22 March 2010 @ 12:07 pm
Hands of Fate 4/?  
After a while, certain stories take on a life of their own. This seems to be one of them.

Chapter 4


Dean glanced through the police reports between bites of omelet, stopping briefly to grab a drink of coffee.

This was the sixth time he had gone over the papers, combing over each word for something out of the ordinary. Six times he read through these and six times nothing jumped out. They were just accident reports, plain and simple.

“As riveting as all this is, Sammy, this isn’t exactly my idea of morning reading,” he muttered, closing the file.

Across the table, Sam’s pancakes had barely been touched. He was glued to the screen of the laptop, just as he had been since the waitress took their order. He didn’t even look up when Dean spoke.

Dean cleared his throat as Sam tapped a couple of keys, setting his fork down. “Sam, there’s a farmer two tables over giving you the eye.”

Funny, Dean,” Sam muttered.

“You have been glued to that computer since we got here. Barely touched your breakfast.” Dean picked up his fork again, stabbing at his hash browns. “This is becoming an unhealthy obsession.”

Sam looked up from the laptop, watching Dean shove a forkful of hash browns in his mouth. “These things are just bugging me.”

“Like I said last night, we can look around and see if we can find anything else out. We’ll figure it out, track it down, and kill it.” Dean motioned toward the laptop with his fork. “You keep going at it like that, your head will explode.”

Sam shut the computer and looked at his pancakes, reaching for his coffee. “Already feels like it's going to explode.”

“I’m not cleaning that up,” Dean mumbled through the food in his mouth.

“Thanks for the concern.” Sam cut up his pancakes, pushing a piece around his syrup-coated plate. “I may call Bobby and see if he has any ideas. He may know something we don’t.”

Dean nodded, giving the waitress who refilled his coffee a smile. “He might. He’s been doing this a lot longer than we have.”

Sam ate in silence for a moment, glancing out the diner’s window.

“Sam, stop it,” Dean ordered.

“Stop what?”

Dean shot his younger brother a look of annoyance as he took a drink of coffee. “Stop going over things in your head like the walking encyclopedia of weird you are.”

Sam huffed and stabbed at his plate, glaring at the man across from him. “Dean.”

“You over-think things, Sammy. We just started this case and already you’re starting to over-think it.” He finished off his last piece of toast, motioning around the diner. “Enjoy the atmosphere. Take in the scenery. Granted there ain’t much of it, but still.”

“Dean, I can think about stuff other than the case,” Sam commented.

“Okay. Prove it,” Dean countered.

“Prove it?” The look Sam gave his brother was one he had seen probably a million times before. “How do you expect me to prove it, Dean?”

Dean shrugged. “What were you thinking about?”

Sam sighed as Dean shoved a large piece of omelet in his mouth. “A bird.”

Dean’s brow furrowed at the answer, shaking his head. “Dude, you’re weird. A bird?”

“You asked.” His tone was just this side of annoyed as a pissy look began creeping across his face. “So don’t start with the whole weird crap.”

Dean threw his hands up, glancing out the window. “Fine.”

The sounds of the diner worked into their lull as Dean’s gaze headed to the power company truck parked down the street.

He hadn’t noticed it before, nor had he seen the crew begin work on the power lines running to the stoplight. It wasn’t exactly out of the ordinary to see a power crew at work on a street and it wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen it before. Maybe it was the town’s weird death rate that made the mundane seem slightly more noteworthy, but for some reason a power crew at work seemed riveting to watch. Orange cones, cherry picker, and florescent safety vests; for some reason it was the most interesting thing Dean had seen.

Sam’s brow knit as he looked out the window. “Dean?”

“Just watching Mayberry’s daily routine,” Dean commented with a nod.

Sam turned just enough in his seat to see the work crew. “You’re watching a work crew? And you call me weird.”

Dean looked at the younger man across from him calmly. “That’s the scenery I’m talking about, Sam. Get your nose out of the books before you blow a fuse in that head of yours. It may not be the first thing to pop into your head under ‘relaxing,’ but it beats looking up every single thing you can think of.”

Sam shook his head as he returned to his breakfast.

“A work crew is a good distraction, Sammy,” Dean contended.

“If you say so,” Sam muttered.

