The sound of the laptop slamming shut echoed around the motel room, and Sam looked up in annoyance.
'Dammit, Dean, I've only just got the computer working again.'
'Yeah, well, you didn't do a real good job, Sammy,' Dean said, setting it down carelessly on the bed. 'I think whatever that fucking trickster god set up is still downloading porn on the sly.'
Sam rolled his eyes. 'For... Dean, I fixed that. Give it here. How many programs have you got running, man? No wonder it's so slow. And look at all these tabs! Somehow I don't think it's the trickster downloading the porn, Dean.'
Dean was wearing his best wounded expression. 'Dude, didn't we get past you accusing me of that shit?'
'Busty blonde beauties?' Sam quoted, eyeing Dean pointedly. 'That's not an accusation, Dean, that's cold, hard evidence.'
Dean grinned. 'Warm and soft, Sammy, warm and soft.'
'You...' Sam shook his head in exasperation and started trying to repair his laptop. Again.
Dean was still smirking when his cellphone burst to life. He grabbed it, but grimaced as he caught sight of the caller ID.
'Aren't you gonna answer that?' Sam asked, glancing up from the laptop.
Dean just looked at him. 'Dude, my ears are still ringing from him chewing us out, and that was a week ago now.'
'It's Bobby?' Sam asked, surprised. Then a smile spread slowly across his face. 'Better you than me, man.'
'Jeez,' Dean muttered, and grimaced at the phone one last time before sliding it open. 'Bobby! Hi! Good to hear from you.'
Sam leaned back in his chair, laughing quietly at Dean's expression. His laughter faded, though, as the false grin fell away, replaced by grim seriousness.
'When did it happen? Uhuh... Phoenix? OK, Bobby, we'll take care of it,' Dean was saying.
Sam was on his feet and packing before Dean had even ended the call. 'Everything OK?' he asked, as his brother slid his cell shut.
'Bobby's got a gig for us in Arizona... he's working on a haunting at the moment, can't make it himself. And - he figured we might want to take this one.'
'Why?' Sam said, already feeling an uneasy intimation that he wasn't going to like the answer.
'House fire two days ago, no obvious cause,' Dean said flatly. 'Fire started in the nursery.'
Sam stared, clean clothes forgotten in his hands. 'Fuck. You think...?'
'Don't know, Sammy, but it's sure as hell worth checking out. All the family got out fine, but...'
Sam stared for a moment longer, then snapped into action, grabbing the still-frozen laptop and shoving it into its case.
'If you move your ass, we might be able to get there tonight,' Dean said, glancing pointedly across at Sam's book lying on the bedside table.
For once, Sam didn't argue, just moved. Even though he had a gnawing feeling they were already too late.
~*~
Sam shivered as they approached the house, hunching deeper into his hoody. He tried to tell himself it was the dawn chill, but he knew it had at least as much to do with the sight of the smoke-marred house, windows empty and bare compared to the snugly drawn curtains of its neighbours.
Dean led the way around to the back of the house, picking the lock quickly and silently. He pushed the door open and stepped inside. Sam hesitated, glancing over at the neighbouring yard to be sure no early risers were around to observe their entry, but there was no sign of life. He followed his brother into the kitchen, closing the door behind him.
The acrid smell that hit them was painfully familiar, though Sam tried to ignore it as they made their way further into the house. He saw Dean register it too; his brother moved one step closer, hand poised by his gun.
Too many bad memories. Sam tried to shake them off, and led the way out into the hall.
The living-room door was standing open; most of the furniture was still in place, with just a few empty spaces to suggest the family had grabbed their most important belongings before leaving.
Dean stalked past the open door and up the stairs, heading for where the smoke damage was worst. He stopped by the door at the head of the stairs, charred frame and peeling paint showing that this was where the fire had started.
Sam followed more hesitantly.
The room must have been the nursery, but there was almost nothing left to show it, save a solitary singed strip of wallpaper next to the door with a discoloured rainbow on it. Most of the furniture was reduced to charred lumps.
They both had years of experience of wandering around in damaged buildings, were good at judging where it was safe to step and where to stand the hell back if they didn't want to fall right through. Sam knew that, structurally, the room was safe.
He still didn't step inside.
