Strange Angels -- Chapter Nine: Comfortably Numb (Part One)
Chapter Nine: Comfortably Numb
This is set sometime after the end of Season 1. While it doesn't break canon to my knowledge, it is definitely AU. The boys learn the consequences of crossing the thing terrorizing Madison, and Sam can't do jack when everything starts falling apart. The only thing he does know is that the little girl they're trying to save is screwed.
Disclaimer: The Winchester boys aren't mine. The Colt isn't mine. Wish the car was mine. But I can only blame myself for the Circle of Enoch.
Word Count: 10035
Pairings (Overall): Dean/OFCs (HET)
Rating (Overall): PG - R (This chapter: PG-13 - Dean, as always, likes to swear; this time around, though, everyone’s doing it. Some adult themes regarding abuse. Oh, and cups of steaming angst.)
Feedback: Absolutely!
Summary: Some things are so broken, they can never be fixed.
Miscellaneous: As always, this would not have been possible without the brilliance of JMM0001, who can always keep a girl laughing with her notes, even when pointing out your POV issues. Much thanks to wenchpixie, who beta'd not one but two of my chapters this week in two wholly different stories, all the while remaining her radiant self. She is much more patient a friend than I deserve. The good parts are because of them. The bad parts are all me.
Story Links: Strange Angels / Beneath the Hollow
Note: Stories listed in chronological order.
Chapter Links: Prologue / One / Two / Three / Four / Five / Six / Seven / Eight / Nine / Ten / Eleven / Twelve / Epilogue
One night stands were supposed to be simple things.
The Winchesters would breeze into town, and Dean would find the nearest bar at the earliest available opportunity. He'd get laid, blow off some steam and head back to work with his mind focused on the job. No ties and no complications. Sure, Dean had a need for human contact - and nights spent in the arms of some beautiful girl he'd never see again were all Dean required. The last time Dean stuck around longer than a couple of nights, it went to hell, and he wasn't going through the whole Cassie thing again with a different chick. Ever.
Sammy never really understood that - he believed in things like love and fairy tales; hell, Sam was reading some hinky book by that same touchy-feely guy who wrote The Bridge Across Forever - an old paperback that Dad lugged around wherever he went. He'd asked Dad about it once, and all Dad did was hand him the book. Dean couldn't get past the first chapter, and he wouldn't be surprised if Sam had a copy of the book, too - Sammy was still mourning Jessica Moore the way Dad mourned Mom. And the look in his brother's eyes when he thought about her was just one of many reasons why Dean Winchester was a no-commitment kind of guy.
But women like Arlene always tried to break the rules.
Dean hadn't seen it coming until the waitress started kissing him. The first thing that popped into his head was that Sam and Charlie could see the whole thing, so Dean pushed Arlene away and tried to downplay her enthusiasm. But damn if the waitress couldn't kiss a man, even if her breath tasted like stale cigarettes. Arlene had wanted to see him again - to finish what we started, she said with a cute little tilt to her head; the offer to pick up where they left off in the alley might have even been tempting if Dean didn't feel Arlene's urgency deep inside.
Thanks to the goddamned redhead showing up, Dean was more aware of that crap. So when Arlene said she understood that Dean was just passing through, that all she wanted was for him to kiss her back, what Dean felt was a frantic search for some kind of connection. The waitress actually thought the handsome stranger who rode into town on the wind and then left when it changed direction was a good catch - that somehow she could tame him and make him stay. Dean Winchester didn't want to connect with a woman, and there was no way in hell anyone could tame him by morning.
Dean just didn't get people. Sure, he helped them. He'd nearly died for some of them, and he'd do it again - especially now; the world was bigger than he or Sam ever thought it was. But Dean could count the people who had his back on one hand. Sammy. Dad. Bobby, maybe. Missouri, probably - except women always wanted to complicate things, and Missouri never stopping riding him about the shit he didn't even say out loud. Goddamn psychics.
One woman complicated things a hell of a lot more than the others these days - even when she was trying to help. Maybe especially when she was. The whole plan to meet her halfway sucked rocks.
Charlie was sitting right next to him, studying her menu with the same serious expression that crossed her face whenever she was reading - and the menu at Betty's wasn't one of the Dead Sea Scrolls. The damn girl had stayed up most of the night with him; and when Charlie finally fell asleep, Dean couldn't stop the guilty pricks on the back of his neck when he realized she was having a nightmare. Charlie was already pushing herself too hard, so anxious to prove that she wasn't her mother's daughter. And the way she looked, Dean knew that Charlie was trying to prove that to her father.
At least Dad was still alive.
Dean heard his father in the back of his head. When you get that desperate, Dean, you get sloppy. And Charlie really was - desperate for someone to tell her she was doing a good job. Desperate to show that she could help them, despite the fact that she looked like she was getting ready to run - which was another reason why he should be focusing his attention on the goddamn conversation, instead of watching Charlie read a freaking menu. How could you trust a girl who was more skittish than a jackrabbit? Charlie was only just holding on by her fingernails. Dean could see it in her eyes.
