“I think he could be our brother.”
June 19
“And you’re sure she said—”
“So help me God, if you ask me if I’m sure she said Dad’s name again I will drown you in a river.”
Sam shut his mouth with a snap, but he couldn’t quit thinking about it. The spirit, or demon, told the girl that it was not just related to John Winchester, but his son.
That had to be a taunt, a direct jab at Sam and Dean.
The two of them returned to their motel room after interviewing the girl from the crash and Sam just sat and brooded over the case they had. Dean was lounging on the bed, pretending that it wasn’t bugging him, like Sam didn’t see his tight grip on the bottle Dean bought before they drove back.
There was no way Dean wasn’t freaking out over it. Because even if Sam was sure that it was a demon leading bringing them in for a trap… what was the play? What was their goal?
Most importantly… what the heck were they supposed to do?
They couldn’t ignore a demon bringing down planes filled with passengers, even if it was some big gesture to get their attention. They couldn’t kill it if it was Yellow-Eyes though… not without the Colt. A lower level demon was fine, they exorcised them before. But why would a lower level demon drop a plane and claim to be John’s son if it wasn’t to get Sam and Dean’s attention?
None of it was adding up and it was giving Sam a—
“Headache?” Dean asked, too casually. He had been watching Sam out of the corner of his eye and saw Sam rub his forehead.
“Normal one,” Sam grunted. It was a normal headache, not a ‘freaky visions about dead people’ headache.
Dean mumbled some shit about eating again and Sam blew him off.
“I’m going for a walk,” he said instead. “I’ll be back.”
“Bring back dinner!” Dean called to Sam on Sam’s way out the door.
As soon as Sam was outside, he let himself slide to the ground with his knees bent to his chest and his head dropped in his hands.
Sam was just so tired. Sam was tired of acting like everything was okay. Sam was tired of the demons and the questions and the uncertainty that followed his every step and decision.
Sam wanted one more conversation with his dad. Sam wanted one more kiss from Jessica. Sam wanted one memory of his mom. Sam wanted his brother to stop acting like none of it was hurting him.
Because if it wasn’t hurting Dean then Sam wasn’t supposed to hurt either, but everything hurt.
Sam gave himself just enough time with his pity party before he forced himself up, disgusted with himself really.
There was something that killed over a hundred people - Dad was dead - and Sam was sitting on the ground feeling sorry for himself? If Sam wanted to, he could imagine his dad if he saw him doing that.
“Get the hell up. You feel bad? How do you think all those families feel? What are you going to do? Cry?”
Sam snorted and let his feet begin carrying him through the outer neighborhood of Reno where they landed for the night. Sam had no destination in mind, he just needed some space to not act like everything was perfectly fine.
Hunters died, it happened.
Sam used to have nightmares as a kid of his Dean or his dad dying… they got worse when Sam learned about the monsters they hunted, even worse when Sam began hunting with them. And with the weird visions Sam was getting lately? All he saw was death.
Death and dying and Dad was gone.
And Sam’s last conversation with him had been another argument.
Dean was right; everything Sam was doing was too little, too late.
Sam walked until it was fully dark out. There was a Wendy’s he found not far from the motel and he stopped there to grab food. A kid rushed out when Sam walked in, nearly knocking him over.
“Sorry!” the boy yelled, running full speed away.
Sam shook his head and went in the store to order food. Dean was easy to order for, just whatever looked like it would cause a heart attack soonest. Sam ordered himself another chicken sandwich, something to keep Dean off his back, and then watched the news playing on the screen while he waited for his food.
There was a montage about the victims of the plane crash playing. Sam frowned when it showed the families of the passengers who shared stories and photos of their loved ones…
Sam had the idea in the back of his mind that if it was a trap, they should leave. Without the Colt, they had no way to kill any demon of importance. But as Sam watched the mothers cry for their sons… The brothers crying for their siblings…
They couldn’t leave until that bastard paid for the pain and hurt it caused.
Dean went to the storage of the ruins on his own the next morning while Sam dragged himself to the closest library for a wifi connection. They didn’t have much to go on, just a name that was probably faked, but it was something.
If the name was the kid that the demon took for a ride - or if it was a spirit of some sort - then research was required. As was coffee; Sam slept like shit.
