Dead End
Title: Dead End
Rating: T / PG-13 (for violence and peril)
Summery: Not long after parting with their father, Dean and Sam embark on a new hunt. But as Dean attempts to both track down a wraith and work out Sam's anger at John, things get even more complicated when the wraith goes after Sam. Is it true that the demon is John's highest priority? Because he could be Sam's only hope.
Time-Frame: Season 1: Not long after "Shadow"
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters/places/names in Supernatural; they are the property of the CW Network and its associates.
Feedback: Oh definitely! I take glowing praise, constructive criticism, flames and Master Card. So please! Hit me with it. ;)
tap tap tap
"Simone, would you get that?"
Simone slumped a little lower in the orange sofa cousins. "You get it."
Todd rolled his eyes at her. "It's your door."
"Well, you're the one who invited yourself over here."
Todd sat up straight, turning the volume down on the TV, hoping to direct her attention to him. "Listen, baby, I didn't mean those things I said."
Simone threw her hands in the air, picking up where an old argument had left off. "You called me a dork."
"I did not."
"Yes you did!"
"No, no I didn't." Todd scooted towards her. "I said…I said you were strange. And you are," he added quickly, and ran a hand down her cheek. "That's what I love about you. That's why I wanted to come over. To tell I was wrong. I shouldn't have said those things, especially since your dad…" He cleared his throat. "I mean, that's why you ran away, right?" She shrugged, looking uncomfortable. "I'm really sorry, baby."
Simone smiled in spite of herself. "And the whole palm reading, fortune telling, dream interp stuff, that doesn't bother you?"
He gave her hand a squeeze. "Maybe it did once, but now I get it. Chase was right about you all along. That stuff's part of what makes you so awesome." She blushed a few shades paler than her hair, and turned the TV up again.
tap tap tap
"Oh geeze, the door!" Simone jumped off the sofa and ran to the entryway.
Todd called over his shoulder, "If it's the pizza guy, I left the cash on the stool."
Simone snatched the twenty up off the green stool beside the door, grabbed the handle, and pulled it open. "Hey, thanks-" but no one was there. She glanced around the street, looking for a car, but didn't see one. And then she saw it. A teenager was running down the sidewalk to her right. Running fast, as though pursued.
"Hey!" She called, and the teen stopped, turning around. Simone felt her heart freeze in her chest.
"Got the pizza, baby?" Todd hollered from the living room, but Simone didn't reply. He wouldn't get it. He wouldn't understand. She slipped down the front steps, onto the sidewalk, and ran after the stranger, disappearing around the street corner.
- - - - -
MISSING TEEN FOUND UNCONSCIOUS IN ABANDONED HOUSE
Sam folded the newspaper and tossed it back into Dean's lap. Dean looked offended. "What?"
"A teenager goes missing after an argument with her boyfriend, shows up three days later in an abandoned building. Yeah, I can really see how that fits into the paranormal possibilities."
Dean raised his eyebrows and took a drink of coffee. "Geeze, you're in a bad mood."
Sam took the newspaper back, gazing over the article a second time. "Well I'm sorry, I just don't see how this is our kind of thing."
"You don't find it at all strange that Simone appeared to have been pushed down the stairs and there was no sign of a struggle or of anyone else being there?"
"No," Sam said flippantly, raising his eyebrows. "Not really."
Dean gave him a examining look, then shrugged. "Still worth checking out. Look here," he tapped the newspaper, "it says that they searched the house for any sign of inhabitants, but it was clear the house hadn't been lived in for twenty years. Also, the kid had rope burns around her wrists and red marks all over her chest."
Sam showed the first spark of interest. "And they're still buying the runaway theory?"
Dean shrugged. "Apparently with so sign of a second party, they can't assume anything else."
"Well maybe she did it to herself." There was a long pause.
Dean sat back in his chair and fiddled with the handle of his mug, avoiding eye-contact. "I know we missed it. Dad and I, we forgot again." Sam's head snapped up. "What? You thought I wouldn't remember?" He shook his head. "Give me a little credit, Sam."
Sam sighed, taking a drink of coffee. "It doesn't matter, Dean."
"You sure?" Sam's lack of response was all the answer Dean needed. "Okay," he said in that fine-be-that-way sort of way, and ruffled the newspaper open again. "But you at least have to give this thing the benefit of a doubt."
"Meaning what?"
"Meaning," Dean said impatiently, "we swing by and ask the boyfriend a few questions. Maybe take a look at that house."
Sam threw his hands up. "Fine. Whatever you want."
"Man, why're you so grumpy?" Dean demanded, smacking his brother on the back as he paid for their coffee.
Sam collected up his computer and coat. "I'm not."
"Yes, you are, now are you gonna tell me what's wrong?" He just shook his head and Dean sighed. "All right. Then it's off to Evanston, Wyoming."
