Vengeance Is Mine 2/?
Title: Vengeance Is Mine
Genre: gen, h/c
Rating: PG-13 for language, violence,
Characters: Dean, Sam, OFC,
Chapter word count: 2213
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I can lay no claims to the sexy boys. =( Just having fun with them.
~ * ~ * ~
When Dean emerged from the bathroom twenty minutes later, still steamy and dripping from his shower, Sam was sitting hunched over his laptop, intently studying the screen.
"What'd you find? Dean voice broke Sam's concentration and he glanced up.
"I've linked all the victims to each other," Sam announced triumphantly, leaning back in his chair. "Apparently they were all classmates. Like twenty years ago. Class of '81. There were 23 of them originally. Three died years ago: one got cancer, one died in a car crash, and another was drowned a couple weeks after she graduated. She was only 17."
Dean looked up and frowned. "Where'd she die?" He was pulling on a tee shirt as he spoke, and his words were muffled.
"In the reservoir outside of town," Sam stated grimly. "Looks like we're looking at a ghost after all." He stood and headed for the bathroom.
"Leave any hot water at all for me?" he hollered after a moment, releasing a cloud of steam when he opened the bathroom door.
"A little," Dean responded grinning. "I kinda let it run for a bit. To steam, it up ya know? Like you girls do."
"Jerk," came the muttered retort from the bathroom and Dean looked smug.
"Anything for you Sammy," he grinned under his breath. Easing himself down onto the bed he sighed and closed his eyes. He'd just rest for a minute until Sammy got out. Then they'd go over the hunt details again.
He was fast asleep when Sam opened the door ten minuted later, sprawled haphazardly atop the sheets.
Sam watched him fondly for a moment before pulling on some clean clothes and returning to his seat at the computer
Dean needed the rest and Sam wasn't about to wake him up. He could look over everything himself and brief Dean in the morning.
Sam stared at the computer screen until his eyes started to close on their own. He yawned and rubbed them, squeezing them closed. He was so tired...
His eyelids slowly fluttered shut and his chin sank forward to rest on his chest.
~*~*~
Dean woke sometime in the middle of the night and lay staring at the ceiling for a moment, wondering why the light was still on.
Turning his head slowly to the left, his eyes fell on his younger brother slouched awkwardly in front of his laptop.
Dean's heart leapt into his mouth as Sam remained completely still. Was he dead?
Dean jerked upright just as Sam drew a deep breath and sighed, the long hair over his forehead fluttering.
Of course he wasn't dead. Dean rubbed at the sudden headache pulsing behind his eyes and pulled himself up, moving over to Sam.
The poor kid had been trying to hide his concern for Dean's health, but was wearing himself out in the process of trying to take on more responsibility.
Dean carefully hauled Sam to his feet and maneuvered him towards the bed. "Easy kiddo," Dean murmured, trying not to wake him. But Sam was dead to the world and didn't even stir when Dean rolled him onto the bed.
He pulled the sheet over Sam, tucking it around him in a rare moment of outward affection. Quietly, he crawled back into his own bed, arms folded behind his head and lay staring unseeing at the ceiling, willing the dark, unbidden memories away.
Sleep finally visited Dean and with it, relief.
~*~*~
Sam woke the next morning to the sound of Dean singing Road To Nowhere in his low, husky voice. He was shrugging on his jeans when Sam sat up, puzzled to find himself in his bed.
"Mornin' Sunshine," Dean greeted, grinning as he laced up his boots. "You're a heavy sleeper did you know that?"
"Yeah," Sam muttered slowly, pushing himself out of bed. "I've been told that a time or two." He glanced around. "You put me in bed?"
Dean grinned. "Let me tell you, you are no feather-weight." He stood and straightened his shoulder. "Alright. Get some clothes on so we can go get breakfast and question Wanda."
"I never finished the research last night," Sam said guiltily and Dean waved him off.