Dean exhaled sharply, glanced back at Sam for a second, then headed cautiously into the room. Sam swallowed down his instinctive protest, took a deep, smoke-tinged breath, and followed his brother.
It was clear that the crib had been the focal point of the fire: the rug was charred and melted near the centre of the room, right where the early morning sun shone in. Sam could imagine the family planning the nursery, thinking about the way the sunlight would shine down on their baby.
For a moment, he tried not to look, but his eyes were drawn inevitably to the ceiling, and he had to take another shaky breath.
It was scorched, black with smoke, but it looked sound, not as though it were about to fall in. In fact, it didn't look as badly damaged as the floor where the crib had been.
'Dean,' he said quietly, nodding at it.
Dean followed his gaze. 'Huh. EMF meter says there was definitely something in here when that fire started, but... I'm thinking we need to talk to the family.'
'You said they all got out?' Sam asked.
'Yeah,' Dean confirmed, gaze still swinging from the ceiling to the floor and back again. 'Let's get out of here and track them down.'
He headed out of the room, moving fast, without looking back. Sam glanced around once more, then wasted no time in following.
~*~
As it turned out, the Areys weren't too difficult to track down. Dean charmed a local storekeeper into telling him the family was staying with friends, Sam figured out where the friends lived, and they were in with no problems.
Mrs Arey was pale and evidently still shaken up, bandaged hands hugging her arms. 'It's good of you to come,' she said. 'I just can't understand what happened... like I told the other firemen, there was nothing in the room that could have started that fire.'
'That's what we're trying to figure out,' Sam said soothingly. 'Perhaps you could tell us exactly what happened? Any detail might be the clue we need to find out what caused this.'
'It all just happened so fast,' Mrs Arey murmured, staring down at her cup of coffee as if it might hold some answers.
'The fire started at night..?' Dean prompted. 'Were you sleeping?'
'My husband, Gavril - he's at work just now - was sleeping,' she said. 'I got up to feed the baby, and then Jacob - that's our son - woke up wanting a glass of water.'
'What happened then?' Sam asked gently.
'I fed Zach,' she said. 'Everything was normal. There wasn't anything that could have -' She broke off and took a deep breath. 'I tucked him in and started back to bed and - it was just a moment, I didn't even reach the end of the hallway - I turned back, and there were flames -' She was growing increasingly upset, and Sam did his best to soothe her, ignoring Dean's uncomfortable expression.
'And - and then I ran back and it was the crib, the crib was on fire, and I pulled Zach out...'
'You all got out OK, right?' Dean said awkwardly, touching her arm briefly.
'Yes,' she said, an almost-smile flitting across her face. 'Yes, thank goodness - I was so worried about Zach, but the hospital checked him over, the doctors said he was fine. If I hadn't been right there...' She swallowed hard, eyes straying to the crib standing in the corner of the room.
'You were lucky,' Dean said, voice rough. 'You did good, too, keeping your head and getting everyone out of there.'
'Is that...?' Sam asked, nodding towards the crib.
'Yes, Zachary's sleeping,' Mrs Arey said, standing up to check on him nervously.
Sam followed her across the room. He wasn't sure exactly what he had been expecting, whether he'd imagined he'd somehow be able to tell if this was another one of the psychic kids, someone else like him. All he could see was a baby. Tiny and defenceless and sound asleep. A small burn marred the side of his face, but otherwise... 'He's beautiful,' Sam said softly.
Dean stayed on the couch. 'Mrs Arey,' he said. 'I know it's hard, but it's really important we know. Did you notice anything else? See anyone strange, maybe? Smell something, even?'
The doting smile melted from her face and she started fidgeting again. 'What do you mean? Someone - you think someone might have... No, there was no one! Jacob was the only other person awake, and no one could have got into the house.'
Sam had his doubts about that, but kept them to himself. 'And no strange smells? Whatever caused the fire might have -'
'No,' Mrs Arey said emphatically. 'There was nothing like that at all. I would have noticed while I was feeding the baby. I don't understand what... And I don't care what the fire department thinks, there's no way a cigarette could have caused this - we would never allow anyone to smoke in the nursery.'
