Fallen Angel, 1/3
Jakey, I got two girls in my room. I can’t get them to leave.” Conrad almost has to shout over the noise coming from a couple of doors down the hall.
Jake smiles as he sits down to eat. “Nice, man. Why didn’t you give me a shout?” he asks, even though he doesn’t believe a word Conrad’s saying.
“They would’ve taken one look at you and kicked my ass out of bed.” It comes out less like a joke, more like an old truth that no one talks about.
They’re about the same height, Conrad an inch or so shorter. They have the same features: pink undertone to their skin, pink lips, green eyes, and freckles. But Jake is better looking, thinner with hair that’s not reddish-brown and curly. Girls want to fuck Jake. Girls just want Conrad to leave them alone.
“Yeah, okay,” Jake chuckles. When Conrad doesn’t say anything else, he asks, “What’s up, man?”
Conrad runs a hand through his hair and takes a deep breath. “I dunno, man. I’m spent.” It’s not a lie. He’s just come off a three-day rage. He sits on the floor of his dorm’s hallway. No one else is around: gone for the weekend, at the party down the hall, holed up in their rooms with boyfriends or girlfriends.
“Get some sleep then. I’ll come over and we’ll get breakfast in the morning. Okay?”
“Okay.” Jake’s about to say he’ll call in the morning when Conrad asks, “Hey, Jake?”
“Yeah?”
“Fuck you.” He smiles as he says it.
Jake smiles too. “You wish. Now get some sleep.” Conrad listens to the line go dead. He stares at the phone like he expects Jake to call him back. Then he maybe he’ll talk to Jake, tell him what’s wrong.
He thinks about his fight with Darius.
“Keep your dog on a leash,” Darius says to Jake all the while staring at Conrad.
He thinks about his talk with Jake on the baseball field when Jake discovered the bruises.
“Damn it Connie,” Jake spits, says it like he’s tired of Conrad’s shit. “I can’t babysit you day and night.”
Conrad’s pissed. “Who asked you to?”
As tired as he may be, Jake manages to smile because he’s not that tired. “Don’t give me that shit, man. Come on - I’ve been covering your back since we were nine.”
“Well, why don’t you stop already?”
“Okay,” Jake says easily even though he doesn’t mean it and he knows Conrad doesn’t really want it either.
A loud thump, like someone falling, from the party shakes him out of his thoughts. He tells himself to stop being such a pussy.
He gets up to go back to his room and it’s the last thing he does on his own. He’s not in control anymore. He goes to his room and gets the gun he’d stolen from his dad. Then he’s crossing the hall to Darius’ room. He screams so loud when the shots are fired but nobody hears a thing.
::::::
“I can’t believe you like this place,” Sam says, shrugging out of his jacket. He looks around.
“What’s not to like?” Dean asks, his arms spread wide, his smile just as wide.
No, it’s not the typical diner they go to - a convenient place that has usually seen better days but the food isn’t half bad. The food at this place,
The Paper Moon Diner, is better than half bad. It’s actually good.
“I can’t believe you don’t remember this place.” Sam was only four when his dad got rid of the ghost of Jim Daniels that haunted the place. The story goes he was killed by his own wife (who claimed until her death that she didn’t kill him) and then she hid the body. Whoever killed old Jim hid the body in the wall of one of the smaller rooms on the main floor. During the renovation of the building so that it could become the diner, his bones were found and taken to a new resting place. Of course, Jim Daniels didn’t like that at all and let it known by causing a serious of accidents. Luckily no one died but it was only a matter of time before he got around to it. The building’s owners, Ricky and June, were extremely grateful, having sunk every last penny into the place. They told John that any time he was in town his meal was on the house. He took them up on the offer the next day when he brought Dean and Sam, figuring they’d get a kick out of the place. John never made it back that way, at least not with either of the boys. Dean didn’t make it back until he a solo hunt in Jersey had him passing through Maryland. Sam was off at Stanford.
Sam looks around the place again and says, “You’d think I would.”
There’s a mannequin on the roof. The building’s painted an interesting mix of green, yellow, blue, white, and pink. It’s the same inside, a mix of colors and kitsch on pretty much every surface. There are silver stars hanging from the ceiling. It’s some weird mash-up of fifties style and the bad color choices of the eighties.
“Dean,” an older woman calls as she approaches. She’s about Ellen’s age with blonde hair and light blue eyes.
“Miss June.” She hugs him like he’s a long-lost relative, rocking side to side.
When they pull apart, she declares, “Every time I see you - which isn’t often enough, young man - you get even more handsome.” Dean actually blushes.
“Who is this other handsome young man with you?”
“Where?” Dean actually looks around as he says it.
Sam rolls his eyes. “I’m Sam, ma’am.” He extends his hand but she bats it away.
“Little Sam? Come here.” She hugs him like she hugged Dean. When she pulls away, she asks him, “What did your daddy feed you? The last time I saw you, you were a little thing. Speaking of your daddy, how is he? I haven’t seen him in years.” She looks at Dean but he doesn’t answer, then back at Sam.
“He passed away last year,” Sam tells her.
“On the job?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Well, I am sorry to hear that. At least I know my Ricky has some company up there.” She casts her eyes upward for the briefest of moments.
Dean, always with the food, asks, “Then who’s making the burgers?”
“Dean!” Sam admonishes.
“What?” he says before he realizes how he probably sounded. “Sorry. About that and your husband.” He has that look that lets everyone know he’s an idiot.
“Don’t worry, Dean. My nephew Bill, whom you‘ve might met the last time you were here, does most of the cooking now. We practically raised him so he knows what he’s doing. Now sit back down and let me get my best waitress to take care of you. It’s a busy night or else I’d do it myself.” The place is pretty packed. She probably wouldn’t have spotted them if Dean hadn’t told the hostess to let her know the “Winchesters are here for dinner.”
The best is Monie, who is a little shorter than June and thinner. Her braids are pulled back in a ponytail, which allows everyone to see her face. She’s got dark eyes and a big white smile punctuated with a dimple in her left cheek. She looks way too young to be working.
Dean orders for them, telling Sam that “you do not come to this place and order a salad.” That Sam will “eat the Moon Burger and Oreo Monster Mouse Cake and like it.” Monie’s clearly amused by Dean.
“Do you have no shame?”
Dean turns back to Sam. “What?” he says like he has no idea what Sam’s asking, like they haven’t had this conversation before. Sam doesn’t even know why he bothers except it’s what he and Dean do.
“Flirting with the waitress. She looks twelve.” That’s just wrong. Her blushing didn’t dissuade him from thinking she’s pretty young. She’s adorable.
“Geek boy, you should know that there’s a university practically down the street so she’s a college girl, which means she’s at least eighteen. You of all people should know eighteen equals legal.”
“You’re almost thirty.”