"I did it this morning. There wasn't much left to find. I'll fill you in over breakfast.
Wanda looked up at the jingle and smiled warmly at the brothers.
"Mornin' boys. Come sit right up here at the counter and I'll get you some coffee."
The boys slid onto the high stools and in seconds Wanda was setting a coffee--black-- in ront of Dean and a vanilla latte in Sam's hands.
"Made that a double-vanilla for you, Hon," she smiled, and Dean looked impressed.
"Oh you're made a friend for life Wanda," he said, hiding a smile as Sam kicked furtively at Dean's feet. "Seriously."
Wanda laughed and Sam gave her a boyish smile.
"Thanks Wanda, it's great. What's for breakfast?"
"Oh you boys let me fix you up a nice hot plate. You'll like it."
She fluffed her hair in the familiar, unconscious gesture as she walked away and both boys watched her leave.
"Pretty," said Dean, and Sam made a sound of assent.
"So what do you have on the killings?" Sam wondered, slowly sipping his drink.
Dean pulled his mouth into its frequent pursed 'thinking face', and his eyebrow lowered.
"So far, we've got the list of names and addresses on the dead guys and of the surviving classmates, dates of the births and deaths so far, details descriptions of the method of death, and a whole lotta questions." He gulped his coffee and slid the empty mug forward for Wanda to fill on her way by.
"So where are we going to start?" Sam knew the answer but asked anyway.
"We'll head up to the cabin where the first victim died," Dean said decisively. "Man by the name of Joel Du' Bois. Apparently he'd lived there his whole life. No relatives to speak of."
Sam nodded and looked up as Wanda slid their plates across the countertop.
"Dig in boys. You look like you could use a nice home-cooked meal."
"Yes Ma'am." The boys looked perturbed as soon as the words left their mouths, and as Wanda left Dean whispered to Sam.
"She makes me feel like a kid again, and thats not a good thing. She's not five years older than me."
Sam grinned. "Yeah I know what you mean. Its that mountain charm. Everybody's honey and sugar."
They chuckled softly and focused on their food. Wanda came back just as they were finishing, and Sam hastily swallowed his mouthful.
"Wanda did you know of any of the murdered townspeople?" he asked, leaning forward and getting straight to the point.
Wanda nodded and propped her elbows on the counter. "Why of course. Everybody knows everybody else in little towns like ours. My sister was best friends with every one of 'em anyways. She's all tore up now they're gone." Wanda's voice thickened. "A close friend of mine was one of them that was killed too. Daniel Beekam was his name. He was the second to go."
"We're very sorry for your loss Wanda," Sam said softly, his blue-green eyes gentle. "Can you think of anyone who would want to hurt those people? Any one with a serious grudge against them?"
"Oh no, of course not." Wanda said quickly, looking shocked. "The people in this town are very close. No one would have any reason to to want them dead."
"Someone does," Dean interjected grimly. "Wanda, what can you tell us about Jennifer Lowry?"
Wanda looked confused. "Jenny's been dead 20 years now. April 7th was the anniversary of her death."
"We know," Sam informed her. "But still-- what do you know about her? What kind of girl was she?"
Wanda looked pensive for a moment before she spoke. "Jenny was a very happy girl," she said, smiling gently, voice wistful. "Full of life. She had big dreams, big plans for her future. She was going away to Harvard after graduation. She wanted to be a doctor. She was only a week from her 18th birthday when the accident happened."
The door bell jingled and Wanda straightened. "Excuse me boys, for just a second." She moved down the count and spoke in low tones to the newcomer, a young man who looked to be in his late teens or early twenties. He was watching them suspiciously and Dean raised an eyebrow to Sam.
"Friendliest people huh?"
Sam shrugged. "Look at Wanda though," he pointed out and Dean mumbled something about pretty exceptions. Sam grinned.
Wanda was back in a moment and Dean leaned toward her again.
