Mass Hysteria

A/N: This story deals with a high school shooting that includes the death of several teenagers.

Feedback is welcome and appreciated. This story is complete. I will be posting a new section every other day.

Not Slash

1996

Tim Carroll slammed the trunk on his mother's car. He fisted her keys and glanced back at the darkened house. Inside the two story structure his mother peacefully slept. When Tim wished her a good night the evening before she had waved from where she sat on the couch but didn't look up from the crossword puzzle in her lap. Tim regretted not stopping to kiss her cheek or look at her face.

Before leaving this morning, he had peeked into her room but she was turned away from the door, soft snores coming from under a mound of messy hair. He didn't dare enter because she might wake and he didn't want that.

Feeling nervous about his preparations, Tim re-opened the trunk and looked inside. Two semi-automatic pistols lay on a green camping blanket. Both loaded and ready to fire. Both were Berettas because his father liked the brand and both were 9mm to cut down on the different types of ammunition he needed.

The 92A1 held 16 rounds plus one in the chamber. The M9 held 15 rounds. More ammunition was stored in his school backpack.

He dressed in baggy jeans and a brown sweatshirt. The back of the sweatshirt sported a cool print of Machine Head's "Burn My Eyes" album cover and the front had a wide pouch. One gun fit easily into the pouch and the other into the pocket of his jeans. He had tested both several times to be sure. He was also able to store more ammunition in the pouch so he could grab it easily in order to reload.

At just over five feet, he was short for his age and too skinny. But, no matter what he ate, he couldn't gain and he didn't expect to grow much taller. To hide his lack of bulk, he tended to dress in oversized clothes. No one would notice anything different about him on this morning.

Tim closed the trunk again. His mother would be waking up to her radio alarm in less than half an hour and he didn't want to be lingering out front. She knew he had an Algebra test to take and would be upset if she thought he would be late. He didn't want to fight with her, not when he didn't expect to ever see her again.

He took one last look at the house that he grew up in. He tried for a moment to think of some happy memory, just one that would make him miss that house. But, nothing came to him.

The rage that constantly simmered in him surged up, and Tim yanked open the driver's side door. He slid in, shoved the key into the ignition and turned on the radio. He switched the station and smiled when Pantera's music filled the car. He cranked the volume and turned on the heat before pulling away from the curb. He aimed for the high school thinking he was about to be as famous as Megadeath.

SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN

"Hey, Sammy, wake up."

Sam Winchester rolled over throwing an arm across his eyes with a groan. He refused to look at the offensive big brother waking him. After studying Algebra until midnight followed by cleaning three handguns and a shotgun that took him until nearly three, he wasn't happy being nudged by an overly awake sibling.

"Come on, now, it's a big day. Let's see those bloodshot peepers."

Still groggy with sleep, Sam made the mistake of taking his arm down. His brother took advantage by flipping on the switch and Sam yelled out when light stabbed his eyes.

"Can't miss school today. You have mid-terms and I get to flip off all the crappy teachers."

Now, Sam did open his eyes. Well, one eye, anyway. He tried to focus on the bouncing teenager hovering just a couple feet away.

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked then cleared his throat when he heard the husky tone.

"I'm dropping out today. Dad said I can work on my GED and that'll be good enough for a hunter."

"He did not."

"Did too. I'm dropping you off and leaving my books at the office. No more sitting in boring classes listening to boring teachers and not learning anything I need to know."

Sam groaned again as he rolled towards the wall. He pushed his shaggy brown hair out of the way and squinted at the weird blue color. It always made Sam think that the painter had just mixed leftovers together. The same hue swept through the whole apartment; kitchen and bathroom included.

He turned back over, fully awake now, and pulled the blanket with him as he pushed himself against the headboard. Thin walls and single pane glass meant he was always cold.

"Why would you quit now? Why would Dad let you?"

"Stupid grades, no interest in doing it anymore. Why waste more time? Dad agrees with me."