“I’m a dead man walking too, so all the more reason,” Deans says so nonchalantly. As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he spreads his arms across the back of his booth and surveys the rest of the place. The conversation is over because there’s nothing that can top that, at least not anything Dean wants to hear, like “I’m going to get you out of this.” Sam will, even if he has no idea how he’s going to do it.
Deans pretty sure that Sam won’t get him out of it therefore these are his last days and he deserves to spend them however he wants. Sam still glares at him every time he says something about him dying.
“Stop being pissy and tell me about this case some more.”
With a sigh that indicates he’s still mad, Sam pulls out his laptop. “Like I said, there’s been a bunch of demon activity in Ilchester. It’s about thirty minutes from here.”
“You said some priest went nutso at some convent.”
“I’d say he went more than nutso. Back in seventy-two the priest disemboweled eight nuns at a convent, St. Mary’s. He said it wasn’t his fault, that a demon made him do it. He remembered the demon’s name: Azazel.”
“You shitting me?”
“Nope. So a week ago this guy Jeff Clemens, who owned a computer store, kills a couple of customers in his store. People in the area said the guy was an asshole but they didn’t think he was the kind of guy that would torture and kill people. Then a couple of days ago this kid Conrad Dean kills some guy called Darius Mitchell and Darius’ girlfriend Jenna Milton. Just went into the guy’s room and shot both of them. A couple of days earlier they had gotten into a fight at a dorm party. A friend of Conrad’s stopped the fight.”
“Both of them say they were possessed, too?”
“Jeff Clemens, yes; Conrad, no. He shot himself. Probably after he got his body back.”
“You sure the kid was possessed?”
“No, but I’m pretty sure he was. Anyway, the friend that stopped the fight, this guy named Jake Gray, found the bodies the next morning.”
“Jesus. Poor kid having to walk in on that.”
“And it wasn’t the first time he found something like that. He worked for Clemens. The day before, Clemens fired him so he could hire his nephew. He went by the next evening to pick up his last paycheck and found the guy standing in the middle of the shop surrounded by the bodies.”
“That’s a fucked-up coincidence if I ever heard one. So what do the fine police of Ilchester think of this coincidence?”
“What do you think?”
Dean’s about to answer when Monie sits down two big plates, both with more than decent-size burgers and a generous helping of fries. “Here you go, guys.”
“Thanks,” Dean and Sam say in unison.
“If you need anything, give me a call.”
“Trust me, I will,” Dean tells her. Monie’s nearly bright red when she walks away.
A hour or so later, June’s asking, “So how was it?”
“Just like I remember.”
“I gotta say, it was one of the best burgers I’ve had in a while,” Sam admits.
“Told you, Sammy.”
“Well, I’m glad we didn’t disappoint. I’ll be back to check on you after dessert.”
She doesn’t even need to ask how they liked dessert, based on their smiles. She asks instead, “So where you boys staying?”
“We haven’t decided. This was our first stop off of 29. It’s our whole reason for being in the city.”
“Well, you boys are welcome to stay with me. I have room. My place isn’t too far from here.” June doesn’t look like she’ll take no for an answer, but
it doesn’t stop Dean from trying.
“We can’t.”
“And why not?”
Sam answers, “We wouldn’t want to impose.”
“What imposing? I offered. Don’t refuse an old lady here.”
“Old lady, my ass.”
“Thank you, Dean.”
“So if you’re ready, I can take you now.” She’s got her hands on her hips and looks between Sam and Dean like she’s daring one of them to say no again.
There is a four-story rowhouse that’s obviously been cared for over the years. Bill apparently lives in the basement and Monie rents the top floor. Sam can see the smile on Dean’s face and the wheels turning in his head when June shares that bit of information. The main floor is standard - living room, dining room, kitchen, and a small half bath under the stairs. The second floor has June’s bedroom and a guest bedroom and bath. June tells them the bathroom all theirs, she’s got one in her bedroom. Sam and Dean look at each other in relief; it’s been a long time since either’s shared a bathroom with a member of the opposite sex. She makes them drop off their stuff in the guest room before ordering them back downstairs so she can freshen it up.
She had told them to make themselves at home. They do. Well, as much as possible. Dean finds the Playboy Channel and then promptly switches to something else after realizing how weird it is to watch it in June’s house, especially with her right upstairs.
::::::
Ilchester looks postcard perfect. Nothing but tree-lined streets, modest but nicely maintained homes. It’s not that far from the city, but it might as well be. It’s got a decidedly small-town vibe about it. The Impala’s out of place, just as it is in most of the places they wind up in week after week. The sheriff is easy enough to find right in the center of town on Main Street.
“So the FBI haven’t been out here to check things out?” Dean confirms as they exit the car. He straightens his tie while looking in the driver’s side window.
“Nope.”
“Good. Now let’s see what crack police work was done.”
Coming around the front of the car, Sam asks, “You do know it’s not the police’s fault they don’t know what to look for?” Dean just looks at him sideways before crossing the street.
The police building is a one-story, brick building that looks fairly new. It doesn’t look that big, the kind of place that doesn’t hold its fair share of criminals. The place is pretty deserted even for a small town so early in the morning. The first person they see is a young woman that barely looks older than Monie. Her desk plate reads Nancy Fitzgerald.
“Morning.” Dean glances down at the nameplate on the desk in front of him. “Nancy, we’re here to see Sheriff Ross North. I’m Agent Page. This is my partner Agent Plant.” They flash their badges at the same time.
She smiles at them. “Do you have an appointment?”
“We should. Our secretary said she called ahead.”
“Okay. Let me see.” She turns to her computer, types for a couple of seconds, then turns back to them. “I don’t see your names on his calendar.”
Dean turns to Sam. “Well, I guess Donna is not getting that raise.” Dean turns back to Nancy, places his hands on her desk, careful not to knock off any of her crosses or pictures of Jesus. “This is the third time this week we’ve shown up and no one was expecting us. I’m sure Sheriff North never has to go through this with you.”
Nancy blushes a little, says, “No, sir.”
“Do you think he could squeeze us in? I mean, we came all the way from D.C. You know how hard it is getting through of DC traffic during rush hour.”
“It’s about the Jeff Clemens and Conrad Dean cases,” Sam chimes in, still standing beside Dean with his hands in his pockets. “It’s really important we speak to him as soon as possible.”
Nancy’s right hand goes to the cross around her neck. “Why would the FBI be interested in those cases?”
They don’t get to answer because Sheriff North exits his office at that moment. “Nancy. Gentlemen, how may I help you?” He’s as tall as Sam with a slighter, slimmer build. He’s got gray hair but he doesn’t look old enough to have as much as he does.
“I’m Agent Page. This is my partner Agent Plant. We’ll here to see you about the Jeff Clemens and Conrad Dean cases,” Dean answers.
Sheriff North crosses his arms, thinks for a second. “Agents Page and Plant?” He smirks.
Dean smiles. “I know. We get that all the time. It’s a curse. The higher ups though it’d be funny to put us together.”
“I’m sure.” The sheriff still looks skeptical. Dean and Sam take out their badges and hand them to him for inspection.