Except that look changed whenever Dean mentioned the little girl - turned from desperation to determination, and Dean knew Charlotte Webb would do whatever was necessary to help him keep that little girl from being eaten alive. She'd do whatever she thought was necessary to help him keep Sam safe from the monster in his little brother's belly. And she'd just continue hurting herself to help him - the ache of that little girl was so strong that Dean was barely keeping himself together; even focusing on the job hadn't kept the aftershocks of his vision from slamming into the back of his head, couldn't keep his fingers from itching to be on their way. But whenever it got so bad Dean felt like his skin would burst, he'd turn around and Charlie was there.
And Dean didn't like how she looked when she touched him. Because Charlie might be able to hide that from Sam, but Dean knew the truth. The feelings of other people hurt her. He remembered what happened when Charlie caught a flash of someone while just eating dinner. Being near him for the last twelve hours must have been a slow torment - which was another reason why Charlotte Webb was a complication Dean Winchester didn't need.
He reached for his menu, brushing her shoulder with his arm.
Goddamnit, Winchester. Do your freaking job!
Sam had already taken control of the conversation, smiling at Arlene's older brother with the same calculated grin that got reduced rates at most motels. "My name is Simon," Sam said by way of introduction. "Simon LeBon." He shook Tony's hand enthusiastically. A smile flittered across Charlie's face when she heard the name. Fuck me. It was probably a lead singer or something for one of those crappy ass bands she and Sam liked to listen to when Sam was driving the car. "And this is my colleague, Nick Rhodes," Sam added, gesturing towards Dean. Charlie ducked behind her menu, trying to hide her twitching mouth. That really wasn't a good sign.
"Nice to meet you, Simon." Tony inclined his head. "And you, too, Nick." And then he was grinning towards Charlie. "Who is the little lady?"
Dean did not like the look, but Charlie was extending a hand politely. "My name is Charlotte," she responded with a small smile. Dean took a deep breath when their hands met - waiting for her face to tighten as something pushed past that gossamer around her - but nothing happened. The little girl flashed against the back of his eyelids, instead, dark eyes wide as Death cut into her flesh. Charlie's shoulders shook. "Charlotte Angell. Your sister didn't mention me, did she?" Charlie asked.
Charlie glanced at Dean sideways, her gray eyes sparkling with a dare. Charlie Angell? Dean tried not to smile; they were on a freaking job, and she was cracking jokes. She'd done that deliberately - at least he didn't burst out laughing because that would have set Arlene's brother at ease. Even Sam had a smile flickering across his face when he realized what Charlie had said. And then light turned on inside of her. Oh, hell no... She's using her Gift on this jerk!
"Nope. I would have remembered if she had mentioned a cute filly like you," the man replied. Dean wanted to punch the gap between Tony's teeth even wider for the second look he gave Charlie; the little hick was trying to figure out what Charlie looked like underneath her granny sweater. "Just told me I'd be meeting some newspaper men from Atlanta about the monsters we've been seeing around the church," Arlene's brother added.
"I'm what you would call a cub reporter," she said. "The boys here are showing me the ropes." Charlie seemed to sink within herself, and she gestured with her head submissively towards Sam; Dean knew it was a lie, but he almost half-believed her himself after Charlie's body language kicked in. There was one strand of gossamer flickering around Tony's hand, still connected to her. Just like he'd seen with the cop, and then with Arlene when Charlie was calming her down the night before.
"You boys aren't actually from the local hospital, are you?" Tony asked suddenly, scratching his upper arm furtively. "Folks keep telling me I'm crazy for coming out with what I saw."
"Absolutely not. This story is important to something else we're investigating," Sam replied, his voice shifting into its lower tones. "We think it's connected to a little girl's disappearance." He leaned in closer, but was interrupted by the waitress stopping by to take their order.
Tony said that he'd already eaten breakfast, but he recommended Betty's Blue Plate Special, so both Dean and Sam ordered one. Charlie asked for biscuits and gravy with a side of sausage - she really seemed to like sausage in the morning - and extra toast. And the look Charlie gave him when she asked for extra strawberry jam made something sputter in Dean's stomach. The same pop he felt when Charlie traced the scar on his hand with her fingers.
Crap on a stick!
Dean snapped his head once, sharp. Concentrate on the gig! He swallowed. "So, when did you boys first start seeing the monsters?" Dean asked. He would have asked more, but he realized Charlie had pulled out a notebook, and was diligently taking notes.
"Last week," Tony replied. "The first night we thought it was just because we were drunk, but when they kept showing up - and more folks could see them - we figured we weren't as crazy as everyone thought we were."
"Are they always around the church?" Sam asked. "They don't show up anywhere else?"
"Nope, always five or six just swooping around St. Joe's bell tower. About twice that many near where the priest sleeps." Tony took a sip of his coffee, blowing a little on the cup to cool it down. "Lazy little bastards. They didn't like it when the bells would ring, though."
Bells? What the hell? Even Sam looked confused by that one but Charlie continued writing. "Do other loud noises disturb them? Like a car engine firing?" Dean asked.
"Not that I remember." Tony grinned. "We were too bombed to tell. And there aren't many loud cars most nights. Maybe on the weekends."
"Did anything else agitate them? Like a bright light, or a weird smell?" Sam grinned at Dean. His little brother had remembered to sneak in a question about the Ziv Za-crap.
