The Dead Who Groan Within Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
"What the hell kinda crap did you fill my Deputy's head with?" The Policeman, and Dean saw the Sheriff's badge prominent on his chest, glared at Dean from his inch taller height.
"Pretty sure I haven't shoved crap in anyone's head lately." Dean sniffed his hands and looked up with a smirk. "Nope. No crap here."
"Keep it up, smart-ass." The Sheriff put a meaty hand on Dean's shoulder and turned him toward the stairs. "You're coming down to the station with me. I have some questions."
"Right." Dean pulled the door shut behind him and swaggered to the stairs and down.
"Where's the other one?" The Sheriff growled and Dean shrugged.
"Probably out walking on the grass or something." Dean said flippantly, enjoying the growl that came back at him.
"Squad car, pal." The Sheriff pointed and Dean shook his head, going to the Impala and leaning against her hood.
"No way, Sheriff. Not unless you're arresting me for something." Dean raised a brow. "Are you arresting me for something?"
"Not yet." The Sheriff said in a low voice.
"Then I guess I'll drive myself. You can follow." Dean grinned again and turned, getting into his car and started the engine. The Sheriff glared at him as he backed out and turned toward the street before throwing himself into his squad car and following. Follow he did, riding Dean's bumper the entire short drive and Dean was tempted more than once to brake check the idiot but didn't want to buff the scratches out of his bumper.
The Police station was a small affair, only one story and Dean pulled in between two cruisers, leaving the sheriff to find his own damn spot. He knew he was pushing the guy's buttons and Sam would smack him if he were there but Sam was elsewhere and Dean…well Dean only had respect for one authority figure and the overweight, over-tall badge stalking toward him as he got out of the car was definitely NOT him.
"Follow me." The Sheriff growled at him.
Dean wisely said nothing this time and fell in behind him. Thinking of his father had reminded him that getting locked up for being an ass would not win him any points if his Dad found out and he always did. Dean pushed through the door behind him and into the bullpen. Several cops looked up with disinterest from their desks except for Deputy Dooey who jumped from his seat when he saw Dean.
"Sheriff Bilkes? Um…" Dooey started but the Sheriff waved him silent as they passed.
"Shut it, Deputy. I'll talk to you later." Sheriff Bilkes strode past and opened a door to what looked suspiciously like an interview room. Dean had seen plenty of them over the years and he made himself comfortable in the rickety plastic chair behind the dented table.
"So what's this all about, Sheriff?" Dean asked; smiling complacently while the Sheriff slammed the door and then took what he probably thought was an intimidating stance opposite Dean. He barely resisted snorting a laugh.
"You think this is funny boy?" Sheriff Bilkes demanded and Dean threw his hands out.
"Dude I don't even know why I'm here yet." Dean raised his brows. "You wanna clue me in?"
"My Deputy comes back from a routine check at the ruins with some bullshit story about a giant snake and two guys who saved his ass." Sheriff Bilkes grew red in the face. "I don't know what kind of screwy prank you pulled but that dumb kids' out there scared to death of going back! Now, here's what's gonna happen slick." The Sheriff leaned across the table. "I'm gonna bring Deputy Dumbass in here and you're gonna tell him it was all a joke. You tell him how you did it cause he sure as hell aint listening to me!"
Dean's jaw dropped in surprise and he shook his head, smiling finally. "Wow." He shrugged. "Sure whatever, Sheriff. Bring him in. I'll talk to the kid."
The Sheriff studied him for a moment and then left. Dean whistled softly and chuckled, sitting back with his hands behind his head to wait. He sat up straight when Sheriff Bilkes quickly returned, the Deputy a step behind.
Dean stood and held his hand out. "Deputy Dooey." Dean gave his hand a friendly shake, ignoring the Sheriff beside him. "I wanted to thank you for your help yesterday. Couldn't have gotten the sasquatch back to the car without you."
The Deputy smiled cautiously, flicking a glance at the reddening face of his boss. "Uh…is your brother okay? I mean, his neck looked bad."
"He's fine." Dean smiled at both men, widening the grin for the Sheriff's benefit since he looked like he was about to have a heart attack. "I don't know where that damn snake came from but if Deputy Dooey here hadn't come along when he did, we'd have been lunch." Dean exaggerated a bit but the Sheriff rubbed him wrong and he figured the kid deserved a break. "Saved our asses."
"You son of a…"
"Careful Sheriff." Dean grinned.
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
Sam held a carton of research under his right arm as he walked back to the motel. Eyes roaming the town his eyes startled wide when he saw the Impala parked in front of the police station. "Oh crap." Sam groaned. He rolled his eyes to the sky for patience and changed direction. "Please tell me I don't have to bail you out for something stupid, Dean." Sam grumbled as he crossed the street and jogged to the station door. Inside the bull pen, a few bored cops looked up as he entered. The nearest rose and waved.