Dean looked back out the window, taking in more of the local scenery. “Mayberry daily life. Kids playing in a park, people walking around doing whatever they’re doing. It’s better than staring at those books and web pages.”

Sam let his eyes move back to the window as he drank the last bit of his coffee, searching the scene.

“Take a break.” Dean pointed out the window, giving him a smile. “We can go to the park.”

Sam answered his brother with a huff.

“It won’t be all bad. You can play on the swings,” Dean grinned.

“Now you’re just being a jerk.”

Dean laughed as he finished off his breakfast, sitting back. He loved annoying his brother with smartass comments, even over breakfast. This was no different from any other day.

His eyes moved back to the street as Sam finished his meal.

It was Mayberry in 3-D. People walked along the sidewalk and into nearby shops on some unknown errands while others came out with bags of their own. The corner grocery seemed to do pretty good business, and so did the coffee shop down the block. The bookstore across from the park had a leisurely pace about it as some wannabe emo clerk set out a sale board. The park’s little playground had a handful of kids and parents, most of the children pre-school age. It was a living Norman Rockwell painting.

Sam finished his pancakes, reaching for his wallet. “You can enjoy the scenery all you want, Dean. I just want to figure out what these things are.”

Dean shook his head, downing the last of his coffee. “You don’t know the meaning of the word 'relax,' do you?”

Sam pulled some money from his wallet as he got up with the check.

Dean made his way outside while Sam paid, looking down the street at the work crew.

The street had been blocked off as they raised the bucket of the cherry picker toward the stoplight. A flagman stood nearby to direct any passing traffic the tiny burg might get while the work was done overhead, a pair of workers busy on the corner power post. After a couple of minutes, the stoplight went dead and the crew began work.

“Thinking of a side job on a county work crew?” Sam’s voice pulled him from his people-watching as his brother joined him. “Doesn’t exactly seem your style, Dean.”

He shrugged and started heading down the sidewalk. “I’d look good doin’ it.”

Sam adjusted the leather bag on his shoulder, looking around. “A nine-to-five job appeals to you, and I’m the weird one.”

“Absolutely. You’re always gonna be the weird one, Sammy.” Dean glanced toward a young woman putting up a sign in a florist window, giving her his trademark smile. “So what is that weirdo brain of yours gonna do instead of relaxing?”

“I’ve exhausted all my normal research tactics and every book we have with us. Only other options are call Bobby, see if we can find any clues around here, and see if maybe there is a book or something in the town’s library I can find.”

“This is why you never get laid.”

“Funny, Dean.” Sam shoved his hands in his pockets, shrugging as he looked at the town. “We’ve made a list of every possible creature these three could be and we’ve crossed them off. So maybe we missed something somewhere.”

“We’ve talked to all the witnesses we could find, looked into this place’s history, and found nothing, Sam.” Dean fished his keys from his pocket as they neared the car.

We’re back to square one. Not like we haven’t had to do it before,” Sam commented.

Dean paused as they reached the Impala, letting out a heavy sigh. “I feel a headache coming on.”

Sam looked out across the town square, resting his arms on the roof of the car. “I’ll see what I can come up with and give Bobby a call; see if he can help figure any of this out.”

“I still say this place is a little too white bread for anything supernatural. Especially this stuff,” Dean commented.

Sam watched the activity in the square for a moment, trying to figure out where exactly to start. A part of him seriously thought about taking Dean’s advice and relaxing, but he wouldn’t. The part of him that this job was nagging at wouldn’t let him relax; it would eat at him until the answers he was looking for were found, no matter how hard he tried to follow his brother’s advice.

His hand drifted to the door as he glanced toward the work crew at the light, freezing. “Dean.”

The older man’s eyes moved toward his brother, the familiar squeak of the door breaking the peace. “What?”

All Sam could do was nod toward the light as he swallowed, his eyes locked and his body stiffening.

Dean turned toward where his brother was looking as an uneasy feeling passed over him. He had seen his brother tense like that before, had heard the same clipped tone in his voice before, and knew from experience that it was never a good sign. It was more “grab the salt gun” than anything.

He didn’t need to be told where to look or even what he was looking for, the expression on Sam’s face telling him more than enough. His eyes locked on the flash of three school uniforms behind the orange vests as he turned his head. “Son of a bitch.”

