“What?"
August 21
Sam stared at the nicest car he had ever seen in his life.
It was a Mustang, it had the symbol on the front even if it wasn’t immediately identifiable. The paint job was fresh, a red that seemed to sparkle under the sunlight. All the chrome accents were shined, sending glimmers to dance in Sam’s damp eyes.
It was beautiful.
And Bobby said it was his.
“Bobby, I can’t take this,” Sam said without looking away from the gorgeous car. It was a classic, perfectly restored, with a convertible roof. It had to be worth a small fortune in the right circles.
Bobby scoffed beside him, acting way too casual about something so awesome.
“I ain’t sellin’ the damn thing, not after I rebuilt it. Either you drive it or I’m givin’ it to your brother when he gets to be drivin’.” Bobby made a gruff noise and adjusted the brim of his hat. “A car like that oughta stay in the family, understand?”
Sam did understand.
Before he could get embarrassed about it or change his mind, Sam turned to Bobby and grabbed him a quick and firm hug.
Sam understood that the Winchester boys were lucky to have Bobby in their lives.
“Alright, that’s enough of that,” Bobby grumbled, his dark eyes twinkling, when Sam pulled off him with a wide smile. “Now you gonna tell me what you’re up to?”
“Uh… just thought I’d check out a college in North Dakota, UND,” Sam said, feeling like a douche for lying.
Kind of lying.
Sam did check it out… online.
It was Oregon where Sam was headed, a place where his visions were leading him.
Sam had been kind of pumped to go see a quidditch game with his brothers. It was like Sam’s childhood fantasy of going to a baseball game with Dad and Dean except… magic.
If ten year old Sam knew that twenty-two year old Sam blew off a game with his family to check out a possible hunt, he’d be shocked. But the things Sam saw…
A son putting a bullet through his mom’s head…
A nurse whispering, “They’re all infected.”
A man attacking Sam; Sam shooting him in the center of his forehead…
Sam needed to check it out. It couldn’t wait, not if dozens of people were dying. And Harry was so excited for his game, Sam knew that Dean would cancel if he knew what Sam planned to do and Sam couldn’t do that to Harry.
Bobby didn’t look like he believed Sam, but he still told him the keys were in the car for him to take.
Sam was a little giddy when he climbed in his car. It was beautiful. The seats were a soft light brown leather, there was plenty of legroom, and Sam might have gotten a little weepy over the updated radio it had.
Bobby was the best, really. Sam didn’t deserve him.
The drive to Oregon felt as if it took no time at all with only Sam in the car. It was dark when Sam found the town from his vision, the one with the great Liberty Bell set up in front of a Catholic Church.
Sam shifted around in his seat after he parked outside the doctor’s office where the nurse would eventually be, and decided to just set up the stakeout for the night.
With the window down and the town quiet and sleepy for the time being, it wasn’t hard for Sam to start to drift off. When there was a pain in his head that made him clench his eyes for a second, he should have guessed where his mind was going…
Sam stood in the town square, leaning against the giant cracked bell.
It was quiet, kind of eerie.
Sam looked around at the old-fashioned buildings, noting their sense of abandonment. There weren’t any cars to be seen, not even his.
“Spooky, isn’t it?”
Sam reached for the handle of his pistol and came up with nothing as he looked over and saw Azazel himself leaning on the other side of the bell.
“Hiya, Sammy.” Azazel smiled lazily at Sam, his yellow eyes flashing with mirth at Sam’s predicament. “No gun? Boo. You know, if you would embrace the visions instead of trying to run from them, you’d get so much stronger.”
“Strong enough to kill you?” Sam snarled, feeling useless. Azazel was right there, right beside him.
Sam could finish it off, all of it.
If Sam had the Colt or some power more useful than seeing people dying and never being good enough to prevent it, he could finish it. Dean could get the normal life Sam didn’t know he craved, Harry could have the life Sam used to fantasize about having.