"Something we can help you with, sir?" The officer asked.
Sam nodded. "Yeah, I'm looking for my brother. His car's parked out front." Sam's head tilted to the side when he heard a man yelling in frustration and sighed. "Never mind, I think I know where he is." He followed the sound to an interview room and peeked through the window. Inside were Deputy Dooey, a really big guy who looked like the Sheriff and his brother, grinning like an idiot.
"Sir, you can't go in there." The officer followed him over.
"Could you then? Let my brother know I'm out here?" Sam gave him his best pleading expression and saw the cop shrug, giving in. "Thanks." The officer opened the door and slipped inside while someone, the Sheriff probably was still lighting into his brother at top volume. The yelling broke off and the door slammed open. Sam took a step back in surprise when the Sheriff all but jumped out and grabbed his arm.
"You!" The Sheriff glared and tugged, pulling him into the room.
Sam did his best to hide the gasp of pain. The Sheriff's steely grip was clamped over the stitches on his left arm making spots dance in Sam's vision. "Sheriff." Sam said calmly and shook his head quickly at Dean when he saw his brother's eyes darken dangerously. Dean never handled it well when someone hurt him, however inadvertently. "Let go please."
Sheriff Bilkes dropped his arm and fixed him with a steely glare. "How about you tell me what the hell happened yest…" The Sheriff trailed off, eyes widening as he spotted the distinct bruising on Sam's throat. "What the hell?"
"It was the snake, Sir." Deputy Dooey nodded. "Almost choked him to death."
Sam quickly put two and two together. Deputy Dooey had told his commander the truth and the Sheriff hadn't believed it for one second. "He's right, Sheriff." Sam said, moving to stand beside Dean. His brother took the box from him and tapped his left arm. Sam gave a minute shake of his head to say 'not now' and looked back to the Sheriff. "I don't really remember anything after it wrapped around my neck until I woke up in the car."
"We're leaving, Sheriff." Dean said, no humor left in his tone. "We haven't done anything wrong and your Deputy did his duty. You got any more questions, you know where to find us. Come on." Dean gave Sam a nudge toward the door and left while the Sheriff was tongue tied still processing the visual evidence of Sam's throat.
"What the hell happened?" Sam asked as soon as they were outside.
"Sheriff didn't like Dooey's story and stopped by real nice to ask about it." Dean deadpanned and got in the car. He tossed the box in the back seat. As soon as Sam got in, he grabbed his brother's arm and pushed up his sleeve, growling at the spots of blood dotting the bandage there. "Son of a bitch."
"He didn't know, Dean." Sam reasoned and took his arm back. "It's fine."
"You went dead white in there, Sammy." Dean told him. "Thought you were gonna faint right there."
"I don't faint." Sam argued. "Girls faint."
"I rest my case." Dean smiled and pulled out of the police station, heading back to the motel while Sam glared at him.
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
"Fifteen? Fifteen ghosts. Are you sure?" Dean looked through the stack of research Sam had brought back and shook his head. "Holy crap."
"Well, it's an estimate. It's all hearsay." Sam readjusted his arm, trying to find a comfortable position for it on the table beside the laptop. Dean had cleaned it again, thankful none of the stitches had pulled but it was still damn painful and newly bruised…again. "Ross, the guy in the shop? It's his research and he's not exactly picky about the details." Sam chuckled. "You'd like him."
Dean snorted. "Right, dude probably lives in his mom's basement and he runs a friggin occult shop? I'd hate him." Dean tossed aside the grainy photos of the ruins from overhead that he'd been studying and sighed. "I gotta go find us a couple bronze knives still. You stay here." Dean said as Sam started to rise with him. "We'll go back out to the ruins tomorrow. Cops are probably still watching the area anyway."
Sam settled back and nodded. "I'll keep digging on Ross' research. See if I can back up any of the stuff he's found. If I can narrow down graves, maybe we can cut down on the ghost population."
"Honestly, they're not my first priority right now." Dean pulled on his jacket. "That damn snake's gotta go. Stay out of trouble." Dean said over his shoulder as he left and Sam rolled his eyes.
"Same goes, jerk." Sam said to the closed door and leaned back, wincing as he shifted his arm. The longer he sat there alone with only the laptop to keep him company, the more he thought the damn fish was watching him again. "Damn you are one creepy fish." Sam rose and changed chairs so his back was to the beds, sparing him having to look at the big glassy eyes.