She paused for a moment, then burst out, 'If anything, it was more like - like spontaneous human combustion, or something.' She flushed as Sam and Dean shared a glance. 'Oh, I know that must sound like nonsense to you, but... the way it came up out of nowhere...'
'We can understand,' Sam said, keeping his voice neutral.
Mrs Arey bent over the crib and tucked the blanket in more securely around the sleeping baby. 'It's like this family's cursed, or something,' she said, almost inaudibly. 'You probably think I'm being silly - I know it's not just us, there've been a lot of little fires around here recently - but... this has been so hard on my husband. Gavril lost his first wife to a fire, and this brings it all back for him. Jacob, too, although of course he was too young to really remember it.'
'Do you think we could talk to Jacob?' Sam asked tentatively. 'Maybe he saw something, or heard something?'
'Oh,' Mrs Arey said, biting her lip, 'I don't know... he's only twelve. Is it really necessary?'
'We'll keep it short,' Dean promised.
Mrs Arey seemed unconvinced, but nodded. 'All right. Just a moment...' She started for the door, then hesitated, looking back at the crib. Finally she stepped into the hallway and called up the stairs, 'Jacob, honey, could you come here a moment?'
Jacob was a skinny, ungainly kid, at the awkward stage between childhood and adolescence. He came down the stairs slowly, clearly unwilling to leave whatever he'd been doing. 'What is it?' he asked abruptly, then stopped as he caught sight of Sam and Dean.
'Jacob, these nice men are from the fire department, and they'd like to ask you a few questions,' Mrs Arey said, glancing at them nervously.
'Hey, Jacob,' Dean said lightly, ignoring the kid's sullen look. 'We were just wondering if you could tell us a little bit about what happened the night of the fire. Maybe you know something that could help us, maybe heard something your mom didn't?'
'She's not my mom,' Jacob said fiercely. 'She's just my stepmom.'
Mrs Arey coloured a little. 'Yes, that's true - but I certainly love you like my own, Jacob.' Her tone was slightly pleading, like this was a conversation she'd had many times before.
'Yeah, sure,' Jacob said, coming down the last few stairs and properly into the room. 'Why are you asking me? I'm sure Rebecca's told you all about it. Who cares what I think?'
'We do,' Dean said firmly. 'Is there anything you can tell us, Jacob?'
Jacob shrugged. 'Zach woke me up with his crying, and then I got a glass of water. I went back to bed, and the next thing I knew she was screaming about a fire.'
'And you didn't see or hear anything unusual?' Sam pressed him.
'Nope.' The kid stared at him defiantly. 'Hard to hear anything over Zach's crying, anyway.'
Sam wasn't entirely satisfied, but it was clear they would get no more information at the moment. 'OK, thanks for your time, Jacob. We appreciate it. If you remember anything else, you be sure to let us know.'
Jacob turned, heading back into the hall.
'Would you like something to eat, honey?' Mrs Arey offered, moving towards him. 'I could make you something...' But Jacob was already running back up the stairs without acknowledging her.
'I'm sorry,' she said, turning back to Sam and Dean. 'He's been a little difficult lately, and the upset of the fire hasn't really improved matters.'
'There's no need to apologise, Mrs Arey,' Sam assured her. 'We know this has been hard for you all.'
'Please, call me Rebecca,' she said, mustering a smile. 'I really appreciate the fact that you're investigating this so thoroughly. I just want to be sure nothing like this happens to my family again.'
'That's what we all want. We'll be sure to get in touch if we have any more information for you,' Sam promised, and shook her hand. Dean followed suit.
'What d'you think?' Sam asked quietly as the door shut behind them.
'I dunno, Sam. It doesn't exactly match up with the other demon attacks,' Dean said doubtfully.
'No,' Sam conceded. 'But there's something weird going on, Dean. Fires don't just start like that for no reason. You really think it's a coincidence that it happened in the nursery?'
Dean shook his head, not arguing. 'Fine. Let's get out of here and see what we can dig up.'
Sam nodded his agreement, following Dean towards the car. As he climbed in, he glanced back at the house and saw Rebecca standing at the window, white-faced. Sam wished he'd been able to dismiss her fear that the family was somehow cursed, but he wasn't so sure she was on the wrong track.