Sam sighed as he rubbed his face. He would never understand his brother. Sam loved school. He liked interacting with kids his age even if he never really fit in with them. He liked listening to the teachers while they brought subjects to life with their knowledge. The whole process of learning and discovering excited him and, normally, he couldn't wait to get to school.

"When did you talk to Dad anyway? He's been gone like two days."

"Yesterday morning. He came home early to shower. You were still sleeping."

"And you had time to change your whole life? Just like that?"

"Jeez, princess, dramatic much? It didn't take that long to lay out what he already knew."

Sam didn't like it. He knew Dean wanted to be a full-time hunter but he was only sixteen. ""Dean, a GED, it's not the same."

"Yeah, it is. It's not like I'm going to college or anything. Hell, I'm not even planning to hold down a real job. Not even a McJob. Look, Sam, I'm going to be seventeen in a couple of weeks. It's time."

Sam stared at his brother watching the excitement twitch in his eyes, the way he barely kept still, like he would break into dance at any second. Seeing his brother like that, he put away his own worries and forced a smile.

"That's pretty cool, I guess," Sam said.

"Damn right. Now get your skinny butt out of bed and get some breakfast."

With that, Dean left Sam's bedroom.

The one good thing about the apartment, Sam thought, was three bedrooms. Sam rarely had his own space with all the traveling they did so privacy was a real treat. He hoped they'd stay until the school year ended.

Fighting the melancholy at knowing he would be there alone from now on, Sam climbed out of bed. He hissed at the cold linoleum against his feet as he padded his way to the bathroom. Dean's news had shaken him awake so Sam decided to shower before breakfast.

Dean scrambled some eggs in a bowl, added milk, butter and salt and poured them into the medium fry pan that came with the furnished apartment. The gold appliances harkened back to the seventies as did the swirled linoleum floor.

While the eggs started to cook, he pushed around bacon in the other pan. It was bubbling with fat and smelled delicious. He stirred the eggs around before popping some bread into the toaster, singing "Home Tonight" to himself.

He would never admit it but he liked making breakfast for Sam. The kid didn't ask much from him anymore so cooking made him feel needed.

He heard the shower turn on so he grabbed a plate out of the dish drainer, dumped some eggs and bacon on it and stuck it on the back of the stove. He put another plate over the top to keep the food warm. Then he made a plate for himself, taking the fresh toast out and smearing it with butter. He set his breakfast on the table, poured more coffee in his cup to heat it back up and settled down.

Just as he dug his fork in, the apartment door opened to admit John Winchester. He glanced at Dean as he entered then locked the door behind him. Dean recognized the stiff shoulders, heavy bags under bloodshot eyes and hands squeezed into fists.

"Finish eating and start packing," Dad said. "We got to get to South Dakota ASAP."

"What's going on there? Something with Bobby?"

"Yeah, he says there're some weird deaths popping up around town. Looks like something is eating people. He's still trying to figure out what it is but he thinks he'll need some back up."

"Why are we packing?" Dean asked despite knowing that his father hated to be questioned.

Dad scowled at him. "Because we're not coming back. Where's Sam, in the shower?"

"Yeah. He's got that mid-term today."

"He'll have to catch up when we can. I'll let him know."

Dean knew that Sam would be angry and disappointed if they left town before he could take the test. It was the last one and it would mean transferrable grades at the next school. Besides Sam had studied hard for this one and math wasn't his strongest subject. The sudden change in plans would mean he wasted all that time.

"Hey, Dad, can you let him stay and take the test, at least? He was up all night studying."

Dad rolled his eyes. "He was supposed to be getting the weapons ready."

"He did that too. But, this last test, it's important to him. Can we just stay that long?"

Dad sighed. He glanced towards the bathroom door then back to Dean. He looked at his watch then pulled out his cellular telephone. He punched Bobby's phone number in because, as Dean knew, he hadn't figured out how to program it yet.

"Yeah, Bobby, it's John. We're not going to make it until tomorrow morning." There was a pause for Bobby to respond and then Dad said, "You said it was on a three night cycle. Whatever it is shouldn't do anything until tomorrow." Another pause. "All right, see you then."