He looks up, says “At least your first names aren’t Robert and Jimmy” before handing their badges back.
“Well there are worse things in life than people singing Led Zeppelin songs at us when they find out our names,” Dean tells him.
“Speak for yourself,” Sam tells the sheriff.
Sheriff North motions for them to follow. “I don’t see why the FBI is interested in these cases, but come on in.” He takes a seat behind his desk, a simple design and uncluttered, fitting in perfectly with everything else. The office isn’t that big with its wood paneling covered in awards and pictures. “Have a seat.”
“Thank you.” Sam begins, “What can you tell us about the cases? I mean what hasn’t already been reported.”
Turns out there isn’t much that hasn’t been reported already. They find out only a couple of things they didn’t already know from reading about the cases online.
“So you didn’t you notice anything unusual about either scene?” Dean asks.
“Like what?”
“Like anything that would lend credibility to Jeff Clemens’ claim that he was possessed?” Sam answers.
“You think he was possessed?”
“I think he thinks he was possessed,” Dean responds.
“Well, …” Sheriff begins before Dean cuts him off, knowing exactly what he’s going to say.
“Sheriff, I’m guessing you haven’t worked too many cases where people claim they were possessed, because the last one that made news around here was back in seventy-two. You want to guess how many we’ve investigated?” Dean asks, one word away from calling Sheriff North an idiot and leaving.
“Page,” Sam warns.
“No, it’s okay, Agent Plant. Your partner has a point.” He leans forward, placing his forearms on his desk. “I don’t appreciate the tone, but I can’t say I haven’t done the same during an investigation.” Sam doesn’t have to look at Dean to see the look of satisfaction on his face.
“So what did Mr. Clemens say about being possessed? Did he describe what it felt like?” Sam asks, pen poised and ready to take notes.
“He said he didn’t have any control over his body. He screamed as he killed those people but it came out a laugh because the demon was happy. He said he would talk to himself but it was the thing possessing him talking. It was telling him to enjoy the ride. It was going to be so much fun.”
“Did he say how he was possessed?”
“How?”
“Yeah; did he just wake up and he wasn’t himself?” Dean asks.
“He said there was smoke, black smoke that entered and left his body through his mouth.” They talk a little more about Mr. Clemens before moving on.
“Any reason why Conrad Dean would just kill Darius Mitchell?” Sam asks.
“Jake, he’s my nephew, says they never really liked each other but that it wasn’t a big deal. They ran in different circles, so they only really saw each other in the dorms since they lived on the same floor. They had some words about Darius’ girlfriend one morning. Apparently, Conrad was flirting with her. Then later at a party they exchanged some more words and then they started fighting. Jake said Conrad was drunk, that Darius may’ve been drunk as well. He doesn’t know. He broke up the fight and then him, Conrad and a friend of theirs named Dakota left.”
“The local paper made it sound like it’s not surprising that Conrad did something like this.”
“Connie had a rough life. His father is a real piece of work. He roughed the kid up a lot so Conrad was in trouble a lot. Nothing serious though, just acting out. I watched him and my nephew grow up together. Jake mostly kept him on the right path.” Sheriff North pinches the bridge of his nose. “I still can’t believe it. I don’t think it’s related to the Clemens case though. I think Conrad just snapped. Jake said he’d been doing drugs, marijuana.”
“Well, we’re checking out both. You never know about these things,” Dean tells him. “We’re going to need to talk to Jake.”
“I’ll arrange it and let you now.”
“Thanks. And could we get a look at the case files?” Sam asks.
“Sure. I’ll have Nancy get them for you.”
Sam stands, extends his hand. “Thank you, Sheriff. You’ve been very helpful.”
“Anything I can do to help, just call.”
It’s Dean that says, “We will.”
::::::
“Excuse me, ma’am,” Sam interrupts a middle-aged woman engaged in conversation with another woman about the same age behind the library’s counter.
“Can I help you, sir?” Her name tag reads Barbara.
“Could you direct my friend and I to the local history section? We’re doing research on St. Mary’s.”
“Aren’t you all?” she muses. “You’d think you kids would get tired of that place. Follow me.”
The section isn’t that big. They figure they’ll be at the library a couple of hours at the most.
Sam hits the jackpot right away with a book written by a local guy, Mike Berry, on what happened back in seventy-two. Father Lenhar gave Berry a detailed account of what happened to him.
It was a Sunday morning and I was in the sanctuary preparing for my sermon later in the day. I felt something change in the air so I turned from the altar and there it was, a cloud of black smoke coming at me. It entered me through my mouth. It was fast and seemed to go on forever. There was nothing I could do but let it enter me. I was paralyzed. When it stopped, I stood up and went about my day, only it wasn’t really me. I was trapped inside my own body while the demon controlled everything I did.
That afternoon I started my sermon like it was going to be something that I would give normally. It wound up entirely different. “Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come blah blah blah. Lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil.” I turned to face the sisters that were there. I could see the confusion on their faces. I went on, “Truer words were never spoken, huh sisters, but sometimes it seems as if it’s difficult to know the creator.” I started walking down the aisle. “Sometimes I feel in a very literal sense that I have been wandering the desert for years looking for our Father. Well, not our Father.” I locked the door at that point. We never locked the door during a sermon. The sisters and I never had a reason to do so. I started back up the aisle. “See, my Father is in jail. Your Father put him there. I almost gave up hope, but ye of little faith - because I have finally found him. Or at least, where His cage door opens. It’s right here, in a damn convent for Christ’s sake. Life is funny.” I made it back to the altar at the point. Sister Reed, dared to interrupt and I heard myself say to her, “Shut your fucking pie-hole, you little slut.” I’d never seen that look on her face before. They all looked terrified of me. I couldn’t do anything but scream inside my own head.
I started again, “Then again I suppose it makes sense. You folks forget my Daddy is an angel after all. Or was. I mean, I suppose some dumb bastard stood here, felt a jolt of His holy juice, and thought, I’m going to be build me a nun factory. Well, it was the right idea, just the wrong angel.” I turned back to the altar and picked up a knife that the demon made me put there. I told the sisters, “Now if any of you girls are the praying type, it might be a good time to start.”
The demon, whose name I didn’t know yet, made me kill every one of them. I begged him not to do it. He just told me to enjoy myself. The sisters would run and he made them freeze in place or pinned them to the wall with only the force of his will. He took immense pleasure in making them bleed, in listening to their pleas and screams. He said such things to them that I can’t bear to repeat even after what he made me do. There was so much blood. I’ve never seen so much blood in my entire life. When the last nun was dead, I could feel my face pull into a smile. He was so satisfied. Then he dropped to his knees and prayed.
“Father, look, I’m not exactly the praying type, but still I made the sacrifice. I made you a bag full of nuns. So, uh, can you hear me? Can you whisper through the door?”