Dean drove in silence, evidently lost in thought. Sam was just as glad to stay quiet: whether the yellow-eyed demon was involved or not, this case was still bringing up plenty of bad associations.
Finally Dean pulled up next to a large brick building and said, 'OK, Sammy, this is your stop.'
Sam stared at him in confusion for a moment before looking up at the building and seeing the sign: Public Library.
'We want the history of that house, Sammy boy. See if any other odd things have 'just happened' there.'
'And you think you're going to get away with sticking me with all the research because...?' Sam asked, donning his best martyred expression.
'C'mon, Sam, I know you're research-boy. Wouldn't want to tread on your toes.' Dean grinned. 'Besides, someone's gotta go talk to the neighbours, and I think we both know who's got the expertise when it comes to chatting to the ladies.'
'Yeah, Dean, you're a real ladykiller,' Sam said sarcastically, but he climbed out of the car. 'Whatever. Call me if you find something, OK?'
'You too, geekboy,' Dean returned blithely. 'Don't get too hot and heavy with the books, now.'
The Impala was pulling away before Sam could do more than roll his eyes in response.
The library was a modern building, large enough for Sam to hope that they would have a good selection of reference materials. He headed inside.
Any lingering resentment he might have felt at being consigned to the desk work yet again was dispelled at the sight of the librarian sitting at the reference desk. 'You picked the wrong gig, Dean,' Sam muttered under his breath, before striding over with a smile on his face.
~*~
Dean wasn't feeling quite so cheerful.
'So, young man, what is it you said you do, again?' Mrs Robinson bellowed across her kitchen table.
'I'm a -' Dean started.
'Speak up, young man!' she said loudly. 'All you young people mumble, these days.'
'I was wondering whether you could tell me about the fire across the road,' Dean said as loudly as he could.
'A terrible thing,' Mrs Robinson said, tutting. 'And with a baby in the house! That young woman, I've no doubt. Probably smoking over the crib or some such. Poor Gavril, hasn't he suffered enough?'
Dean leaned forward, then hastily back again as her overpowering perfume almost made his eyes water. 'You must know the family really well, Mrs Robinson,' he said encouragingly.
'I knew Gavril and Alice well, oh yes. Why, I knew Alice from a child. Her folks have always lived around here; I went to school with Artie, that's her father, you know.'
'Really?' said Dean, hoping he wasn't about to let himself in for a detailed account of Mrs Robinson's high school crush. 'They still have family here, then?'
'Oh no, not any more,' Mrs Robinson said mournfully. 'Artie died a few years back, and he and Grace never did have any other children. Still, most folks around here remember the Dahls. Naturally it was a comfort to Gavril, coming back to live among people who knew Alice.'
'What happened to Alice?' Dean asked. 'I heard she died when the little boy was a baby.'
Mrs Robinson shifted closer, assaulting his nostrils with another wave of sickly-sweet perfume, and patted his knee in what he fervently hoped was supposed to be a motherly fashion. 'Well. It didn't happen here, you know - the family was out east somewhere at the time - Poland, or Russia, or some such place. So I didn't see it myself. But, the way I heard it, there was a fire out there, too.' She nodded her head, gazing meaningfully into his eyes.
Dean swallowed hard. 'That's... that's terrible.'
'Oh, that it is,' Mrs Robinson agreed. 'A tragedy! And for the poor boy to lose his mother so young - he was only a few months old at the time. Terrible. Well, of course, Gavril brought him back here after that. Broken up, Gavril was, losing Alice like that. He did his best to cope, for Jacob's sake, but a boy that young needs his mother, you know.'
Dean took a deep breath. 'Yeah,' he replied, chalking up the slight waver in his voice to the perfume. 'Yeah, I know. So Gavril remarried?'
'Well, not right away, of course,' Mrs Robinson confided. 'After Alice... no, he only met that young hussy of his a few years back. The wedding wasn't until last year.' She pursed her lips. 'It was lucky for her she didn't start showing until a month or so after, or she'd have ruined the lines of that fancy white dress of hers.'
'Mm,' Dean said, as neutrally as possible. 'You, er - you don't seem too fond of Mrs Arey, or, I should say, the new Mrs Arey...?' He trailed off, pretty sure that she wouldn't require any more encouragement than that.
