You Bastards! 3/8
Chapter 3
The next hour went by in a blur. Sam remembered talking to a police officer who seemed slightly retarded. An ambulance came for the kid but it was too late. The kid was dead. Sam felt numb.
He had seen more death, hell, caused more death, than a man should in a lifetime but this was different. The kid was not a monster. This was not part of the job. This was a twisted bitter taste of normal.
The kid - Kenny - was dead and Sam felt sorry for him but he was more worried about Dean. His brother hadn't spoken a word since the accident. And it was an accident. It just happened. It was tragic and sad and a kid so young shouldn't be dead but things like that sometimes happened.
Not in Dean's book. Dean would have felt guilty if he had been a bystander who only watched the accident. He would blame himself for not being fast enough to get the kid out of harms way. But this was worse. Dean had been behind the wheel. His car, his fault.
After an eternity Sam was allowed to get his brother and leave. The car was towed to a garage so they had to walk to the next hotel. Dean carried his bag without a word, Sam wasn't sure if he knew what he was doing. He followed Sam like a dog, two steps behind, his head hanging, his expression blank. When Sam told him to stop at the hotel so Sam could get them a room he just stood there till Sam returned. Hadn't moved a muscle and Sam wondered if he would just stand there for hours if he didn't tell him to get inside.
Dean dropped his bag next to the door and got a few steps further into the room. Then he stopped and just stood there. Still silent. Behind him Sam closed the door. He had no idea what to do. If the tables were turned Dean would knew what to do. All his life Dean had been there for him to make things better. Dean would just knew.
How could this get better? Sam had no clue. The kid was dead. That was a fact nether of them could deny.
"What was his name?" Dean's voice was husky and low but it was the sweetest sound Sam had ever heard.
"Kenny." Sam wanted to hold his brother, hold him tight, but Dean wouldn't allowed it. Never had been the touching and sharing type. So Sam put all his support in that one word.
"How old?"
"Eight." Sam circled his brother to look him in the eye. His expression was still blank but he couldn't hold back the tears any longer. Silent they ran down his cheeks. Sam had never seen his brother so young, so vulnerable. His heart clutched in his chest.
When Sam offered him two pills and a glass of water Dean took them without even lifting his head.
"Don't look at me like that." The words were slurred but Sam knew what his brother wanted to say. Fully dressed Dean was laying on the bed, his face buried in the pillow. The pills were doing their job.
"I'm here. I will be here when you wake up." He wanted to say more. It's not your fault, for example, but Dean wouldn't accept it.
"Sh'd l've." Sam wasn't sure what that meant. If he should leave or the kid should live. Neither of it would happen.
"I'm here." He reassured his brother rubbing circles on his back. To his surprise Dean let him. "You are not alone."
A few minutes later Dean was fast asleep and Sam could finally give into his own shock. With trembling hands he pulled a bottle out of Dean's bag - his brother always kept some of the good stuff for medical application - and took a big gulp directly out of the bottle.
Sam settled down on the floor, back leaning against the side of Dean's bed, the whiskey bottle between his feet. Every time he closed his eyes the seconds of the accident replayed in his mind. He felt the thud of the impact, heard the glass cracking, saw the blood. It had happened so fast Dean never had a chance to stop the car in time. Not a heavy battleship like the Impala.
"Poor Kenny." Sam drank a salute to the kid. Then, the bottle still at his lips, he froze. "Kenny." He repeated. With his eyes closed Sam tried to remember if the officer had told him the kid's last name.
"Kenny McCormick." He was pretty sure. So maybe, just maybe something supernatural caused the crash. It would still be a tough one for Dean but he could probably accept it better than just a random accident. And Dean could kill something for revenge.
"What are you doing on the floor?" Dean's voice came from above and Sam needed a second to connect the question to his current position. Seemed like he had fallen asleep.
His legs were numb and his neck felt stiff from the awkward angle he had held it while he slept.
"What time is it?" Rubbing his legs he tried to get the blood circulation running. Thousands of needles were torturing him and he grit his teeth.
"Nine in the morning." Dean grabbed the bottle of whiskey before Sam could accidentally kick it while his body came back to life. He looked at it for a moment and then put it on the nightstand.
"It wasn't a dream, right?" Hope in his voice also he knew better, Sam saw it in his eyes.
"No dream."
Dean nodded and fell back into his pillow.
Sam chew his bottom lip. "I'm not sure it was really an accident." He trusted his leg enough to push him up so he could sit on the edge of Dean's bed.
For a long moment Dean just watched him. "What do you mean?"
"The kid's name was Kenny McCormick just like the others."
"OK."
"I want to check the morgue." Sam said knowing his brother's response before he actually said a word.
"I'm coming with you." Stern voice but with a layer of guilt beneath it. And maybe a little panic too.
"I don't think that's a good idea." Dean was barley holding it together. Confronting him with the dead body of that kid? No, sir. Not a good idea.
"I ..." Dean began and then stopped. He clenched his fist in a helpless expression. "I just have to … you know."
"Yeah." Of course he knew.
Neither of them were hungry - the thought of food made Sam feel sick - so they get dressed and went outside. Dean's movements were slow and he seemed lost in his thoughts so he just went to the driver's side of the car. He was halfway in when he looked at Sam who stood still at the door staring at the car.
"Are you coming?"
Sam swallowed and blinked. The car was still there. It shouldn't be there. And as sure as hell it shouldn't look like it had been in a car wash a minute ago.
"The car was towed to a garage." He finally manage to bring the words out.
That let Dean's hunter instincts kick in. He jumped back, grabbing for a gun that wasn't in his waistband.
"Maybe they fixed her and brought her back?" He was now standing between Sam and the car, eying his baby closely.
"They don't know where we stay. I didn't know at that point so I couldn't tell them." And the last thing he had cared at that moment was the damn car but he better kept that to himself.
"So why is the car here?"
"I don't know."
"Stay here, I'll take a look." Dean glared at Sam to make sure he would follow the order for once and then began to investigate the car. Sam was tempted to help but he didn't move. At least this kept his brother's mind from brooding over the crash.
"No scratches, cracks or dents. No EMF, sulfur or hex bags either." Dean informed him. For a moment they both stood there eying the car which seemed to mock them.
"Only one way to find out." Dean straightened and opened the driver's door again. "You wouldn't hurt me, right baby?"
"Are you sure you want to drive?" They sat in the car, Dean had the key in the ignition but hadn't turned it.
"Sure." It came out just a little bit too quick. Sam decided to ignore it. Get back in the settle as soon as possible, he guessed.
The short drive was tense. For one Sam expected Dean to freak out any minute or cause another crash - he didn't cause the first one, he had to remind himself - and second he was prepared for the car doing something weird. Judging by the white knuckled grip his brother had on the wheel his thoughts went in a similar direction. But Dean drove them safe to the hospital were the morgue was.
With their FBI badges they got in and the coroner was all happy to help the agents. But when Sam asked to see the body of Kenny McCormick the man frowned.
"Sorry, our only guests are a eighty-three year old woman and a fourty-some hobo."
"No kids?" Till this point Dean had let Sam do the talking but now he stepped forwards. "Kenny McCormick, eight years old, car accident, died yesterday." He rattled off the facts like they had been in his head for a while. Together with myfaultmyfaultmyfault... Sam bet.
The coroner shook his head. "I'm sorry. He isn't here. Maybe he was brought somewhere else?"
"Where could that be?" Sam interrupted.
Now the coroner looked really confused. "I don't know. He should be here. If he is dead, of course."
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