“Ahh, yes, do it for the bros.” Azazel chuckled, his body language relaxed even when Sam tensed up.
“How—”
“Did I know you were thinking of Dean-O and that plot twist of a little brother?” Azazel smiled and waved a lazy hand out. “We’re not having this chat in your head, Sammy. You’re in my playground, my mind. Thems the rules.”
“Why am I here then?” Sam asked him.
“I’m glad you asked!” Azazel stood up and with a snap of his fingers, Sam was by his side. “Walk with me.”
Sam did, partly out of curiosity and partly because he had no choice in the matter. They walked through the town square, aiming nowhere special that Sam could see. When Azazel turned to walk in the woods, Sam’s legs forced him to follow.
“See that building over there?” Azazel pointed at an old wooden shack in an upcoming clearing. The shack had a concrete door and metal chains wrapped around it, piquing Sam’s interest.
“In two? No, three.” Azazel nodded in agreement with himself. “In three months, one of my human-children will open that gate and lead my army.” The smile he gave Sam was that of a predator, sharp and meant to convince. “I’m hoping it’ll be you, Sammy Boy.”
Human-children? Army?
“An army?” Sam repeated the most dangerous part of that statement, the feeling of dread in his stomach dulled by the sleep state he was in. “What army?”
“My other children!” Azazel threw his hands up and cackled loudly. “I’m just a daddy trying to do right by my kiddos, kinda like your dear old dad. Although, even I wouldn’t have told Dean-O to kill you, that was dark. And John called me a demon, eh?”
“What?” Sam’s voice was sharp, startled.
Demons lied though, that was what they did.
Demons lied.
And sometimes they told the truth.
“Give big bro a call, huh?” Azazel grinned widely at Sam and held up three fingers. “We’ll talk again soon.”
Sam tried to ask his questions, demand answers. But Azazel slowly put down his fingers and Sam jerked awake with a loud gasp.
It took Sam more than a few seconds to feel himself, feel that he was real and in control of his body again.
There was no one in his car, no one around anywhere that Sam could see or hear. Everything was dark, quiet, only Sam’s labored breathing breaking the silence. All the storefronts were still dark, though not as abandoned as they had been in Sam’s… vision?
Was it a vision?
Sam couldn’t shake the sick feeling in his stomach or the thought that he wasn’t alone… but he knew he needed to write down a few things in case he forgot them later…
Gate to release demon army?
Azazel called me one of his children?
What did Dad tell Dean?
After that, Sam couldn’t feel comfortable enough to resume his stakeout of the doctor’s office until after he pulled his duffel bag up front with him and clenched his pistol in one hand, flask of holy water in the other.
It wouldn’t do much against Azazel if he arrived, but it was better than nothing.
*****
Sam didn’t get any rest, like at all.
Before the sun had even risen in the sky, Sam had found a twenty-four hour gas station where he changed to a fed suit and bought some coffee. With as much detail as he could, Sam even carefully wrote down every thing he remembered from the vision with Azazel.
When the lights went on in the doctor’s office, Sam fidgeted with his cell for just a second before ultimately pocketing it. It wouldn’t be fair to call Dean, not when he was with Harry, and not over something a demon said.
Demons lied.
Why would Dad tell Dean to kill him? Actually, no, scratch that. Sam had worried from the first vision - like a low buzz just under the surface of his skin - that John was going to hate him.
And it was just like him to push the burden of killing Sam off on Dean. He did it Sam’s whole life, didn’t he? Hell, when it came down to it, Dean was the one who actually raised Sam.
Why shouldn’t he be the one to take him out if Sam went dark side?
God, everything was a mess.
Because what about Harry?
Was Sam like his little brother, magical, or was Sam like Max and Ansem, evil?
Sam shouldn’t even be on a case, his head was a wreck. But what if Azazel had done that on purpose to distract him from whatever was happening in the town? There was something that would kill dozens of people by the end of the day, Sam couldn’t walk away from that.
