Denver, Colorado
Saturday, May 12, 2007
It was a beautiful bar and dining area, looking much like something out of a movie. Getting into the Brown Palace Hotel wasn’t easy, but luckily the concierge had been so busy with a long line of guests that it was a small matter for Sam to ignite a piece of paper, stick it in a porcelain trash receptacle, and let the guards deal with the mess. Then he and Dean slipped past them and past the concierge desk, heading towards the tavern room.
“Lying to police officers in small towns is one thing,” said Sam. “Breaking into a luxury hotel, especially with all the extra security guards, is something else and it’s a lot more dangerous. We should have just waited until after the concert.”
“Don’t be such a worrier. Nobody is going to suspect that we’re not supposed to be here unless they look at the security cameras and see you dropping lit paper into the trash can. Just look ahead, walk fast, and act like you own the place.”
Easier said than done. Sam nervously smoothed down the front of his tuxedo jacket and tried look casual as he glanced around the bar. There weren’t quite enough people in it to constitute a crowd, not at a little before two o’clock in the morning, but by his estimate there were about three dozen patrons in the bar “ enough that two more wouldn’t be an aberration. And they were dressed appropriately, at least, with rented tuxes. The hardest part had been convincing Dean to rent a size 34; the 32 pants made him look like he was stuffed into ill-fitting clothes, and that would be a giveaway that they really weren’t rich and almost-famous people milling around.
“All right, they shouldn’t be too hard to find,” said Dean. “If they really are here. Maybe they’re still in their room.”
“Two o’clock,” Sam replied.
Dean checked his watch. “Close to it. One-forty-five.”
“I meant look in the two o’clock direction.”
Two young women sat at the bar, perched on barstools. Only their backs were visible, but they matched the pictures that had been posted on their website. Melissa wore a short blue dress with blue-and-white striped stockings and a white pinafore, and Amanda wore black satin. “Not the most inconspicuous here,” Dean said.
“No, but that’s a good thing. Come on.”
They casually sat down, leaving a stool between Sam and Melissa, and ordered their drinks. Sam ordered a Long Island Iced Tea, briefly flashing his driver’s license, and Dean took a Coke. The bartender raised his eyebrow, but nodded, probably assuming that he was the designated driver (not entirely false) and went away to prepare their beverages.
“They’re not looking at us,” Dean whispered.
“Then we’ll have to talk to them,” said Sam. He started to spin around.
“I’ll do it.” Dean climbed down and walked up to Melissa. “Hello, ladies,” he said.
Now they both turned to face Dean, with nothing more than mild curiosity and slight annoyance at being interrupted. “What?” asked Melissa.
“I couldn’t help but notice the two of you sitting here by yourselves and wondered if I could buy you a drink,” he said, and gave his best smile. Sam was boring holes into the back of his head with an angry glower, but they were on a mission, and he would do whatever it took to get the information he was looking for. Sam knew that. He just didn't like it.
“No,” Amanda said flatly, and started stirring her screwdriver with a small ribboned straw.
“Aw, come on, I’m not wanting anything from it. Just a few minutes of conversation, that’s all. Your boyfriends let you talk to people, right?”
“Our what? We don’t - who are you?” Amanda asked.
“That’s kind of a long story, and it’s not important. We’re more interested in you. My brother is a fan of yours, and we were in town, so I’d hoped we could sit and talk for a little bit. It would mean a lot to him.”
“How do I know you’re not going to be a pain in the ass?”
“Because,” Melissa cut in, “if he is, then we call security and get him thrown out. No harm done. And to be honest, I’m a little bit bored.”
Melissa and Amanda chose a table away from the bar, one with four chairs, and Sam and Dean followed them. Melissa folded her hands and waited for one of them to speak, looking from one to the other and then back, and there was a long silence. Finally, Sam spoke up: “Um, well, I’m Sam, and this is my brother Dean. The truth about why we’re here is that we’re investigating some strange things that happened in your hometown and think that you two might be in some kind of trouble. Hopefully we can deal with it and nobody will get hurt, but we need more information.”
“Are you threatening me?” Amanda asked. She sat up straight and made a motion as if to reach for her cell phone.
“No, we’re not threatening you. The danger isn’t coming from either one of us. Here, let’s get to the point in a different way. Do you know a boy named Joshua Gregory.”
Melissa and Amanda exchanged worried glances, and Amanda mouthed “oh, fuck.”
“Sort of,” said Melissa. “We used to live in the same apartment complex, upstairs from him. But that was a long time ago. Why? Is he all right?”
“You did know that he’s in a psychiatric ward and has been charged with killing Brian Gregory, right?”
