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01x13 (part 2)

Season One Episode Thirteen: Route 666

a/n: hey guys, the second part of episode thirteen is here and part three will be posted tomorrow, so stayed tuned! let me know if you’d like to be tagged in upcoming parts, i promise to be more frequent! as always, any feedback is appreciated. please REBLOG if you enjoyed! :)

synopsis: old lovers have returned and old secrets have been spilled

word count: 3838

You and Sam stay in the cabin, that was once enduring but now was giving you the chills, as Dean goes to Cassie’s house. You lay on the bed, the pillow folded under your head as the TV plays silently in the background.

“That TV is like a hundred years old,” Sam tells you. He’s sitting at the table, books open and the laptop in front of him. He says he’s trying to get some work done but really, there’s no work to be done. He’s just trying to busy himself.

He is right, however, about the TV. It’s ancient. The antenna keeps going out, making the entire thing static and it only plays like three channels, all which only play in black and white. “Shhh, I’m trying to relax,” you tell him.

“You think Dean is actually getting information? Or do you think he’s sleeping with her?” Sam asks, causing you to sit up promptly and look over at him. He senses your surprise at his question and sighs, leaning back in the old rickety chair. “He said he was going to talk to Cassie about her family. Look for information that can link the three victims, but do you think he’s actually doing that?”

“I think that Dean knows we have a job to do and he wouldn’t be clouded by whatever feelings he may have had for Cassie,” you tell Sam. You don’t really believe that. You think Dean could easily be clouded by Cassie because it had happened before but you wanted to tell yourself otherwise in hopes you end up believing it.

Sam doesn’t seem too convinced either, he just looks at you with blank eyes and no expression and you shift around on the bed, pulling the pillow on your lap. “What?” You ask.

“Nothing, I just. He gave me so much crap about,” Sam starts but then he pauses, probably for your sake more than anything, “Jessica. I just was shocked to find out about all this,” he admits.

“He kept a lot of it a secret from me, too, Sam. He didn’t tell me she dumped him and I didn’t even know about her for the first few weeks,” you tell him. Sam takes a deep breath and looks over in the kitchen space of the cabin and rubs his hand over his forehead. “But I know how happy he was and maybe he was just jealous, I don’t know. Maybe he was looking out for you when he told you not to tell Jess,” you say. Sam’s eyes snap to you right then. “Maybe he knew exactly how it would have ended, and he wanted to spare you of that.”

“Was he this beaten up over her the first time?” Sam asks quietly. You nod your head slowly and Sam gets out of the chair and sits down next to you.

“He was probably worse,” you admit. Dean was sharp and mean and he had stopped playing loud music in the car the first time. He refused to answer any of your questions, always giving vague and insufficient answers that didn’t fill your need to know everything but you swallowed that and let Dean have his moment. Eventually, it was like the whole thing never happened until earlier this week.

Sam lifts his hand and moves a piece of stray hair you didn’t know was hanging in your face. He tucks it behind your ear and cups your face with his hand loosely. “Thank you for taking care of my brother,” Sam tells you. You give him a soft smile and he caresses your cheek briefly before getting up and shutting off all the lights in the cabin. “It’s getting late, we should head to bed.”

You nod and you both did just that. Sam sleeps next to you, his breathing singing you to sleep. You didn’t feel like you slept for too long when the phone rang next to Sam’s head, making you wake up.

You try to go back to sleep and tune out his voice but he eventually gets out of bed and throws your clothes on top of you. “Get up, the mayor is dead.”

+++

It snowed overnight, white crap covering the entire crime scene. You never were fond of the winter time, especially when you were unprepared in only a light jacket. You stand next to Sam as you talked to an officer about the accident, trying not to shiver when Dean shows up.

“He’s with us,” Sam tells the cop once he notices him eyeing Dean entering the crime scene. The cop nods and leaves you three alone and Sam turns to his older brother. “Where were you last night?” Sam asks, a smirk on his lips.

“Yeah, we had to share a bed for no reason. You could have at least warned us,” you tell him. You probably wouldn’t have woken up even if he did come home, but when Sam woke you up in a frenzy about this new accident, you were disheartened to see Dean not in his bed.

“Don’t pretend like you didn’t like it,” Dean deadpans. He ignores Sam’s question about his whereabouts and starts walking the crime scene.

“You never made it home, I’m guessing you two worked it out,” Sam says, following close behind Dean, who so obviously didn’t want to talk about it.

“We’ll be working things out when we’re 90,” Dean says. You let out a chuckle and Dean quickly changes the subject to avoid any further questioning. “So, what happened?”