The flames on the candles flickered like the wind was blowing through the room, even though the place was entirely sealed off from the outside. Sister Mills - who lay dead on the altar with her arms spread wide and her eyes still open - she took a breath. Then I heard the words, “I am here, my son,” in a raspy voice.
I was so scared at that point, more than I’d been since that demon possessed me. I’ve always believed the Devil is as real as God, but I’d never actually heard his voice as clear, clearer than, I’d ever heard God’s. I wasn’t scared, I was terrified, and that doesn’t even begin to describe how I truly felt.
I said, “It’s so good to hear your voice, Padre. I’ve been searching for you for so long. You have no idea. The others have lost faith. Faithless heathens. But not me.”
“You’ve done well,” Lucifer said through Sister Mills. She was still on her back but her arms were twitching.
The demon asked, “So, uh, how do I bust you out?”
“Azazel, you must find me a child, a very special child.”
“What do you mean? What child?”
“A child that will let me out.”
Sam looks at Dean, “Well, you know the rest.”
The newspapers from that time period don’t turn up any more useful information. They all just regurgitate the same information over and over. No one believed Father Lenhar, not even fellow priests, except for Mike Berry and a few others deemed crazy. The convent closed permanently a week after the killings. The place’s been abandoned ever since. Locals believe it’s haunted by the spirits of dead nuns. That was true at one point. A couple of teenagers died suspiciously almost a year after the nuns died. As far as Dean and Sam can figure, a hunter probably took care of the bones because nothing’s happened since those kids.
They see what they can find on Jeff, Conrad and Jake. There isn’t much on Jeff and Conrad, nothing outside the usual information about their birth and death. Both were born and bred in Ilchester. Neither was notable enough to make the papers until they murdered some people. The article on Conrad confirms what Sheriff North said about his dad.
There’s more information out there on Jake.
“Dean, look at this.” Sam points to the microfiche screen. The picture’s not the best but it’s clear enough for the resemblance to be evident. “This kid looks just like you.” Jake plays basketball, has since high school. The picture’s from last year’s semifinals. His team lost. “I mean exactly like you.”
Dean slides his chair over. “The fuck?”
“Well, at least we know it’s not a shapeshifter.”
“Though if it is another one, again I gotta say: these things have great taste.”
“Ever the modest one.”
“Can I help it if chicks and apparently shapeshifters dig me?” Sam will only admit to himself that he’ll miss that smug smile Dean plasters on in these kind of situations.
“Yeah, okay.” Sam rolls his eyes. “It’s weird, though, that the sheriff didn’t mention the resemblance. You’d think he would. It’s not like you only kind of look alike.”
Dean shrugs. “Who knows?”
“You don’t think Dad, after Mom died…”
“What?”
Sam shrugs. “Just saying. I’m pretty sure, Dad wasn’t a monk.”
“And I’m pretty sure I don’t want to think about Dad’s sex life. Ever.” Dean shudders for effect.
“Just saying he’s like your twin.”
“Shut. Up.”
Jake is the son of Paul and Kathy Gray. His dad runs the local mill about ten miles out of town. The owners may have to close it. It’s big news. Just about every edition of the local paper from the last year has news about the possible closure somewhere on the front page. Judging from the papers, not much happens. The murders are the biggest things that have happened in a long time. Kathy’s paralyzed and lives at Shady Pines, which earns a “you’re kidding me, right?” from Dean. Sam only shrugs.
Dean tells Sam what the files say. There isn’t that much more to the story than what the sheriff already told them. They’d be surprised if there was.
“Some computer geek and a troubled kid kill a couple of people. The computer geek claims he was possessed. We think the kid was too, probably because Old Yellow Eyes back in the day wears some priest as meatsuit because he needs to find some special kid to let Lucifer out of his cage,” Dean sums up.
“Pretty much.” That fact that Sam might be that special kid goes unsaid by Dean. Sam doesn’t let that slide. “That special kid is probably me. At least, I think I’m the only one left,” Sam whispers without looking away. He really hoped he was done with being special. That all he had to do was break Dean’s deal and send as many demons as possible back to hell along the way.
Dean whispers back, “I think - no, I know - we need to get the hell out of town. You don’t need to be anywhere near that place.”
“We can’t go. What about the demons?”
“It’s a trap, Sam.” He stands, then goes to put on his jacket.
“We weren’t lured here, Dean. I just came across the story just like any other hunter would’ve.”
“Whatever. The fact is, you’re a special kid.” He pauses. “And Lucifer needs a special kid to free his satanic ass. We’re here now, and we need to leave.”
“We’re not leaving. Dean, there’s something about this kid Jake. Why possess his boss and then his best friend?”
“Coincidence.” Dean leans on his balled fist on the tabletop, which is marked up with random stuff kids have written on it out of boredom or rebellion.
“Demons don’t deal in coincidences. It’s not accidental, Dean.”
“All the more reason to get out of town.”
Sam shakes his head. “We can’t leave. Maybe he’s a special kid too. We should get him out of town. I don’t know why Azazel didn’t send him to Cold Oak, but whatever. There’s something going on and we gotta figure it out.”
“We’ll call Bobby and find out if there are some hunters in the area. They can take care of it.”
“Don’t you think some other hunter would’ve looked into it already? Some guy claims to be possessed after what he did? In the same place some priest claimed he was possessed a couple of decades ago? Come on, Dean.”
“Fuck!” Dean says it loud enough for a passing librarian to hear.
“Young man,” she starts. “That kind of language…”
He straightens up, puts on his best sheepish smile. “Sorry, ma’am. You know finals.”
“Mid-terms,” Sam corrects.
“See? I don’t know even know I’m so stressed.” Dean smiles wider. She shakes her head at him before leaving. Dean rolls his eyes after her.
Sam packs up as he speaks. “We need to see if the sheriff talked to Jake about us talking to him. We gotta check out the crime scenes.”
Dean doesn’t even try to argue anymore. “Even I know we don’t need the sheriff’s permission to talk to the kid. You said he was twenty-one.”
“I know. He said he would. If he didn’t, we’ll just find him ourselves. We need to talk Dakota, too. The papers said her last name is Weston. The article about Conrad mentioned this Dakota as a close friend of his like the Sheriff said.”
::::::
They make their way over to the dorm where Conrad and Darius lived. The building’s security is supposed to be some kid sitting at a desk by the door, checking ids and making sure people sign in and out. The desk is deserted when they arrive. No one looks at them funny when they make their way up the stairs to Darius’ room. No one looks at them funny, but a few girls look like they like what they see. The lock on the dormroom door is one Sam could’ve picked when he was twelve without even really trying, so it takes all of a minute to do what needs to be done. Which is good since the hallway isn’t as deserted as it should be in the middle of a weekday. The police still haven’t cleared the room for cleaning, so there are still blood-stained sheets on the bed where Darius and Jenna were shot. According to the police report, they were in middle of having sex. There’s still a big distorted circle of blood on the floor where Conrad must’ve fallen. He shot himself right in the head. There’s an open window, so any trace of sulphur that would’ve been in the air is long gone.