“Yeah. We were there when it happened. Well, not there in the same room, but we heard the gunshot. And if you need any more information, we’ve already talked to the police, a long time ago, and they have every word on file. We don’t even live in the county anymore and we’re very busy. I hope he’s okay and I’d bet he was provoked “ Brian was a real bastard “ but I didn’t actually see what they did.”
“Did he have any vision problems?”
“Not that I know of. He might have worn contact lenses but I never saw him in glasses.”
“What we meant was, was he able to see through things.”
“Uh, no,” said Amanda. “What kind of a retarded question is that?”
Sam pressed his lips together and ignored the second part of what she said. “Not even on the night of January 19?”
She jumped. “Look, this conversation is over. I don’t know exactly what you’re doing here, Sam-and-Dean, but you’re getting into my private business and it’s pissing me off. If you don’t want me to call security and make a scene, then you’d better get out now.”
“One more minute, and then you can throw us out,” Dean said.
“One minute and that’s all,” Amanda countered. She pulled out a pack of cigarettes and pulled one out, then stuck it in her mouth and lit the end. Dean grimaced and coughed. “What? You’re in a bar. People smoke in bars. Get over it.”
Dean swallowed hard and took a sip of Coke to settle his stomach. “We think Joshua went out to a wishing well and there’s something wrong with it. Specifically, that it gives people the wrong things “ the thing that the previous person asked for. Not only that, but that everybody who bothers the spirit there dies within a year.”
Melissa raised one eyebrow, and Amanda started to laugh. She clapped her hands and said, “What the hell are you on, Dean? And do you have any to share? Because that’s got to be some good stuff.”
“I’m serious. Joshua is in trouble right now because of what happened to him. He has X-ray vision “ and I tested him, and he really does. It’s not just a psychiatric problem or something he made up to get out of criminal charges. And do you know why? Because that’s what someone wished before him. A nine-year-old boy who died last year.”
“Okay,” said Melissa. “Let’s see if I understand. You’re telling me that this wishing well is cursed or something, and that it messes up and kills people. Now, I think you’re bullshitting, because I know from experience that it works correctly.” Amanda scowled at her, and elbowed her, but she went on: “What? I’m not telling them anything.”
“Really?" Dean leaned forward. "And how do you know?”
“That’s none of your business. Let’s just say that I wished for something and got it and nobody has been threatening my life “ well, nobody but you. Even if you’re telling the truth, which I doubt, then maybe the spirit-whatever just didn’t like Josh. Or doesn’t like boys. Or something. Because there was that woman last year who wanted her son to get better, and he did. And then there’s me, and I got what I wanted. And Amanda…”
“No opportunity to check yet,” Amanda said curtly. “But that’s not important.”
“Melissa,” Sam said, “I really don’t want to have to bring this up, but it’s very important that we know the whole story. I promise that no matter what happens, I’m not going to do anything to hurt you. But I have to know what’s going on, so that I can help Joshua get better and hopefully protect myself and Dean “ and the two of you, if that’s needed. I need to know if anything strange happened on the day that the two of you went to the well.”
“How do you know we went together?” Amanda demanded.
“Because you wouldn’t have reacted that way if you didn’t.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” said Melissa.
“It’s public information, though,” Amanda said gently, and she looked up at Sam. “If we tell you, will you go away and leave us alone?”
“We promise.”
“All right. We went out there, and that was the day… that was the day that Melissa’s brother died. But later. Like, a half-hour later.”
Melissa busied herself with her drink.
“And that was the day that I got the phone call about Virgin Records picking us up.”
“Wait a second,” said Dean. “You got the phone call?”
“Yeah. We always gave out both of our phone numbers, though. The call was for both of us.”
“Okay. So Josh went to the well, and you know he was having problems with Brian. The next day, Melissa… I’m going to assume that you wished for someone to hear your album and want to make copies, or something like that. And that’s the day your brother was killed. Then Amanda, not you, is called with a record contract.”
“Excuse me,” Melissa snapped. “Are you accusing me of having something to do with Brandon’s death? Because it wasn’t my fault. I wasn’t there until later. It was a fucking accident!” She twisted her face and looked as though she was about to cry.
“Nobody’s accusing you of anything, Melissa,” Sam said softly. “We’re just laying out the facts. If anybody is to blame, it would be Joshua, if he wished harm on Brian. And the well itself. Things happen, and people get hurt, and it’s not your fault at all.” He took a deep breath. “We’ve already gotten the evil spirit out of the well. That’s not what we’re worried about. What has us concerned is that Joshua still isn’t okay, and there’s a possibility that the spirit is going to come back later this year and hurt everybody that went to talk to it. That would be the two of us, the two of you, and Joshua.”