"Only light in the area came from the street lights," the man replied, pursing his lips thoughtfully. "Arlene was going on about some kind of blue light, and she seemed real agitated by it. Said she saw the gargoyles, too. That's why I'm here. My little sister finally believed in me about something." Tony chuckled. "Guess it was good for me that she wasn't drunk when she had her 'experience' with them."
Charlie coughed. "Did you ever see where they came from?" She asked the question softly.
Tony rolled his eyes. "From the church, little lady. They're gargoyles. St. Joe's is covered in them." He leaned forward and patted Charlie on the hand. "You should let these boys ask the questions. Pretty little thing like you should be meeting me afterwards for a drink." The strand shimmered, pulsing, and Charlie's jaw clenched. "I'd take real good care of you," the hick added.
"I don't doubt that," she replied softly. Charlie put both hands in her lap, and only Dean could see she was squeezing them together so hard her nails were leaving indentations in her skin. And when Tony smiled at her, his eyes narrowed into slits; Dean knew what the jerk was thinking, could see it reflected in Charlie's eyes. Actually got a flash of emotion so strong it brought a visual. The goddamn hick wanted to fuck her, and he was going to hurt her while he was doing it. Dean wanted to puke - and he hadn't even gotten his breakfast. And I bet she sees crap like that all the time.
Sam coughed, and Tony's eyes swayed towards him. "Anything else you remember?"
"We were drunk, man, and I was feeling good thanks to a little brunette I took into the back room at Joe's." And the man was grinning at Charlie again. "Gargoyles started showing up around the Church last week. Don't know why. Maybe it's the season for them?" Tony shrugged his shoulders. "But they really like the priest's place," he added.
"The Rectory?" Sam provided. Tony nodded. "And the priest's name?" his little brother asked.
"Stephen Caldwell," Tony said simply. "Been on the job for about a month after the old pastor went crazy."
Charlie's head slumped forward, but she caught herself. She looked like she was going to throw up, took a deep breath while Sam and Tony laughed at a joke. She raised her head. "Has anyone else in town talked about a missing girl?" Charlie asked.
Tony shifted in his seat, staring at his coffee cup on the table. "Folks never mentioned it to me." His voice was soft, and a wall slammed up fast inside of the hick.
Dean glowered at Charlie. Subtle, sweetheart. Real freaking subtle. "We're also doing a story on a little black girl, about eight years old. She went missing after her folks saw the same kind of creatures flying around her bedroom window," he said. It sounded plausible. "Been gone for about a week or so," Dean added. "Charlotte's been taking that story a little too personally."
"Oh." Tony lowered his eyes. "Didn't realize..." His voice trailed off, and he smelled guilty as sin, like those Benders back in Minnesota - but Dean would bet money it had nothing to do about the little girl in the vision. "No, I don't know anything about a colored girl who went missing." He snorted. "Look, it's been real nice talking to you city folk, but I've got to head into the garage," Tony added, flashing another grin at Charlie while he pulled some change out of his pocket. "You change your mind, little lady, I'll be at Joe's after I get off work."
"Thanks for your time," Sam said as Tony slid out of the booth, raising a hand in farewell. As soon as Tony was out of earshot, he looked back at Charlie. She had lowered her head, looking faintly sick. "Another vision?" he asked quietly.
"She was using her mojo," Dean said evenly. "Saw something that made her sick." He still wanted to vomit.
Sam was all concern, reaching forward to touch Charlie's hand. "You okay?"
"I thought I could help," Charlie said softly.
"Well, you didn't," Dean hissed. "Tony might have said something if you had kept your mouth shut about the girl."
"I panicked," she returned, and it looked like she had a hard time admitting that. "That man is sick. You have no idea the things he wanted to do to me!" Charlie's voice hardened as she said it, but her arms were wrapped around her stomach. She lowered her head, hair falling forward. He almost reached forward to pull it behind her ear, but caught the searching look on Sam's face and frowned.
"Got some idea," Dean said with a shrug. "I've got eyes." And I've been feeling your stomach turn itself inside out. "But you wouldn't have a fucking clue what goes on in that freak's head if you minded your own goddamn business. This is our job." He waved a hand at Sam. "You shouldn't be using your Gift!" She was hurting herself - and now Charlie felt like broken glass inside. And the fact that he actually knew that made him even sicker. I can't do my job like this.
Charlie's mouth tightened. "Why not? It's my Gift to use."
"Not when it fucks up a Winchester job," Dean retorted. And not when it hurts you, Charlie. But he'd never tell her that. "Why the hell would you think that crap could help?"
The redhead jerked as though he'd punched her in the stomach, arms pulling even more tightly around her abdomen. "Because you told me you needed all the help you could get," Charlie said softly. "And I'm only good at two things, Dean."
And I'm taking all of that away from you. The way she was holding herself just made him ache. "Yeah, you're so fucking good you scared away the only witness we could talk to," Dean snapped. Even Sam looked like he was in pain, and he was just watching Charlie. He wasn't the asshole who made her look like that - even if it was better for both of them. All of them. Dean couldn't protect Sammy when he was worried about Charlie. Let alone the little girl he needed to save.