Mrs Robinson sniffed. 'Well, I'm sure I'm not the kind of person to speak ill of her neighbours...'
'Of course not,' Dean agreed instantly, unable to entirely suppress his grin.
Mrs Robinson fixed him with a stern glare. 'It is no smiling matter, young man. She's a cruel and abusive woman, I'll have you know.'
Dean's eyes widened. 'Abusive?'
'Oh yes,' Mrs Robinson said, looking pleased to have gotten a reaction. 'My Tiddles - that's my cat -' She gestured towards a bundle of grey fur purring in the corner. 'I saw her kick him! Now, I don't care how many grocery bags you're carrying, there's no excuse for cruelty to animals! And as for how she treats young Jacob, well! Anyone can see the poor boy's miserable.'
'It must be hard for him, having a new stepmom,' Dean suggested.
'And a woman like that, as well,' Mrs Robinson said, shaking her head.
You'd think Rebecca was running some kind of crack den, Dean thought privately, and schooled his face into attentiveness as she continued. 'I don't know what Gavril was thinking, really I don't. Alice must be spinning in her grave, rest her soul.'
There was no non-suspicious way to ask the next question. Dean bit his lip. 'Where, uh, would that be exactly? Her grave?' At her look, he rushed on, 'I mean, it must be hard for them, if she's buried out east. It must be hard, not being able to visit her grave. I imagine.'
'They brought her ashes home,' Mrs Robinson said solemnly. 'Oh, Gavril did right by her, no fear of that. He wouldn't have abandoned her in some foreign country.'
Dean thought about pressing her for more information, but he figured he'd heard about as much as she knew. Besides, the overpowering scent of her perfume had now been augmented by an even more powerful stench, which he suspected was coming from the pile of rancid fur she'd referred to as Tiddles.
'Well,' he said, glancing at the clock, 'I'm afraid I'd better be going.' He raised his cup, and decided he was definitely entitled to one joke, under the circumstances. 'Here's to you, Mrs Robinson,' he said as smoothly as he could, not cracking a smile, and downed the last of his horribly weak coffee. 'Thanks for all your help.'
Mrs Robinson beamed at him. 'Such a polite young man.'
She followed him to the door, almost treading on his heels. 'You feel free to come back any time, dear,' she said. Before Dean knew what was happening, her somewhat terrifying cleavage was right under his nose - wafts of the hideous scent drifting up from it - and he was being treated to an extremely moist kiss on the cheek. He tried to pull away, but she had him cornered next to the door jamb, and she delivered a second smacker, perilously close to his mouth, before - oh god - pinching his cheek so hard that he thought she'd twist it right off.
Dean pulled away and staggered out of the door, getting out of range as quickly as he could. Mrs Robinson beamed at him again and gave him a little wave.
He made for the safety of the Impala as if the hounds of hell were on his heels.
~*~
Dean was not particularly surprised to find Sam surrounded by piles of books and papers when he reached the library. What was a surprise, however, was the extremely hot chick who was bent over them with him.
He scrubbed again at his cheek as he approached them. He wasn't sure he'd ever be able to obliterate the sensation of old-lady slaver. And it was quite possible his skin had been permanently dyed that shade of off-pink.
'Let me know if there's anything else at all I can do for you,' the hot chick was saying to Sam as Dean drew up next to him.
'Sorry, sweetheart,' Dean said. 'Sammy here's got work to do.'
Sam shot him an irritated look. 'Yeah, Dean, research. Which Ms Garner has been assisting me with, as she's a highly trained librarian.'
Dean quailed slightly beneath the force of their combined glares. 'Sorry, dude,' he muttered.
The librarian's glare softened only slightly when Dean tried his best charming grin on her. She turned back to Sam, breaking out in smiles once more. 'I'll just be over by the reference desk - give me a call if you need anything else.'
'Thank you, you've been a great help,' Sam said warmly, turning his full-force smile on her. Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
'You get anything done besides chatting up the hot chicks?' he asked once he was sure the librarian was out of earshot.
Sam raised his eyebrows, gaze dropping meaningfully to a spot beside Dean's mouth. 'Well, clearly I wasn't quite as successful at that as you've evidently been...'