“Morning.” Sam walked in the doctor’s office, looking around and noting that it was precisely the one he had a vision of. Judging from the easy smile from the nurse in blue scrubs at the desk though, he arrived before the dozens of deaths happened.
Or that nurse was just sick.
Sam flashed a smile and his fake CDC badge, giving her just a few seconds with them both before he pulled out a notebook and pen and adopting a solemn expression.
“I’m here about a possible infection that’s spreading in this area,” Sam said smoothly, having had multiple hours to plan his story. “Have you had anything similar?”
“I mean…” The nurse blinked innocent brown eyes up at Sam while she twisted a lock of blonde hair around one finger. “We’ve had a few cases of a cold?”
Sam smiled wryly. He was shooting mostly blind, but he was still pretty sure he was there for something more than a common cold.
“Any recent illness-related deaths?” Sam asked, watching closely for any tells. “Anything you couldn’t explain?”
“Nothing that I know of,” she answered slowly. “Doctor Robin usually handles the deaths though.”
“Are they here?”
“No.”
Sam reminded himself that nursing school was hard and surely the woman in front of him was not actually an idiot.
“Can I get their contact information then?” Sam asked with a forced and strained smile.
It was easier to get information when Dean was with him. Even if Dean didn’t just charm it out of their witnesses, the two of them made a more intimidating show than Sam did on his own.
The nurse did cough up the home address for the doc though and Sam continued to resist the urge to call Dean.
If Dad told Dean to kill Sam, Dean would have told him.
Demons lied, Dean didn’t.
Sam didn’t acknowledge the thought that if he didn’t think Dean would lie - had been lying - then he would call him.
International calls probably didn’t work on their prepaid burners, that was all.
Sam thrummed anxious fingers on the steering wheel while he drove to the doctor’s home. The notebook in the passenger seat, filled with everything Sam knew about Azazel and all of Sam’s visions to date, was just as much of a distraction as the phone lying on top of it.
Avoiding a potentially horrifying conversation was a healthy choice to make in Sam’s current situation. He wasn’t being a coward. Dean was busy, Sam was busy.
They would talk later. Tomorrow, when everyone was back at Bobby’s.
Dean and Harry could tell Sam about the quidditch game, Sam would tell Dean about the vision and Azazel and ask him what he knew.
And then, a snarky part of Sam’s brain interrupted his neat fantasy, everyone lives happy ever after.
They could, they really could.
The neighborhood where Doctor Robin lived was nice. There were rows of pretty polished houses with picket fences and happy families that were secured behind them. The doctor’s house was just as nice as all the others, a perfect picture clear to the ‘the doctor is in’ sign on the front door.
Sam raised his fist to knock and stilled just before his skin touched the door.
Was someone screaming?
It was muffled, but… Sam slowly reached for the doorknob with his left hand while his right went for his gun. When the muffled scream happened again, Sam turned the knob and slipped inside, gun out and ready.
The muffled screams increased as Sam vigilantly darted through a foyer and burst in a living room - just in time to see a boy, no older than Harry, with blood pouring down his face put a bullet through the back of a woman’s head.
When the boy’s face crumbled, when he whispered a broken “Mom”, Sam wondered if his power was magic or a curse.
Always arriving just in time to see the visions come true had to be a curse.
Sam had the boy disarmed easily, the boy didn’t even fight him. It left Sam in the uncomfortable position of comforting the boy while his mother’s body cooled ten feet from them, the killer sobbing in Sam’s chest. When the boy had some control over himself, Sam led him outside where Sam’s medical kit could clean up the gashes that were raked down his face.
The blood was a mixture of the kid’s and the blood spatter from his mom. Sam knew that it was all the same blood, everyone bled the same color, but shouldn’t there be a difference?
Shouldn’t the blood of the killer be darker than the blood of the victim?
“Can you tell me what happened?” Sam asked the boy gently. The kid was still shaking, probably in some sort of shock, and he told Sam the story woodenly.
“My mom… she attacked me,” he whispered, voice thick with obvious misery. Sam tried to give him a warm and understanding look, but Sam was cold and didn’t understand at all.
“So you tied her up?” Sam asked, referring to the ropes that had been wrapped around the woman.
“No, no that was my dad,” the boy said, shaking his head. “She attacked him too, got him in the head with that gun… When Dad hit the floor, Mom just smiled at me, her eyes went completely black, and I - I - what did I do?!”
The kid’s knees collapsed under him and Sam just caught him beneath the arms. With the new information, Sam needed to get back inside, so he lowered the kid to the ground, letting him curl up against himself with his back against Sam’s car. Sam reached out and smoothed the kid’s hair in an attempt at comfort before turning around and heading back inside.
It sounded like the mom, Doctor Robin, had been possessed. But no gun in the world could kill a demon, not outside of the Colt that had been forged with phoenix ash and blood of an angel.
According to the lore Dad told them, anyway. Dad wasn’t always right though, he just wasn’t.
Sam went to the body of the doctor, hesitantly checking her pulse. There wasn’t one, and there weren’t any signs of a demonic possession either. Had the kid imagined the black eyes? Maybe the mom just went crazy, attacked her family, ended up dead?
No. Sam’s visions didn’t lead him to domestic battery scenes, there were demons at play somewhere.
Sam hefted the body of the kid’s dad over his shoulder once he found him still breathing in the corner of the room. There was a nasty cut on his forehead above a bruise that was rising up, proof of the kid’s story.
None of it made any sense though.
After loading the kid and his dad in the backseat of his car and beginning to drive back to the doctor’s office, Sam sighed tiredly.
The phone was still mocking him, taunting him into calling Dean. Sam wouldn’t do it, he couldn’t.
Bobby though… Sam could call him.
Sam carried the dad inside the doctor’s office, dropping him on the only exam bed in the building, before promising the nurse that he would be right back to explain everything. The kid sat in the chair in the exam room, his pale face still oozing blood from the gashes, and he didn’t so much as glance up before Sam excused himself.
There wasn’t anything Sam could do for the kid. He killed his mom and it sucked and he would remember it for the rest of his life. Even if it had been a demon inside the woman, it still wore the face of the woman that tucked that kid in at night. She had probably been a great mom… or good enough, anyway.
Right up until she attacked him. Right up until she became a monster.
Then the kid shot her. He didn’t want to, it was self defense. Maybe his dad even told him to do it right before he went unconscious.
Then the kid wasn’t someone who killed a member of his family, he was just a good son following orders.
Sam stood outside the doctor’s office to call Bobby, idly tracing the word ‘Roanoke’ that had been carved in a wooden post that held up the porch roof.
The line didn’t even ring. It beeped three long beeps in a row followed with:
“Your call cannot be completed as dialed. Please try again.”
Sam frowned at his phone, seeing he had no signal at all. Not even one bar. Even when Sam stepped out toward the road and held the phone up, he had no signal at all.
Whatever.
Sam could work the case on his own, he didn’t need confirmation from Bobby that everything was messed up and nothing made much sense.
Sam went back inside to speak with the nurse and found her in a small pharmaceutical lab, bent over a desk, her eye pressed to a microscope.
“Agent?” She lifted her head when she heard Sam enter the room and she tilted it, inviting him closer. “Come look at this.”
Sam really hoped she wasn’t coming on to him because, frankly, he had never been less in the mood than he was. It was with extreme wariness that Sam crossed the room and bent at the waist, bringing his eye to the microscope.
“Look at the red blood cells,” the nurse said. “The wobbled edges, those cells? See them?”
Sam did see them, they didn’t look anything like what Sam thought they should. Biology had never been a big interest of his, but he had passed enough AP classes to recognize that the cells were abnormal.
“If I didn’t know any better, I would say those cells have sulfur mixed with them,” the nurse told Sam. “But…” She smiled nervously when Sam yanked his head away, his heart beginning to hammer in his chest. “That’s crazy, right?”