“Then go and handle it,” said Amanda. “Just don’t make it stop. Because I’m enjoying my life. You know, I can afford groceries whenever I want them now. I don’t have to worry about my phone bill. If I need something, I just go get it, or send somebody out after it. I don’t have to work my fingers to the bone at that stupid store anymore and my credit is enough that I can actually get credit cards for once in my life. I like what I'm doing now. So think twice before you start messing with stuff.”
“I’m not trying to take away what’s worked out well for you. But Joshua needs help. And so do we. Amanda, can I ask what you wished for?”
“No. That’s private. And it has nothing to do with my career, or with you.”
“I won’t tell a soul. You have my word.”
“How do I even know you’re trustworthy? For all I know, you’re with the National Enquirer. And I swear, if you snap one picture of me here, I’m going to-“
“Amanda, cool it,” said Melissa. “They know something and if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not die.”
“You’re not going to die. You’re the one who’s always saying to be realistic, and now you’re worried about some stupid story about a spooky ghost coming out of the well to kill you. That’s dumb.”
“There are too many coincidences. Just tell them what they want to know and then we’ll forget this conversation ever happened.”
“Let me think about it. Um… no.” Amanda started to stand up.
Sam looked over at Dean, hoping there was a plan in the works. As usual, there was. Dean leaned back in his chair and picked up his soda. “I guess we’re finished here,” he said. “It’s Saturday, so I won’t be able to get in touch with the press until Monday morning. Well, I could, but Monday would be easier.”
“What are you talking about?” Amanda asked. She sat back down and looked at Sam and Dean warily.
“You used magic to get your careers started. Sure, it’s kind of an unbelievable story, but they might just print it. After all, you’ve got the darkness theme down pat, and there are enough superstitious people in America that some of them would believe you used black magic to get your way. There might be some backlash. Expect to be banned from the radio in conservative cities. Your sales will drop. I hope you’ve invested in the stock market because that’s going to the only way you’ll make any money when the story breaks.”
“You can’t do that! It’s a lie!” Amanda balled up her fists and pounded on the table.
“Maybe, but if you don’t talk to me, I have to talk to the papers.”
“You said you could keep a secret!”
“Let me think about it.” Dean grinned sarcastically at her. “Um… no.”
Amanda’s mouth dropped open, and she looked desperately to Melissa.
“All right,” Melissa said slowly. “Amanda, I know you’re going to want to kill me for this, but I’d prefer that our concert ticket sales not take a nosedive, and we could do without the bad press this early on. Amanda… well, she had bad endometriosis while we were in college. Almost missed a semester because of it. Medication didn’t help, so she had her ovaries removed about four years ago.”
“I’m sorry,” Sam said.
Amanda shrugged. “Beats being sick. But I was still sick for awhile, so I had a hysterectomy after that. And now I feel better.” She closed her hands around her glass. “But that means I’m never going to have a child. Not now, not when I’m 30, not ever. And… I mean, I’m not ready now, but I will be someday and it bugs me that I can’t, you know? So I wished that I could get pregnant anyway, even though I don’t have the parts.”
Sam’s first impulse was to comfort her, and thank her for sharing such intimate information, but then he realized exactly what she had said, and it hit him like a fist to the chest. He coughed when he remembered to breathe. “What? Wait. What exactly did you say? I mean, the exact wording.”
“I don’t remember. I didn’t want my sick organs back, that’s for sure. I just- Look, it was stupid, and impossible, and it doesn’t matter, okay? I’ve got about as much a chance of bearing a child as your loudmouth brother does. Can we go back to the bar now?”
Sam nodded. His mouth was dry, and he had to work his jaw around just to be able to speak. “Yeah. You can go. We won’t call the tabloids. Look, I’m going to leave you my cell number, and you call me if you remember anything else that’s important or you need help.” Amanda rolled her eyes, but snatched up the receipt that he’d written on, and left, with Melissa close behind.
*
They left the bar and made their way back outside. “Dean,” Sam said, “we have a real problem now.”
“Damn divas,” Dean replied. “Pair of bitches, that’s what they are. You’d think they’d remember where they came from, but it’s been barely three months since they left the college-town life and they think they’re princesses, with egos to match.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about. We still have to do a lot of research and find out about patterns of death and see what we can determine about the Townsend well. But there’s more. You’re sick, remember?”
“Not anymore.”
“Not much anymore. But you had morning sickness, and now some of the weirdest food cravings I’ve ever seen, and you’re gaining weight. And you were the one who made a wish after Amanda.”
Dean stopped walking and looked up at Sam. “Okay, that’s bullshit. I’m not pregnant, Sam. First of all, I’m a man. And second, there doesn’t have to be a second. I don’t even have a uterus.”
“Neither does Amanda,” Sam pointed out.
“If it makes you feel better, I’ll get one of those pregnancy test kits and use it, and it’ll show up negative, and then we can quit playing the what’s-wrong-with-Dean game and get back to work.”
