The flames blazed up fiercely as they headed towards Dean.
Son of a...
He was up off the bed and on his feet before the pillow hit, already grabbing for the towel hanging over the back of a chair. He flung it over the flames, trying to smother them before they took hold and set the whole bed on fire, but without success. It wasn't that the fire was escaping from under the edges of the cloth; it came licking out through it, reaching up hungrily at Dean's hands without even burning through the towel itself.
Dean pulled back quickly and grabbed for Jacob, intending to get the kid out of the room before the fire could take hold. His hand met flames, and he jerked away in shock. The fire was already up around Jacob, flickering about his face, but as Dean watched he realised it wasn't burning the kid. More than that, Jacob didn't even seem to be aware of it.
Shit. This thing just kept getting better.
'Jacob,' he said, keeping his voice quiet but urgent. 'You have to stop it. You have to get it under control. Now.'
Jacob was now staring at the flames twining around his arm, looking dazed.
'Jacob,' Dean said, raising his voice in the hope of gaining the boy's attention. 'Jacob, c'mon, look at me.'
The kid slowly raised his head, his expression still dazed. As his eyes met Dean's, though, something shifted and the confusion suddenly gave way to panic.
'What's happening? What did you do to me?' He was coming back to himself now, voice rising in fear.
'C'mon, Jacob, you know better than that. You can control it, come on.' Dean was trying to keep his tone calm, but the fire was spreading, rising up around the bed, and he wasn't sure how long he had before the whole room went up. He shifted experimentally towards the door, and a new line of flame shot out from the bed, cutting him off.
Oh, this was going to hell real fast.
Dean took a shallow breath, trying not to choke on the smoke that was building up in the room.
'I'm on fire,' Jacob moaned, panic taking over. 'I'm burning, I'm - oh god, put it out, put it out, make it stop!'
'Cool it,' Dean ordered, borrowing his father's old tone of command. He heard his phone start up in his pocket; he was dimly aware that it wasn't the first time it had gone off, but now so wasn't the time. 'Calm the hell down, Jacob, it's not hurting you. You're not burning, see? Now you're the only one who can put it out, so just - breathe with me, OK?'
'I can't.' Jacob was sobbing now, so worked up that he was hardly listening at all. 'It isn't me, it isn't, I can't...' He was sucking in great lungfuls of smoke as he sobbed, but it didn't seem to be affecting him at all.
'It is you, Jacob,' Dean said, his voice hard. No time to go easy on the kid. 'I know you wish it wasn't, but it is. Now get it together. Now.'
The flames flared up higher, surging towards Dean. Shit. He tensed, ready to get the hell out of there, even if it did mean running through the flames.
Then, abruptly, the fire disappeared altogether.
He let his breath out slowly. 'Nice work, Jacob.' He crossed to the window and flung it open to let some of the smoke out. When he turned back to the bed, Jacob was still staring at him.
Ignoring the damage to the comforter, Dean sat back down, angled round to face the kid. Jacob was very pale and still a little glassy-eyed. 'You still with me?' Dean asked, more gently now that the immediate danger was past.
Jacob nodded faintly, shakily, which Dean figured was better than nothing.
'OK,' Dean said. 'Let's just stay cool, OK? You're not hurt, are you?'
Jacob stared down at his unmarked arms as if he'd never seen them before. 'It - it didn't burn me. It - how could - I don't understand.' His voice was strained and still desperately close to tears.
Dean took a deep breath, wondering how the hell he was going to explain something he didn't understand yet himself. 'I've gotta be honest, Jacob, I'm not sure what's going on. But it seems pretty clear the fire comes from you...' Inspiration hit. 'Like Pyro, remember? In the X-Men? You've just gotta figure out how to control it.'
Jacob stared at him in horror. 'You're saying I'm a mutant?'
'Dude, mutants can be cool!' Dean realised belatedly that Pyro might not be such a great role model, as far as mutants went. 'But no, not a mutant, exactly. Just... you have a gift.' Great, now he was sounding like a fucking daytime movie special.
'Gift?' Jacob choked out, staring at the charred ruins of his bedspread.
'It's OK,' Dean said again, keeping his voice as soothing as he could, even though it wasn't OK, wasn't OK at all. 'We're gonna figure this out, all right? You just gotta stay calm. No one's hurt, no harm no foul.'
Jacob's gaze shot back to him suddenly. 'You - you're not hurt?'
'I'm fine,' Dean reassured him immediately. Well, truth be told, he was a bit singed around the edges, but nothing all that serious by his standards. 'I'm fine, Jacob, it didn't hurt me.'