"You're right. I just mess things up." Charlie tried to smile at him, tried to smile at Sam, before lowering her eyes. "But you won't have to worry, Dean. I won't mess up anymore." She swallowed, trying to apologize with her eyes. "There's Mass at noon; I saw the sign as we passed by the church. I can wait for both of you at St. Joseph's," she added. Sam opened his mouth to protest, but Charlie just shook her head. "The Circle can't hurt me in a church, Sam. It's holy ground, Winchester." The last sentence came out with a Scottish accent, and Dean almost smiled because Charlie liked Highlander. But he couldn't. "And I'm good at not being seen," she added, her voice so tiny in her throat.
"Like running away to a church will fix your stupid mistakes," he snapped. Dean saw the look in her eyes - he had blown it. Reminding her about running away only made her eyes harden, and Dean knew she'd stay if he apologized, that she'd continue putting herself into situations where she'd get hurt just to help Dean Winchester save a little girl he didn't even know was real. I have to fix this. He snorted, moving to stand next to the booth. "I'll let you in on a little secret, sweetheart. The last person we need help from on this gig is the brain trust who decided she could save the world with a book bag and a glowing sword."
"The same brain trust you asked to help Sam," Charlie snapped as she scooted out of the booth. "I should have just left, instead of - " She ripped a piece of paper off of her notepad and shoved it into Dean's chest hard enough to push him backwards. She turned abruptly away from him and whipped the crutches into her hands. "I'll be at the church, Sam." Every shimmering strand she had was pulled so tightly, Charlie looked like she was wrapped in gauze. "Do you want your cell phone back, Dean," she asked.
"Keep it," he said, staring at her shoulders. Dean had to ignore the strange hiccupping noise Charlie was making as she breathed, or he wouldn't be able to finish what he started. "You just sit tight in that church and wait for us," Dean added. "Can you at least handle that?"
"I'll even stay in a pew like a well-trained puppy," Charlie said, her voice a throbbing ache. She didn't turn around to look at him. Just said her piece and walked towards the front door. She pulled out a little money from her purse, and handed it to their waitress at the counter.
His little brother's breathing was rough, and Sammy looked at Dean reproachfully. "What?" Dean demanded.
"The only thing I want to do right now is hit you with a fucking clue by four." Sam's eyes were hard, and his cheeks both had bright red spots on them. Dean didn't even remember the last time Sam was this pissed at him - maybe when they fought before the whole scarecrow fiasco. "Are you at least going to tell me why you did it, Dean?"
"It was necessary, Sam. Charlie was only getting in the way. You saw how she scared off Tony." Dean shrugged his shoulders. The paper Charlie had slammed into his chest was on the floor. "It's better for all of us. It's not like she can actually help on the gig. Charlie's an amateur. Besides, we dragged her along on this. She never wanted to hunt. I just did a favor and gave her the easy out."
"Anything to help you sleep at night, right?" Sam returned, sarcastic to the last. He leaned down to snatch up the paper Charlie had given them before Dean could read it. His little brother spread it out on the table in front of him, smoothing it against the formica. Sam shook his head and chuckled. "I know I promised," he muttered. "But you're - " Sam recoiled as he caught himself.
"What's wrong with you?"
Sam shoved the paper in Dean's direction. "My brother's an asshole. That's what's wrong with me." He snorted. "And she might be an amateur, but the girl asks all the right questions. Even you'll have to admit that," Sammy added.
Dean stared at Charlie's tiny handwriting marching across the page, neat and meticulous. She had marked places where Tony was lying - like when he said they were drunk the first night they saw them - and where he was telling the truth. He really didn't know anything about the little girl. She had put a question mark near the location of the sightings, and circled the comment about the freaks who hung out near the Rectory. Charlie had made a note to herself about researching noise - and bells in specific - once she got back to the room and had access to her research material. And Sammy was right. She did ask all the right questions - was the priest summoning the monsters, or was he the victim.
"Charlotte picked up on the priest, the noise connection, when Tony was lying. Everything." Sam looked proud, and then his eyes darkened. "And you tore her down right in front of me, like Dad always did to us when we were growing up and we made a mistake. I hated having you watch that when it was me. Funny that you can't remember now how that felt when it was you." Sam shook his head and stood up. "Let's go."
"What about breakfast?" Dean returned. He was damn hungry.
Sam shrugged his shoulders. "Aren't you the one saying we have a little girl to save?" His eyes softened when they met Dean's. "I know you want to keep her safe, Dean," Sam said softly, and his little brother was talking about Charlie. Dean whipped his head, glared at Sam - but his little brother was a Winchester, and he didn't roll over and play dead like a normal person. "But you are fucked up, man," Sammy added.
Dean couldn't say anything to that. He just followed his little brother out the door after Sam paid for their coffee and told the waitress they were leaving. She looked at them like they were skipping out on their bill even though they hadn't eaten their breakfast, and Sam forked over more cash.
It really was better this way. Now that she was gone, he had some peace. Dean could breathe again.
