Dean found himself brought back to reality by the first signs of heavy rain hitting defiantly on his windscreen. He sighed. He was beginning to realise that good weather and Riverside didn’t really feature in the same sentence very often at all. He checked his phone for any emergency calls from Sam, found nothing, and started the car’s engine, ready to head back to the main town centre again and pick up Sam. He’d only been gone an hour, but he hoped Sam had found something about the spirit in that time, because Dean really wanted to avoid research at all possible costs.
By the time he’d reached the library, Sam was leaning against the brickwork outside, with a stack of papers wedged in his right hand and a triumphant look on his face. Dean sighed with relief and raised his eyebrows at Sam as he bent down and sat down in the car next to him.
“Well? Did you find out who our mystery man spirit was?”
“Yep,” replied Sam, flicking through the papers, “he was called Matthew Barnes, and he died in 1986.” Sam paused for Dean to recognise the date.
“The year the first accident and deaths happened. Okay, how did he meet his maker?”
“Um, cops say they’re not sure.”
“What do you mean, how can they not be sure?”
“Well, from examining the body, cops said it was likely that Matthew was tormented and beaten up right before he died; then he got killed in a hit and run. It’s unclear whether it was the fight or the collision or both that killed him.”
“Don’t tell me, he got killed on Nettington Highway?”
“Yeah.”
Dean looked expectantly at Sam. “That’s all you found out in an hour?”
“No, I’m a faster hacker than that. I managed to get into the police files of all the victims so far...”
“And? Dig up anything good? Any victims got any skeletons in the closet? Dirty little secrets that pull them all together in some way?”
“Well, yes and no,” explained Sam, “you see, their secrets not one the police could ever prove. See, all the victims and Matthew attended the same high school; Matthew was fifteen when he died, and the victims range from an age of fifteen to eighteen in the year of the accident. They were all from different cliques, and there’s no evidence any of them even knew Matthew.”
“Okay, so what’s the connection? Sorry, man, it’s still looking kind of sketchy to me. All we’ve got is that they all attended the high school. And?”
“That’s where it gets interesting;” Sam said, flicking to another piece of paper from the pile he’d collected, “there was no evidence that the other kids knew Matthew, right? But a few pupils at the time said that they did know Matthew. And they weren’t on friendly terms.”
“How so?” asked Dean, his eyes focusing on the road.
“Well, it was kept quiet at the time, but a few years later, other pupils that weren’t involved began to speak up, and say that all these kids were real jerks towards Matthew. They said that he got the crap kicked out of him more times than they could count.”
“Wait,” interrupted Dean, “you said a few years later. Do you mean three years?”
Sam looked up at his brother from his research. “How did you know that?”
“That was the first death, wasn’t it? In 1989?”
Sam nodded.
“Well, it’s vengeful spirit material, Sam. This looks like a pretty black and white case to me, man.”
“Agreed.”
“Well, we know how to waste Matthew’s spirit.”
Sam and Dean looked at each other, then said together: “Salt and burn.”
Dean fell silent for a minute. Then he said: “But I think we need to visit Laura again first. Maybe she knows more than she’s letting on to us. She almost sounded like she deserved to be in that place. And we need to know where he was buried.”
When Sam and Dean stopped by to visit Laura again, she seemed a little better than the last time they saw her. She had a bit more colour in her cheeks and looked slightly happier, if that were possible in her circumstances. When she saw it was the supposed police that had come to visit again, however, the smile seemed to disappear a little; only a fraction that Sam and Dean would have noticed with their upbringing. She was pacing around the room.
“Detectives? I thought you’d got all the information you needed. What can I do for you?”
“We were hoping you could shed some light for us on some...new evidence we found,” Sam said, choosing his words carefully.
Laura began to look a bit unsettled for the first time since they entered. Dean, however, was not in the letting-her-know-slowly mood, and said: “You see, from the get-go you’ve been hiding something from us. Haven’t you Laura?”
Laura looked down, stopped pacing the room and sat down on the bed. When she didn’t answer, Dean continued.