"Who's that guy Wanda?" he wondered, and she glanced over her shoulder at the sulky young man.
"Oh that's Robert Dewall. His mother was the 3rd victim. He's kind of angry with the whole world right now." Her voice was sympethetic and her eyes wet as she watched the boy.
"Oh," Sam and Dean both said quietly, and somehow it expressed everything.
"But back to Jenny," Dean prompted, steering the conversation back to the dead girl. "What happened exactly?"
Wanda looked uncomfortable. "It's a very sad story," she said slowly. "Why do you ask?"
"Oh he's just curious," Sam said perhaps a little too quickly. "He's a little morbid."
Wanda chewed on the inside of her lip for a moment before sighing. "Okay. It's a little hard for me to talk about. People said that she was depressed and drowned herself in the reservoir. But I knew better. She was a happy girl. She loved life. Other people said she got drunk and slipped in. Hit her head and drowned, but i don't believe that either. It wasn't like her to drink much."
"So what's your story?" Sam prompted and Wanda bit her lip again.
"Well, I think she just slipped I guess. Maybe hit her head and drowned. But she wasn't drunk."
Dean watched her closely as she spoke and noted the lack of conviction in her voice and face. "That's it?" he probed and Wanda looked sharply at him.
"Yes, that's it," she repeated firmly. "Now if you boys will excuse me, there are other customers to be seen to."
Sam whistled under his breath as she flounced quickly away. "You sure struck a nerve there Dean," he observed quietly. "She's still hiding something about Jenny's death."
Dean grunted absently. "Yeah but we'll figure that out later. I think we should head straight up to Du 'Bois' place."
"What about old Robby here?" Sam protested, pointing with his chin towards said subject. "Shouldn't we talk to him now?"
Dean shook his head. "Now's not the time. Later. Let's get directions from Wanda and go."
The boys stood and moved toward the register. Wanda glanced over and quickly came toward them.
Dean watched the young man as Sam paid for their meal and got the directions to Joel Du 'Bois' cabin. Robert cast several dark looks their way, which Dean met with casual indifference.
"Come on Dean." Sam was at his shoulder and Dean followed to the door, still watching Robert.
The boy glanced over again and his face darkened at finding Dean's cool gaze on him again.
"You got a problem Mister?" he snarled, shoving back his stool and striding over to stand toe to toe with Dean. The younger man was several inches taller and more broad-shouldered, but Dean didn't blink.
"Nope," he said cooly. "Just looking; free country and all."
The boy's glare deepened. "Who the hell do you think you are, stranger?" he snapped, fists doubling.
"FBI." Dean practically smirked as he flashed his badge in the boy's face. "I'd suggest you sit back down son."
The boy's fist shot out, lighting quick and struck Dean in the face.
Dean staggered back a step into Sam and before Robert could blink he was laying on the floor, blood spurting from his noise.
Dean stood above him, not phased a bit, green eyes narrowed.
"I could arrest you for assaulting a federal officer boy, but I don't have time for you now," he said in a deadly voice, shrugging his faded brown leather jacket back into place. "Now I'd suggest you get that bleeding stopped."
He looked around at the staring customers and at Wanda's shocked face.
"Ma'am," he said politely, nodding to her. "Come on Sammy," he ordered gruffly, turning on his heel and exiting the diner. Sam followed silently.
"Are you crazy?" he burst out as soon as the door on the Impala slammed shut. "Dean, you can't go around punching people."
"Oh gimme a break Sammy," Dean growled impatiently, checking his face for a bruise in the rearview mirror. "That kid was spoiling for a fight and I gave it to him. I couldn't arrest him, you know that. And I sure as hell wasn't gonna just stand there and take it." He jutted out his chin. "You'd have done the same thing and you know it."
Sam sighed in defeat. "Yeah okay, but let's get going in case he complains to the cops. We can't have them checking up on us."
The Impala squealed out of the parking lot and cruised away, leaving a mess in her wake, as usual.