'Oh god,' Jacob whispered, turning paler instead of being reassured. 'I - Zach. The fire, that was me. I hurt him. I almost killed - oh god, I didn't mean to, I didn't -'
'Jacob, Zach's fine,' Dean interrupted. 'The fire wasn't your fault - I think we've pretty much established that you had no idea what was happening.'
'But what if he hadn't been?' Jacob said wildly. 'What if it happens again? What if I kill someone without even meaning to? If Rebecca hadn't noticed the fire -'
'But he was fine,' Dean said firmly. 'No point in panicking about might-have-beens. As for the rest, we're going to work on making sure it doesn't happen again, OK?'
Jacob stared at him for a long moment, then slowly the tension began to bleed away from his shoulders. 'OK,' he said, and managed a tremulous smile.
Dean smiled back reassuringly, then looked up to realise the room was half-dark. 'Dude, I better get you home. Your folks are gonna be freaking out.'
Jacob glanced across at the window as if he'd only just realised how late it was himself. 'Oh. I... don't think they'll be all that bothered. But yeah, OK.'
'You might be surprised,' Dean said gently, and stood. 'C'mon, let's go. I'll introduce you to my baby.'
~*~
The motel room was small and, as Sam paced from one side of it to the other, it felt even smaller.
Dean hadn't answered any of his calls, and a brief search of the streets near where the Areys were staying had revealed no sign of his brother, or of Jacob Arey. Out of ideas, Sam had returned to the motel, half-hoping to find Dean there. But the room had been as empty as they'd left it. Outside, it was getting dark.
Sam tried to tell himself that Dean had just left his phone somewhere or - more likely - that he'd gotten distracted by whoever had left that lipstick kiss on the corner of his mouth the day he'd 'interviewed' the neighbours. But Joshua's warning refused to leave his mind.
He pulled out his cell phone and checked for messages again. Still nothing. It was tempting to try calling Dean again, but Sam forced himself to put his phone away. His brother would have answered if he could, although the thought of what might be stopping him was not a happy one. Sam was about to resume his pacing when the door opened and Dean walked in.
He stank of sweat and smoke, and small burn marks were visible on his clothes, but Sam could barely take any of that in over the rush of relief he felt at the sight of him. 'Where the fuck have you been, Dean? You didn't answer your cell, I thought...'
'Was a little too busy to answer the phone, Sam,' Dean said, closing the door behind him and shrugging out of his leather jacket, frowning as he inspected a burnt spot on it.
'You found Jacob, huh?' Sam looked more closely at his brother, noting the burns on his hands and the drawn tiredness around his eyes. 'Bathroom, now.'
He pushed Dean down to sit on the edge of the bath and broke out the first aid kit. 'So, what went down?' He caught his breath as he looked at the burns. Not hospital bad - this time - but nasty. 'Jesus, Dean, what the hell did he do to you?'
'He didn't mean to,' Dean said, overly casual. 'I kinda suggested the fires might have had something to do with him, and he freaked. No big deal.'
'Dean, some of these are second-degree burns!' Sam exclaimed. 'You're covered in smoke - if this is no big deal, what the hell happens when Jacob thinks something is a big deal?'
'I meant the burns are no big deal, ass,' Dean said, pulling his hand away. 'Of course it's a big deal for Jacob - I just all but told him he nearly burnt his brother to death. How the hell was the kid supposed to react?'
'Not by nearly burning you to death, for fuck's sake! Dean, we've gotta do something about this.' Sam caught hold of Dean's hand again, pressing a wet cloth against the tender skin.
'Yeah, we do,' Dean agreed, wincing. 'Or we're gonna end up with another Max Miller on our hands. You were right about him being the one starting the fires - he's lashing out at people who've hurt him, though at least he hasn't been doing it on purpose. We need to get him some help, make him learn to control his abilities.' He rubbed his free hand across his face, looking suddenly tired.
Sam let the cloth drop, squeezed Dean's shoulder apologetically. 'I wish it were that simple, but he's not one of the psychics, Dean. Joshua thinks we might be dealing with some kind of parasite, something that sunk its claws into him out in Russia. He's not in control, Dean. He's a danger to everyone around him. This isn't like Max - Jacob can't stop.'
'You called - I thought we agreed not to bring him in on this, Sam,' Dean said sharply.
Sam shook his head in disbelief. 'We were in way over our heads, man, we needed the help.'
