(no subject)
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4
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Sam was sitting in a chair in the corner, nursing a coke and reading his Latin. At least he was trying to read his Latin, but the muttered conversation about the hunt that he had been straining to hear a few minutes ago had now become heated and loud. Now he was hard pressed to ignore it.
“What do you want me to do, John?” Jim Murphy’s voice floated in from the kitchen, sounding distressed. “The attacks are coming faster and faster. If we don’t move now, someone’s going to be dead by next week. I called you guys in to help me kill it. Now, are you willing to do that or not?”
“Don’t be stupid,” John growled back. “Of course we’re going to kill this thing. But we need information, Jim. You’ve done a good job identifying it, but there’s no details. We just don’t know enough about how this thing moves, how it attacks…what it attacks with. Does it have claws? Teeth? Does it just rip its victims apart bare-handed, like a Maenad? We don’t know, and we can’t plan a counter attack until we have some information.”
“I know!” Jim shouted, and Sam’s eyes widened in downright shock. Jim never lost his cool. “I know what I don’t have! Don’t you think I know, John? But this thing is killing my kids!”
Sam quietly put his book down and crept toward the open archway that led into the kitchen. He could see his dad, hunched over the table. John spoke in that cool, precise tone that meant he was losing his temper. Sam knew it well.
“It’s killing your parishioners, Jim. Don’t over-identify. And I won’t put my boy at risk for your flock until we have more information.”
Sam wondered what they could be talking about that would make Dad so worried about Dean.
Travis cleared his throat. “The courthouse opens Monday. It’s only two days. We’ll run a scam, get the autopsy reports on the dead boys and maybe that will give us a better idea of how it kills its victims. And we need the police reports on the exact locations of the bodies to even begin to know where to look for this thing’s lair. So both of you calm the hell down; and Jim, just deal with the fact that it’s going to take a little more time.
Jim turned bright red. “We don’t have until Monday! This thing has sped up its feedings. It’s taken three this month! If it follows this pattern, it will kill again this weekend. We have to do something!”
John slammed his hand down on the table. “Not blind! Damn it, Murphy, we can’t go off half cocked!”
Sam raised his hand. “Excuse me?”
He cringed as three sets of incredulous eyes focused on him. His heart leapt into his throat and threatened to strangle him.
“Not now, Sammy!” John snarled.
But instead of the normal flicker of fear that he got when his dad yelled, instead of backing down as he might have just a few months ago - Sam felt the low heat of anger. He grabbed it, held on to it. Used it. He felt his shoulders straighten; how dare his father just dismiss him like that? He wasn’t a dog to be brought to heel. He was a person, and he had a right to speak, damn it. “I just wanted to know if Pastor Jim has a computer.”
Jim glanced at him, confused. “Yes. There’s one in the office.”
“You have an internet connection?”
Jim looked exasperated. “Yes, Sammy. But -”
“Then I think I can solve your problem.”
“What?” It was kind of fun to see his dad totally wrong-footed for once.
“I can hack into the coroner’s office and download the reports for you right now, if you want.”
They all blinked at him. He had to fight not to grin at the matching looks of disbelief they wore.
“You can get the reports right now?” His dad sounded incredulous.
Sam shrugged. “Maybe. Probably. Encryption probably isn’t too stringent with the County Mounties, so it shouldn’t be too hard to get into their system. Then you can have coroner’s reports, autopsy info, even the police case files if you want.” Sam met his dad’s eyes. “At least I can give it a shot.”
John hesitated - and Sam felt his heart work overtime as his dad decided whether to be angry or not. He waited in the judgmental silence, under that heavy stare almost swaying with anxiety. He really wanted to try; he needed to show his dad that he could be useful, that he could be like Dean, that he could be a hunter.
“C’mon, John,” Travis said. “It’s not like it’ll hurt anything for the kid to try. And if it works, we’ll be a couple of days ahead. What’s to lose?”
And Sam had to fight off the wave of nervous relief when his dad finally nodded gruffly.
“Okay, Sammy. Let’s give it a shot.” It wasn’t said with much confidence, but it was said, and Sam soon found himself seated at Jim’s old computer with three hunters watching as he cracked into the Morgan County Records system.
