasped and turned away, trembling as she sat gracelessly. This time Dean did move, crossing the room to sit beside her. “Who?” he asked simply.
“Amy,” she answered, her voice so soft he had to strain to hear her. “We had a fight; I left her in the dark. She’s gone.”
Dean could only stare at her in amazement as she began to cry again. What the hell were you thinking? was the obvious question, but it was also useless. “Where was she when she disappeared?” he asked instead.
“The locker room. It’s like she just left, but she wouldn’t have missed the game.” Mariah pulled at a lock of her hair. “I turned off the lights.”
He reached out and put a hand carefully around hers, trapping her fingers so she’d stop. “If it helps, the lights didn’t matter. It’s just sunlight that scares off most ghosts.”
“How do you know that?” she asked uncertainly, still refusing to look at him.
“I just do,” he answered, then continued before she realized she’d just accepted the existence of ghosts. “Look, Mariah, I need you to tell me about Jason Johnson. What happened to him?”
She wrenched her hand out of his so fast his skin burned. “This doesn’t have anything to with JJ!”
“Yeh, right.” He caught her hand again and leaned forward. “I knew he was more than a vic. Something happened to him; something bad, and you know what it was. You were there, weren’t you? You and Amy, Wayne, and Randy.”
She tried to pull away again, but this time he didn’t let her. After a moment she met his eyes, staring at him like a scared bird, and shook her head mutely.
“You have to tell me, Mariah, so I can do something about it. Otherwise it’s going to come back for you, and next time I won’t be there to save you.”
“You can’t do anything; he’s dead,” she moaned suddenly, tears rolling down her cheeks. “It was an accident, it was . . . it wasn’t supposed to happen!”
Wide-eyed, Dean watched her as she dissolved into tears. A chivalrous instinct told him to comfort her, but all he could do was stare. The instinct that had been itching at him in the car settled in morbid satisfaction - Jason hadn’t been killed by the ghost. He’d been killed by his friends. Jason was the ghost. And Mariah and the others had stayed quiet this whole time, while JJ was out there somewhere decaying.
Any attraction she held for him shattered like a broken window.
“Mariah.” He spoke her name slowly and firmly to win her attention. “You need to tell me what happened. And you need to tell me where he is.”
She shook her head a few more times, but after a long moment of looking into his eyes she began to speak.
(End chapter 7)