Fanfic: Golem
Author: sandymg
Beta: borgmama1of5. She rocks. All mistakes are mine
Summary: Dad's in Minnesota keeping secrets, Dean's picked up a solo hunt, and Sam ... where is Sam?
Spoilers: Late Stanford-era and Scarecrow 1x11
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Preseries
Characters: Dean, John, Sam, a creature
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or any of its characters. They belong to the CW and Eric Kripke – who'd best treat them well

Golem

Chapter 1

Burkittsville, Indiana
April 15, 2006

"So, what's the plan?" Emily asked with a confident ring in her voice, despite being tied to a tree, in an orchard that hid a hideous monster.

Dean, similarly bound, looked over at her. She believed in him. And of course he was going to get them out of this. Piece of cake. Or maybe a piece of their damn apple pie.

"I'm workin' on it," he replied, wriggling his wrists against the amazingly efficient knot the sheriff had made. Jerk must have been a Boy Scout. Probably won all kinds of merit badges making knots like this. He strained his fingers further seeing if he could rub the knot along the bark of the tree. Not that the tree had much bark, unnaturally smooth in fact.

He had to give these townspeople credit. They knew their business. Stripped him of all his weapons, even found the hidden knife where that sheriff really should not have been looking. Not that Dean would have been able to reach the knife once tied, so it was kind of moot.

Emily just this morning had a loving aunt and uncle and now was trussed up by those very same folks as pagan god chow. People. Yeesh. How could they do this to one of their own – their family? Not that he thought they should be sacrificing an outsider either, particularly not when it was him.

Just a year ago the scarecrow's gruesome face belonged to a young man travelling the countryside with his wife. Minding their own business, taking in the scenery, stopping for local pie. Then a bit of car trouble, a walk through the orchard for help and bam! into a nightmare they never woke up from. He hoped for their sakes it had been quick but it probably wasn't.

Turning his neck he tried to look behind him. Couldn't see the creature, but a look at the sky told him he had time. It wouldn't come till after sunset. Three hours easy.

Plenty of time. Okay, Winchester … time for that plan. He had to work the problem. What would Dad do? Well, Dad wouldn't of gotten himself in this mess. And he'd be mighty furious if he knew how stupid Dean'd been. 'Course Dad was already disappointed in him. The old man hadn't said it, but Dean knew. Why else would Dad have taken off without him? And now Dean'd gotten Sam involved again. For the best that Sam wasn't here. 'Cause he'd likely be tied up to the tree next to him and that would be even worse. Sam belonged in Stanford, getting his shot at a normal life. Well, if you can call ceilings that explode into flames normal. Was normal for his fucked up family, not so much for everyone else.

Dean had meant what he'd told his little brother on the phone earlier. You were right. You gotta live your own life. And Dean was proud of him. Always had been. Smart. Brave. You stand up to Dad. Was what made Sam a good hunter. A fine partner. A great brother.

The ropes were chafing his skin the more he fought against them. Could be worse. At least he wasn't fighting holes in his brain while trying to battle this creature. Now that was one of those hunts he was practically glad he couldn't remember well. And how would he know what he was missing, anyway? Dad had filled him in on the man never mentioned it again once it was over. Became a taboo subject. They had a bunch of those.

"Maybe it won't … I mean, doesn't the sacrifice have to be a couple? We, you know … we're not really …"

Emily startled Dean out of his musings. He really wanted to reassure her. Wondered for a second if he should lie? But he hated being lied to, so he couldn't. "Sorry. Doesn't work that way. I think it just needs a male and a female. Doesn't really matter beyond that." He smirked. "Now if you've got a surprise under your dress, that might make a difference."

She laughed shakily. "Sorry. Only girl parts."

He turned to her, trademark eyebrow waggle in place. "My favorite kind." She smiled, blushing slightly. At least she wasn't scared. Yet. He thought back to the poor fool up on that perch. Is that what Dad and Sam will find when they come looking for him? An empty-eyed scarecrow wearing a familiar amulet? This really was coming ridiculously close to a repeat of last year. What was it with April, some sort of cursed month? April Fool's on Dean Winchester all month long?

Another glance at Emily. Her eyes were closed and it looked like she was praying. He wasn't quite ready for that yet. Not something he did. Dad was missing. Sam was gone. Nope, no one was coming to the rescue. The only one getting him out of this mess was himself. And this time, at least he still had that.

* * *

Waterloo, Iowa
April 2005

"Should take maybe three days, could be a little longer."

"You sure you don't want me to come with?"

Dad looked at him. "No. No need. You hold down the fort and take a few days off. Earned it after this one."

Dean smiled. Their last case had been a bitch. Nasty poltergeist. Took both of them all they had to send that sucker back to the netherworld. Ducking chairs and footstools and a friggin' kitchen table … like being swept up in Dorothy's tornado. And he'd gotten nailed by a window that splintered apart like crushed ice. Only those shards pierced. He touched his forehead. Needed stitches. Been a long while since it had gotten that rough. Last time, Sammy'd cleaned him up. The smile disappeared.

