You Bastards! 5/8
Chapter 5
The interview with Kenny's parents was the weirdest Sam ever did. They were oblivious to their son's deaths and kept insisting that Kenny was fine and playing with his friends. After a shared look with his brother Sam didn't have the heart to tell them the truth. Which they wouldn't believe anyway.
"That was useless." Dean said on their way back to the hotel. He dropped Sam off and went to get them some dinner.
While Dean was gone Sam settled in front of the television. He should start with the research but he was lost in memories. Bad memories. He hoped with the distraction of some mindless shows he could hold them at bay but pictures from the past kept popping out of the dark pit in his mind he had shoved them into. Shot, burned, shocked, poisoned, smashed. Memories swirled into a maelstrom of blood and death. Sam took a deep breath and focused on the show running on television.
"This town is now officially weird." Dean said as he entered their room loaded with bags of food. "You'll never guess what I just saw."
Sam turned from the television and frowned at his brother. "No clue but I bet twenty bucks I can top that."
"No way. Your twenty are mine." Dean placed the bags on the table and started to unwrap the burgers. "I just saw a guy walking down the street with a hand puppet. A grown man with a friggin' hand puppet." He shook his head in disbelieve. "Try to top that. A hand puppet."
"Easy." Sam took his salad and pointed towards the television.
"What are you watching?" Dean asked around a mouthful of burger.
"Some local stuff. There is this dude who claims to be Jesus." Sam still tried to get the picture of the hand puppet guy out of his head.
"Jesus?"
"Yeah Jesus." Sam confirmed. "And they didn't put him in a loony bin … no, no … they gave him a show on television."
"You have to be kidding me."
"Watch for yourself."
Together they watched the rest of the show. Without a word Dean pulled out his wallet and handed the money over.
"At least he keeps it straight." He said as Sam switched the TV off. "With that white dress and the halo."
"Yeah." Was all Sam could think of.
"Okay, this town is beyond weird."
They finished their meal in silence. Without the distraction Sam's thoughts traveled down the memory road.
"You know what this reminds me off?" He asked finally. "This Kenny kid and his dying?"
Dean raised an eyebrow. How his brother had not seen the similarity was beyond Sam but on the other hand Dean didn't quite remember. But Sam did. Shot, burned, shocked, poisoned, smashed. He closed his eyes. It didn't help.
"What?" Dean asked when Sam didn't continue.
"Tuesday in Broward County." The slow ones had been the worst. Like the Taco. Yeah, the Taco hadn't been fun.
"Come again?"
"It fits." Sam shuddered as the memories of Dean's deaths washed over him. "Repeated deaths, only a few who remembers. Doesn't that sound familiar to you?"
Dean thought about it a minute and nodded. "But unlike me Kenny remembers. You saw him eying my car?"
Of course Sam had noticed. That Cartman kid were practically drooling over the car but Kenny had been careful as if he was afraid to let the car out of sight. As if it might jump him.
"He was afraid of her." Dean spoke out what Sam was thinking. "Never stood in front of her. And he was probably scared of me too." Dean paused and Sam felt a spike in his chest. No child was afraid of Dean. Ever. He was Dean, kids just loved him at first sight. Sam never really found out how his brother did it but he did. Seeing a kid watching Dean with fear in its eyes was just so wrong.
"So you think this is the Trickster." It wasn't a question.
"I'm not sure if it's the Trickster or just a trickster." Sam chewed his bottom lip. "But yeah, looks like." He half turned from Dean and pretended searching something in his duffel bag. The levee holding his memories back finally broke and he had trouble not bursting out in tears. He didn't even know how many times he had seen Dean die, hundreds maybe thousands of times. And then Wednesday and the months after …
Dean grabbed his jacket. "Enough with the brooding. Let's hit some bars and get a feeling for the locals. We'll not find the Trickster sitting around in this room."
"I'm not brooding." He rolled his shoulders.
"Dude, I know you." Dean said with concern in his voice. "I don't even have to see your face. I recognize your brooding shoulders when I see them."
Sam couldn't help but laugh.
"That's my boy."
South Park had three bars. They payed every one a visit. Nowhere they felt welcome.
"Dude, is it just me or don't they like strangers in this town?" Dean shoved his fists into the pockets of his jacket. "And not one hot chick. Can you believe that? Haven't seen one hot chick."
Sam rolled his eyes but couldn't hide a smile. "Sure you noticed that. We are looking for a trickster and not female company in case you forgot."
The second the words were out of his mouth Sam wanted to kick himself. The delightful expression on Dean's face crumbled.
"I haven't forgot." He answered harsh. "The kid's dying. Over and over again. Hard to forget, isn't it?"
They went back to their motel in an uncomfortable silence each of them lost in his thoughts. It was late and they called it a day. While Dean was snoring soon, maybe knowing he hadn't really killed a kid helped on that, Sam laid in the dark staring at the ceiling. Damn Trickster. He hadn't told Dean in detail what happened back in Broward County and for sure not about the months after. But this case brought it all back. Every death of Dean, quick and slow, bloody and violent, some of them even comical. Every day without Dean.
At five in the morning Sam gave up. No restful sleep for him tonight and maybe the next few nights as well. For sure not before they solved this case. He sighed and rubbed his burning eyes with the heels of his hands. After a long shower he felt mostly human again. He glanced over to Dean's bed where only spiked hair was visible under the covers. He would sleep for another hour or two at least. His brother could be called many things but for sure not an early riser.
Sam snagged the keys from his brothers jacket and went out to get some coffee. It took him a while to find a diner but he took it as a chance to get a feeling for the town. Why the hell they had a Rhinoplasty and not one diner on the main street?
When he found a diner it was nearly empty. While Sam waited for his coffee and breakfast he had a little chat with the waitress, Wanda, according to her name tag. Near her sixties she was not a hot chick like Dean would phrase it but she was nice and willing to talk to a stranger. Something not very common in this town as Sam had learned the other night. Beside some gossip Sam heard nothing helpful but he had to promise to come back with his brother some time. He thanked Wanda and left a good tip.
On his way back to the motel he noticed a few kids at a bus stop. Sam slowed the Impala down, searching for familiar faces.
"Hey guys." He greeted them as he recognized the kids. With some relieve he spotted Kenny's orange parka. So he was alive. For now.
"Hey." Came the weary response. Kenny stepped back his eyes on the car. Sam gave him a gentle smile. No sudden moves he reminded himself.
"What do you want?" Kyle asked.
"Like I said, me and my brother, we are here to help."
"How can you help?" The other kid asked. Sam still hadn't caught his name.
"We are pretty sure we know what's going on." Sam chose his words wisely. "There is some...body behind this. We just have to find him." Yeah, as if it was that easy. How many Tuesdays it had took him to identify the Trickster?
Now he had the interest of the kids. Under his hood Kenny mumbled something. Before Sam could asked Kyle translated for him.
"How can you find him?"
"Well ..." How should he describe a trickster? "He would be a real sweet tooth. Eating candy and chocolate all the time. Does that ring a bell?" The kids were the only ones who remember so it was worth a shot.
"You mean Cartman?"
"Stan!"
"You stuff yourself with candy all the time, fat ass." Stan shot back.
Sam eyed Cartman, no maybe not a trickster. Just a fat kid. But with a trickster everything was possible.
"No, I don't think your friend is behind this." Sam hurried to say.
"He's not our friend."
If looks could kill Kyle would be dead by now.
"Somebody else comes to mind?" Sam brought the conversation back to topic before this could escalate.
They stared at him in silence. Then Cartman spoke: "What about Chef's Chocolate Salty Balls?"
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