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
Dean counted them lucky that Bluff Point was in the back of beyond because it pretty much guaranteed that there'd be a store somewhere to cater to yuppie hunters. He asked at the gas station around the corner from their motel and ten minutes later was parking with a smile in front of the local gun club. Black Bear season had just started and the front of the store was papered with information on license fees and weapon suggestions. He walked inside and breathed deep the scent of gun oil and cordite from the test range in the back of the shop with a grin.
"Can I help you son?" The man behind the long counter called. He looked like an aging biker, tattoos crawling up both arms beneath his short sleeves, peeking out of the neck of his shirt and earrings rode both earlobes. Dean nodded and stepped up, looking over the large caliber guns behind the counter with yearning.
"Yeah. Hope so." Dean grinned and started in on the story he'd concocted in the car. "I got some yuppie idiots wanna go Black Bear hunting this weekend and got a weird request."
The big guy rolled his eyes in sympathy. "Get a lot of those around here." He stuck out a hand. "Jack."
"Dean." Dean shook his hand and nodded. "So, two of them want Bronze knives." Dean chuckled when Jack snorted in disgust and shook his head.
"Weekend hunters. They pay my bills but man they are all kinds of stupid." Jack laughed. "Happens I got just what you need. Hang on." Jack went through a small door into the back of the shop and Dean grinned. He amused himself looking at the elephant gun on top of the back wall and wondered if he could convince Sam it would be useful in a hunt. "You thinkin' of taking out a yuppie with that cannon?" Jack laughed as he came back and Dean grinned.
"I've had worse ideas." Dean watched as Jack laid out two boxes on the counter and opened one. "Oh nice." Dean took the long knife from the box, appreciating the color of the blade and the workmanship of the hilt. "Solid bronze or bronze plated?" He asked, testing the weight of the knife and liking it.
"Oh they're solid." Jack nodded. "Usually only get call for these when the Highland Gathering's in the area in June. Irish Skains were standard wear with a kilt in the 18th century." He smirked at the look on Dean's face. "Wanna make money, you gotta know this stuff."
Dean laughed. "Well I'll take 'em." He pulled out his wallet and fished out the latest bogus credit card. He hoped Jack would actually get paid, he liked the guy.
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
Dean flopped onto his bed with a groan. Sam was burning a fever, though not a high one but enough to make his little brother miserable, slightly out of it and worse; sporting puppy dog eyes at him. The cut on his arm had taken too much abuse and developed an infection. Sam was curled on his side in his bed now, arm cradled against his stomach beneath the blankets Dean had tucked around him and sleeping with a frown on his face. Dean sighed and closed his eyes, willing himself to follow Sam into sleep and get some much needed rest before the nightmares he knew would come woke Sam screaming. His little brother had enough trouble getting sleep without being feverish and sick.
Sam was already sliding into the familiar dream. He shut the apartment door behind him, called for Jess. He smiled at the plate of cookies left lovingly out for him and followed the sound of the shower turning on into the bedroom. He'd missed her. As good as it had been hunting with his brother again and he'd admit somewhere deep down he'd missed that too, coming home to Jess was all he needed. He sat on their bed and let himself fall back to wait for her, warm and wet from the shower, eager to show her just how happy he was to be home and safe with her again.
He jerked when the first drop hit his head, opened his eyes when the second plopped above his eyes and terror ate his world. Jess, his Jess was trapped on the ceiling above him, a silent scream on her face. His childhood came back to him and a distant, barely remembered image seen with infant eyes overlaid his love. He screamed her name and felt the heart drop out of him when he saw her eyes and knew she was still alive, still conscious and pleading with her eyes for him to save her. Flames erupted around her and she began to burn.
Sam screamed her name, watching the horror play itself out above him and then gasped at an unfamiliar sensation. He began to sink. He felt himself sinking into the blankets, the mattress beneath him. Something pulled him downward, the sheets wrapped around him and over him. Jess was soon taken from his sight and Sam thrashed with the need to escape, to save her. The folds of fabric closed over his head and he couldn't breathe. He gasped in confusion when the blankets and bedding turned to water, rushing around him, surrounding him and stealing his breath.
Dean woke with a start as Sam's cry filled the room. "Sam." He reached over and flipped the light on, swinging his legs out of the bed. Sam thrashed beneath the blankets, called Jess' name again breaking Dean's heart a little and then as Dean watched, his brothers' shape under the covers began to sink and in a moment vanished altogether leaving the blankets to collapse to the mattress. "Sam!"