PART 2
Jake smiles as he sits down to eat. “Nice, man. Why didn’t you give me a shout?” he asks, even though he doesn’t believe a word Conrad’s saying.
“They would’ve taken one look at you and kicked my ass out of bed.” It comes out less like a joke, more like an old truth that no one talks about.
They’re about the same height, Conrad an inch or so shorter. They have the same features: pink undertone to their skin, pink lips, green eyes, and freckles. But Jake is better looking, thinner with hair that’s not reddish-brown and curly. Girls want to fuck Jake. Girls just want Conrad to leave them alone.
“Yeah, okay,” Jake chuckles. When Conrad doesn’t say anything else, he asks, “What’s up, man?”
Conrad runs a hand through his hair and takes a deep breath. “I dunno, man. I’m spent.” It’s not a lie. He’s just come off a three-day rage. He sits on the floor of his dorm’s hallway. No one else is around: gone for the weekend, at the party down the hall, holed up in their rooms with boyfriends or girlfriends.
“Get some sleep then. I’ll come over and we’ll get breakfast in the morning. Okay?”
“Okay.” Jake’s about to say he’ll call in the morning when Conrad asks, “Hey, Jake?”
“Yeah?”
“Fuck you.” He smiles as he says it.
Jake smiles too. “You wish. Now get some sleep.” Conrad listens to the line go dead. He stares at the phone like he expects Jake to call him back. Then he maybe he’ll talk to Jake, tell him what’s wrong.
He thinks about his fight with Darius.
“Keep your dog on a leash,” Darius says to Jake all the while staring at Conrad.
He thinks about his talk with Jake on the baseball field when Jake discovered the bruises.
“Damn it Connie,” Jake spits, says it like he’s tired of Conrad’s shit. “I can’t babysit you day and night.”
Conrad’s pissed. “Who asked you to?”
As tired as he may be, Jake manages to smile because he’s not that tired. “Don’t give me that shit, man. Come on - I’ve been covering your back since we were nine.”
“Well, why don’t you stop already?”
“Okay,” Jake says easily even though he doesn’t mean it and he knows Conrad doesn’t really want it either.
A loud thump, like someone falling, from the party shakes him out of his thoughts. He tells himself to stop being such a pussy.
He gets up to go back to his room and it’s the last thing he does on his own. He’s not in control anymore. He goes to his room and gets the gun he’d stolen from his dad. Then he’s crossing the hall to Darius’ room. He screams so loud when the shots are fired but nobody hears a thing.
::::::
“I can’t believe you like this place,” Sam says, shrugging out of his jacket. He looks around.
“What’s not to like?” Dean asks, his arms spread wide, his smile just as wide.
No, it’s not the typical diner they go to - a convenient place that has usually seen better days but the food isn’t half bad. The food at this place,
The Paper Moon Diner, is better than half bad. It’s actually good.
“I can’t believe you don’t remember this place.” Sam was only four when his dad got rid of the ghost of Jim Daniels that haunted the place. The story goes he was killed by his own wife (who claimed until her death that she didn’t kill him) and then she hid the body. Whoever killed old Jim hid the body in the wall of one of the smaller rooms on the main floor. During the renovation of the building so that it could become the diner, his bones were found and taken to a new resting place. Of course, Jim Daniels didn’t like that at all and let it known by causing a serious of accidents. Luckily no one died but it was only a matter of time before he got around to it. The building’s owners, Ricky and June, were extremely grateful, having sunk every last penny into the place. They told John that any time he was in town his meal was on the house. He took them up on the offer the next day when he brought Dean and Sam, figuring they’d get a kick out of the place. John never made it back that way, at least not with either of the boys. Dean didn’t make it back until he a solo hunt in Jersey had him passing through Maryland. Sam was off at Stanford.
Sam looks around the place again and says, “You’d think I would.”
There’s a mannequin on the roof. The building’s painted an interesting mix of green, yellow, blue, white, and pink. It’s the same inside, a mix of colors and kitsch on pretty much every surface. There are silver stars hanging from the ceiling. It’s some weird mash-up of fifties style and the bad color choices of the eighties.
“Dean,” an older woman calls as she approaches. She’s about Ellen’s age with blonde hair and light blue eyes.
“Miss June.” She hugs him like he’s a long-lost relative, rocking side to side.
When they pull apart, she declares, “Every time I see you - which isn’t often enough, young man - you get even more handsome.” Dean actually blushes.
“Who is this other handsome young man with you?”
“Where?” Dean actually looks around as he says it.
Sam rolls his eyes. “I’m Sam, ma’am.” He extends his hand but she bats it away.
“Little Sam? Come here.” She hugs him like she hugged Dean. When she pulls away, she asks him, “What did your daddy feed you? The last time I saw you, you were a little thing. Speaking of your daddy, how is he? I haven’t seen him in years.” She looks at Dean but he doesn’t answer, then back at Sam.
“He passed away last year,” Sam tells her.
“On the job?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Well, I am sorry to hear that. At least I know my Ricky has some company up there.” She casts her eyes upward for the briefest of moments.
Dean, always with the food, asks, “Then who’s making the burgers?”
“Dean!” Sam admonishes.
“What?” he says before he realizes how he probably sounded. “Sorry. About that and your husband.” He has that look that lets everyone know he’s an idiot.
“Don’t worry, Dean. My nephew Bill, whom you‘ve might met the last time you were here, does most of the cooking now. We practically raised him so he knows what he’s doing. Now sit back down and let me get my best waitress to take care of you. It’s a busy night or else I’d do it myself.” The place is pretty packed. She probably wouldn’t have spotted them if Dean hadn’t told the hostess to let her know the “Winchesters are here for dinner.”
The best is Monie, who is a little shorter than June and thinner. Her braids are pulled back in a ponytail, which allows everyone to see her face. She’s got dark eyes and a big white smile punctuated with a dimple in her left cheek. She looks way too young to be working.
Dean orders for them, telling Sam that “you do not come to this place and order a salad.” That Sam will “eat the Moon Burger and Oreo Monster Mouse Cake and like it.” Monie’s clearly amused by Dean.
“Do you have no shame?”
Dean turns back to Sam. “What?” he says like he has no idea what Sam’s asking, like they haven’t had this conversation before. Sam doesn’t even know why he bothers except it’s what he and Dean do.
“Flirting with the waitress. She looks twelve.” That’s just wrong. Her blushing didn’t dissuade him from thinking she’s pretty young. She’s adorable.
“Geek boy, you should know that there’s a university practically down the street so she’s a college girl, which means she’s at least eighteen. You of all people should know eighteen equals legal.”
“You’re almost thirty.”
“I’m a dead man walking too, so all the more reason,” Deans says so nonchalantly. As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he spreads his arms across the back of his booth and surveys the rest of the place. The conversation is over because there’s nothing that can top that, at least not anything Dean wants to hear, like “I’m going to get you out of this.” Sam will, even if he has no idea how he’s going to do it.