- - - - -
"Why do I always have to lie for us?"
"Cause people believe you." Sam made his patented come-again expression. Dean hit him on the shoulder. "You look like you're flippin' four, dude."
Sam glared and then promptly smiled innocently as they approached the hospital's front desk. "Uh, hi," he said as smoothly as he could. "I'm Professor Samuel Rogers, this is my brother Dean Rogers. We're teachers from Simone Francis' school, we wanted to check in on her." When the lady behind the counter didn't reply, he added, "Could you tell us where Simon's room is?"
Still looking a little suspicious, she pointed down the hall, and Sam thanked her. "See, I can't sell a lie any better than you."
"Nah," Dean said, shoving his hands in his pockets. "She woulda called security on me."
"That's cause you're a punk."
Dean stopped and looked at him. "What?"
Sam shrugged. "Not a total punk, obviously. Real punks don't listen to Blue Oyster Cult. At least not since they stopped putting tape decks in cars."
Dean shook his head, astounded. "You think I look like a punk."
Sam nodded at him. "Just the hair, Eric Bloom."
"Oh you're hilarious, Buck Dharma."
They walked into the sterilized-looking room and found a pretty girl with vibrant, red braids, lying pale and unconscious in the bed. Beside her, a tired-looking dark-haired boy sat, holding her limp hand tightly, and staring into space.
Sam cleared his throat. "Todd Drake?" Todd sat up, startled. "Hey, sorry. I'm Sam, this is my brother Dean. We were wondering if we could talk to you about Simone."
Todd shook his head. "How did you- oh, the newspapers. I all ready talked to a bunch of reporters. I'll tell you what I've been telling everybody: I have no idea why she left, where she was, or how she ended up in that old house." Sam and Dean both seated themselves hesitantly in visitor's chairs. Todd watched them blearily, and turned back to Simone. "I just don't get it…"
Dean leaned forward. "What don't you get?"
"Well- I mean, Simone and I had a fight, right? But we'd made up. I mean, I apologized, I came over to her place…we were gonna have pizza, watch TV. But then she went to answer the door, and just- disappeared."
Dean gave Sam an I-told-you-so look Sam chose to ignore. Todd continued, "Everybody's been saying that she ran away, and I guess that sounds logical and stuff. But I think somebody kidnapped her. How else would she have gotten thrown down those stairs? Or had those red marks all over her." He shuddered.
"Todd," Sam inched forward a little. "If you don't mind me asking, what did you two argue about?"
"I called her-" Todd chocked up a little. "I said she was strange. Cause of all the stuff she was into."
"What stuff?"
"Oh you know, palm-reading, magic crystal stuff, the sort of new-age, hippie kind of thing. It was her favorite hobby, I guess- is. Is her favorite hobby." He shook his head, running his fingers through his hair. "She's been unconscious since they found her. They don't know if she's going to wake up."
Dean pressed a little harder. "Todd, did Simone ever talk about spirits? I mean, ghosts, phantoms, was she into stuff like that?"
"Yeah, probably. I mean, she didn't really talk to me about it, cause I used to think it was weird. But I don't know…I was wrong, you know? She's really cool."
Sam nodded encouragingly. "Well I can't wait to meet her, when she wakes up."
- - - - -
"So, care to form a second opinion, Oscar?" Sam rolled his eyes, pulling the newspaper out of his back pocket.
"Maybe there is something here." Dean got halfway into a triumphant cackle before Sam whacked him in the chest. "Cut it out, it was a lucky guess."
"Yeah yeah, sore loser," Dean grinned as they climbed into the Impala. "So what do you say we check out that old house?"
"Fine."
"Fine?"
"Yeah, fine, let's go." Sam shrugged, and buried his face in the newspaper.
Dean leaned back in the driver's seat, pausing. "You know I know what this is about."
Sam shook his head. "No you don't, cause it's not about anything. It's no big deal."
"It's not?"
"No."
"You sure?"
"Yes, man, I'm sure!"
Dean shrugged and gunned up the engine. "Well hey, if you're sure I'm sure."
"Don't patronize me, Dean."
"Don't lie to me, Sam. Look, if you've got something bugging you, then you need to get it out the open and work it out. Okay, cause this whole look-don't-touch attitude you've got going on, it's really getting in the way of what we're trying to do. You know, killing bad guys, saving innocent people, this ringing a bell?"
"Well I'm sorry these issues you think I have are getting in the way of you playing superhero."
Dean made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a growl and put the car in gear. They pulled onto the highway and neither spoke to each other for a little over a half-hour, at which point, Sam said, "You're going to miss our exit if you don't get over."
"Thanks for the tip," Dean snapped, and pulled into the right lane. Then they didn't speak again until they'd reached the house.
- - - - -