"So, Minnesota. And you say this old acquaintance is sure it's a benign spirit?"

"Yes. Simple job like I said. 'S easy and will give you a chance for some R&R."

"Dad … I'm fine, don't need to—"

"No more arguing." His Dad smiled at him. "Maybe you can ask that pretty girl from the diner out to a movie or whatever passes for dating these days."

Dean stared at his father. The old man hardly had taken any interest in his love life before other than to warn against STDs and pregnancy and he never suggested dates for Dean. "Dad, you okay?"

His father looked at him with a small almost smile. "Yeah. Just thinking it's not only your brother that deserves normal once in a while."

Huh? They didn't talk about Sam, well hardly. But his father's eyes seemed to be making this about more than Sam, which really made no sense. "Yes, sir," he replied because he couldn't think of anything else to say.

His father nodded and resumed packing his gear. Really must be an easy case because Dad seemed to be only packing some clothes. Maybe he'd already stowed the rest in the car?

"Tricia," Dean said as his father zipped up his duffel.

"What?"

"The waitress. Her name's Tricia, short for Patricia."

"Oh," Dad smiled.

Dean was about to volunteer the rest, how she had a boyfriend and he'd only been flirting with her because it was fun but his dad's smile stopped him. No point in saying more. Not like they'd be staying in this town much longer. He'd been surprised when his dad had rented the tiny house for another month. Long term was not in their vocabulary.

So Dean let his father leave thinking he'd be enjoying the company of a pretty girl instead of settling in for a few days of old movies on the television and sleeping. He pictured the sparkle in Tricia's gray-blue eyes when she'd smiled at him. Then her boyfriend had walked in and the light in those eyes filled her entire face. Of course just because Tricia was taken didn't mean there weren't other women he could hook up with while Dad was gone.

The Impala's engine whirred away.

Nah. Maybe it'd be best to just stick to the TV. Would cover up the quiet well enough and not expect anything in the morning.

He'd been digging around the small kitchen to scrounge up some dinner when one of Dad's cell phones starting ringing. He walked to the desk and flipped open the phone to check the caller ID. Not a number he knew. This phone was old but Dad kept it connected for certain old contacts who used this number exclusively.

"Hello."

"John?"

"No. John's not here right now. This is his son, Dean."

"Oh, yeah, Dean. John's mentioned you. You work with your father, right?"

"Yeah. My Dad do a job for you before?"

"Sure did. Helped with a bad spirit in a store I once owned."

"And what seems to be the trouble now, Mr.—?"

"Name's Barrister. Well, it's not for me this time. Friends of mine in Cedar Falls, Iowa. Just moved into a new place. Think it's haunted."

Dean blinked. Unusual coincidence to get a call for a new job in a neighboring city from where they were.

"Could just be an old house settling."

"Yeah, but from what they described I think it's more than that. Cold spots. Strange sounds. Now that I've been through this once I think they're talking the real deal. Could you and your dad take this on? Help my friends out? I would really appreciate it."

Dean sighed inwardly. So much for R&R. Dad was always loyal to old clients. Besides, he didn't really like sitting around alone doing nothing until Dad returned. Was different when Sam'd been here. It'd always been okay when Dad left him and Sam alone. It's not like they never fought. They had their battles like all brothers did, he supposed. But without Dad around they'd settle into this amiable routine. His brother was so easy to tease with his geek smarts and over-the-top expressions of outrage that made Dean want to push a little harder each time just to see if he could bring about an even better bitchface. And truthfully, Sam could give as good as he got. Which made it a lot more challenging … and fun.

"My father can't take this on right now, Mr. Barrister but I can. In fact, I'm in Waterloo, right next door to Cedar Falls. What's your friend's name? I can head over there tomorrow."

It was late and after he hung up Dean scraped the very last of the peanut butter onto the last slice of bread and devoured it thinking really he needed to buy groceries. A headache started to bug him so he downed a couple of Tylenol with a beer and skipping his nightly TV ritual, headed straight for bed.

He fell asleep almost instantly and started dreaming about that night in Pittsburgh with this really hot chick a few months back. It was cold and the girl's apartment was freezing but after a few minutes under the blankets with her he shivered for a whole 'nother reason. And then her roommate came home early and the girl under him had licked her lips and asked if he'd ever been with two girls at once and he'd lied and said of course with his face … didn't even bother to verbalize. But inside he was a little anxious, 'cause sure it was hot in porn but something about sharing something that's supposed to be intimate personal was gnawing at him a little. But only a little because then the roomie walked in and Jesus, she made the other one look shy.

The dream followed the events … like an instant replay or something. So vivid. Was weird. And then out of the corner of his eye there was this new tall shadow and he jumped and shouted oh, no … no way on a foursome. The girls looked at him, interrupting their exploration of each other and said what? And then something tore through his head – sharp, jagged, like claws raking inside his skull. He awoke with a start shouting help … stop and his brother's name.