“Every bone crushed, internal organs turned to pudding. The cops are all stumped but it’s almost like something ran him over,” Sam explains.

“Something like a truck?” Dean asks.

“Yup,” you add.

“Tracks?”

“Nope.” Dean sighs and shoves his hands in his pockets and looks around the crime scene. There are officers everywhere, ambulance sirens in the distance and soft chatter of gossip.

“What was the mayor doing here anyway?” Dean asks. The mayor was found on the street just outside of an empty lot. It looks like there was going to be a new project breaking ground soon and the mayor was just tying up loose ends when he got hit.

“He owned the property. Bought it a few weeks ago,” Sam says. The entire thing was strange. Whatever was doing this was now breaking pattern. Killing off the main road. The mayor being white. It makes figuring it what’s doing this a little harder and makes your skepticism a little stronger.

Nonetheless, you follow Sam to the courthouse while Dean goes to the police station with Cassie. Thankfully, you come up with some good information and on the walk out, Sam calls Dean. “According to the courthouse,” Sam says and looks over at you. You’re holding his little notebook in his hands and you point to the information he needs. “Records show that Mr. and Mrs. Mayor bought an abandoned property. The previous owner was the Dorian family.”

“For like 150 years,” you mumble when Sam’s finished. He chuckles and repeats what you said into the phone. Sam had put the phone on speaker so you can hear Dean’s question voice when he answers.

“Dorian?” Sam confirms and you can hear Dean talking to Cassie on the other line. It’s muffled and faint, but you can hear him saying something about owning a paper and then computer clicks and Dean’s soft humming. “Interesting,” Dean says.

“What?” Sam asks, stopping in his tracks. You stop too and look over at Sam and then at the phone. There was a beautiful lake behind you and you could hear the kids laughs and the birds chirping and it was moments like that when you wish you could just forget about all the evil you’ve ever known.

“This Cyrus Dorian, he vanished in April of ‘63. The case was investigated but never solved,” Dean says. He’s talking slowly and you assume he’s reading. His brain trying to keep up with his mouth. “It was right around the time the string of murders was going on back then,” he says.

You flip over a few pages in the notebook and mumble, “here,” to Sam as you point to the notes you took about the Dorian place. Sam swaps you the phone for the notebook and you hold the phone close to his mouth as he reads.

“We pulled a bunch of papers up on the Dorian place. It must have been in bad shape when the mayor bought it because the first thing he did was bulldoze the place,” Sam says. You swap your items back and you close the notebook, keeping your finger inside to keep the page.

“Mayor Todd knocked down the Dorian place?” Dean asks Cassie. You can hear her talking on the other line but it’s not clear. “You got a date?” Dean asks into the phone a moment later.

You shuffle to find it and when you do, you mumble, “the 3rd of last month,” to Sam and he repeats it to Dean a little louder.

“Mayor Todd bulldozed the Dorian family home on the 3rd. The first killing was the very next day,” Dean says. You look up at Sam and his hand drops a little with the phone in it. There was clearly a connection there, you just had to find it.

+++

It was an exhausting job, to say the least. Despite fighting things you can’t even see, you were also always woken up in the middle of the night for one reason or another and tonight, that reason was Cassie.

She called Dean in a panic and it was her screams on the other side of the phone that woke you up. When you got to her house, there was nothing there but she swore the truck that killed her father was right outside her house.

Sam hands her a cup of tea and Cassie makes a joke about spiking it a little bit for her, but no one laughs. You sit on the chair across from Cassie and Dean and Sam sits down on the arm of it. You feel his arm behind your back but he’s careful not to get too close.

“You didn’t see who was driving the truck?” Dean asks Cassie.

She shakes her head and puts the cup of tea between her legs after taking a sip. “It seemed to be no one. Everything was moving so fast,” she says.

Cassie’s mom is sitting in the chair next to you and you look over at her. Her eyes are looking anywhere but at her daughter and she’s holding the cup of tea close to her face like she wants to be hiding. “And then it was just gone. Why didn’t it kill us?” Cassie asks, looking over at Dean.

He seems just as shaken up as Cassie and you can’t help yourself but wonder if loving someone in this line of work made you weak. You wonder if Dean knows that and that’s why he’s never let anyone get close again after Cassie and then you wonder if loving Sam would make you weak. And then you hate yourself for thinking that.

“Whoever’s controlling the truck wants you afraid first,” Dean says. He looks over to Sam for confirmation and then Sam looks down at you and then you nod your head towards Cassie’s mom. Her behavior is weird and off-putting and you want more from her.