The trio was an eerie sight standing on the sidewalk, all three dressed in school uniforms. They seemed intent on watching the light crew work as people walked past without even looking at the triplets. They just didn't seem to be noticed by anyone.

The brothers raced across the street and began to head toward the corner, stopping once they stepped on the sidewalk.

"What the hell?" Dean's eyes scanned the square as confusion clouded his face. "Where'd they go?"

Sam shook his head as he stood beside his brother, checking the other side of the street. "I don't know."

Dean threw his hands up in frustration, turning to Sam. "We did just see the freaky little bitches, right?"

"Yeah." Sam pointed toward the corner, looking just as confused as his brother. "They were right there."

Dean huffed and scanned the square once more, growling under his breath. "I swear everything we hunt knows a damn disappearing act."

Sam looked toward the workers as he let his brother fume. He couldn't understand why they had been watching them as intently as they had seemed. His mind went back to all the research he had done as he tried to figure everything out.

"I hate this." Dean had the appearance of wanting to punch something as he spoke, an edge to his voice. "What were they doing here?"

Sam motioned toward the light with a shrug. "They seemed interested in the work on that."

"A street signal?" His eyebrow rose as he cocked his head slightly. "Again I say – what the hell?"

This had to be the most confusing job they had ever been on. The victims had no ties to one another, they were dealing with three creatures that they had no clue about, and there was no way of figuring out just who the next target would be. It was one big annoying guessing game.

Dean ran a hand over his short hair as he sighed heavily. "Son of a bitch."

"At least we know they're still here," Sam muttered.

"And interested in road work, apparently," Dean added. He shook his head in frustration, walking toward the curb. "This is the most frustrating job ever, Sammy."

Dean's foot had barely left the curb when they heard the unmistakable crack of electricity in the air. Instinct made both men turn toward the source as another crack filled the air, the stop signal sending a shower of sparks to the road below. Another ominous crack sent the work crew scattering and startled the pair who could only watch the unfolding scene.

The signal, the same one the trio had been so intently watching, practically exploded in a shower of sparks as its power line snapped, the metal and glass device crashing to the ground. The live wire swung in a wide arc toward the park as people scattered in all directions. The scene almost looked like a slow-motion movie as the sparking end wrapped around the ankle of a woman who hadn't been fortunate enough to get out of the way, the current coursing through her body.

Both men turned away as the woman was electrocuted, neither of them really wanting to see the outcome. They didn't have to look to know the current in the cable was surging through her, stopping her heart and sending her muscles into a series of uncontrolled spasms. They didn't need to see the woman's last moments to know what a senseless accident it was. They only turned back when they heard one of the workmen throw a switch in a nearby junction box.

The pair exchanged disheartening looks as the air erupted in a barrage of chaotic voices; orders to call 911, screams from horrified witnesses and the shocked voices of townspeople took the place of birdsong that had only been there a moment before. They briefly glanced toward the twisted body as the work crew moved to cover her up. It was staggering how quickly the day had turned so bad.

"We're killing these things, Sam." Dean's voice was a dangerous growl as he looked at his brother, pointing at the scene they just witnessed. "Whatever they are, this is the last place they'll ever set foot."


She hated this, hated how all of this was turning out. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

The people dying shouldn't have been, at least not yet. This wasn't right. The blue eyes watched the humans work from the top of the jungle gym, a sad gleam in the deep pools. Things shouldn't be the way they were turning. The town wasn't meant for such chaos.

The silent watcher shook her head as the county coroner took care of the latest victim, her eyes moving to the street.

Past the shops and homes, past the common streets, there were two men plotting a plan of attack. Help from them wasn't an option at this point. They had seen what the sisters could do and chances were good that the only thing on their minds now was killing the trio.

Asking them was out of the question. If she wanted freedom for herself and her sisters, she'd have to do it herself. It was the only thing to do now the hunters had seen the latest job.

The little blonde girl sitting on top of the jungle gym shook her head as she climbed down, straightening her uniform once on the ground.

It wouldn't be easy, but she'd work out this problem herself. Avoiding the hunters was something she'd have to work around, but she'd still try to find a way out of their situation. Winchesters be damned; she'd find a way out of all this.

With one last look as the black county van pulled away, the girl vanished, leaving the playground empty.


Chapter 5

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