Sam set his laptop up on an empty table in the library and fought back a wave of misery at just the sight of the nearly empty library. Sam met Jessica in the library at Stamford. It had been early, Sam was on a bender for an exam and Jessica had walked in and… and Sam remembered being suddenly wide awake.
Of everyone that Sam lost, Jessica cut the sharpest.
Dad was a hunter, there were risks with the job. Mom… Mom hurt in an abstract way, like Sam knew he lost something that he never really had to start with. Sam mostly missed his mom because he knew how much Dean did.
Jessica though? Jessica did nothing wrong, ever. All she did was love Sam.
Maybe that was what she did wrong…
Sam shook off the thought born of exhaustion and took a long drink of his coffee to wake himself up. Then he shook his head, cracked his knuckles, and started researching. It started with the name… Harry Potter…
It was a common enough name, unfortunately. Sam narrowed it down to any prominent names in Nevada, any spirit that would be lingering around airports or planes or teenage girls with pink hair…
Nada.
Sam yawned, took a sip of coffee, let his eyes wander for a moment… there was a slow clicking sound from the row of computers that kept breaking his train of thought. Sitting at one of the desks was a kid who seemed to be typing so painfully slow it made Sam’s teeth ache. Sam could only see the back of his head, but it made him grin some to know that there were kids who still spent Saturday mornings in a library.
And Sam would be there all damn day if he didn’t get back to work…
The next search on Sam’s laptop was for any teenage boys dying on any plane that started or ended in either London or Vegas. There were a handful in history, mostly freak accidents like sudden allergic reactions while in air or the one boy that got hit by a forklift in the airport parking lot. Sam pulled up photos and information on the victims and scrolled slowly, none of them matched the description that Michaela gave Dean.
By the time Sam was distracted by the quiet swear uttered by the kid over at the computers, he was pretty sure that there wasn’t any spirit or poltergeist that fit the situation.
Sam watched what he assumed was a teenager at the computer for a minute, grinning again at the very quiet ‘damn’ he heard. Sam looked around and didn’t see any librarians around so he stood up and stretched his back before loping over closer to the kid.
“Hey, you need help?” Sam asked, guessing technical difficulties was why the kid was cursing in a library.
The kid jumped and spun around in the plastic chair, gawking up at Sam with big eyes. Sam took half a step back, the green of the eyes and the dark bags beneath them causing him to be unsettled for a moment. It was a split-second of Sam and the kid staring at each other before Sam shook himself from a sleep-deprived fugue and smiled at the kid.
“These old computers suck,” Sam said, as friendly as he could be. “What are you working on?”
“Er…” The boy turned back around to face the computer and ran one hand through his messy black hair before waving irritably at the desktop computer.
“I’m trying to learn about airplanes,” he said. Sam was surprised by the soft voice laced with a foreign accent.
British?
Sam leaned down to get closer to the computer screen, though he was instantly wary of the ‘kid’ beside him. What were the odds that there was a teenage boy with black hair, green eyes, a British accent, researching about airplanes in the same library as Sam?
It wasn’t a spirit, it was a demon. It was right next to Sam and Sam couldn’t do anything. As much as Sam wished he could just choke the life from the demon, he was powerless.
“Airplanes, huh?” Sam asked, keeping the kid in his view from the corner of his eye. Sam clicked on the web browser the kid was using and pulled up google for him.
“You hear about that wreck?” Sam asked casually, typing in ‘airplanes’ for him. “Christ, that was bad.”
The kid made a face, but that wasn’t the usual reaction of a low-level demon when they heard the word ‘Christ’. Sam couldn’t get caught up in a scheme, not without Dean there to back him or a single damn weapon at his disposal. If Sam had time, he could draw a Devil’s Trap, trap him and perform an exorcism…
“There you go.” Sam pulled up the website and straightened back up, intending to get the hell away from the demon.
The freaking demon in question gave Sam a small grin, maybe they thought he was stupid or they were playing some game.
“Thank you,” it said before leaning toward the screen and beginning to read whatever search results the vague search pulled up.
If that was how they wanted to play it, then Sam could buy a few minutes to get Dean’s ass at the library.
Sam acted casual as he returned to his table, though he turned his chair to the side so the demon wasn’t out of his view. The cell in Sam’s pocket had six numbers in it- Van Halen, Bon Jovi, Hetfield, Vince Neil, Dee Snider, and Bobby.