Dean cringed and swiped at the spot.
'But yes,' Sam continued, 'with Ms Garner's help, I managed to find a lot of records about the house. And a bit more about the family, too. The father, Gavril Arey, is quite a well-known local businessman. He made a fair amount of money in the former Soviet bloc after the Iron Curtain fell - spent some time out there in the mid-nineties, apparently.'
'Yeah, I heard as much. Until the wife was killed, right? In another fire.'
'Yes. But it wasn't just another fire, Dean,' Sam said. 'According to the newspaper report I found, it happened when Jacob was six months old. Gavril wasn't home at the time, so it's not too clear how it happened, but Alice was killed and Jacob somehow survived.'
Dean stared at him, an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. 'Six months, huh.'
Man, days like this sucked out loud.
~*~
Judging by the way Dean's morning was going, this entire gig was going to suck.
'Dean, it has to be the demon,' Sam insisted. 'House fire, six months old, only the kid survived - it'd be a hell of a coincidence if it was something else.'
'Yeah, well, Sammy, it'd be a helluva coincidence if it wasn't. Maybe the first fire out in Russia could fit the pattern, but the new one doesn't. Why was the fire in the wrong place, for a start? And why's sweet Rebecca still alive for her neighbours to tut over?'
Sam gave a frustrated sigh. 'You don't seriously believe that, do you? The fire starts six feet away from where we expect, the mother has a lucky escape, and you think that rules out the demon?'
Dean paced from one side of the motel room to the other and back again. 'We went through all this last night, Sam. Several times. You're looking at this like it fits the pattern, but it doesn't. There's gotta be plenty of other things this could be that'd make more sense.'
'Oh, yeah,' Sam agreed sarcastically. 'We run into house fires survived by six-month-old kids all the time. Dean, why the hell are you refusing to consider this?'
'Dude, you're the one refusing to consider the options,' Dean said, swinging round to face him. 'You're desperate to see something that isn't there, Sammy.'
'Or maybe you're desperate not to see something that is,' Sam shot back.
They stared at each other in silence for a moment before looking away.
'Look, OK, we'll do some more research, see if we can come up with any other options,' Sam offered. 'But Dean, we have to at least consider the possibility that we're dealing with the demon, here. Bobby was obviously thinking that way, otherwise he would have just taken this one himself.'
'He's working another gig,' Dean pointed out with exaggerated patience. 'Which sucks, 'cause we could really stand to talk to him, see if he knows of any other things might be able to cause fires like this.'
'We could call Joshua,' Sam suggested suddenly. 'He lives pretty near here, doesn't he? And he's got a ton of stuff on unexplained phenomena, probably more than Bobby, even. He was a lot of help last year, back when...'
Sam trailed off, but Dean didn't need to hear the words. Back when you were dying.
'Help, right,' Dean said tightly. 'Look, the first thing we need to do is find out more about both of these fires, figure out if there's a connection. You hit the books, I'm gonna check out the house again.'
'As long as it is the house you're checking out,' Sam said, his mouth twisting up in a tentative smile, apology unspoken but all the more real for that.
'Bitch,' Dean said, relaxing a little and scrubbing reflexively at the side of his mouth. He realised what he was doing and dropped his hand. God, he swore he could still feel it. 'On second thought, maybe I should take the library. Don't want you getting distracted by your little friend there.'
Sam grabbed his notebook, riffling meaningfully through the pile of xeroxes the librarian had given him. 'Nice try, Dean, but I think you're the one who has a problem with distractions. I'm book boy, remember.' He started to head out of the room, but paused in the doorway and turned back to Dean. 'D'you want me to call Joshua, or are you gonna do it?'
Dean shifted awkwardly. 'Let's not drag him into this unless we have to, OK?' He'd been uneasy about getting tangled up with other hunters since the whole thing with Gordon - man, Hendrickson could have that bastard. But the death and destruction Meg had left in her wake had left him downright paranoid about it, even before Bobby's thinly coded warning about Wandell's buddies.
'This could turn out to be something simple, and I don't want another hunter cluttering up the field if we can avoid it,' he said instead. Which was true, anyway, as far as it went. He wasn't about to get into that other shit with Sam, who was only just starting to relax again and lose the pinched look that possession mind-fuck had left him with.