Hands shoved in his pockets, Dean followed Sam out the door - staggering as the sunlight flashed against the back of his skull. Sam caught him as he stumbled, but there were no cool fingers brushing away his headache when Dean could focus his eyes.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Sam was beginning to think that Stephen Caldwell, the young pastor of St. Joseph's Church, was a candidate for sainthood. The Winchesters had spoken with five shop owners on Main Street and every single one of them was unanimous in their praise of the man. Sam didn't think that Eugenia Hawkins, the owner of Peachin's General Store, would tell them anything new but Dean was adamant that they weren't picking up Charlotte until after Mass - which, by Dean's reckoning, meant that they still had time to shakedown another store owner before heading to the Church.
Eugenia Hawkins - or, Ginny, as her name tag proudly displayed - was a gray-haired woman in her late sixties, with deep crinkles around her green eyes; Jess would have called them 'laugh lines' because Ginny Hawkins was always smiling. Even when Dean got dizzy and knocked over an entire display of Jelly Bellies, Ginny sat there and watched him while Dean started putting the bags back onto the rack with a broad smile on her good-natured face.
Dean was a mess. He had circles under his eyes - almost looked like he had been bruised underneath both of them - and he was pissy as all hell. Sam couldn't tell if that was due to lack of sleep, or Dean being pissed at himself for how he treated Charlotte. Probably a combination of both, since Dean had been too stubborn to sleep - and Dean's eyes had the same look in them when Charlotte had turned her back on him and walked away.
For all that Dean tried to deny it, there was something about Charlotte Webb that had gotten under his older brother's skin - and now Dean was trying to cut her out like a cancer. And if there wasn't a little girl out there who was going to be eaten alive, Sam would have taken Dean out behind the general store and kicked his ass. He knew that Dean was going to hurt Charlotte, sooner or later. Even tried to warn both of them.
I'll let you in on a little secret, sweetheart. The last person we need help from on this gig is the brain trust who decided she could save the world with a book bag and a glowing sword.
Shemhezai had laughed the entire time, deep in Sam's belly. They were breaking each other with nothing but words, and it didn't have to do a thing.
But even after Dean had been a fucking asshole, Charlotte had given him her notes. Helping him just like she promised. Well, she had slammed her notes into Dean so hard Sam thought she'd actually knock him into the wall. Not that Dean hadn't deserved it.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
There is no pain, you are receding -
A distant ship's smoke on the horizon.
You are only coming through in waves.
Your lips move, but I can't hear what you're sayin'.
"Apart from messing with my candy display, what brings you boys here today," Ginny asked with a smile. Ginny Hawkins didn't look like your typical Pink Floyd fan, but she was humming the tune when she wasn't talking. Dean actually winced when he realized that the little CD player near the cash register had been playing The Wall since they entered the store.
Sam looked at Dean, who was still putting the candy back onto the rack, and sighed. "My name's Simon and this is my colleague, Nick. We're reporters with the Atlanta Journal-Constitution, and we're here doing a special interest piece on Father Stephen Caldwell."
"Father Stephen's a nice boy," Ginny said, nodding. It was the same story everyone was telling them.
"We're beginning to believe that, ma'am," Sam replied, returning the store owner's smile. "So he's been here a month or so?"
Ginny nodded. "Came here after Father O'Connor fell ill."
"Father O'Connor was the old pastor, wasn't he?" Dean's eyes widened, and he raised his head. None of the other store owners had mentioned the old pastor without a prompt, and clammed up when Sam asked questions. Maybe she'll spill the beans to the handsome brother. He could almost bring himself to grin at that. Almost.
"You boys sure have done your research if you know about the old pastor," Ginny replied. She knelt to pick up some of the candy, handing them to Dean as she talked. Her eyes looked at him knowingly, and Dean continued to put the candy in the rack. "Got sick a couple of months ago. Seemed like pneumonia or something at first. Poor man was always tired - falling asleep at the oddest times. Had pneumonia myself once and slept for almost two weeks, so I didn't think anything of it." The old woman sighed. "But then he started acting crazy, talking about the things that flew by his window at night. Said they stole his dreams and made him see things."
"Flying things?" his little brother asked.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Sam knew they were treading on delicate ground. The shopkeeper didn't seem like the type to get drunk and think she was staring at gargoyles.
"If you're from the paper, you know what those damn fool boys saw when they were drunk," the shop owner snapped. Ginny took a deep breath. "Sorry about that. Those boys are just an embarrassment to the town. If I could prove - " The storekeeper shook her head. "That has nothing to do with why you boys are here."
"We've talked to Tony," Dean said shortly.
Ginny nodded. "He's the worst of them. Always hurting his girlfriends, even in high school. Parents did nothing about it, either - brushed it off by saying 'boys will be boys' or something similarly asinine. People here just seem to look the other way most days." Her hair shifted as she snapped her head again, giving Sam a strange look. Dean looked faintly ill. "What kind of magic do you boys have? Here I am spilling all the secrets of the town," Ginny said. "You two must be real good reporters," the store owner added with another smile. "Always getting more than your story."
"Something like that," Dean drawled with a sudden smile. So he brings on the charm now with an old woman?
"Has Father Stephen started getting sick?" Sam asked - the look Dean gave him was sharp.