It went without saying that five of them were Dean’s burners and saved with the names he gave them.
Sam called Dee Snider, thinking that was the phone Dean charged the night before. It wasn’t, it went straight to voicemail.
The demon sighed and Sam narrowed his eyes on it while he selected the next number, Van Halen.
The demon turned and looked at Sam over his shoulder and Sam turned the phone, smiling all friendly and kind as if one of the demon’s kind - maybe even that one - didn’t kill his dad not even a month ago.
“Sam? What’s happening?”
“What’s wrong?” Sam called to the demon when it kept glancing at him, trying to code a message for Dean. “Computer giving you problems?”
Problem.
“I… I clicked on a thing and now I can’t get back to the other thing,” the demon said. It was scary how perfectly polite and hesitant it sounded, it must really think Sam fell for the ‘technological inept teenager’ route.
“Oh, yeah, some of those pop-ups are like traps,” Sam chuckled.
It’s a trap.
“These old desktops are trash, just click the red x in the top right corner,” Sam said, going along with the gambit. “One day the library will update their tech.”
Library.
“Oh, thanks.”
Sam kept his smile up and nodded his head until the demon turned back to the computer screen. Dean had stayed silent after initially answering the call, but he caught every word Sam said.
“It’s there?” Dean hissed in the phone. Sam could practically feel his anger through the phone, a pissed off glare would be mashing his eyebrows down low.
“Dude, we had Denny’s yesterday, let’s do something else,” Sam groaned in reply. He waited a beat, as if Dean were making a suggestion. “Yeah, I could do IHOP.”
Yup.
“I’m guessing we’re playing telephone cause it ain’t a ghost,” Dean snorted. Sam didn’t need to answer besides a forced laugh, Dean would figure it out. “Give me ten minutes and then lead it out the back door,” Dean said, doing just that.
“Sounds great,” Sam said, actually feeling relieved.
If there was one thing Sam never had to question, it was that when shit was real - when there were demons in the same room as Sam - Dean had his back. And until then, Sam had a demon that was playing mind games with him.
“Excuse me.” The demon stood from the chair it was in and gave Sam another polite smile that didn’t reach its eyes. It was a forced smile, Sam was sure of it. Sam’s returning smile was nice and warm though…
I’m so gullible, I’ll trust you, Sam thought viciously, hiding the hate behind his eyes. Because after Meg I’m totally going to fall for it.
“What’s up?” Sam asked.
“I think I - did I break it?” The demon pointed at the computer and Sam had no choice to either call its bluff or stand up and go along with the gig.
Sam only had to play along a little longer, just long enough for Dean to arrive and Sam to herd the demon to his brother.
“What happened?” Sam got to his feet once more, his research ended either way, as he crossed the room again. The demon scooted to the side, out of Sam’s reach, and pointed at the computer it had been using.
“I’m rubbish with computers,” the demon said nervously. “I just- I’m trying to find out… maybe I need a book? On airplanes?”
Sam saw that it had clicked on an ad, one that had the old screen glitching away. There wasn’t anything to do but power down the desktop and let it reboot.
“There’s books on aviation,” Sam said instead, letting his eyes track the path he could lead the demon on. Through the non-fiction… there was a fire alarm Sam could pull… a back exit where Dean would be waiting.
“Let me show you,” Sam offered. He walked slowly, keeping his eye on the… it was odd seeing a demon in a teenagers body.
Meg was weird enough, but a kid? Demons had no freaking morals at all. There was probably some innocent kid inside there, screaming for help, just like the real Meg had been.
“Thanks.” The demon kept just far enough from Sam where he couldn’t be grabbed and Sam saw him ruffle his hair before hitching his backpack up on his back more.
“No problem,” Sam said easily. “You have an interest in planes?”
“Er… I just want to know how they fly?” The demon shrugged and Sam turned in the relevant aisle. “And- and what makes them… stop flying?”
Sam’s hand hovered in the air above a book he was about to grab for him - it. Sam turned his head and looked at the demon with a furrowed brow.
“Like what makes them crash?” Sam asked. “Like the one in the news?”
There was something skittish about the demon then. It sort of… nodded jerkily as it rocked on its heels… not looking at Sam. Was it scared of Sam? Scared of what he had done to demons before?