Deans pretty sure that Sam won’t get him out of it therefore these are his last days and he deserves to spend them however he wants. Sam still glares at him every time he says something about him dying.
“Stop being pissy and tell me about this case some more.”
With a sigh that indicates he’s still mad, Sam pulls out his laptop. “Like I said, there’s been a bunch of demon activity in Ilchester. It’s about thirty minutes from here.”
“You said some priest went nutso at some convent.”
“I’d say he went more than nutso. Back in seventy-two the priest disemboweled eight nuns at a convent, St. Mary’s. He said it wasn’t his fault, that a demon made him do it. He remembered the demon’s name: Azazel.”
“You shitting me?”
“Nope. So a week ago this guy Jeff Clemens, who owned a computer store, kills a couple of customers in his store. People in the area said the guy was an asshole but they didn’t think he was the kind of guy that would torture and kill people. Then a couple of days ago this kid Conrad Dean kills some guy called Darius Mitchell and Darius’ girlfriend Jenna Milton. Just went into the guy’s room and shot both of them. A couple of days earlier they had gotten into a fight at a dorm party. A friend of Conrad’s stopped the fight.”
“Both of them say they were possessed, too?”
“Jeff Clemens, yes; Conrad, no. He shot himself. Probably after he got his body back.”
“You sure the kid was possessed?”
“No, but I’m pretty sure he was. Anyway, the friend that stopped the fight, this guy named Jake Gray, found the bodies the next morning.”
“Jesus. Poor kid having to walk in on that.”
“And it wasn’t the first time he found something like that. He worked for Clemens. The day before, Clemens fired him so he could hire his nephew. He went by the next evening to pick up his last paycheck and found the guy standing in the middle of the shop surrounded by the bodies.”
“That’s a fucked-up coincidence if I ever heard one. So what do the fine police of Ilchester think of this coincidence?”
“What do you think?”
Dean’s about to answer when Monie sits down two big plates, both with more than decent-size burgers and a generous helping of fries. “Here you go, guys.”
“Thanks,” Dean and Sam say in unison.
“If you need anything, give me a call.”
“Trust me, I will,” Dean tells her. Monie’s nearly bright red when she walks away.
A hour or so later, June’s asking, “So how was it?”
“Just like I remember.”
“I gotta say, it was one of the best burgers I’ve had in a while,” Sam admits.
“Told you, Sammy.”
“Well, I’m glad we didn’t disappoint. I’ll be back to check on you after dessert.”
She doesn’t even need to ask how they liked dessert, based on their smiles. She asks instead, “So where you boys staying?”
“We haven’t decided. This was our first stop off of 29. It’s our whole reason for being in the city.”
“Well, you boys are welcome to stay with me. I have room. My place isn’t too far from here.” June doesn’t look like she’ll take no for an answer, but
it doesn’t stop Dean from trying.
“We can’t.”
“And why not?”
Sam answers, “We wouldn’t want to impose.”
“What imposing? I offered. Don’t refuse an old lady here.”
“Old lady, my ass.”
“Thank you, Dean.”
“So if you’re ready, I can take you now.” She’s got her hands on her hips and looks between Sam and Dean like she’s daring one of them to say no again.
There is a four-story rowhouse that’s obviously been cared for over the years. Bill apparently lives in the basement and Monie rents the top floor. Sam can see the smile on Dean’s face and the wheels turning in his head when June shares that bit of information. The main floor is standard - living room, dining room, kitchen, and a small half bath under the stairs. The second floor has June’s bedroom and a guest bedroom and bath. June tells them the bathroom all theirs, she’s got one in her bedroom. Sam and Dean look at each other in relief; it’s been a long time since either’s shared a bathroom with a member of the opposite sex. She makes them drop off their stuff in the guest room before ordering them back downstairs so she can freshen it up.
She had told them to make themselves at home. They do. Well, as much as possible. Dean finds the Playboy Channel and then promptly switches to something else after realizing how weird it is to watch it in June’s house, especially with her right upstairs.
::::::
Ilchester looks postcard perfect. Nothing but tree-lined streets, modest but nicely maintained homes. It’s not that far from the city, but it might as well be. It’s got a decidedly small-town vibe about it. The Impala’s out of place, just as it is in most of the places they wind up in week after week. The sheriff is easy enough to find right in the center of town on Main Street.
“So the FBI haven’t been out here to check things out?” Dean confirms as they exit the car. He straightens his tie while looking in the driver’s side window.
“Nope.”
“Good. Now let’s see what crack police work was done.”
Coming around the front of the car, Sam asks, “You do know it’s not the police’s fault they don’t know what to look for?” Dean just looks at him sideways before crossing the street.
The police building is a one-story, brick building that looks fairly new. It doesn’t look that big, the kind of place that doesn’t hold its fair share of criminals. The place is pretty deserted even for a small town so early in the morning. The first person they see is a young woman that barely looks older than Monie. Her desk plate reads Nancy Fitzgerald.
“Morning.” Dean glances down at the nameplate on the desk in front of him. “Nancy, we’re here to see Sheriff Ross North. I’m Agent Page. This is my partner Agent Plant.” They flash their badges at the same time.
She smiles at them. “Do you have an appointment?”
“We should. Our secretary said she called ahead.”
“Okay. Let me see.” She turns to her computer, types for a couple of seconds, then turns back to them. “I don’t see your names on his calendar.”
Dean turns to Sam. “Well, I guess Donna is not getting that raise.” Dean turns back to Nancy, places his hands on her desk, careful not to knock off any of her crosses or pictures of Jesus. “This is the third time this week we’ve shown up and no one was expecting us. I’m sure Sheriff North never has to go through this with you.”
Nancy blushes a little, says, “No, sir.”
“Do you think he could squeeze us in? I mean, we came all the way from D.C. You know how hard it is getting through of DC traffic during rush hour.”
“It’s about the Jeff Clemens and Conrad Dean cases,” Sam chimes in, still standing beside Dean with his hands in his pockets. “It’s really important we speak to him as soon as possible.”
Nancy’s right hand goes to the cross around her neck. “Why would the FBI be interested in those cases?”
They don’t get to answer because Sheriff North exits his office at that moment. “Nancy. Gentlemen, how may I help you?” He’s as tall as Sam with a slighter, slimmer build. He’s got gray hair but he doesn’t look old enough to have as much as he does.
“I’m Agent Page. This is my partner Agent Plant. We’ll here to see you about the Jeff Clemens and Conrad Dean cases,” Dean answers.
Sheriff North crosses his arms, thinks for a second. “Agents Page and Plant?” He smirks.
Dean smiles. “I know. We get that all the time. It’s a curse. The higher ups though it’d be funny to put us together.”
“I’m sure.” The sheriff still looks skeptical. Dean and Sam take out their badges and hand them to him for inspection.