"He looks a little under the weather lately, but nothing serious." Ginny pursed her lips. "But he was talking about seeing those same crazy monsters outside his window." She looked around the store to see that they were still alone, and leaned forward. "Between you and me, I think he's been looking into the same problem that Father O'Connor did," the shopkeeper whispered.
"What kind of problem?" Dean asked. He looked annoyed. The bells in the Church's tower were ringing, which meant that it was time to pick up Charlotte.
Ginny snorted. "Not really sure, but he was a good man. A real good man. Stood up for people when no one else would. Tried to take care of us when we needed it." She knelt down and picked up some more of the candy packages from the floor, slipping them onto the rack while Dean just stared at her. "He was always fighting the good fight in his own way."
Sam pulled up his 'puppy dog face' and looked Ginny Hawkins right in the eye. "What do you think was happening?"
"Me?" Ginny's green eyes widened, and she lowered her voice again. "I think there's a storm coming." Her voice took on an almost sing-song tone, her eyes unfocused as she stared off into the space above Sam's shoulder. "And you boys are caught right in the middle of it." She smiled. "And that little redhead you've got traveling with you. The three of you don't figure this out, and you'll lose the girl. But you're close. Just need to trust in each other."
Sam felt a cold chill in his stomach. What the fuck? Aaron had said there would be signs, that others were coming. But he didn't expect that a shopkeeper would turn into a prophet - Sam Winchester's very own Silent Bob. Probably his Jay, actually; Ginny was too chatty to be a silent anyone. Shemhezai made a howling noise in his ribcage, impotent as it crashed against the bones of its cage. This was something they weren't supposed to know, but the good guys were fucked. Trust in each other? The only thing Sam trusted was that Dean would be a prick and Charlotte would leave - and Shemhezai would laugh every second while they tore each other apart some more with nothing but their sarcasm.
"Fuck," Dean whispered, his face white. He was shaking again, like something was trapped inside and trying to claw its way out. Sam could appreciate the feeling.
Ginny's head jerked forward, and suddenly she was smiling normally. She fidgeted with the notepad she had near the cash register. "Anything else you boys need? Some snacks for the road?" the shopkeeper asked. It was like nothing had ever happened. Dean looked as sick as Sam felt.
"No, thanks," Dean said, the skin around his eyes stretched as he turned to leave. He stumbled, and Sam reached out a hand to steady him. Aaron was right - they weren't ready, and what was coming would break them all.
That little girl was screwed.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Some people were walking down the steps of St. Joseph's as they made it to the front of the building. It was one of those old-fashioned churches - and that damn hick was right. The roofline was covered in gargoyles. That's why Dean hated old churches - you never knew what was a monster, and what was just supposed to be a decoration until you started whacking it with a baseball bat. Hell, not even then; who knew how many churches the Winchesters had defaced through the years?
Charlie wasn't in the crowd, but Sam pointed out a man who looked about Dean's age with a priest's collar; the man was shaking the hands of the people walking down the steps. Sam was craning his head to look past the crowd into the church, though - didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that Sammy was looking for Charlie, but Dean wasn't going to make it any easier for Sam by reminding him that she had a cell phone on her.
College Boy was slow, because he didn't even think about the phone. Sam looked at him, shrugged his shoulders, and walked up the steps past the priest - shooting the man a smile like nothing was wrong. Dean jammed his hands in his pockets again as he frowned and followed his little brother into the church. He couldn't keep his hands from shaking, or drown out the nausea that was roaring against his spine.
Shouldn't have tried to eat some of that candy back in Peachin's.
Sam found Charlie kneeling in front of one of those statues near the back of the Church. She was lighting one of the candles at the base of the statue, and didn't even look up when she heard footsteps behind her; just folded her hands in front of her like she had the first night at Alfie's, when she was watching Sam face off against the succubitch. He remembered her face, how she shuddered in time with the light pouring out of Sam - and how Sam didn't hurt. Probably taking in his pain with the crappiest Gift God could give anyone. When Charlie started sniffling, Sam grabbed him by the arm and dragged him away.
"What the f - " Dean barely caught himself. You're in a goddamn church! But Dean was louder than he intended, and Charlie's shoulders froze when she recognized his voice. Her hands moved like she was wiping her eyes. Crap. And then she stood up, gray eyes looking past him towards his little brother.
"See, Sam? Didn't lose my head," she said, and they grinned at each other. The girl even quotes Queen. Then Charlie's eyes flickered towards him. "I made an appointment for both of you with Father Stephen at 1:30." Charlie looked at her watch. "Which is in ten minutes," she added.
"What are you going to do?" Sam asked.
Charlie shrugged. "There's a novena at the same time."
Dean coughed. Charlie glared at him. "Or..." His voice trailed off. "You could come with us."
She rolled her eyes. "What could I possibly contribute to the discussion? I left my spare glowing sword back in Connecticut and we both know you think I'm an idiot." She snorted, arms folded in front of her chest. Charlie looked like she should have been wearing her old blue-striped pajamas. "Your hair grows inward, doesn't it? Because something is cutting off the oxygen to your brain," she said. "Maybe you've got so much hair gel slathered up there that it's started to leak through your hair follicles." Bitch!