Good.
The demon couldn’t be Yellow-Eyes, Sam was sure of that. But if Sam and Dean’s reputation made a few demons hesitant to jump them, so the better for them. It was a weird one though, Sam didn’t understand the interest in airplanes even if it was faked.
“This should give you a basic idea,” Sam said, still puzzled by the entire situation. Sam pulled the book off the shelf and offered it to the demon. When it reached up for it, Sam saw the eyes were becoming glassy, like- like it was upset?
What the hell?
“Thank you.”
“Uh… Sure, no problem.” Sam’s gut screamed something was off, something weird about the whole situation. Why lead Sam in a trap, follow him to a library, then the whole bit about airplanes?
“What’s your name?” Sam asked abruptly. If something felt off, something was off. Even if Sam hadn’t been a hunter as long as Dean, he knew to trust his gut. And his gut had him leaning against the bookshelf, watching the kid - demon? - carefully.
“It’s… Harry,” ‘Harry’ said, glancing up at Sam and then back down to the book on basic aviation automation. “Thanks again.”
Sam opened his mouth to keep the demon in sight, but it was already walking away and Sam couldn’t think of anything to say.
And so, because something was off and Sam would probably need Dean to figure it out, Sam went ahead and pulled the fire alarm.
‘Harry’ froze in place and Sam watched the muscles in his shoulders twitch before he spun around and fixed Sam with a wide-eyed look.
“What’s that?!” he asked, frantically looking around.
“Fire alarm,” Sam called, faking some of his own fear of it. “C’mon, there’s an exit back here!”
Harry didn’t even hesitate before he followed after Sam, another oddity. If it was a demon that knew who Sam was, who was targeting Sam and Dean… why would it just follow him?
Sam didn’t hesitate though, he led Harry straight through the library, out the back door, directly in the finished Devil’s Trap Dean had painted and ready on the concrete outside. As soon as Sam saw his brother, he spun around and slammed the (possibly?) demon against the back wall of the library.
“Who are you?” Sam demanded. “Where’s Yellow-Eyes?”
“Sam, dude!”
Sam felt Dean’s hand on his shoulder and he shook it off before pulling on the oversized shirt the kid had on and shoving him back against the wall. If demons were going to take their dad - take Jessica - take over the bodies of kids, Sam didn’t have to use a rule book either.
“I- I’m sorry!” The kid was shaking, trembling really, and Sam was surprised by the tears building in his eyes.
“Sam, it’s a kid,” Dean hissed. “Drop him. Christ.”
Sam did, and then he backed out of the trap with Dean, both of them watching as the kid(?!) landed on his feet just inside the orange spray paint of the trap.
“Got any—”
Sam didn’t even finish his question before Dean whipped a flask from his pocket and splashed it at the kid. That seemed to shock him more than anything as he suddenly had wet black hair plastered to his forehead.
No smoke. No screaming. Just… he looked kind of annoyed, a lot stressed, and shocked at Dean’s audacity.
“You’re crazy,” the kid cried. “Why- why did you do that?”
“Not a demon,” Dean muttered. “Shifter?”
Sam shook his head; not in disagreement, but in complete confusion.
“Hey, kid.” Dean pulled a silver bullet from his pocket and tossed it to the not-demon. “Catch.”
‘Harry’ did it seemingly on autopilot with his right hand and then he balked when he saw what Dean threw at him.
“Crazy,” the kid repeated in a high-pitched voice. He threw the bullet on the ground and there wasn’t so much as a pink patch on his palm.
That… that kind of eliminated most other monsters Sam had been filtering through in the back of his mind. Dean seemed at a momentary loss too and that was all the time the kid needed to start running.
“That’s the airplane kid, right?” Dean asked, watching side-by-side with Sam as the actual human kid started running down the street, occasionally sending looks over his shoulder as if to ensure the boys weren’t following him.
“Yeah,” Sam said absently, his mind reeling. “Dude…”
“Not a demon, not a shifter… he’s not a spirit or a vamp or a wolf… what the hell is he?” Dean asked, starting to sound pissed.
“He’s a thief,” Sam said, thinking of the library book the kid had. “And - shit. Dean… I think he could be our brother.”
Because it sure as hell wasn’t a demon… it wasn’t a spirit… it was just a kid who said his dad was John Winchester.