*
John watched with not a little awe as his youngest’s fingers skipped over the keyboard. Within a comparative short time, Sammy had pulled up the autopsy reports.
“Pastor Jim, you got a printer?”
As Jim unburied the printer from the litter on the desk and plugged it in, Sammy moved on to the police reports.
“That’s a real talent to have, kid,” Travis said. “Like to be able to do that myself. John’s lucky to have you along.” Sam slumped further and gave a tight, fake smile before refocusing on the computer, obviously uncomfortable with the praise. Travis lit up another cigarette, unaware of the effect his words were having on the boy sitting at the desk.
Or on the boy’s father. John floundered for a moment. Who was this competent person, and what had he done with his son? Who would have thought that Sammy would have a talent that could be turned to hunting? “How’d you learn to do this, Sammy?”
“I hang out with geeks, Dad. They show me stuff.” He never glanced away from the keyboard.
John was nonplused. Sammy had just hacked into a government computer system. Not an important one, but a government site even so. Sammy, of all people - who had to be watched and cared for and protected and could never be completely trusted (for reasons that were not the boy’s fault, but it was true nonetheless). Dean was his useful son, his little soldier. Sammy…wasn’t. Sammy he kept an eye on, Sammy he watched. So how did Sammy start developing skills John didn’t know about? And what other talents was the boy hiding?
John tried to shut off the dark thoughts. It was never a good idea to think about Sammy while other hunters were around. They could smell the supernatural the way a shark could smell blood in the water; and they could turn on someone just as quickly. Thinking even along the edges about what he suspected about Samuel was like throwing chum in the water. Hell, John didn’t even like to bring Sammy around other hunters unless there was no other choice. Just in case they should start to wonder what was wrong with his younger son….
“Done,” Sammy said suddenly, making John jump. Travis gave him an odd look. John gruffly snagged the printed sheets from the machine and stalked from the room. His son watched him go, looking rebuffed by his father’s sudden, baseless anger.
Jim sighed, ruffling the confused boy’s hair. “It was a good job, Sammy.”
Sam shrugged, brushing it off. “Just glad to do something to help, Pastor Jim.” But his eyes stayed locked on his father’s stiff shoulders, reflecting a tired kind of hurt…and anger.
*
A few minutes later the hunters were back at the kitchen table with fresh printouts of the reports and photos spread out on the table. Sammy had been allowed back into the kitchen - and even given a cup of coffee by Travis - and had taken up a spot in a far corner, trying to remain inconspicuous.
He didn’t know how long this new acceptance would last - and they’d be less likely to toss him out if they forgot he was there.
Sam listened intently, but honestly most of the conversation went over his head. Jim had filled the others in on the monster already, and they were discussing tactics for taking it down. They were unlikely to talk details of what the thing was to Sam… and he was afraid to ask for specifics and have his dad remember he was there and set him to some other useless chore to get him out of the way.
Sam fully expected to have to wait until morning to find out the details. Dean would get told tomorrow morning, and then Dean would tell him.
Boy was he wrong.
Sam was just as shocked as everybody else when the front door opened and Dean and Caleb came in. The two were hours early. Dean didn’t even glance his way as they strode into the kitchen where the other hunters were still sitting at the table.
“Boys,” Jim greeted them curiously. “You two are certainly back before I expected.”
There’s been another disappearance,” Caleb said. “Fits the profile: High school jock. Popular. And missing for three days.”
Not possible,” Travis said. “We would have noticed another one.”
It was two towns over.”
Jim made a low noise. “It’s expanded its hunting range.”
“Or it’s moving on,” John agreed. “Either way, we have to get to it now.”
Jim gave him an irritated look.
“Okay, hold up,” Dean raised his hand. “Somebody want to explain to me what we’re hunting and why a missing kid is news? Caleb told me some of it, but said I had to wait to talk to you guys for details.”
“I told you, Dean. I only got here a couple of hours before you drove in. I don’t have details…”
“Settle down, boys,” Jim sighed. “Dean, a couple of months ago a local boy by the name of Kevin Turpin disappeared. He was on the high school basketball team and he worked at his dad’s grocery. He was by all reports a good kid who wasn’t the type to just take off. His body was found two days later. The damage was…extensive -“
Travis snorted. “You saw the pictures, Jim. Kid was pulverized. Every bone in his body had to have been reduced to splinters.” He refilled his coffee cup from the carafe on the table and pulled out his cigarettes.
Jim winced, but didn’t argue. “The police thought it was a rage killing. They thought that Kevin had been dragged off into the woods and killed by someone who had reason to hate him - maybe over a girl, or a drug deal gone bad. They knew the mutilation of the body was excessive, but they chalked it up to the killer trying to hide the identity of the body. I thought so too, until a few weeks later.”
“A second boy disappeared,” Dean guessed.
Jim nodded. “A fourteen year old from Marley, the town to the east. More of an annex of Blue Earth than a separate town, really. The boy was cross-country runner. He went out for practice one day… and never came back. What was left of him was found under a bush a week later. It… wasn’t much. The next disappearance was only two weeks ago. A boy again, fifteen, a big kid who liked taking care of his saltwater aquarium and wrestling. He was one of my parishioners.”
Sam felt nauseous. He knew how much Pastor Jim cared for his congregation. He called them his family - and meant it.
“Jesus, Pastor Jim. That sucks,” Dean said.
Jim almost smiled at the rough sympathy. “Thank you, Dean. It really does.” He shook his head and pulled a deep breath. “Joseph was a little slow. His family was his whole world; he wouldn’t have run away. The local cops had to finally face facts; something was taking and killing teenage boys in the woods around Blue Earth. They think it’s a serial killer, of course.”
All the hunters snorted.
“Joseph’s body was found yesterday. Parish rumor is that it was just as badly mutilated as the others. I started doing some research after the second boy disappeared, and I think I hit on what it is.”
“Well?” Dean demanded. “What is it?”
Jim pulled open an old book. Sam strained to see the pages from his corner, but he was just too far away. Jim turned the book toward the others. “I think it’s a dysdaimon.”
Dean scowled, looking at the book. “What the hell is a dis-demon?”
“Dysdaimon,” Jim corrected him. “It’s Greek. Ancient Greek. Older than ancient Greek, really. And I think it’s hunting in my back yard.
"The ancient Greeks wrote about a tribe in the hills, a native tribe that had been living in the mountains even before the people we think of as the Greeks had gotten there. They were called the Oenotria.” Jim paused to make sure Dean was taking it in; behind him Sam listened intently. “Apparently the mountains around the tribal village were home to a type of spirit-race that the Greeks called the Dys, which means -”
“It means ‘bad’, ‘wrong’, ‘diseased’. It means to fall into chaos and disorder,” Sam piped up without thinking.
John gave him a cold look, and Sam ducked. Their dad did not like Sam’s habit of interrupting.
“You’re right, Sammy,” Jim said approvingly, though. “Every once in a while a Dys would get restless and come into the village; killing, starting fires, inspiring madness - this may be where the Bacchic rites began, actually. But the Oenotria had a ritual that could kill any Dys that came into the village.”
“Cool,” Caleb said. “Break out the herbs and let’s fry this son of bitch.”
“Don’t you think we’d already done that if it was that easy, boy?” Travis said scathingly. “Let the man finish telling you the problem before you start spouting useless solutions.”
“What was this ritual?” Dean asked as Caleb shrank… a little.
Jim sighed. “The tribe would gather all the young warriors together and fix a ‘tea’ - and they would add a small lump of a concoction of herbs that worked like a hallucinogen. All the warriors would drink, but only one got the drug. It was random chance whose cup it ended up in. When that one was in an altered state of consciousness - when he was chaotic in his thoughts and soul - the Dys would come. It would possess the drugged warrior. It would take him over utterly. And then the others would kill it.”
Dean’s face was frozen. “Kill it how?”
Jim swallowed and looked away. It was John who answered. “They beat it to death. The Dys seemed to want to be flesh, but once in a body the Dys can’t get back out. The body can’t be cut in anyway - not stabbed, not shot, not pierced. It becomes ageless, immortal and impenetrable. Think Wendigo; it’s hungry, it likes human meat, and knives and guns won’t work. Unlike a Wendigo, however, fire won’t work either. The only thing that works, according to legend, is blunt force. It can be beaten down. Blunt force trauma until it splits from the inside is the suggested attack. The warriors would crush the skulls of the possessed boy, letting the pieces of bone tear through the grey matter and skin from inside. Once the brain was pulped, the body was dead and the Dys went with it.”
There was a lag as this information sunk in.
“Jesus,” Caleb finally said, and Sam couldn’t tell if it was a curse or a prayer.
Dean cleared his throat. “Wait, so if they killed the ones who got possessed, how did this dis-demon end up in Minnesota?"
It was Travis who answered this time. “The ritual didn’t always work out, did it? Sometimes the Dys would kill all the warriors before they could kill it. It’d hide out up in the mountains… learning, feeling…eating.”
“Eating what?” Sam couldn’t help but ask.
“People, mostly, according to the book Jim showed us. Things had a downright fondness for the long-pig. Oh, the villagers would hunt for the Dys that got away. Sometimes they’d catch them, too. And most of the ones left after the ancients died out were killed off over the next thousand years. But apparently not all of them. Our little visitor has survived a long time. A long, long time, now.” Travis stubbed out his cigarette. “This one must have learned to travel over the generations he’s hunted. Hop-scotch across Europe, hop a boat, and all the sudden we’ve got a Dys in Minnesota.”
“Was there any other way to stop it?” Sam asked, careful to keep his tone quiet and respectful. “Other than beating it to death?” Beating a person to death was not easy, or quick most of the time. And it was intimate…it required you to be right up against your target, close enough for it to do as much damage to you as you did to it. It was a bad way to kill a monster.
“Not that I could find,” Jim said. “That’s why I called in other hunters. We need to take this thing down by blunt force… and that’s going to mean getting close to it. We need numbers for this one.”
“So,” Caleb piped up, never unhappy to get a little bloody for the cause. “What do we know about the way this thing hunts? How do we catch the bastard so we can beat it down?”
Travis lit up again and blew out a long stream of smoke. “The autopsy photos are on the table if you want to look, but it seems to be that the thing is ripping its prey apart pretty much bare handed.”
“Pretty much?” Dean asked, stepping up to go through the pictures. He winced as he shuffled. Sam bit back the urge to look. He’d seen enough as he printed them out.
“There are some deeper wounds…straighter,” John answered. “Thing may have some sort of rudimentary claws, but nothing very large.”
“More worrisome is the other evidence,” Jim stepped in. “This thing took down a prize winning runner, so it must be pretty fast, even over rough terrain. The damage done to the bodies suggests massive strength; ripping someone’s arm off and beating them to death with it, though a common threat, would take super-human muscle.”
“It managed to get close to these boys on their home turf,” John continued. “So it’s either very good at hiding or invisible.”
“Legend never talks about not being able to see them,” Travis pointed out.
John shrugged. “So probably good at hiding; but I won’t rule out invisibility until I set eyes on the motherfucker.”
“Why is it only taking teens?” Caleb asked. “We’re these guys doing drugs or something?”
The three older hunters shared a look. John answered. “We think it’s attracted to the chaotic nature of adolescence. These kids didn’t need to be on drugs to attract it, they just needed to be in the middle of an adolescent hormone fit. Instant mental chaos.”
Dean’s eyes had followed the conversation around the table, and now he spoke. “So the thing is fast, strong and vicious. It’s hard to see, and harder to catch. It prefers to munch on young males. That about sum it up?” Dean shrugged, his heavy jacket lifting on his shoulders. “So we pick a spot we can reinforce. We have only one way in or out. I play bait, lure the thing in, you guys come in after and we kill the son of bitch. Easy.”
“Damn, why didn’t we thank of that,” Travis said sarcastically. “Oh wait, we did.”
Jim sighed. “It won’t work, Dean; you’re way too old for it.”
“So what? The Greeks got stoned to attract it right? Same premise should work for us-”
John growled. “You’re not hunting it high. You’d be a liability. And it never took any boy as old as sixteen as far as we know, so we’d need somebody under that to be sure.”
“I’m under sixteen.”
All the men in the room spun to look at him, and Sam suddenly knew what a butterfly pinned to velvet felt like. He wanted to shrink; he wanted to duck his head; he wanted to shout at them all to stop looking at him; he wanted to tell them to back off. He settled for crossing his arms and staring back.
And in that moment he saw a shadow flicker over John’s face, and one a little darker on Jim’s and he knew that they’d been planning to ask him all along. On one hand he was proud, proud that they thought he could handle it. On the other, it kind of hurt, that his own dad would stake him out like so much hamburger. He wavered on the brink of telling them to shove it….
“No. Absolutely not.” It wasn’t his dad’s voice, it was Dean’s. He didn’t sound even a little tolerant. “That’s a stupid idea, Sammy. A ridiculously weak idea. Go sit out in the living room.”
Sam jerked his eyes to his brother, no longer wavering. He loved Dean, but he was so damned bossy! “I’m under sixteen, Dean! At least for the next couple of months. Who else are you going to get to do it? Some random kid off the street!?”
“If we have to!”
Sam threw his arms up. “Oh that’s just great, Dean! Let’s let some kid that has no freaking clue what’s going on stand as bait when I’m right here!”
“That’s just the point, Sam! You are a kid! You don’t have a freaking clue what can happen! You don’t know anything! And you’re not playing bait!”
Sam’s shoulders stiffened. “You can’t tell me what to do, Dean. I’m doing this.”
“I take care of you! I’ve always taken care of you! So when I say no, you’re going to damn well listen!”
“I’m not a kid, Dean!” Sam shouted.
“Yes you are!” Dean shouted back, just as angry. “You are a child! I gave you a childhood! And it’s not like I ever got a thank you from your selfish ass!"
“Stop,” John said to his eldest, his voice low and dangerous. He put a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Now.”
Dean jerked his arm free, turning to his dad. “You tell him! He’s your son. You tell him he can’t run off and do this because he’s going to get his lame ass killed!”
John looked at Sam. And suddenly Sam could see the sense in the older hunters using him. It wasn’t about love, or even about fondness, it was about getting the job done.
Sam was standing against the wall. His eyes were cold. “I’m doing it.”
John nodded.
Dean made a noise of pure disgust and marched out of the room. Caleb looked around almost guiltily… then followed.
There was silence in the kitchen, the adults all looking at Sam while he tried not to meet anyone’s eyes. Adrenaline was pumping through him, making him shake, making him want to hit something. He hadn’t meant to say that. Not any of it. But it got old, Dean so willing to risk his own hide, and so quick to forbid him everything… like he had the authority to forbid anything.
But that was just the surface anger, just the easy part. The deeper base for his anger was hurt. Dean was so willing to put himself at risk, so willing to leave his little brother behind…and so unwilling to be the one left. Dean was hard and selfish and Sam got sick of the ‘I’ve sacrificed for you’ line when all Dean had ever done was lock Sam up so he would know where he was when he wanted to spend time with him and leave him behind when he didn’t. Sam was sick of cages. Sick of not having choices. And he was really sick of being left behind.
Might serve them all right if he just took off someday. Dean didn’t need him - and didn’t really want him, either. Not deep down. At least not enough to stay when something better came along. As for their dad, well, Sam had never been anything other than an impediment to him. Or a catalyst; the reason the family started hunting in the first place. Sam wouldn’t spend his life being nothing more than his big brother’s security blanket …or his father’s excuse.
The sound of the Impala’s engine catching was loud in the small, still kitchen. It caught on something in Sam’s chest and burned there. A second later Dean and Caleb were gone.
Sam sighed, carefully controlling his face. He might be left behind, but damned if he’d quit. He turned to the other hunters. “What do we do first?” he asked.
“First, we locate a spot that will suit,” John said.
Jim glanced up, his expression vaguely guilty. “You sure you’re up to this, Sammy? You don’t have to.”
“I want to,” Sam said. Jim frowned.
John sighed, meeting Sam’s eyes. “He’s right, you don’t have to do this.”
Sam rolled his eyes. He knew that his dad didn’t think he was capable of tying his own shoes most of the time. Dean might treat him like a pet… but to his dad he was just an embarrassment. Sam had long ago given up that battle. “It’s not a big deal, Dad. I’ll have five real hunters backing me up. All I have to do is stand here and look weak. Right up my alley, right?”
Sam stepped around his father, moving up to the table to look at the map Travis had glued his eyes to.
He never saw John wince.
“Well, that went easier than expected,” Jim said dryly. “We didn’t even have to ask him.”
“No,” John said. “Sammy has a way of finding the one thing his brother and I don’t want him to do, and tearing out after it.” John gave Jim a flat look. “Congratulations, Jim. You’ve got your bait. Let’s go set the hook.”
Jim had the grace to flush as John turned away.
***
“Dude, you want to slow down, maybe?”
Caleb swallowed hard as the Impala took yet another snake curve at speeds that were far too fast for icy roads. Dean may have been one of the best drivers he’d ever known, but that hadn’t ever stopped black ice from killing anyone.
“Nobody asked you to come along, pansy-ass.”
Caleb sighed, trying to hold on to his temper. “Look, don’t take out your anger on me. I’m not your brother and I won’t just stand around and be your punching bag.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Dean shot him a venomous look throwing the car into a deeper gear. “You think that little bitch had any right to say that shit to me? I took care of him his whole life!”
Caleb shrugged. “So?”
Dean’s jaw dropped. “So? What do you mean, ‘so’?”
“So you took care of him his whole life. So what? You want a medal for it?”
Dean’s throat worked as if he was literally choking on words. “You are fucked up, Caleb. That little prick would have been dead four times over if it wasn’t for me!”
“And so he owes you? Please.” Caleb tried to make out Dean’s expression in the dark car. He couldn’t. “Look, we’ve worked together, I’ve saved your ass. Do you owe me? You’ve saved my hide. Do I owe you?”
Dean’s jaw worked. “It’s not the same thing.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Why not? Because it wasn’t ghoolies you were fighting, but fetching supper? You’ve fetched supper for me and your dad enough times. Same thing.”
“No!” he stopped and controlled himself. “No it’s not. Because, you’re a hunter. You and Dad, you’re my partners. It’s different.”
“Because we’re hunters,” Caleb asked and Dean nodded. “Because we’re equals. And Sammy’s not.”
Dean growled. “Quit putting words in my mouth! I never said that!”
Caleb shrugged again. “Didn’t you?”
“No!” the car growled as Dean’s foot got heavier. “I never - I didn’t mean it like that! You’re taking it all out of context! On purpose!” Dean growled again.
Caleb huffed, almost amused. “No, I’m just saying it out loud. Ain’t my fault that you don’t like the words.”
“So, what?” Dean snarled matching the noise of the car. “You think I was wrong?”
Caleb sighed. “Dude, do you remember when I first met you? When your dad needed those wrought-iron rounds?”
Dean actually shot him a startled glance before fixing his eyes on the road. “Yeah. You were the only weapons dealer that them.”
Caleb grinned. “You were all of about thirteen. You were all piss and vinegar, and Sammy was just this little puffball that tottled around behind you. He was, what? Eight?”
Dean shifted uneasily. “Nine.”
He nodded. “Nine. Right. I was twenty-two, Dean. Nine, to twenty-two, looks like an infant. Thirteen to twenty-two looks like a kid. A dumbass kid.”
Dean snorted. “You had no idea what you were looking at.” It was said with more than a little pride.
“I found out soon enough. When you knocked me down and Sam pulled that gun.”
Dean chuckled. “You shouldn’t have just barged in like that.”
“I figured that out. But in my defense, your dad set me up. He told me to go on in before him.”
Dean shook his head affectionately. His body had relaxed into the seat and the car was slowing. “He laughed so hard….”
“I never would have thought that a kid, a dumbass kid, could take me down so fast.”
Dean frowned. “I was never a kid, Caleb.”
Caleb nodded. “No. But I was so stuck on seeing the kid that I couldn’t see the hunter you were.”
Dean’s jaw worked but he kept quiet.
“The first time we hunted together, you were all of fifteen.”
“I know this, Caleb. I was there, remember?”
“That’s the same age as Sam, now,” Caleb went on, ignoring the comment and the tone. “It was so hard to watch you - just this kid - throw himself into a hunt that would have had most adults creaming in their shorts.”
“What’s your point, Caleb?” Dean was back to grinding teeth and pressing the pedal down. Caleb knew that he knew damned well what the point was.
“Maybe you don’t know what you’re looking at when you look at Sam, Dean. Maybe you’re so suck on seeing the kid, that you can’t see the hunter.”
Dean frowned. “Sammy is a kid, though, Caleb. He’s a kid. I never was. Big difference.”
“Arrogant,” Caleb said, and Dean bristled.
“Arrogant?”
“You heard me,” Caleb glared. “There were two kids that took me down in that motel, Dean. You knocked me down, but Sam having that gun kept me on the floor. On that hunt, you were with me, but Sam was with your dad, hunting the same shit we were after. And I’ve seen him fetch you plenty of suppers while we planned hunts, so I’d say you were even on that score. He’s been there right behind you every step, he’s worked and sweated and bled for this job, same as you; and you can’t even see him because you’re so busy trying to turn him into a kid. But he’s never been a kid, either, Dean. No more than you have. You’ve done a good job taking care of him, no argument, but let’s face it, he can’t be any more of a kid than you. You gave him everything you could, but that was only as much as you had. Hell, in some ways he’s less of a kid than you are.”
“Less,” the car swerved as Dean turned to stare at him. “How the hell could he be less?” the word came out hissed. “He played soccer, and joined the chess team, and…”
“And what?” Caleb pushed as Dean stumbled to a stop, but not unkindly. “There weren’t as many special things in his life as you and your dad like to pretend. Hell, do you know the kid told me once he didn’t even like soccer? He joined the team because he thought it would make you happy for him to do something ‘normal’. He took all John’s moods and comments because you seemed so happy he was on the team.”
Dean blinked. “He didn’t like soccer?”
“Not even a little bit. Chubby, clumsy kids usually don’t go in for the team sports, Dean.”
Dean shook his head, looking dazed. “I thought he liked it.”
Caleb shrugged. “He knew you needed him to like it, so he faked it.”
Dean shot him a look, not incredulous so much as devastated. “And the chess team?”
Caleb chuckled. “As far as I know he liked the chess team.”
They drove in silence for awhile, the icy wind hissed outside the windows making the car feel small and warm.
“I fucked up, didn’t I?” Dean eventually said. He kept his eyes on the road.
“Maybe. But so what?”
“So what?”
“He’s not a kid, Dean. He’ll get over it.”
“It just seems so… sudden,” Dean said, sounding miserable.
“It’s not, really. He’s growing up. Hell, I saw it coming the second you two walked through Jim’s front door. And it’s no big thing, really. He’s just told you he’s done playing the kid just to make you happy. He’s gotten too big to fit into that costume anymore. But that won’t change the fact that the kid fucking dotes on you. He’s probably already forgiven you. You know how he is.”
“Yeah, I know how he is…” Dean muttered, sounding doubtful for the first time.
**
The light in the kitchen was still burning through the window when they got back. It was the only one. Dean and Caleb entered through the back door, off the kitchen, and Sammy - sitting at the kitchen table with a glass of milk - didn’t even bother to glance up from the book he was reading.
Caleb gave Dean an amused look and ran a finger over his throat. Dean glared. Caleb chuckled, and Sam looked up for the first time. Caleb nodded to Sam, clapped Dean on the shoulder and bid them both goodnight. He wandered off through the dark house looking for his patch of floor.
Dean met Sam’s eyes for all of two seconds, before turning to the fridge. “Jim got any coke?”
“There’s some behind the milk.”
Sam sounded fine. Not particularly pissed. Dean relaxed a bit.
Dean grabbed the bottle and joined Sam at the table. Sam didn’t bother to look up from his books.
So he was a little pissed, then. That was okay. Dean could deal.
“Couldn’t sleep?” Dean asked.
Sam tilted his head up just enough to give him a sarcastic look before going back to reading.
Okay. It had been sort of a dumb question. “Is it because of the hunt?”
This time Sam looked up and glared. “No.” his voice was cool, but his eyes were hot, and Dean held up a hand in surrender.
“Okay, okay. Don’t get your panties in a twist. Just your normal insomnia then. Got it.” Sam had always had trouble sleeping. He spent most of his nights reading while Dean crashed, or watching TV on the nights when Dean went out. It was part of the reason Dean rarely woke him if he dozed off in the car. Dean would go through a drive-thru before he’d wake Sam just to get dinner.
“So…” Dean tried again, “what’cha reading?” Dean leaned in close and flicked at the book, shifting the pages.
Sam huffed a sigh as he lost his place. He looked up, anything but amused -
And Dean puffed out a breath in his face.
“Aw, man!” Sam complained quietly, reeling back. “Your breath stinks, dude! You smell like stale beer.”
“That’s because I’ve been drinking stale beer,” Dean admitted easily. “You should have seen this dive we found tonight, Sammy. The décor was as bad as the booze. It was like something out of ‘Deliverance’. Seriously. I expected dueling banjos to come out at any second.”
Sam smiled… Dean could see him fighting it, but Sammy was helpless against him, and Dean knew it. “Only you and Caleb would spend half a night in a place like that,” Sam said.
“Half a night, hell. There were no girls there, Sam. None.” Dean looked considering for a moment. “Okay, I guess, technically, there were female people there who you would have to call girls… but I don’t think the term ‘girl’ should be applied if they could bark for their supper, you know what I mean?”
Sam grinned, shaking his head. “I would argue with that, but knowing how totally not picky you are about the girls you’ll do, I can only guess that the crowd was really bad.”
“You have no idea. Bowser city, dude. We need to get done and get out. Go somewhere warm, where the chicks are hot, and still wearing shorts.”
“Whatever,” Sam replied, but he was ginning softly, so Dean let it go.
Dean sipped his coke, leaning back. Sam had gone back to reading, but the air between them stayed warm and Dean relaxed even more. “What are you reading anyway?”
Sam spun the book so he could see it.
“Greek Religion?”
“Yep,” Sam said, pulling the book back.
“Why? No, scratch that. You’re doing research.” It wasn’t that Sammy didn’t trust them, but Sam never liked to go in blind…and research made him feel better, safer. And what the hell, his bouts of extra research had led to him having a life saving good idea once or twice before. “Find anything interesting?”
Sam shrugged. “Same as what Jim told us, mostly. The possessed warriors had a name, though.”
“A name?”
Sam nodded. “Once possessed, the warrior was called Korybantis - the mad one. And the most feared of the Korybantes were the polymetis."
“Polymetis?”
Sam smiled. “The clever ones. It literally translates to ‘the much turning mind’.”
“Well, that’s just swell,” Dean said sourly. “Clever, insane, killer demons. This just gets better and better.” Dean sighed. “When is all this set to go down?”
Sam swallowed. “Dad found a likely place on the map. He wants to scope it out tomorrow afternoon.” Sam glanced up, his eyes dark. “If it looks good he wants to set up for tomorrow night.”
Dean bit back the first hundred impulses that jumped into his head - starting with making a comment about how stupid this whole idea was, and ending with him locking Sammy in the trunk of the Impala until this blew over. He knew that his dad would want to move fast before the Dys wandered out of range, but this was almost recklessly hurried. He felt his stomach churn.
“You know that this is dangerous, right?” he asked Sammy. He saw Sam’s expression close down, and held up a hand. “No, dude, I’m not going to try and talk you out of this; I know I can’t - and I guess you’ve been hunting enough now that you can make up your own mind. But you do know this won’t be like hunting, right? Playing bait means intentionally making yourself vulnerable. Not only letting this thing get the drop on you, but encouraging it. It’s the most dangerous part of what we do.”
“I know,” Sam said, shrugging. “But somebody has to do this, and it’s better me than some civilian who wouldn’t stand a chance. Or you, trying to fight high. That’s a total recipe for disaster.”
Like this isn’t, Dean thought, but didn’t say. Dean swallowed, fighting the rising tide of panic - he had a dull certainty in his gut that this was going to go badly wrong. “Just…. Look, just don’t do anything stupid. So help me, if you get yourself hurt I’ll….”
Sam’s mouth twisted into a half grin that was way too old for his face. “What? You’ll kill me?”
“Not funny,” Dean snarled.
“It so is,” Sam grinned.
“Whatever, douche. I’m going to bed.” Dean pushed away from the table, dropping his glass in the sink, as Sam picked his book back up.
Dean hesitated in the door. “Hey, Sam?”
His little brother glanced up.
“We’re okay, right?”
“We’re good,” Sam reassured seriously.
“Good. Get some sleep, geek.”
“Sure,” he said, but his head was back in his book, and Dean knew he’d be up for what little was left of the night.
Dean was pretty sure he would be too.
**
Part 3