~*~*~
Chapter 3
Genre: gen, h/c
Rating: PG-13 for language, violence,
Characters: Dean, Sam, OFC,
Chapter word count: 2213
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I can lay no claims to the sexy boys. =( Just having fun with them.
~ * ~ * ~
When Dean emerged from the bathroom twenty minutes later, still steamy and dripping from his shower, Sam was sitting hunched over his laptop, intently studying the screen.
"What'd you find? Dean voice broke Sam's concentration and he glanced up.
"I've linked all the victims to each other," Sam announced triumphantly, leaning back in his chair. "Apparently they were all classmates. Like twenty years ago. Class of '81. There were 23 of them originally. Three died years ago: one got cancer, one died in a car crash, and another was drowned a couple weeks after she graduated. She was only 17."
Dean looked up and frowned. "Where'd she die?" He was pulling on a tee shirt as he spoke, and his words were muffled.
"In the reservoir outside of town," Sam stated grimly. "Looks like we're looking at a ghost after all." He stood and headed for the bathroom.
"Leave any hot water at all for me?" he hollered after a moment, releasing a cloud of steam when he opened the bathroom door.
"A little," Dean responded grinning. "I kinda let it run for a bit. To steam, it up ya know? Like you girls do."
"Jerk," came the muttered retort from the bathroom and Dean looked smug.
"Anything for you Sammy," he grinned under his breath. Easing himself down onto the bed he sighed and closed his eyes. He'd just rest for a minute until Sammy got out. Then they'd go over the hunt details again.
He was fast asleep when Sam opened the door ten minuted later, sprawled haphazardly atop the sheets.
Sam watched him fondly for a moment before pulling on some clean clothes and returning to his seat at the computer
Dean needed the rest and Sam wasn't about to wake him up. He could look over everything himself and brief Dean in the morning.
Sam stared at the computer screen until his eyes started to close on their own. He yawned and rubbed them, squeezing them closed. He was so tired...
His eyelids slowly fluttered shut and his chin sank forward to rest on his chest.
~*~*~
Dean woke sometime in the middle of the night and lay staring at the ceiling for a moment, wondering why the light was still on.
Turning his head slowly to the left, his eyes fell on his younger brother slouched awkwardly in front of his laptop.
Dean's heart leapt into his mouth as Sam remained completely still. Was he dead?
Dean jerked upright just as Sam drew a deep breath and sighed, the long hair over his forehead fluttering.
Of course he wasn't dead. Dean rubbed at the sudden headache pulsing behind his eyes and pulled himself up, moving over to Sam.
The poor kid had been trying to hide his concern for Dean's health, but was wearing himself out in the process of trying to take on more responsibility.
Dean carefully hauled Sam to his feet and maneuvered him towards the bed. "Easy kiddo," Dean murmured, trying not to wake him. But Sam was dead to the world and didn't even stir when Dean rolled him onto the bed.
He pulled the sheet over Sam, tucking it around him in a rare moment of outward affection. Quietly, he crawled back into his own bed, arms folded behind his head and lay staring unseeing at the ceiling, willing the dark, unbidden memories away.
Sleep finally visited Dean and with it, relief.
~*~*~
Sam woke the next morning to the sound of Dean singing Road To Nowhere in his low, husky voice. He was shrugging on his jeans when Sam sat up, puzzled to find himself in his bed.
"Mornin' Sunshine," Dean greeted, grinning as he laced up his boots. "You're a heavy sleeper did you know that?"
"Yeah," Sam muttered slowly, pushing himself out of bed. "I've been told that a time or two." He glanced around. "You put me in bed?"
Dean grinned. "Let me tell you, you are no feather-weight." He stood and straightened his shoulder. "Alright. Get some clothes on so we can go get breakfast and question Wanda."
"I never finished the research last night," Sam said guiltily and Dean waved him off.
"I did it this morning. There wasn't much left to find. I'll fill you in over breakfast.