Dean lurched to the other bed and ripped back the blankets. He stared in shock. The bed was wet, not damp but swimming in water, a Sam sized puddle left in the mattress. "What the hell?" The steady drip-drip of water drew Dean's eyes up to the creepy mounted Catfish above their beds. Water dripped from its head down to Sam's bed and the fish looked…wet, as though it would wriggle at any moment. "You have got to be kidding me." Dean breathed. He spun and pulled his knife out from under his pillow and ran to the room door. The fish was wet, the bed was wet and Dean followed the line of logic. If the damn fish wanted to drown Sam then there was only one body of water close by. He sprinted the second floor balcony around the building until he could see the covered pool in the middle of the motel. His gut was telling him he was right and he took the stairs three at a time, skidding to a stop beside the pool in the frigid moonlight. "Sam!" He called. He heard a strangled, gurgling cry from beneath the lime green cover and near its center something pushed up at it and fell away again. "Shit!" He dropped to his knees and used his knife to start sawing a long opening in the tarp.
Sam reflexively gagged in a mouthful of water, trying to cough and frantically kicked toward the surface. Panic was choking him as surely as the cold water. His head bumped something on the water's surface and he shoved frantically at it to no effect. It was heavy and kept him from getting even a breath. He couldn't tell if he was awake or still dreaming, still trapped in a nightmare. More water was pulled into his lungs as he coughed and couldn't stop himself. He began to lose the battle, sinking away from the surface, blackness closing in on him. He opened his mouth again, trying to call out for Dean but only sucked in more water.
He startled when he felt something viselike close around his upper arms and pull him. Sam struggled against the hold weakly and then stopped when an arm slipped across his chest. Dean. He knew it was his brother and he let himself be pulled, fighting not to suck in any more water. A moment later Sam's head broke the surface and he gasped and gagged.
"Hang on, Sammy." Dean coughed water and dragged Sam to the edge of the pool. He propped Sam's arms in the gutter and pulled himself out. "Ok, Sam. Ok." Dean reached down, gripping his brother beneath the arms and heaved him up. Dry, he was heavy enough but sodden wet and Dean was sure his shoulders were going to pop out of their sockets as he gave a mighty pull and got his gasping brother up onto the concrete. "Sam." Dean rolled him into his arms, setting him up and thumped him hard on the back until Sam was coughing out volumes of water that made his own chest hurt. Once Sam was reduced to panting Dean let his head fall into Sam's hair and just held him there for a minute. "Sam? You ok?" It took a moment but Sam nodded his head finally. "Son of a bitch that was close."
"What?" Sam croaked and coughed.
Dean shook his head and leaned back to get a better look at him. "That damn fish is friggin possessed or something! Come on." Dean stood on legs shaking with adrenaline and pulled Sam to his feet. He swayed and leaned heavily into Dean.
"Knew…I hated…that fish." Sam gasped. He got an arm up over Dean's shoulders and let him lead him away from the pool, two sets of bare feet slapping wetly on the stairs as they slowly made their way back up and around the building to their room. The door still stood open and Dean eased Sam in, laying him on his own bed. "Gimme a sec."
Dean stalked around the bed and glared at the now dry Catfish. He reached up and pried it from the wall, not as easy as he thought it would be. Dean grunted with the effort and finally it came free, stumbling him backwards a few steps under its weight. He went to the open door and threw the fish out the door, listening to it thunk into the railing and clatter to the walkway with a satisfied grin. "I'll finish with you later." Dean slammed the door on its glassy gaze and turned back to Sam. "Me and the manager are gonna have a little chat tomorrow." Dean promised. He went around to Sam's bed and stared in surprise. "I'll be damned." He pulled the blanket back and ran his hand over a now pristinely dry mattress, not a drop of water remained.
"Guh…Dean." Sam jerked upright, face going green.
"Crap. Don't puke in my bed, Carol-ann." Dean grabbed him and steadied Sam as he stumbled to the bathroom and proceeded to puke out the rest of the pool water in gasping heaves. "Okay, buddy." Dean soothed, holding Sam up when he finally collapsed with exhaustion. "Let's get you to bed."
Sam nodded, too weak to speak and let Dean pull him up again and all but carry him out and settle him back in his own bed. He looked up at the now empty wall and sighed in relief, letting his eyes close as Dean pulled the blanket over him with shaking hands. "M'okay, Dean." Sam mumbled.
"Yeah I know." Dean laid Sam's left arm out and started gently peeling off the sodden bandage there. "Get some sleep." The longer they stayed in this town, the less Dean liked it. He had an urge to pile his brother in the car and just leave but their father's voice stopped him. Dad would never leave a job unfinished, not when people were dying. "Dammit, Sammy." Dean muttered and sighed. He'd just have to do a better job of watching out for him, evil possessed dead fish notwithstanding. This was one screwy town.
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
Click here for Part 5: