Mass Hysteria

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

Feedback is welcome and appreciated

A/N: The feedback and reviews to this story have been phenomenal. To all those who have been reading, thank you so much.

Part 13-Conclusion

"I see it now," Dean said but Sam didn't. He still saw the image of the Aswang crouched beside Snyder, hissing and waving its clawed hand in Dean's direction. He didn't have time to wonder about that for too long before Snyder motioned and the Aswang leaped.

Dean cried out as he toppled backward with the Aswang clawing at his body.

Sam darted into the bathroom. The first aid kit still sat open on the counter. Listening to Dean's anguished cries, Sam grabbed the sharp knife they kept in the kit. Perfect for minor surgeries, Sam ran back and flung it hard and fast and watched the blade sink into Snyder's neck. He was almost as surprised as she was that it had its mark.

The witch screeched as she batted at her neck trying to get the knife out. She swung around at Sam as he rushed her and tossed a ball of light towards him. The energy hit him in the chest knocking him back a step. As he tried to force his eyesight, he could just make out her silhouette running out of the hotel room.

He could still hear Dean grunting and cursing though the struggle between him and the monster was punctuated by flashing lights across Sam's retinas and he couldn't see it clearly. When Dean yelled out in pain, Sam shook his head again bringing the scene into focus. Dean scooted backward until he hit the wall. He held out his hands in defense.

The Aswang turned to face Sam.

"No," Sam said as it started towards him. With slow steps punctuated by hissing it lifted its claws. Sam felt it touching his mind. The intense stab of pain through his skull made sense now. It was the horror he felt at the school that day and it was the pain and fear that they all went through, concentrated into terrible energy.

Dizzy with the agony of it, he said, "I don't believe in you. You don't exist."

The image flickered like a television losing its signal.

"You're at peace, you're calm and peaceful. There's no more anger here, no more fear."

Black filled the space where the Aswang stood, replaced by a swirling ball of blue and silver light.

"It's okay now," Sam said. "You don't have to hold on to the fear anymore. We can let it go. We can be at peace."

Starting to feel the pain in his head dissipate he realized he had been feeling it for the last couple of minutes, a gradual relief that took a moment to accept.

"It's okay now," Sam said. "There's nothing left to fear."

Tears burned behind his eyes as he felt them start to leave. There were no faces, nothing to distinguish one light from the other but he could feel them. The anguish, the confusion and the anger, an incredible amount of anger, swept over him as the lights faded.

"We're safe now," he whispered as images poured across his mind. He saw Claire's shock as the blood seeped through her shirt. He saw Marlene crawling towards the door while Tim fired into her. He could hear Phil crying out in anger as his life was ripped away. And the others, hiding under their desks, whimpering and sobbing, just waiting for the next bullet to be for them. He could see it all as if he were back in the room, could smell the copper of blood, could feel his own horror. It all played out as the lights shriveled and disappeared like streaks of fireworks winking out.

When Sam finally came out of the memories, he was surprised to find himself on his knees with Dean beside him. The fear in Dean's voice replaced the rest of it and Sam looked around, finding the room empty. No Tulpa and no witch, just freezing wind from the open door and his brother anxiously trying to get his attention.

SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN

Dean drove silently through Buena Bruja with Sam sitting in the passenger seat watching the GPS in his phone. Sam told him to turn and Dean turned, then Sam told him to stop in front of a small house with a narrow front lawn and steps leading to a front door. The windows of the house showed only darkness inside. No vehicle was parked in the drive.

"She's gone," Sam said.

"Let's make sure," Dean said. He clutched his handgun, hoping they'd find Alice Snyder there. He wanted to finish killing her. He wanted her to feel all the fear she had taken advantage of and used to murder. Part of that Tulpa had belonged to Sam, and Dean hated that the witch had claimed it to do her bidding.

Sam picked the lock on the front door letting them into her house. An alarm sounded giving them only about four minutes to check for Snyder before they knew the police would arrive. They needed half that time to see that the witch had abandoned her house.

They slid into the Impala and drove away. As they turned the corner out of the neighborhood they passed a patrol car with its lights flashing.

"She ran," Dean said. There had been a couple of shirts on the floor, the closet doors were open and empty and there was no sign of a suitcase.

"Yeah," Sam said. "But, where to?"

"I don't know. We can probably find out what she drives."

"A witch that's been around a while is going to know about hiding. She said she was older than time."

"Melodramatic," Dean said. "And bragging. Probably more like the Mayflower or something."

"Still. If she doesn't want to be found…"

"I hate letting her get away."

"We didn't let her do anything. And we did stop her from using the Tulpa anymore. That's something."

"It's not enough."

"No," Sam agreed.

"Maybe we can put out some feelers to other hunters. Get the word out to look for her."

"Bobby can help with that."

Dean nodded as he drove towards the hotel. It had stopped snowing but the brutal cold seeped through the glass windows and he shivered. The heat in the Impala couldn't keep it warm enough so he glanced at Sam to see if it was affecting him.

Sam hadn't complained about headaches or dizziness or even the scratches left by the fake Aswang but the kid had been through a lot. The Tulpa had basically used him to scatter itself which couldn't have been a pleasant experience. And that was after it had spent the last couple of days attacking him. But, when Dean looked at Sam, he found that Sam seemed okay. Maybe a little pale and the passing lights illuminated some dark circles under his eyes but overall, he seemed okay, at least physically.

"Are you still running a fever?" Dean asked.

"I'm fine."

"That's not what I asked."

"I don't know. It's cold."

"Okay. Let's pack up, put some distance between us and this town, and then we can hold up for the night."

"'Kay," Sam agreed.

There was little to say on the drive to the hotel and then they were too busy loading the car to have any real conversation once they arrived.

In short order they were back on the road and silence filled the space between them. It wasn't awkward but Dean needed to say what he was thinking. He held it in until they reached open road but just barely.

"That energy ball freaked me out," he said.

"Me too," Sam agreed, emphatically.

"It's not right having fear and pain show up like that."

"It's supposed to dissipate, not turn into a thing. I mean, I guess, vengeful spirits are kind of like that but they're real, they're not just emotions wrapped into a lightning show."

"And making us see an Aswang instead? Of all the things we could've…"

"I could've…"

"Yeah, right, because you gave it shape and stuff. Of all things."

"Must be mixed up in my head because they happened so close together."

Dean nodded. "Must be."

"If we ever see her again…"

"She's going down. Gonna gank that bitch," Dean said.

"It must have been at the school. It must've attacked me there then went outside. I saw the dog because I knew Aswang are shapeshifters."

"Must be."

"I wonder how it found me; how it knew we came into town."

"She said you were part of it. Maybe it sensed you."

"A lot of people who were in that room the day of the shooting still live in that town. Why single me out? Snyder didn't say it was following everyone, right? Why was it mad at me?"

Dean glanced at his brother. "I have a theory about that but I don't know if you want to hear it."

"Why wouldn't I?" Sam sighed. "You know what, never mind, just tell me."

"I think you saved them the last time and they were looking for you to save them again."

Sam made a negative sound and shook his head. "That doesn't make any sense. First, I didn't save them and second, the thing was trying to kill me."

"Maybe not, maybe it was trying to get your attention. You didn't understand it and you turned it into something that could hurt you. It acted like an Aswang but not completely. Just like the ghost of Mordechai Murdoch didn't act like a ghost, at least not completely."

"He wasn't a ghost, he wasn't even a real thing, he was…"

"He was exactly what the legend made him and that gave him a physical presence."

"So, you're saying that if I had perceived the Tulpa as a fuzzy kitten then it wouldn't have attacked me."

Dean shrugged. "I guess."

"But, it followed me around…ripping me to pieces, by the way… just to get my attention because it wanted me to save it from Snyder?"

"Or maybe it just wanted to be done, Sam. Once you started talking it took about three minutes to dissolve. If it wanted to live then I think it would've fought harder, don't you?"

Sam studied his hands for a few moments. Finally, quietly, he said, "But, I didn't save them."

"You didn't save everyone but you did save them. And my guess is, you were the only one in that room that wasn't overwhelmed by what was happening. Tim Carroll included."

Sam shook his head. "I don't know. It killed Beth Aldridge and she was in the room during the shooting."

"That was Snyder directing it. You heard what she said; it left her and came to you. Snyder was just as confused by that as we were."

"I don't know. What about Tim Carroll?" Sam asked.

"That's easy, revenge."

Dean gave Sam a chance to process all that before continuing. "You know, it's a theory. Let's go run it by Bobby and see what he thinks."

"You want to go to South Dakota?"

"Sure, why not? Maybe he's got a job."

Sam smiled and shrugged his agreement.

"Call and tell him. Maybe he'll whip up some stew."

Sam nodded as he dug out his phone. "Sounds good."

SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN

A/N: I started this story several months before the school shooting in Connecticut. After that, I backed away from it for a while to gain some distance. I think that shooting did impact where this story ultimately went, however.

A/N: I deliberately did not give the student killer a reason for attacking his school. In reality, we rarely know what drives mass shooters since they usually kill themselves. It's almost always conjecture and theory. I wanted to maintain that bit of truth.

A/N: The Columbine Massacre occurred in 1999. The Jonesboro, AK Massacre occurred in 1998. Since my fictional story starts in 1996, there is no mention of previous school shootings.

A/N: There were a couple of mistakes in this story that some observant readers picked up on. First, Dean is sixteen at the start of the story but Sam is actually only twelve. In the original writing he was fourteen and then I changed it to thirteen. But, I was still wrong. A tip to fellow writers, type "age calculator" in to Google and it will give you a nifty tool to use. The other mistake was also in the beginning. I set it up for Dean and John to go back to the hotel and collect their stuff before going to see Bobby. After the shooting, they just go so, apparently, they were largely "stuff-less" after that. Darn it! Those and any other errors are entirely mine. Thanks to the readers who pointed them out.