Wanda looked up at the jingle and smiled warmly at the brothers.
"Mornin' boys. Come sit right up here at the counter and I'll get you some coffee."
The boys slid onto the high stools and in seconds Wanda was setting a coffee--black-- in ront of Dean and a vanilla latte in Sam's hands.
"Made that a double-vanilla for you, Hon," she smiled, and Dean looked impressed.
"Oh you're made a friend for life Wanda," he said, hiding a smile as Sam kicked furtively at Dean's feet. "Seriously."
Wanda laughed and Sam gave her a boyish smile.
"Thanks Wanda, it's great. What's for breakfast?"
"Oh you boys let me fix you up a nice hot plate. You'll like it."
She fluffed her hair in the familiar, unconscious gesture as she walked away and both boys watched her leave.
"Pretty," said Dean, and Sam made a sound of assent.
"So what do you have on the killings?" Sam wondered, slowly sipping his drink.
Dean pulled his mouth into its frequent pursed 'thinking face', and his eyebrow lowered.
"So far, we've got the list of names and addresses on the dead guys and of the surviving classmates, dates of the births and deaths so far, details descriptions of the method of death, and a whole lotta questions." He gulped his coffee and slid the empty mug forward for Wanda to fill on her way by.
"So where are we going to start?" Sam knew the answer but asked anyway.
"We'll head up to the cabin where the first victim died," Dean said decisively. "Man by the name of Joel Du' Bois. Apparently he'd lived there his whole life. No relatives to speak of."
Sam nodded and looked up as Wanda slid their plates across the countertop.
"Dig in boys. You look like you could use a nice home-cooked meal."
"Yes Ma'am." The boys looked perturbed as soon as the words left their mouths, and as Wanda left Dean whispered to Sam.
"She makes me feel like a kid again, and thats not a good thing. She's not five years older than me."
Sam grinned. "Yeah I know what you mean. Its that mountain charm. Everybody's honey and sugar."
They chuckled softly and focused on their food. Wanda came back just as they were finishing, and Sam hastily swallowed his mouthful.
"Wanda did you know of any of the murdered townspeople?" he asked, leaning forward and getting straight to the point.
Wanda nodded and propped her elbows on the counter. "Why of course. Everybody knows everybody else in little towns like ours. My sister was best friends with every one of 'em anyways. She's all tore up now they're gone." Wanda's voice thickened. "A close friend of mine was one of them that was killed too. Daniel Beekam was his name. He was the second to go."
"We're very sorry for your loss Wanda," Sam said softly, his blue-green eyes gentle. "Can you think of anyone who would want to hurt those people? Any one with a serious grudge against them?"
"Oh no, of course not." Wanda said quickly, looking shocked. "The people in this town are very close. No one would have any reason to to want them dead."
"Someone does," Dean interjected grimly. "Wanda, what can you tell us about Jennifer Lowry?"
Wanda looked confused. "Jenny's been dead 20 years now. April 7th was the anniversary of her death."
"We know," Sam informed her. "But still-- what do you know about her? What kind of girl was she?"
Wanda looked pensive for a moment before she spoke. "Jenny was a very happy girl," she said, smiling gently, voice wistful. "Full of life. She had big dreams, big plans for her future. She was going away to Harvard after graduation. She wanted to be a doctor. She was only a week from her 18th birthday when the accident happened."
The door bell jingled and Wanda straightened. "Excuse me boys, for just a second." She moved down the count and spoke in low tones to the newcomer, a young man who looked to be in his late teens or early twenties. He was watching them suspiciously and Dean raised an eyebrow to Sam.
"Friendliest people huh?"
Sam shrugged. "Look at Wanda though," he pointed out and Dean mumbled something about pretty exceptions. Sam grinned.
Wanda was back in a moment and Dean leaned toward her again.
"Who's that guy Wanda?" he wondered, and she glanced over her shoulder at the sulky young man.