“Mrs. Robinson, Cassie said that your husband saw the truck before he died,” Sam says to her. She seems taken back by the fact that Sam was talking to her. She lets out a little hum and her hands grip her cup tighter.

“Well,” she whispers and everyone’s watching her. “Martin was under a lot of stress. You can’t be sure of what he was seeing,” she says.

“Well after tonight, I think we can be reasonably sure that he was seeing a truck,” Dean remarks. Sam’s head snaps to his brother but you watch Cassie’s mom closely. You study the way her eyes twitch and her lips quiver. “What happened tonight, you and Cassie are marked, okay? Your daughter could die, so if you know something, now would be a really good time to tell us about it.” Dean is being rude, you know it and Sam knows and even Cassie tries to correct him but Mrs. Robinson is so close to cracking, you let him be.

“Yes. Yes, he said he saw a truck,” she starts. You let out a sigh of relief and you can feel Sam’s body relax next to you. Mrs. Robinson’s hand caresses her face like she’s stress and her eyes stare into her tea.

“Did he know who it belonged to?” You ask her.

“He thought he did.”

“Who was that?” Dean asks. You take the time to look over at him and your eyes connect for a second before you look back at her.

Her whole face begins to quiver now, not just her lips. She shuts her eyes tight and her hand shakes as she goes to touch her nose briefly. “Cyrus,” she says. The dots connect in your head and all three of you exchange a look. Sam takes a deep breath next to you and sits a little straighter and Dean adjusts in his seat. “A man named Cyrus.”

Dean pulls out a news article from his bag. A printed version of what was released after Cryus’s disappearance and he holds it up for Mrs. Robinson to see. “Is this Cyrus?”

“Cyrus Dorian died more than 40 years ago,” she says. She doesn’t even look at the image of him in the article, she just stares straight ahead.

“How do you know he died, Mrs. Robinson?” You ask. Her choice of words are strange and she knows something. You felt it the moment you walked into the house tonight that she knew something, it was just a matter of getting it out of her. “The paper said he went missing,” you continue when she doesn’t answer.

She looks around at everyone with wet eyes but she still doesn’t answer. “How do you know he died?” Dean asks, louder than you and with more force. Enough to make her jump in her seat.

“We were all very young,” she starts. “I dated Cyrus a while.” Cassie’s eyes widen at her mom and Mrs. Robinson shakes her head. “I was also seeing Martin, in secret of course. Interracial couples didn’t go over too well,” she says and chuckles a little bit like it was funny but maybe she was just trying to ease her discomfort. “When I broke it off it’s Cyrus, and when he found out about Martin, I don’t know. He changed.” Her voice began to slow down, her eyes go distant and she starts talking just above a whisper. “His hates- his hatred was frightening.”

“The string of murders,” Sam says, connecting it for everyone. He looks down at you, you feel his eyes, so you look up at him. He touches your arm gently.

“There were rumors, people of color disappearing into some kind of truck. Nothing was ever done,” she explains. Her eyes were already wet, but now they were draining slowly but surely, tears were streaming down her face. She takes in a deep breath to collect herself, but the breath was shaky. “Martin and I, we were gonna be married in that little church near here but, uh, last minute, we decided to elope because we didn’t want all the attention,” she says. She finally drops the cup of tea from her face and you can tell she’s trying hard not to cry.

“And Cyrus?” Dean ask.

It was getting harder for her to compose herself, her deep breaths making her nearly sob. She holds her hand to her heart, no doubt trying to steady it. “The day we set for the wedding was the day someone set fire to the church.” Her voice was cracking and she could no longer hold it in and she started softly sobbing. “There was a children’s choose practicing there. They all died.” Your heart felt sad for her. The amount of guilt she must have been carrying around all those years.

She covers her face with her hands as she sobs, but Dean pushes for more. “Did the attacks stop after that?” He asks.

“No, there was one more,” she says and sobs. “One night that truck came for Martin. Cyrus was beating him something terrible, but Martin, see Martin got loose and he started hitting Cyrus. He just kept hitting him and hitting him.” You want to ask her to stop talking because her sobs were becoming unbearable. She’s making hitting motions against her legs with her fist as she talks.

“Why didn’t you call the cops?” Dean asks. The anger that was laced in Mrs. Robinson’s voice was now etched onto her face and she gasped.

“This was 40 years ago,” she says like Dean was stupid, which he was. He looks embarrassed and takes his eyes off of Mrs. Robinson and looks at you. “He called on his friends - Clayton Solmes and Jimmy Anderson - and they put Cyrus’s body into the truck and then rolled it into the swamp at the edge of his land and all three of them kept that secret all these years.”