Dad hung up and tucked the phone away. "All right, he can take the test. But, you still need to get packed up."

Dean sighed; relieved he had saved that much for his brother.

"We're leaving?" Sam came out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist. His hair was heavy with water and dripping down his face. With winter upon them he was pale; add to that a small growth spurt and he was skinny and all limbs too.

"Yeah," Dad answered. "Dean and I'll pack up so you can get ready for school but we're heading to Bobby's as soon as that test is over."

Dean watched the kid's face fall. His whole body deflated with the news.

"Why are we leaving?" Sam asked and Dean could practically see his father's patience evaporate.

"You two need to question my orders now? We're leaving because I said so. Now, go get dressed. We're on a schedule here."

Dean shoveled in the rest of his breakfast and scraped the remnants into the trash.

"You know, we're not Marines, we do think for ourselves," Sam mouthed off.

Dean spun around, surprised. He braced for the argument that was sure to follow.

"Don't start, Sam," Dad said. "I've been up all night and I'm in no mood."

Sam took a step forward. The towel around his waist slipped and he grabbed at it. Red colored his cheeks as adolescent modesty kicked in. He turned around, stalked into his bedroom and flipped the door closed. Dean sighed in relief.

Dad stared after Sam for a few moments then looked back at Dean.

"What are you waiting for?" he asked, gruffly.

Dean leaned back against the sink. "Rough night?"

"The body is burned but there were cops all over the cemetery. Pretty sure they got the license plate. We only have a few hours before they trace it to me and then to here. Getting picked up for grave desecration will get me jail time and you boys in foster care."

That explained the sudden departure. Dad lived in fear of having state services take his sons. He had instilled the same worry into Dean.

"There's food in the pans," Dean said. "I already made a plate for Sam. Why don't you eat something and I'll get us ready to go?"

Dad smiled, weakly, but it was something. "Thanks, son."

Dean left his father fixing himself some breakfast and went to Sam's room. He didn't bother to knock, not wanting to draw Dad's attention or hear Sam tell him not to enter.

He found his brother pulling a white t-shirt over his head. He had already donned jeans and boots. His hair was drying and curling at the ends.

"I made breakfast," Dean said.

"I can smell it. Thanks." Sam's voice was monotone and clipped.

"We have to go. Dad got made at the cemetery last night so we don't have a choice."

"Cops?"

"Just a matter of time. You know if Dad gets caught burning bones then…"

"They'll split us up," Sam finished for him.

Dean tilted his head in agreement.

"He could just tell us that. He doesn't have to treat us like children."

"Sam, you're thirteen. You are a child."

"Yeah, well, not since you told me the monster in my closet was real."

Dean chuckled at that because Sam meant the comment to be funny. But, Dean hated the memory of telling his brother about monsters.

"He's tired," Dean said. "We're going from one job to the next without a break. Maybe you should cut him some slack. He's letting you take that test before we go. That's something, right?"

Sam nodded and pulled a red, hooded sweatshirt over the tee. Dean could still see the disappointment in his eyes but he saw resignation as well.

"Come and eat. You need brain food to get through that exam."

"Be there in a minute."

SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN

Tim Carroll drove into the student parking lot. He looked around at the kids as they made their way towards the cafeteria testing room. Compared to a regular school day, there were only a few of them. The mid-terms were spread out over the week so not everyone was there at the same time.

Tim noticed a sweet looking vintage Impala parked at the curb as he circled to find a parking space. It made him wish that his mother didn't drive a Plymouth Neon.

He pulled into a space and walked around to the back. Plugging in the key, he opened the trunk then looked around. There was no one parked in the overflow lot near the woods and no people walking by. He grabbed the M9 and stuck it in his jeans pocket. He put the second Beretta inside the pouch. He strapped his backpack on, slammed the trunk and started walking towards the school building.

As he noted the cold morning and overcast sky, he was surprised at his own tranquility. He thought he might be afraid enough to abandon his plans but he actually felt calm.