He looks up, says “At least your first names aren’t Robert and Jimmy” before handing their badges back.
“Well there are worse things in life than people singing Led Zeppelin songs at us when they find out our names,” Dean tells him.
“Speak for yourself,” Sam tells the sheriff.
Sheriff North motions for them to follow. “I don’t see why the FBI is interested in these cases, but come on in.” He takes a seat behind his desk, a simple design and uncluttered, fitting in perfectly with everything else. The office isn’t that big with its wood paneling covered in awards and pictures. “Have a seat.”
“Thank you.” Sam begins, “What can you tell us about the cases? I mean what hasn’t already been reported.”
Turns out there isn’t much that hasn’t been reported already. They find out only a couple of things they didn’t already know from reading about the cases online.
“So you didn’t you notice anything unusual about either scene?” Dean asks.
“Like what?”
“Like anything that would lend credibility to Jeff Clemens’ claim that he was possessed?” Sam answers.
“You think he was possessed?”
“I think he thinks he was possessed,” Dean responds.
“Well, …” Sheriff begins before Dean cuts him off, knowing exactly what he’s going to say.
“Sheriff, I’m guessing you haven’t worked too many cases where people claim they were possessed, because the last one that made news around here was back in seventy-two. You want to guess how many we’ve investigated?” Dean asks, one word away from calling Sheriff North an idiot and leaving.
“Page,” Sam warns.
“No, it’s okay, Agent Plant. Your partner has a point.” He leans forward, placing his forearms on his desk. “I don’t appreciate the tone, but I can’t say I haven’t done the same during an investigation.” Sam doesn’t have to look at Dean to see the look of satisfaction on his face.
“So what did Mr. Clemens say about being possessed? Did he describe what it felt like?” Sam asks, pen poised and ready to take notes.
“He said he didn’t have any control over his body. He screamed as he killed those people but it came out a laugh because the demon was happy. He said he would talk to himself but it was the thing possessing him talking. It was telling him to enjoy the ride. It was going to be so much fun.”
“Did he say how he was possessed?”
“How?”
“Yeah; did he just wake up and he wasn’t himself?” Dean asks.
“He said there was smoke, black smoke that entered and left his body through his mouth.” They talk a little more about Mr. Clemens before moving on.
“Any reason why Conrad Dean would just kill Darius Mitchell?” Sam asks.
“Jake, he’s my nephew, says they never really liked each other but that it wasn’t a big deal. They ran in different circles, so they only really saw each other in the dorms since they lived on the same floor. They had some words about Darius’ girlfriend one morning. Apparently, Conrad was flirting with her. Then later at a party they exchanged some more words and then they started fighting. Jake said Conrad was drunk, that Darius may’ve been drunk as well. He doesn’t know. He broke up the fight and then him, Conrad and a friend of theirs named Dakota left.”
“The local paper made it sound like it’s not surprising that Conrad did something like this.”
“Connie had a rough life. His father is a real piece of work. He roughed the kid up a lot so Conrad was in trouble a lot. Nothing serious though, just acting out. I watched him and my nephew grow up together. Jake mostly kept him on the right path.” Sheriff North pinches the bridge of his nose. “I still can’t believe it. I don’t think it’s related to the Clemens case though. I think Conrad just snapped. Jake said he’d been doing drugs, marijuana.”
“Well, we’re checking out both. You never know about these things,” Dean tells him. “We’re going to need to talk to Jake.”
“I’ll arrange it and let you now.”
“Thanks. And could we get a look at the case files?” Sam asks.
“Sure. I’ll have Nancy get them for you.”
Sam stands, extends his hand. “Thank you, Sheriff. You’ve been very helpful.”
“Anything I can do to help, just call.”
It’s Dean that says, “We will.”
::::::
“Excuse me, ma’am,” Sam interrupts a middle-aged woman engaged in conversation with another woman about the same age behind the library’s counter.
“Can I help you, sir?” Her name tag reads Barbara.
“Could you direct my friend and I to the local history section? We’re doing research on St. Mary’s.”
“Aren’t you all?” she muses. “You’d think you kids would get tired of that place. Follow me.”
The section isn’t that big. They figure they’ll be at the library a couple of hours at the most.
Sam hits the jackpot right away with a book written by a local guy, Mike Berry, on what happened back in seventy-two. Father Lenhar gave Berry a detailed account of what happened to him.
It was a Sunday morning and I was in the sanctuary preparing for my sermon later in the day. I felt something change in the air so I turned from the altar and there it was, a cloud of black smoke coming at me. It entered me through my mouth. It was fast and seemed to go on forever. There was nothing I could do but let it enter me. I was paralyzed. When it stopped, I stood up and went about my day, only it wasn’t really me. I was trapped inside my own body while the demon controlled everything I did.
That afternoon I started my sermon like it was going to be something that I would give normally. It wound up entirely different. “Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come blah blah blah. Lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil.” I turned to face the sisters that were there. I could see the confusion on their faces. I went on, “Truer words were never spoken, huh sisters, but sometimes it seems as if it’s difficult to know the creator.” I started walking down the aisle. “Sometimes I feel in a very literal sense that I have been wandering the desert for years looking for our Father. Well, not our Father.” I locked the door at that point. We never locked the door during a sermon. The sisters and I never had a reason to do so. I started back up the aisle. “See, my Father is in jail. Your Father put him there. I almost gave up hope, but ye of little faith - because I have finally found him. Or at least, where His cage door opens. It’s right here, in a damn convent for Christ’s sake. Life is funny.” I made it back to the altar at the point. Sister Reed, dared to interrupt and I heard myself say to her, “Shut your fucking pie-hole, you little slut.” I’d never seen that look on her face before. They all looked terrified of me. I couldn’t do anything but scream inside my own head.
I started again, “Then again I suppose it makes sense. You folks forget my Daddy is an angel after all. Or was. I mean, I suppose some dumb bastard stood here, felt a jolt of His holy juice, and thought, I’m going to be build me a nun factory. Well, it was the right idea, just the wrong angel.” I turned back to the altar and picked up a knife that the demon made me put there. I told the sisters, “Now if any of you girls are the praying type, it might be a good time to start.”
The demon, whose name I didn’t know yet, made me kill every one of them. I begged him not to do it. He just told me to enjoy myself. The sisters would run and he made them freeze in place or pinned them to the wall with only the force of his will. He took immense pleasure in making them bleed, in listening to their pleas and screams. He said such things to them that I can’t bear to repeat even after what he made me do. There was so much blood. I’ve never seen so much blood in my entire life. When the last nun was dead, I could feel my face pull into a smile. He was so satisfied. Then he dropped to his knees and prayed.
“Father, look, I’m not exactly the praying type, but still I made the sacrifice. I made you a bag full of nuns. So, uh, can you hear me? Can you whisper through the door?”
The flames on the candles flickered like the wind was blowing through the room, even though the place was entirely sealed off from the outside. Sister Mills - who lay dead on the altar with her arms spread wide and her eyes still open - she took a breath. Then I heard the words, “I am here, my son,” in a raspy voice.