"Charlotte..." Sam tried to interject, but her gray eyes bore into him. He held up both hands, and then shrugged. "Got it. None of my business." And the glance said it all - You're on your own, dude.
"Look - " Dean began before she cut him off.
"Let's go," Charlie muttered.
"Lead the way, Granny Girl," Dean replied. And it felt pretty good, watching her body recoil when he called her Granny Girl. Charlotte Webb hated that nickname. Dean made a mental note to use it more often. He grinned at her, almost able to ignore the little voice in the back of his head that told him he should be apologizing to her.
She didn't even respond. Charlie turned to Sam and said, "Follow me."
She stormed past Dean, smelling like strawberries. Just like she had that morning. Dean closed his eyes, remembering how she laughed when Charlie called him a midget, and then heard Sam cough. The redhead was already out the back door and passing into the lobby. They sprinted to catch up to her as Charlie turned down a side hall, stopping in front of a plain office door. She limped along pretty fast for a girl with a broken leg - and that was when Dean realized Charlie wasn't walking with her crutches anymore, wasn't even carrying them. Sam had noticed, too, and just shrugged when Dean raised his eyes at him.
Charlie stepped out of the way so that Sam could knock, doing her best to look at the wall. A soft voice said, "Come in," and Sam swung the door open. The light inside spilled into the hallway, and Dean felt himself falling against the wall again - a little girl staring up at him with dark eyes, knives cutting into his muscles as it sliced flesh from his bones. Sam heard him falling, but he wasn't close enough to catch him, and Dean knew he was going to throw up because he wasn't moving fast enough to find her. But then Dean saw gray eyes watching him, out of the corner of his eye, and Charlie's hand was on his wrist.
Charlotte Webb was the stupidest smart girl Dean had ever met, holding onto him while she winced, gray eyes looking like the sky right before a storm while she helped keep him standing; his stomach almost felt normal. "Stop touching me," Dean snapped, ripping his wrist out of her hand. If Charlie made good on the promise of those tears suddenly standing in her eyes, Dean Winchester was going to lose it.
"Are you all right?" Stephen Caldwell asked. He was standing in the doorway next to Sam, a concerned expression on his face. Dean shrugged the affirmative - priests were supposed to care about these kinds of things.
"He's fine, Father," Charlie said, chin raised as she dared Dean to contradict her. He could see it in the way she held her shoulders. "These are my colleagues from the newspaper."
"Simon LeBon," Sam said, hand outstretched. The priest looked at Sammy like he was crazy. Sam gestured to Dean with his head. "And this is my partner, Nick Rhodes."
Stephen Caldwell laughed outright. "Do all reporters use the name of Duran Duran members for their bylines now?" His eyes were twinkling. Even Sam looked amused. Fucking Duran Duran? I am kicking Sammy's ass six ways to Sunday! And Dean turned to Charlie, getting ready to make a smart-assed comment - about how the painted chick in that video on the boat was hot, but that the red-haired dude was wearing more makeup than she was - because she'd laugh at it. Except she wasn't even looking at him. Fuck me.
"We were supposed to be undercover," Sam said. He pulled out his own version of the priest's voice, calm and soothing as he followed Stephen Caldwell back into his office. "The locals think we're doing a special interest piece on the gargoyle sightings, but we're really here to talk to you about Father O'Connor." His little brother smiled. "We never expected anyone here to be a Duran Duran fan," he added.
The priest's eyes widened as he sat behind the desk. Charlie followed him into the room, sitting down next to Sam. Dean got to stand, leaning against the wall. He jammed his hands into his pockets, and glared at the back of Charlie's head while she pulled out her notepad. "Do you mind closing the door," Father Stephen asked. "I'd rather keep this conversation confidential. But if you could help..." His eyes were worried.
"Sure." Dean kicked the door shut with his foot, still leaning against the wall.
"How much do you know about Father O'Connor?" the priest asked. He looked guarded, and Dean could see that small tendril reaching out from inside Charlie and brushing against the priest's chest. Why the fuck does she always do that? What happened if Stephen Caldwell had a secret that hurt her, too? She'd already been up close and mentally personal with some hick who hurt chicks while he screwed them - and that was before breakfast. Dean grimaced.
"Not much. We know he was looking into something important, and then he started getting delusional." Sam frowned. "He was visited by the gargoyles for weeks, we were told."
"Father O'Connor is in the psychiatric ward of Madison County General," Stephen Caldwell said, and he looked like he was going to fall asleep in his chair. "The diagnosis is schizophrenia, and the prognosis isn't good. The doctors doubt he'll be able to return to his duties." He frowned, shaking his head. "Please forgive me, but Father O'Connor was a good man. This community lost more than just its pastor."
"What happened?" Sam asked.
"According to parishioners who spoke with Father O'Connor prior to his collapse, the gargoyles 'stole' his dreams. He stopped sleeping, and ended up in a walking nightmare." Father Stephen brushed the hair out of his eyes, letting out his breath with a sigh. "I didn't believe the latter to be true but..."