'Guess it's done now,' Dean muttered, still not looking happy. 'What makes you so sure Joshua's right? The way Jacob's abilities are spiralling, it looks to me like the yellow-eyed demon might be involved.'
'The timings don't fit, Dean. Jacob wasn't exactly six months when his mother died - he was closer to seven. And I - all the other kids like me - we didn't come into our powers until we were grown up. Joshua says these parasitic demons really take hold at puberty.' Sam paused, searching through the first-aid kit to find a bit of gauze. He gently bandaged the worst burn, frowning in concentration as he tried to figure out a way of arranging the bandage so it wouldn't get in the way too much.
Dean flexed his fingers experimentally, eyes still on Sam's face as Sam continued, 'I found some gossip about how badly Jacob was burned when the fireman brought him out of the house. Seems like it was more than a miraculous escape - the kid virtually came back from the dead. If it was a parasite, it would have done that, healed him.'
'...Keep the host alive,' Dean murmured distantly, and Sam could almost see the realisation setting in. 'Son of a bitch. Joshua have any bright ideas on what we should do about it?'
Sam bit his lip. 'We didn't really get that far. Joshua was kind of going on guesswork anyway - it wasn't anything he'd seen himself. But at least now we know the kind of thing we're looking for.'
'So,' Dean said heavily. 'More research.'
Sam checked Dean's hand over one last time, tugging gently at the bandage to be sure it would hold. 'Yeah, more research. It'll keep until morning, though.' He released Dean's hand and lifted the other, running a practised eye over it, deciding none of the burns were bad enough to need bandaging. 'You burnt anywhere else?'
'Dude, I'm fine,' Dean said, though he didn't tug his hand away. 'Quit fussing.'
Sam rolled his eyes. 'C'mon, let's find some food. I'm hungry for barbecue.'
He made it halfway out of the bathroom before the wet washcloth hit the back of his head.
~*~
Dean towelled himself off, inspecting his body for damage as he did so. In the morning light, the burns he'd sustained didn't look didn't look nearly as bad as Sam had made out the previous night. Much as he would have liked to have chalked that up to Sammy overreacting, he suspected there might be more to it than that. He peeled off the bandage to find there were only a few red patches to show where the worst of the burns had been. He wasn't sure he liked the implications, but he wasn't complaining.
He emerged from the bathroom to the blissful smell of coffee.
'I got breakfast,' Sam said, looking up from his laptop. His eyes flickered over Dean for a moment, assessing the damage for himself. 'How're your hands?'
'Good as new,' Dean said lightly, taking a swig of his coffee before digging out some clothes and starting to dress.
'Seriously?' Sam asked, sounding sceptical. 'Let me see.'
Dean gave a martyred sigh and held them out for Sam's inspection, then punched his brother lightly on the shoulder and went back to buttoning up his shirt. 'They're good enough for me to take you, trust me.'
'Well, that's good, I guess,' Sam said, still sounding a little dubious.
Dean took another gulp of his coffee and grabbed the bag of food Sam had left on the table. 'Yeah, no need to sound too happy that I'm OK, dude. You found anything useful?'
'Yeah, I'm pretty sure I've figured out what we're dealing with here. There's a demon from that part of the world that fits the bill - fire, healing powers, sounds like our guy. There's not much lore on it - otherwise we probably would have found it before - but there's enough once you know what you're looking for. ' Sam turned the laptop round to show Dean his notes.
'I dunno, it's not a lot to go on, Sammy.' Dean reached out to scroll down the page and Sam jerked the computer back.
'Dean! Jelly doughnuts, dude. I realise you have trouble grasping this, but we need the computer to actually work.' Sam brought up the next bit of text and set it back in front of his brother.
Dean flipped him off, then sucked sugar off his fingers and looked through the notes. 'Yeah...' he said finally. 'I guess it fits. The healing thing, at least.' He shoved his hands in his pockets. 'Any clues on how to deal with it?'
'Well, it's a demon,' Sam said. 'It should be pretty standard - holy water, exorcism... I've checked out the Orthodox rites, just in case it needs something a bit more specific.'
'Whoa, whoa, hold it,' Dean said. 'Whether it's this...' He squinted at the screen. '...this K'daai thing or not, it's not your standard demon. Jacob wasn't acting like your usual possessed person, either - he wasn't trying to hurt me. Would an exorcism even work on this thing?'
'You were burnt pretty badly last night, Dean,' Sam pointed out. 'If Joshua was right with his parasite theory, it may not act precisely like a normal possession. But I think an exorcism will still work - if it reacts to Christo and holy water, we'll know it should.'