Was it? Was it crazy?
“Whose blood is this?” It couldn’t be Doctor Robin’s, Sam left her body behind and her blood had been washed off the kid’s face when Sam patched him up.
“It’s Doctor Robin’s son,” she answered, her brows furrowed. “Something doesn’t add up. I don’t understand why Doctor Robin would attack her boy, she loved him, doted on him.”
“Where’s Doctor Robin’s son and husband?” Sam asked, wanting to reinterview them.
If the doctor wasn’t actually possessed by a demon, could she have some sort of demon sickness? Something that gave her the black eyes the kid saw, but not the actual soul of a demon inhabiting her body? If so… did the kid have it? Was it infectious through blood contact? Why else would the kid have sulfur in his blood?
“This way.” The nurse flashed Sam a smile when she took him just across the hall where the son and husband waited. “I’m Emily, by the way. It seems like we’re on the case together so I thought we could be on a first name basis.”
“Sam,” Sam said, leaving it at that. He did stop outside the door to get the name of the son, Dustin, and husband, Ray. Emily said that the doctor had worked in the town for the last thirty years, since the day that she obtained her medical license. Robin and Ray had married fresh out of high school, their family was a classic and quiet family-next-door.
It went without saying that the death of the doctor was a tragedy, the crime the worst the town had seen in years.
Sam remained sympathetic while he interviewed Ray, who had woken up. Ray gave the same story that Dustin had on scene. Robin went crazy, Ray tried to tie her up, she attacked him with the gun he carried. Dustin must have gotten the fight in the scuffle, when she tried to attack Dustin, Dustin shot her.
“I’m so sorry,” Sam told Ray, meaning it. The man looked shattered, broken. He lost his wife in a moment of violence, it was never fair. When Sam reached out to put an understanding hand on Ray’s shoulder, Ray shuddered beneath his touch, silent cries shaking his body.
“My Robin… she wasn’t even herself,” Ray cried. “And Dustin… God, my boy…”
Sam looked around for Dustin and saw he wasn’t in the room, hadn’t been since Ray started talking. Dustin was the one with the sulfur in his blood… where did he go?
“Stay here,” Sam said firmly to Ray, rising to his feet and moving his gun to his hand.
“Hey! Wait! You’re not going to hurt him are you?” Ray cried. “He’s a good boy, he wouldn’t even hurt a fly!”
“Just stay here,” Sam repeated.
From what Emily and Ray said, Robin was just as soft-hearted. Certainly no one expected her to attack her son, try to kill her husband. But if she had been infected with some sort of demon virus, if Dustin had sulfur in his blood…
Bad blood couldn’t be fixed, only stopped.
The lobby of the doctor’s office was filled when Sam checked the room for Dustin. Apparently, Doctor Robin wasn’t the only one who woke up that day with black eyes and violent behavior. There were at least ten people in the lobby, screaming and crying at the nurse, overlapping each other with stories of family members behaving strangely.
No Dustin.
Sam turned back to the short hallway that held three rooms – the exam room, the pharmaceutical lab, and an unmarked door that seemed to be a storage room. Sam could see in the lab, see it was empty, and so he turned the doorhandle of the storage room door.
The room was dark, silent.
It took Sam less than a second to have his eyes adjust to the darkness and see that the doctor’s son, just a teenage boy, was slumped against the wall, black blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
Sam didn’t need to check his pulse to know he was dead.
"Damn it." Sam slumped against the doorway, feeling ancient. Dustin couldn't be older than fourteen, fifteen max. He was the same age as Harry. Death was never easy, it was grievous and it left behind deep pains, but when it was a kid?
Sam hated cases that involved kids.
It was going to get worse too, Sam just knew it. With all those citizens complaining about their loved ones and their new personalities, it was only a matter of time before the death toll climbed and the town burned itself out, just as it had in the vision Azazel gave Sam the night before.
What the hell was going on in that town?