I was so scared at that point, more than I’d been since that demon possessed me. I’ve always believed the Devil is as real as God, but I’d never actually heard his voice as clear, clearer than, I’d ever heard God’s. I wasn’t scared, I was terrified, and that doesn’t even begin to describe how I truly felt.
I said, “It’s so good to hear your voice, Padre. I’ve been searching for you for so long. You have no idea. The others have lost faith. Faithless heathens. But not me.”
“You’ve done well,” Lucifer said through Sister Mills. She was still on her back but her arms were twitching.
The demon asked, “So, uh, how do I bust you out?”
“Azazel, you must find me a child, a very special child.”
“What do you mean? What child?”
“A child that will let me out.”
Sam looks at Dean, “Well, you know the rest.”
The newspapers from that time period don’t turn up any more useful information. They all just regurgitate the same information over and over. No one believed Father Lenhar, not even fellow priests, except for Mike Berry and a few others deemed crazy. The convent closed permanently a week after the killings. The place’s been abandoned ever since. Locals believe it’s haunted by the spirits of dead nuns. That was true at one point. A couple of teenagers died suspiciously almost a year after the nuns died. As far as Dean and Sam can figure, a hunter probably took care of the bones because nothing’s happened since those kids.
They see what they can find on Jeff, Conrad and Jake. There isn’t much on Jeff and Conrad, nothing outside the usual information about their birth and death. Both were born and bred in Ilchester. Neither was notable enough to make the papers until they murdered some people. The article on Conrad confirms what Sheriff North said about his dad.
There’s more information out there on Jake.
“Dean, look at this.” Sam points to the microfiche screen. The picture’s not the best but it’s clear enough for the resemblance to be evident. “This kid looks just like you.” Jake plays basketball, has since high school. The picture’s from last year’s semifinals. His team lost. “I mean exactly like you.”
Dean slides his chair over. “The fuck?”
“Well, at least we know it’s not a shapeshifter.”
“Though if it is another one, again I gotta say: these things have great taste.”
“Ever the modest one.”
“Can I help it if chicks and apparently shapeshifters dig me?” Sam will only admit to himself that he’ll miss that smug smile Dean plasters on in these kind of situations.
“Yeah, okay.” Sam rolls his eyes. “It’s weird, though, that the sheriff didn’t mention the resemblance. You’d think he would. It’s not like you only kind of look alike.”
Dean shrugs. “Who knows?”
“You don’t think Dad, after Mom died…”
“What?”
Sam shrugs. “Just saying. I’m pretty sure, Dad wasn’t a monk.”
“And I’m pretty sure I don’t want to think about Dad’s sex life. Ever.” Dean shudders for effect.
“Just saying he’s like your twin.”
“Shut. Up.”
Jake is the son of Paul and Kathy Gray. His dad runs the local mill about ten miles out of town. The owners may have to close it. It’s big news. Just about every edition of the local paper from the last year has news about the possible closure somewhere on the front page. Judging from the papers, not much happens. The murders are the biggest things that have happened in a long time. Kathy’s paralyzed and lives at Shady Pines, which earns a “you’re kidding me, right?” from Dean. Sam only shrugs.
Dean tells Sam what the files say. There isn’t that much more to the story than what the sheriff already told them. They’d be surprised if there was.
“Some computer geek and a troubled kid kill a couple of people. The computer geek claims he was possessed. We think the kid was too, probably because Old Yellow Eyes back in the day wears some priest as meatsuit because he needs to find some special kid to let Lucifer out of his cage,” Dean sums up.
“Pretty much.” That fact that Sam might be that special kid goes unsaid by Dean. Sam doesn’t let that slide. “That special kid is probably me. At least, I think I’m the only one left,” Sam whispers without looking away. He really hoped he was done with being special. That all he had to do was break Dean’s deal and send as many demons as possible back to hell along the way.
Dean whispers back, “I think - no, I know - we need to get the hell out of town. You don’t need to be anywhere near that place.”
“We can’t go. What about the demons?”
“It’s a trap, Sam.” He stands, then goes to put on his jacket.
“We weren’t lured here, Dean. I just came across the story just like any other hunter would’ve.”
“Whatever. The fact is, you’re a special kid.” He pauses. “And Lucifer needs a special kid to free his satanic ass. We’re here now, and we need to leave.”
“We’re not leaving. Dean, there’s something about this kid Jake. Why possess his boss and then his best friend?”
“Coincidence.” Dean leans on his balled fist on the tabletop, which is marked up with random stuff kids have written on it out of boredom or rebellion.
“Demons don’t deal in coincidences. It’s not accidental, Dean.”
“All the more reason to get out of town.”
Sam shakes his head. “We can’t leave. Maybe he’s a special kid too. We should get him out of town. I don’t know why Azazel didn’t send him to Cold Oak, but whatever. There’s something going on and we gotta figure it out.”
“We’ll call Bobby and find out if there are some hunters in the area. They can take care of it.”
“Don’t you think some other hunter would’ve looked into it already? Some guy claims to be possessed after what he did? In the same place some priest claimed he was possessed a couple of decades ago? Come on, Dean.”
“Fuck!” Dean says it loud enough for a passing librarian to hear.
“Young man,” she starts. “That kind of language…”
He straightens up, puts on his best sheepish smile. “Sorry, ma’am. You know finals.”
“Mid-terms,” Sam corrects.
“See? I don’t know even know I’m so stressed.” Dean smiles wider. She shakes her head at him before leaving. Dean rolls his eyes after her.
Sam packs up as he speaks. “We need to see if the sheriff talked to Jake about us talking to him. We gotta check out the crime scenes.”
Dean doesn’t even try to argue anymore. “Even I know we don’t need the sheriff’s permission to talk to the kid. You said he was twenty-one.”
“I know. He said he would. If he didn’t, we’ll just find him ourselves. We need to talk Dakota, too. The papers said her last name is Weston. The article about Conrad mentioned this Dakota as a close friend of his like the Sheriff said.”
::::::
They make their way over to the dorm where Conrad and Darius lived. The building’s security is supposed to be some kid sitting at a desk by the door, checking ids and making sure people sign in and out. The desk is deserted when they arrive. No one looks at them funny when they make their way up the stairs to Darius’ room. No one looks at them funny, but a few girls look like they like what they see. The lock on the dormroom door is one Sam could’ve picked when he was twelve without even really trying, so it takes all of a minute to do what needs to be done. Which is good since the hallway isn’t as deserted as it should be in the middle of a weekday. The police still haven’t cleared the room for cleaning, so there are still blood-stained sheets on the bed where Darius and Jenna were shot. According to the police report, they were in middle of having sex. There’s still a big distorted circle of blood on the floor where Conrad must’ve fallen. He shot himself right in the head. There’s an open window, so any trace of sulphur that would’ve been in the air is long gone.
PART 2