“Well, we learnt that the apparition you saw on the road that night was not the first time you saw him. Or indeed, saw him on that road. Was it?” He paused, giving her a chance to make it easier. She didn’t. “Feel free to jump in anytime, sweetheart. So anyway, we found out that you and Matthew -” Laura’s head shot up at his name “- use to be buddies in high school. Until we looked it up and saw that it’s because of you and eight other people that he died that night in 1986. Ringing any bells yet?”
Laura shot him a spiteful look, then eventually said: “Look, I was only sixteen at the time. I was scared, we all were. I wanted to go to college, forget all about it. What would you have done at that age?”
Sam, leaning on the doorway throughout this, suddenly spoke up.
“Laura, scared or not, what you all did that night was manslaughter. You know that right?”
“What do you think I’ve been thinking about the last nineteen years? Why do you think I deserve to be in here? I’ve felt I belong here long before the crash with Jamie. When I saw him that night I didn’t...I couldn’t believe it. It couldn’t have been real. But I know I don’t deserve a life after what we did. And besides, I know that if I stay in here, he can’t....he can’t get me.”
Sam’s features softened just the slightest bit, but Dean’s face remained hard and bitter.
“You’re right,” agreed Dean, “you don’t. We should turn you in right now. But you’ve had enough. You can rot in here for all we care.”
Sam looked up at his brother. “Dean –”
Dean turned his gaze to his brother. “No, Sam, people just think they can do crap like that and get away with it? She’s welcome to any fate that she gets.”
Sam opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again. He was torn between agreeing with these harsh words and thinking that Dean was over exaggerating slightly. But he knew his brother, and if he was going to disagree with him, he’d do it later, not in front of Laura, but in their own time and their own space.
Dean began to walk towards the door and turn his back on Laura, then turned round, needing, however much he didn’t like it, one last bit of information.
“Laura, one last thing. We couldn’t find out where Matthew was buried. Don’t screw us around. Tell us. Now.”
Sam listened to the commanding tone in his brother’s voice and narrowed his eyes slightly.
Laura seemed a little taken aback by Dean’s tone, too, but replied nonetheless.
“He wasn’t. He was, um, cremated.” Her eyes darted from Sam to Dean, then she turned her back to them, closing the conversation.
Dean gave Sam an annoyed look, turned his back on the door and pulled it open. Sam followed.
By the time he’d reached the library, Sam was leaning against the brickwork outside, with a stack of papers wedged in his right hand and a triumphant look on his face. Dean sighed with relief and raised his eyebrows at Sam as he bent down and sat down in the car next to him.
“Well? Did you find out who our mystery man spirit was?”
“Yep,” replied Sam, flicking through the papers, “he was called Matthew Barnes, and he died in 1986.” Sam paused for Dean to recognise the date.
“The year the first accident and deaths happened. Okay, how did he meet his maker?”
“Um, cops say they’re not sure.”
“What do you mean, how can they not be sure?”
“Well, from examining the body, cops said it was likely that Matthew was tormented and beaten up right before he died; then he got killed in a hit and run. It’s unclear whether it was the fight or the collision or both that killed him.”
“Don’t tell me, he got killed on Nettington Highway?”
“Yeah.”
Dean looked expectantly at Sam. “That’s all you found out in an hour?”
“No, I’m a faster hacker than that. I managed to get into the police files of all the victims so far...”
“And? Dig up anything good? Any victims got any skeletons in the closet? Dirty little secrets that pull them all together in some way?”
“Well, yes and no,” explained Sam, “you see, their secrets not one the police could ever prove. See, all the victims and Matthew attended the same high school; Matthew was fifteen when he died, and the victims range from an age of fifteen to eighteen in the year of the accident. They were all from different cliques, and there’s no evidence any of them even knew Matthew.”
“Okay, so what’s the connection? Sorry, man, it’s still looking kind of sketchy to me. All we’ve got is that they all attended the high school. And?”
“That’s where it gets interesting;” Sam said, flicking to another piece of paper from the pile he’d collected, “there was no evidence that the other kids knew Matthew, right? But a few pupils at the time said that they did know Matthew. And they weren’t on friendly terms.”