Sam looked unconvinced, but didn't press the point. 'Whatever, your call. We can always get in touch with him later, if we need to.'
'Right,' Dean agreed, trying not to look too relieved. Then a thought occurred to him. 'So... that mean it's my call who gets the hot chick, too?'
Sam thwapped him on the arm as they headed out.
~*~
Dean took his time checking over the house, looking for any evidence that might give them a better lead. Apart from the EMF readings, though, the nursery yielded nothing.
He knew Sam was pretty convinced that they were dealing with the yellow-eyed demon, but he was sure this was something else. Had to be, because why would the pattern change all of a sudden?
He drove back slowly, still chewing over the possibilities. Rounding a corner, he spotted a kid half-heartedly bouncing a basketball up against the wall of a store. As he drew closer, he realised it was Jacob.
He pulled the car over and headed into the store, grabbing a bag of chips and edging past an old guy peering at the range of candies to get to the cashier. It was an effort not to hurry back out, but he forced himself to slow down as he passed through the double doors. Sauntering back to the Impala, he pretended to notice Jacob for the first time.
'Hey, Jacob, right?'
The kid cast an indifferent look in his direction before focusing on his basketball again.
'You're pretty good with that thing,' Dean observed after a moment.
Jacob shrugged. 'Got nothing better to do.'
'No school today?' Dean asked. 'Not that I'm saying school's something better to do. I could almost always find something better to do than school.'
'Dad said I should stay home for a few days,' Jacob said without looking up. 'While things get sorted out.'
'And you felt like getting out of the house and away from your stepmom for a while,' Dean observed.
The kid looked up and gave a wry little grin. 'Yeah, how'd you guess?'
Dean laughed. 'Kinda hard to miss. I guess some people just take each other the wrong way, huh?'
Jacob looked a little embarrassed. 'We used to get along OK, but since she got married to Dad... she tries to be my mom, you know?'
'And no one can take your mom's place,' Dean said softly.
Jacob was studying the ball fiercely. 'It - she's got Zach. She's Zach's mom. She loves him, you know? And Dad does too. They were so happy to have a kid of their own. It's not the same. It's not even like I expect it to be the same, but she keeps on trying to pretend it is. It's not fair.'
'She does seem like she cares about you, though,' Dean ventured.
'Yeah, I know,' Jacob admitted, looking down at the ground. 'It wasn't my room she ran to when the house was burning down, though, was it?'
'What happened, exactly?' Dean asked cautiously.
Jacob shrugged. 'Zach was screaming again, woke me up. So I went to get a drink of water, and when I came back up the stairs...' He bounced the ball sharply off the wall and caught it. 'She ran straight for Zach, and Dad ran straight to her. He grabbed me on the way out, but it was Zach they were worried about.'
'The fire was in Zach's room,' Dean pointed out gently.
Jacob flushed and looked away, scuffing a sneaker into the dirt. 'Yeah, I know. I'm not a kid, I could get out on my own and all. It's just -'
'Just sometimes you don't wanna be the big brother?'
Jacob's cheeks flushed darker. 'Yeah, I guess. Dumb, I know.'
Dean gave a short laugh. 'Not dumb, kiddo. Sometimes baby brothers are a helluva pain in the ass. But sometimes they're kind of worth it.'
Jacob looked down at the basketball, turning it over and over. 'I guess.' He didn't sound entirely convinced, but Dean let it go.
'You want a ride home?' he offered. 'Or are you going to stay out here a bit longer?'
'I'm not going back yet,' Jacob said at once. He gave the Impala another look. 'Cool ride, though.'
'Thanks,' Dean said. Kid had taste. 'See you around, Jacob.'
Jacob gave a small smile. 'Yeah, see you.'
Dean slid into the car. He wasn't sure he'd gotten any useful information from the conversation, but he was reluctant to call it a waste of time, either. At least the poor kid had gotten a chance to talk to someone.
He glanced at his watch, suddenly realising what time it was. Better head on back to the library, or Sam would start making insinuations again. Insinuations that would do nothing for his appetite.
~*~
'So,' Dean said as Sam got in the passenger side, 'did you get lucky?' Offence was the best form of defence, after all.