Dean pushed away the bag of doughnuts. 'Sam - he's just a kid.'
'Yeah, Dean, but that doesn't mean whatever's possessing him is. It's only a matter of time before he really hurts someone.' Sam met his eyes. 'I know exorcisms aren't exactly fun, but once it's done the poor kid can have a normal life.'
'You don't know that,' Dean said. 'There's no way we can know that, Sam. If the thing's been healing him...'
He bit his lip and looked at the floor. When he looked back at Sam, his brother was still regarding him steadily. What had happened with Meg hung between them, unspoken.
'It was the right thing to do,' Sam said quietly. 'Even...' he trailed off.
Dean shook his head and looked away. 'It was different, Sam. She was trapped in there, and we put an end to it. And it was still a fucking lousy thing to have to do.' He took a deep breath, resisted the urge to start pacing across the room. 'It's different with this kid. We can't just...'
'Dean, what's the alternative? That he has to go on, never knowing when he might hurt someone, when it's going to get out of his control? We owe it to him to try and get rid of this.'
'And if we kill him in the process?'
'Then it's better than making him live with that on his conscience. There are worse things than dying, Dean.' Sam looked away, fingers rubbing unconsciously at his sleeve, back and forth over the scar on his forearm.
'He's a goddamn kid, Sammy,' Dean repeated helplessly. 'He's twelve,for christ's sake.'
'We'll keep looking, Dean,' Sam promised. 'There might be something else we can try. But if it looks like his powers are getting out of control...'
Dean nodded silently and took a long swig of his now-cold coffee. 'So, what's the plan for today? More research, right?'
The corner of Sam's mouth turned up at the resignation in Dean's tone. 'Pretty much, yeah. I thought -' He broke off, head tilting to the side as he listened.
Cold realisation settled in Dean's stomach as he made out the sound of fire sirens.
~*~
It wasn't hard to find the fire, since half the fire trucks in town seemed to be converging on the same block. Dean paled when he saw where they were headed.
The middle school.
The site was in chaos, kids clustered outside in varying states of panic, while faculty tried to call roll and get them into some kind of order.
Dean pulled up at the far end of the parking lot, far enough away not to attract attention, and made for the trunk. He and Sam worked quickly and efficiently, grabbing equipment without the need for discussion.
Sam pushed a bottle of holy water at him, and Dean hesitated for a moment before closing his hand around it and jamming it into his pocket. He surveyed the rest of their weapons, and ran a mental inventory of what he had on him, trying to figure out if there was anything else he'd need. Holy water, salt, knife, gun...
There was no telling what they'd need, but that would have to do. He slammed the trunk closed, then met Sam's eyes and jerked his head towards the school. 'Let's go.'
Getting in wasn't as hard as Dean had feared: the school had mostly emptied out by now, and there was enough chaos that they managed to slip around to the back and in without anyone challenging them.
Inside, they could smell the smoke almost at once.
Shit, Dean thought. This was no small, contained fire.
They moved down the corridor as quickly as they could. No one else was in sight, to Dean's relief - hopefully all the kids had gotten out already. But even if they had, he had a feeling Jacob was still in there somewhere.
'This way,' Sam said, nodding to the right. 'The smoke was coming from that end of the school.'
The smell of the smoke grew stronger as they made their way through the building, and Dean winced. He shot a sideways glance at Sam. Fires were one thing he always tried hard to keep Sam as far away from as possible.
Then again, he'd had worse failures over the past few months.
Sam's eyes were dark, but he seemed to be holding it together OK. 'Here,' he said, and Dean followed.
The hallways were abandoned, doors standing open to reveal empty classrooms. Dean glanced into each one as they passed, checking that no one had been left behind. They rounded a corner, and the source of the fire became clear: at the end of the hall, one door remained firmly shut, smoke seeping out from underneath. Sam made towards it, but Dean caught his arm.
'Hold it, Sam.' He retreated down the hallway a little, dragging Sam into a bathroom - the girls' bathroom, according to the sign on the door, but who was checking? Dean shucked off his jacket and overshirt, gesturing to Sam to do the same. He dumped both their shirts under the faucet and turned it on full, soaking the fabric.
When they returned from the bathroom, smoke was pouring out even faster from underneath the closed door. Dean eyed it, and decided touching the door would be a bad idea unless he wanted to burn his hands badly this time. He wrapped his wet shirt around his face and shot a glance at Sam to make sure he was doing the same.
Then he kicked the door once, hard, and it flew open.