“How so?” asked Dean, his eyes focusing on the road.
“Well, it was kept quiet at the time, but a few years later, other pupils that weren’t involved began to speak up, and say that all these kids were real jerks towards Matthew. They said that he got the crap kicked out of him more times than they could count.”
“Wait,” interrupted Dean, “you said a few years later. Do you mean three years?”
Sam looked up at his brother from his research. “How did you know that?”
“That was the first death, wasn’t it? In 1989?”
Sam nodded.
“Well, it’s vengeful spirit material, Sam. This looks like a pretty black and white case to me, man.”
“Agreed.”
“Well, we know how to waste Matthew’s spirit.”
Sam and Dean looked at each other, then said together: “Salt and burn.”
Dean fell silent for a minute. Then he said: “But I think we need to visit Laura again first. Maybe she knows more than she’s letting on to us. She almost sounded like she deserved to be in that place. And we need to know where he was buried.”
When Sam and Dean stopped by to visit Laura again, she seemed a little better than the last time they saw her. She had a bit more colour in her cheeks and looked slightly happier, if that were possible in her circumstances. When she saw it was the supposed police that had come to visit again, however, the smile seemed to disappear a little; only a fraction that Sam and Dean would have noticed with their upbringing. She was pacing around the room.
“Detectives? I thought you’d got all the information you needed. What can I do for you?”
“We were hoping you could shed some light for us on some...new evidence we found,” Sam said, choosing his words carefully.
Laura began to look a bit unsettled for the first time since they entered. Dean, however, was not in the letting-her-know-slowly mood, and said: “You see, from the get-go you’ve been hiding something from us. Haven’t you Laura?”
Laura looked down, stopped pacing the room and sat down on the bed. When she didn’t answer, Dean continued.
“Well, we learnt that the apparition you saw on the road that night was not the first time you saw him. Or indeed, saw him on that road. Was it?” He paused, giving her a chance to make it easier. She didn’t. “Feel free to jump in anytime, sweetheart. So anyway, we found out that you and Matthew -” Laura’s head shot up at his name “- use to be buddies in high school. Until we looked it up and saw that it’s because of you and eight other people that he died that night in 1986. Ringing any bells yet?”
Laura shot him a spiteful look, then eventually said: “Look, I was only sixteen at the time. I was scared, we all were. I wanted to go to college, forget all about it. What would you have done at that age?”
Sam, leaning on the doorway throughout this, suddenly spoke up.
“Laura, scared or not, what you all did that night was manslaughter. You know that right?”
“What do you think I’ve been thinking about the last nineteen years? Why do you think I deserve to be in here? I’ve felt I belong here long before the crash with Jamie. When I saw him that night I didn’t...I couldn’t believe it. It couldn’t have been real. But I know I don’t deserve a life after what we did. And besides, I know that if I stay in here, he can’t....he can’t get me.”
Sam’s features softened just the slightest bit, but Dean’s face remained hard and bitter.
“You’re right,” agreed Dean, “you don’t. We should turn you in right now. But you’ve had enough. You can rot in here for all we care.”
Sam looked up at his brother. “Dean –”
Dean turned his gaze to his brother. “No, Sam, people just think they can do crap like that and get away with it? She’s welcome to any fate that she gets.”
Sam opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again. He was torn between agreeing with these harsh words and thinking that Dean was over exaggerating slightly. But he knew his brother, and if he was going to disagree with him, he’d do it later, not in front of Laura, but in their own time and their own space.
Dean began to walk towards the door and turn his back on Laura, then turned round, needing, however much he didn’t like it, one last bit of information.
“Laura, one last thing. We couldn’t find out where Matthew was buried. Don’t screw us around. Tell us. Now.”
Sam listened to the commanding tone in his brother’s voice and narrowed his eyes slightly.
Laura seemed a little taken aback by Dean’s tone, too, but replied nonetheless.
“He wasn’t. He was, um, cremated.” Her eyes darted from Sam to Dean, then she turned her back to them, closing the conversation.
Dean gave Sam an annoyed look, turned his back on the door and pulled it open. Sam followed.