"You've been seeing the same monsters," Charlie said softly. She was looking right at the priest, and Dean could see a small pulse along the tendril that connected them. "And they're starting to steal your dreams, too," she added. Dean held his breath, waiting for the hammer to slam into her.
"I - " Stephen Caldwell gulped, his eyes staring right at Charlie. "You don't think I'm crazy."
"No," Sam answered, and the priest's eyes focused on his little brother's face. "We don't." His little brother leaned forward in his chair. "But we need to know what Father O'Connor was looking into when the visitations started."
"The same thing I was looking into when my visitations started," the priest replied. He leaned back into his chair. "Madison Pond Children's Home."
Dean started, body pulling up from the wall. "An orphanage?" he asked. Sam was looking at him with a strange expression on his face. Sounded like an orphanage.
Father Stephen nodded. "It's a county run facility, but you know how those things go. Too many kids. Not enough money. Father O'Connor visited the children's ward at County General every day. He met a little boy there named Kenny." His eyes darkened. "But you won't believe me when I tell you what that child saw."
"We might." Dean's voice was rough. Death has fed here - the old tang of rust, bleached bones on the walls - and Death feeds here still. Salty and sweet against the wood, falling in small rivulets from her skin. Charlie's eyes flickered towards him, her face almost softening, but then she started staring at her notepad.
"Kenny claimed that there was a monster at the orphanage. A monster that ate the bad children." Stephen Caldwell shivered, and Charlie's shoulders twitched. God, Charlie, how can I get you to stop doing this to yourself? "The details were horrifying."
"Pretty common theme in a child abuse case," Sam said softly. "The monster that the kids can't protect against. So Father O'Connor tried to investigate the orphanage to see if he could root out the monster?"
The priest nodded. "The director, John Smiley, was relatively new - only in the position a couple of months. Father O'Connor tried to get permission to start a ministry inside, visiting with the kids. He managed three visits before Smiley shut him out." He swallowed. "But he had already seen enough to worry him, and he contacted one of his friends at Social Services. Annie did some digging for him, clearly under the desk."
"How bad is it?" Dean asked. He was vibrating inside - the little girl was there. He knew it. He could feel it. Charlie turned her head when he asked his question, staring at him. She looked away when their eyes met, a small grimace on her face.
"There's a higher illness rate there than any other orphanage in the state - and a disproportionate number of disturbed children." The priest rested his head on steepled fingers, eyes catching Dean's. "If you look at some of their case histories, Annie said it's a resting place for kids from the worst backgrounds. Abuse. Drug addicts for parents. There are kids there who should be in a psychiatric ward, but because the county hospitals are all overflowing..."
"How hard did Father Patrick push?" Sam was tapping his knees with his hands. Fidgety. Looked like Sammy Boy wanted to start investigating the orphanage as much as his older brother did.
"As far as I know, Father O'Connor was getting ready to file a complaint through Annie with Social Services. There was enough evidence from Kenny alone to do something about the place. That account combined with his observations when he visited the orphanage was grounds for a formal inquiry." The priest sighed. "But then Father O'Connor started having nightmares, and you know the rest."
His little brother shifted in his chair, voice shifting into his 'compassionate' voice. "So you picked up where Father Patrick left off?" Sam asked.
The priest nodded. "I found some of Father O'Connor's journals when I replaced him. And I - " Father Stephen gulped. His eyes were fluttering now, and Dean was positive he'd be falling asleep in his chair soon. "I decided those children needed an advocate. Except John Smiley won't let me into the building - says the Church has no right in a public facility. He's worried that I'll be pushing religion onto the kids."
"What about Annie?" Charlie asked. Dean and Sam looked at each other, and Sam inclined his head with a knowing little smirk. Yeah, I get that she's smart, little brother. And if the gargoyles were sent after the social worker helping Father Patrick, all roads definitely led to the orphanage.
Stephen Caldwell turned white. "She's been in private care for the last three weeks." The priest swallowed. "Acute paranoia," he added.
"Private..." Dean's voice trailed off. Acute paranoia? Mild paranoia was one of the side effects for short-term sleep deprivation. "Damn." Whatever was controlling the little flying bastards had gotten to the social worker. And now it was after Stephen Caldwell. Sam and Charlie were both already standing, and Dean felt sick again; because when they all got the same idea at the same time, it meant that it was probably the right idea. "How do we get to the orphanage from town?" Dean asked.
"Take the Madison Pond Road exit north of town off the main highway," Stephen Caldwell replied.
Charlie was handing her notepad full of notes to Sam. Dean coughed. "Thanks for your time, Father. You've been very helpful," Sam said absentmindedly, eyes pulling from the notepad long enough to smile at the priest. Charlie shook the priest's hand, tendril disappearing behind her gossamer cocoon.
The priest pushed his hair out of his eyes again. "I don't know how much help I've been, but you're welcome."
"You've been a lot of help," Dean said, opening the door. Charlie hobbled past him without even looking, but Sam poked him in the ribs as he passed. How the hell do I keep Charlie out of the way at an orphanage? Sam wouldn't let her go back to the motel after the whole 'we want to keep you safe' lecture.
Yeah, it's that cut again. The cut because I write too much. But, hey, this is a Dean chapter and he's the one who originated the curse so... Second part is here.