“And now all three are gone,” Sam says. You take a deep breath and let it out. It was shaky and empty but thankfully no one could hear over Mrs. Robinson’s sobs. You look over at Cassie for the first time since the story started and she looks more horrified than you thought she would.

“So is Mayor Todd,” Dean says, picking out the loose puzzle piece. “Now, he said you of all people would know he’s not a racist. Why’d he say that?” Dean ask.

Mrs. Robinson’s hands were on her neck and she looks up at Dean. “He was a good man. He was a young deputy back then, investigating Cryus’s disappearance. Once he figured out what Martin and the others had done, he did nothing,” she explains and her eyes go wide. “Because he also knew what Cyrus had done.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Cassie asks, her voice breaking. She was crying, just not nearly as much as her mom. You felt like crying, too, if you were being honest.

“I thought I was protecting them, and now there’s no one left to protect,” her mom cries, holding out her hands like there’s nothing left.

“Yes, there is,” Dean reminds her. He looks over at Cassie and she looks at him and there’s that look again, that look that meant what they had wasn’t over and you hate yourself again for thinking that made Dean weak.

You excuse yourself and leave the house in a rush, Sam getting to his feet just as quickly as you did to follow you. You storm out of the house, your chest heaving. You put your hand to your heart to try and count your breaths but it was no use.

You stop on the porch and Sam stops behind you, putting his hands on your elbows. You start to feel guilty for walking out but in your twisted little mind, you tell yourself they needed time to be alone. “You okay?” Sam asks. You nod and try to slow your breathing when the door opens behind you and Dean walks out. He taps your leg as he walks past, gesturing you to follow him.

You do and then Sam follows you all the way to the Impala. Dean just paces around his car, his hands in his pockets and staring absentmindedly. Sam leans against the hood of the car, grabbing your hand and pulling you to him to keep you close. “I remember when my life was simple,” he says with humor in his voice. “Just school, exams, papers on polycentric cultural norms.”

Dean looks over at him and you know Sam was trying to make a joke, maybe lighten the mood, but you also knew he was kind of serious. “Sounds boring,” Dean says, reading your mind exactly.

“Occasionally I miss boring,” Sam says. He starts to pick at his fingers a little bit but you put your hand on top of his to stop him. He gives you a small smile and you return it but it doesn’t help your already racing heartbeat.

“So this killer truck,” Dean starts but Sam cuts him off just as quickly.

“I miss conversations that didn’t start with “this killer truck.”” Sam laughs and you can’t help yourself but laugh with him. You feel it too, sometimes. The nostalgia of being a normal person with a normal life.

“All right, fair enough, but this Cyrus guy, evil on a level that infected even his truck,” Dean says, getting back to work. You almost wish he’d let the moment sit for a little longer. “When he died, the swamp became his tomb and his spirit was dormant for 40 years.”

“What woke it up?” Sam asks just over a whisper, his brain thinking.

“The destruction of his house,” you suggest. That kind of trigger would wake any spirit, you assume. Both boys nod in agreement. “The guy who tears down the house, Harold Todd, is the same guy that kept Cyrus’s murder quiet and unsolved,” you say. You bounce your leg back and forth with restlessness.

“So now his spirit is awakened and out for blood,” Sam says almost more to himself than to anyone else. Dean purses his lips out and shrugs his shoulders. “You know we’re gonna have to dredge that body from the swamp?” Sam asks. You did know that and that was probably what was making you so restless.

Dean chuckles and shakes his head. “You said it, not me,” he says, which makes Sam chuckles. You push your body into Sam’s a little bit more and he rests his chin on the top of your head for just a moment.

You didn’t notice Cassie walking toward the car until Dean pushes himself off the Impala and walks towards her. “Hey,” he mumbles.

“Hey,” she says breathlessly. “She’s asleep, what’s next?”

“You stay here and watch after her. We’ll be back. Don’t leave the house,” Dean orders. He’s always protective but now that it’s with someone like Cassie, it seems a little sweeter than demanding.

“Don’t go getting all authoritative on me,” she says. Now, suddenly, you wanna puke. Sam laughs next to you and looks down. Probably wanting to look anywhere but at them, which you got. “I hate it.”

“Don’t leave the house, please?” Dean asks and you don’t have to look at them to know that now they’re kissing because you can hear them. Sam knows it too and he scratches the back of the head and clears his throat, which got only a middle finger from Dean.

tagged: @matchamendes @stuckupstucky @sillydecoy @kaelyn-lobrutto24@liztorr1212 @icanreadbookstoo @rachael-mae@jessewa26

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