* * *

Dean approached the house slowly, surveying it from the outside with a practiced eye. He'd ridden the bus into Cedar Falls before heisting this nondescript set of wheels. Couldn't risk lifting a car from where they were living. He'd been tempted by some sweet rides but settled on this SUV because it had that belong-on-any-street-in-America look. Given that there were a few just like it parked up the block he'd made a good choice.

The doormat was decorated with a leaf wreath pattern and included a script Johnston Family in the center. Guess this was the right place. He marveled at this. Imagine living someplace long enough to bother putting out a mat like this. Had their house in Lawrence ever had one?

Charles Johnston opened the door and put his hand out. Firm grip, warm handshake and steady honest gaze. Dean immediately felt glad he took the job. Inside he was introduced to Charlie's wife, Cheryl and their ten-year-old son, Alex. Floppy haired little boy that reminded Dean of Sammy at that age.

The boy eyed him curiously with an intense hazel stare. "You're a Ghostbuster?" he said, mouth twisting slightly.

"Sort of," Dean replied cautiously. "Just going to check out what the trouble is." He was surprised the parents told the boy about this.

As if reading his thoughts Cheryl explained. "Alex heard the noises first. We figured it was nothing, his imagination, you know. But then Charlie started hearing it and things weren't where we left them. And then …"

Her face paled a bit and her husband touched her arm gently, saying, "Go on honey."

"We found a … message … in our bathroom."

She rose. "I cleaned it up. But before, we took a photo." Cheryl looked toward Alex. "It's on the computer." Dean followed her to the computer on the desk in the corner. She clicked open a window. The words "Get the Fuck Out" were painted on a bathroom mirror in red. Looked like blood. He imagined the poor woman's shock walking in to find that.

"It was so cold ... the bathroom that night. Colder than … like a freezer."

He nodded and closed the image. "I have a few questions about the house."

The Johnstons nodded. Cheryl offered him coffee and when Dean said sure she and Charlie disappeared into the kitchen leaving Dean alone with Alex in their dining room. Dean took in the warm pine table and pretty glass-doored sideboard showcasing brightly colored bowls. He'd eaten a few meals over the years in a dining room. But his family hadn't had one. Well, not since Lawrence.

After a few seconds of silence the boy said, "The ghost used a bad word."

Dean looked at him surprised. Must have sneaked a look at his mom's computer. Reminded him more of his kid brother by the second. He took the opportunity to find out what the boy'd heard.

"First it was like a scraping sound, only, you know, behind the walls. I thought it was mice or rats. I was afraid to tell Mom 'cause she'd wig, you know."

Dean nodded. "Did you hear any voices?"

The boy looked down. "Nah. I mean, maybe, I couldn't really make out what it …"

Dean moved seats over next to Alex and leaned down a bit to meet the boy's eyes. "I think this spirit is angry. Using bad words and all. Usually an angry spirit will make threats or shout things or, well, act like it's having a temper tantrum. That's the thing to remember, spirits like this, they're nothing but overgrown two-year-olds having a fit."

The anxiety on Alex's face turned to amusement. "Really?" he said.

"Yep. The louder they whine the more they hope they get heard. So, what did this one say to you?"

"He used a lot of bad words. Stuff my mom would kill me if she heard me say."

Dean bent in closer. "You can tell me. I've heard it all and I won't tell your mom. Promise."

Alex looked nervous. "Well, he yelled that we were intruding and that we didn't belong. Then he said … he said we were mutherf—"

Dean interrupted, "Okay, I get it … what else?"

"Well … that … and that we better, you know, that word, leave or he'd … he'd burn us to ashes." Alex's small pale face now stared up at him fearfully.

"It's okay," Dean said, placing a hand on the boy's small shoulder. "I'm not going to let it hurt you or your family. I promise."

The boy's parents returned holding a tray with coffee mugs and looked from Alex to Dean questioningly. Dean looked at Cheryl willing her to understand that it would be best if she found a way to occupy her son. With a mother's instinct she said to Alex. "How about I pop in a movie for you in the family room?"

Alex looked at Dean, who nodded. "I'm going to talk to your folks and we're going to take care of this. Nothing bad's going to happen."

The boy disappeared with his mother and Dean took down as much information about the house as he could get from Charlie. In the past, Sam'd do the research but Dean knew his way around the library and records offices … Dean blinked. Why couldn't Sam help with the research?

Cheryl returned just then and looked at Dean oddly. "You okay?"

He put his hands through his hair and straightened up. "Yeah. Sorry. You were telling me about your house. It's very nice."

Dean stared at the couple. Why was he here? Something about the house he was supposed to uncover. But it was fuzzy, like his brain was filled with cotton. He picked up the coffee mug and took a sip. Maybe the caffeine would help. He did feel sorta tired.

"So do you have what you need?" Charlie asked.

"Um, yeah, I think so," Dean replied. He looked down at the pad in his hands, startled to find it filled with his handwriting. He'd taken pages of notes. But he didn't remember writing a thing. This was very strange. Maybe Dad would know what this was about. Or Sam. Yeah, Sam'd be able to figure it out. His little brother was so smart. Wasn't anything he couldn't puzzle out.

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