'I couldn't find anything else about the fire,' Sam replied, sounding frustrated.
Dean grinned. 'Too distracted, huh?'
'What?' Sam shot him a confused glance that melted into a glare. 'No, Dean, I didn't get lucky. In any sense of the phrase.'
'Dude, did I teach you nothing?' Dean heaved a dramatic sigh. 'I guess it's not your fault I'm the only one with any inborn charm.'
Sam snorted. 'Yeah, right. How about you, did you turn up anything?'
'Nothing in the house. But I'm still pretty sure it's not the demon we're dealing with here, man. It just doesn't feel the same.' Dean saw a look of incredulity on Sam's face and hurried on before his brother could interrupt. 'I did talk to Jacob on his own, though... seems like Rebecca's attempts at happy families aren't sitting too well with him.' He spotted a diner up ahead and pulled the Impala over into a parking space.
'Not exactly the Bradys?' Sam asked.
'I wouldn't say that,' Dean replied. 'But, well, his stepmom's got her own little boy now. I guess it's bound to mess with the kid's head a bit.'
'She seemed like she genuinely cares about him, though,' Sam objected. 'Or she would if he'd give her the chance, anyway. I don't get how he can't see that.'
'Yeah, well. I guess people don't always read each other right, when it comes to families,' Dean said quietly.
Sam looked at him, and Dean was thankful for the interruption when his stomach growled. 'C'mon, Sammy, there's a burger with my name on it. This gig's hungry work for those of us who don't spend their time chatting up hot librarians.'
Sam rolled his eyes, but followed him into the diner.
The waitress who took their order was almost hot enough to distract Dean from thinking about the library chick. More importantly, there was a burger. And fries. And a helping of pie, once Dean gave Sam a demonstration of how the Winchester charm was supposed to work.
Sam refused dessert in favour of coffee and stole mouthfuls of pie every time Dean turned his attention to the waitress. In the end, Dean was forced to smack his hand away and concentrate more on defending the remains of his pie. 'So what next?' he asked around a mouthful, hoping to distract Sam's attention away from his dessert.
'Well, like I said, I didn't turn up much in the library,' Sam said. 'And if the house was a bust, and Jacob didn't tell you anything new - apart from the fact that he's got a bad case of teenage blues a year too early - then we're going to have to look elsewhere. I know you're not crazy about the idea, Dean, but I think we should call Joshua.'
Dean pushed away his plate, his appetite suddenly vanishing. 'C'mon, Sam, we can't just give up like that. What's Joshua going to know about this that we haven't already found out?'
'We don't know, Dean, that's the point. He only lives a few towns away, so he could have been tracking a pattern in this area for years, for all we know. And he knows a lot of esoteric stuff, even Dad said he was the best when it came to the real scholarly part of the job.'
Dean fiddled with his napkin, ripping it into thin shreds. 'I still don't think we should bring someone else in on this unless we have to, Sam.'
'I think we have to, Dean,' Sam argued, leaning forward. 'We're at a dead end here.'
'Yeah, well, I don't think Joshua's the right person. We don't even know that this is scholarly stuff, and what if he takes it into his head to come over here? If it turns out not to be the kind of thing words and paper will deal with, he's liable to get himself killed. He's an old guy, Sam, too old.'
Sam regarded him silently for a long moment. 'Bullshit.'
Dean glanced up at him in surprise, then looked away. 'Sam -'
'Bull. Shit,' Sam repeated. 'Look, Dean, I get why you're not happy with the idea. But Joshua had no way of knowing how LeGrange's healing worked. And it saved your life.'
'That's not my issue with it,' Dean said, wanting to kick himself the second the words were out of his mouth. Better to let Sam think that than to get into his real reasons.
'Then what, Dean? I swear, I -' Sam broke off suddenly, turning towards the waitress at the counter. 'Could you turn that up, please?'
The waitress obligingly raised the volume on the transistor radio she had sitting by the cash desk. ...the fire was discovered on the grounds of St Anselm's Episcopal Church before it had fully taken hold...
They were both on their feet before the report had even finished. Dean thrust some money at the waitress. 'Thanks sweetheart, keep the change. Let's go, Sammy.'