An hour later, Sam was waiting nervously for Dean to come out of the bathroom. He glanced at his watch “ it had been five minutes, and the test box said to wait for three for the results. Then he heard a doorknob squeak, and the bathroom door swung open.
“You know,” Dean said, “I hate to say I told you so, but, I told you so. Take a look at this.” He thrust a finger-sized plastic case at Sam, one with a narrow band of chemically treated paper glued to it. “See? One pink line. Ever seen those ads “ a minus sign is negative, a plus sign is positive. Looks like a minus to me.”
“Yeah, but you picked up a generic brand.” Sam turned the cardboard box over in his hands and looked at the instructions again. “This one is no lines for a negative and one line for a positive.”
Dean scowled at Sam, but grabbed the box and read it. “Oh.” He sat down hard on the edge of the bed and tossed the box onto the floor. “Do-it-yourself pregnancy tests always make a lot of false positives. And I really don’t think they’ve been tested for accuracy on men.”
“Stop it, Dean. Just stop it. Quit with the denial, already.”
“I’m not in denial.” Dean put on a T-shirt and started to pull on a pair of long shorts over his boxers. He got them up to his hips and then strained to pull them over his belly, which was a little bit distended. He sucked in his breath and tugged harder at the waistband, then untied the waist string to loosen the fabric enough to pull it into place. When he did, he tied the cord again, leaving the very short ends hanging down from the knot. Sam watched him him study his reflection in the mirror and give up, and then sag his shoulders as he shuffled over to the single chair in their room.
“Dean?”
“Sam.” Dean shook his head and rested his elbows on the table, with his face buried in his hands. “What are we going to do?”
“I don’t know. We’ll think of something. I mean, there has to be a doctor around somewhere that could help.” He stood behind Dean and put his hand on his arm.
“Don’t fucking touch me.”
Sam’s hand pulled back as though he’d been burned. “Sorry. I “ look, we’ll get through this. We’ve been through worse.”
“You can say that, but you’re not the one with a half-demon growing in your belly!”
“What makes you think it’s a half-demon? Dean, that child is probably mine. We can get a paternity test if that’ll make you feel better.”
“Feel better? Oh, yeah, having to tell the whole story to a doctor and then getting needles stuck into me to prove on paper that I’ve been fucking my little brother and am now carrying his child is going to make everything okay. You’re so good at thinking; why don’t you do it before you talk?”
“Look, Dean, I’m sorry, but what to you want me to say?”
“I don’t want you to say anything. I want you to shut up.”
Sam shook his head and picked up their cell phone.
“Sam, who are you calling?”
“We need to call Dad. We’re dealing with a spirit a little more powerful than we realized and he might know who’s safe to contact about your… medical problem. Someone who will help you through it and not spread rumors.”
“Help me through it? This little monster is getting cut out as soon as we figure out how to keep it all a secret. And if you tell Dad about this, then he’s going to know what we’ve been up to.” Dean tried to grab the phone, but Sam held it up over his head. “He doesn’t need this right now. He’s busy, and he thinks we’ve been behaving, doing exactly what he’s told us.”
“And we have been,” said Sam.
“Except that little part about sleeping together. Do you have any idea what it would do to him if he found out?”
“We were never told specifically not to have sex,” Sam said. “And I’m not going to tell him anything.” He waited until the phone started ringing, and he hoped that his father would pick up “ and hoped, at the same time, that John wouldn’t, because then he’d have time to think of a suitable story to tell him. “Dad? If you’re there, pick up the phone… this is Sam. I’m in Denver right now, with Dean, but we might not stay long. Look, we’re in real trouble right now, and need your help. We stumbled onto something pretty big, not the demon but still nasty, and there’s more that I don’t want to tell you over the phone. Call us back as soon as you get the message.” He shrugged. “Voice mail.”
Sam closed the phone and folded up a blanket on the floor, a makeshift mattress to sleep on, while Dean lay on the bed. He stripped down to a T-shirt and shorts and started to lie down.
“You don’t have to sleep on the floor, Sam,” Dean said.
“I figured you’d want the bed to yourself.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Dean tried to look like he didn’t care, but Sam knew by the way his forehead was creased that there was more he wasn’t saying.
“Well… okay.”
Dean let Sam slide in bed next to him, and pressed his back against Sam’s chest. Sam reached down and took Dean’s hand, the only offering of comfort that he thought might be accepted, and when it was, he was both relieved and more terrified; Dean wasn’t angry with him, but to even show that little bit of fear, must have been scared almost to death.
[Reviews - 5] [Kudos - 251]
Download story PDF format or ePUB format or MOBI format
Table of Contents
Download story PDF format or ePUB format or MOBI format
Table of Contents