"Oh that's Robert Dewall. His mother was the 3rd victim. He's kind of angry with the whole world right now." Her voice was sympethetic and her eyes wet as she watched the boy.
"Oh," Sam and Dean both said quietly, and somehow it expressed everything.
"But back to Jenny," Dean prompted, steering the conversation back to the dead girl. "What happened exactly?"
Wanda looked uncomfortable. "It's a very sad story," she said slowly. "Why do you ask?"
"Oh he's just curious," Sam said perhaps a little too quickly. "He's a little morbid."
Wanda chewed on the inside of her lip for a moment before sighing. "Okay. It's a little hard for me to talk about. People said that she was depressed and drowned herself in the reservoir. But I knew better. She was a happy girl. She loved life. Other people said she got drunk and slipped in. Hit her head and drowned, but i don't believe that either. It wasn't like her to drink much."
"So what's your story?" Sam prompted and Wanda bit her lip again.
"Well, I think she just slipped I guess. Maybe hit her head and drowned. But she wasn't drunk."
Dean watched her closely as she spoke and noted the lack of conviction in her voice and face. "That's it?" he probed and Wanda looked sharply at him.
"Yes, that's it," she repeated firmly. "Now if you boys will excuse me, there are other customers to be seen to."
Sam whistled under his breath as she flounced quickly away. "You sure struck a nerve there Dean," he observed quietly. "She's still hiding something about Jenny's death."
Dean grunted absently. "Yeah but we'll figure that out later. I think we should head straight up to Du 'Bois' place."
"What about old Robby here?" Sam protested, pointing with his chin towards said subject. "Shouldn't we talk to him now?"
Dean shook his head. "Now's not the time. Later. Let's get directions from Wanda and go."
The boys stood and moved toward the register. Wanda glanced over and quickly came toward them.
Dean watched the young man as Sam paid for their meal and got the directions to Joel Du 'Bois' cabin. Robert cast several dark looks their way, which Dean met with casual indifference.
"Come on Dean." Sam was at his shoulder and Dean followed to the door, still watching Robert.
The boy glanced over again and his face darkened at finding Dean's cool gaze on him again.
"You got a problem Mister?" he snarled, shoving back his stool and striding over to stand toe to toe with Dean. The younger man was several inches taller and more broad-shouldered, but Dean didn't blink.
"Nope," he said cooly. "Just looking; free country and all."
The boy's glare deepened. "Who the hell do you think you are, stranger?" he snapped, fists doubling.
"FBI." Dean practically smirked as he flashed his badge in the boy's face. "I'd suggest you sit back down son."
The boy's fist shot out, lighting quick and struck Dean in the face.
Dean staggered back a step into Sam and before Robert could blink he was laying on the floor, blood spurting from his noise.
Dean stood above him, not phased a bit, green eyes narrowed.
"I could arrest you for assaulting a federal officer boy, but I don't have time for you now," he said in a deadly voice, shrugging his faded brown leather jacket back into place. "Now I'd suggest you get that bleeding stopped."
He looked around at the staring customers and at Wanda's shocked face.
"Ma'am," he said politely, nodding to her. "Come on Sammy," he ordered gruffly, turning on his heel and exiting the diner. Sam followed silently.
"Are you crazy?" he burst out as soon as the door on the Impala slammed shut. "Dean, you can't go around punching people."
"Oh gimme a break Sammy," Dean growled impatiently, checking his face for a bruise in the rearview mirror. "That kid was spoiling for a fight and I gave it to him. I couldn't arrest him, you know that. And I sure as hell wasn't gonna just stand there and take it." He jutted out his chin. "You'd have done the same thing and you know it."
Sam sighed in defeat. "Yeah okay, but let's get going in case he complains to the cops. We can't have them checking up on us."
The Impala squealed out of the parking lot and cruised away, leaving a mess in her wake, as usual.
~*~*~
Chapter 3