About A Boy--Supernatural (Alternate Ending) #JustWriteIt

Part 6

Dean didn't want to argue with Sam, so when they walked out to the Impala from the school office Dean cut his brother off, saying, "Look. You have no right to get pissed off at me. I know that I should know, but you got into you fair share of fights at school. And this time, you and I weren't there duking it out back to back, so you can't blame me for putting that kid in the hospital. I needed to let of some steam. And besides, I found a link between the vics."

That froze Sam dead in his tracks. "You found a link?"

"Yeah," Dean said smugly. "One that you probably wouldn't have found."

Sam scowled, but started the Impala anyways and began driving. "So? What's the missing connection?"

"A band called Glass Thrones," Dean told him. "A local group, according to this chick. She said that they were at all of the events that these kids went missing from."

"And how does this chick know that?" Sam asked.

Dean hesitated. "I didn't catch that."

"Well, why not?"

"I was a bit too worried I was a little busy trying not to get myself landed in the nurse's room. Forgive me if I didn't quite live up to your expectations, brother."

Sam sighed. "Great. Well. There are only two reasons I can think as to why she would know. Either she was at all of the things, or she's in the band."

"In which case she was still there," Dean reminded him.

A scowl spread across Sam's face, but quickly disappeared. "Well, are we going to go and look for information on these Glass Thrones?"

Dean nodded. "So far they're really our only lead. Give me a minute to find them."

Half an hour later, Sam was standing in a kitchen, talking to a very flustered mother. "I still don't see what this has to do with Joseph," she said frantically. "He's a good kid, he's never hurt anybody. Sure, we've moved around a lot, but he's always had a knack for making friends."

"Nobody's accusing your son of anything, Mrs. Turpin," he said reassuringly. "We just want to talk to hum and figure out if he knows anything or saw anything in relation to the disappearances."

The mother sighed and leaned against the counter. "Joseph was a good kid; he knew Kieth well. So did Cody; he's also in the band. They've been good friends for years now, and I can tell you that Cody wouldn't do anything to hurt anybody either. He's a good kid too, goes to church on Sundays, helps out at the food bank twice a week."

Sam looked to the side, at where Dean normally would stand. But there was nobody there.

"And, uh, how long have these kids been in this band for?" he asked with a charming smile.

Joseph's mother frowned. "Oh, about six months now? Yes, that would be about right. Joseph and Cody played guitar and drums respectively, and they'd spent a while -- years, actually--messing around, and then they decided maybe they'd like to start a band. So they talked to some people at school, put up some flyers, and then two people approached them. A girl they knew and a new kid at school. And they found out that they got along really well, all of them, and started performing at places."

"Mrs. Turpin, do you know the names of these other two kids?" Sam asked gently.

"Oh, of course!" she exclaimed. "I make it my business to know what my son is doing, as I rightly should--shouldn't I?"

"Of course," Sam murmured, his thoughts drifting to Dean.

"Well, they're actually practising right now," she told them, turning back to her cooking. "Over at Nancy's house. They fit the very definition of garage band sometimes. Here--" She wrote down the address and handed it to him. "They'll be there until five. But--they have a gig tonight, at a local place. It's an all ages type place, they start at seven thirty."

"Thank you," Sam said. "Have a wonderful evening, Mrs. Turpin."

Sam slid into the the driver's seat. Dean looked at him expectantly. "Well? Are they some shitty Justin Bieber cover band?"

"I never asked, Sam told him. "Two of the kids are your typical alter server boys, one of them they know and the other one is new to the city. They've been a group for about six months, but nothing until now," he said.

"Huh," Dean muttered. "We going to check them out?"

"Of course," Sam replied. "The mother says they're practising right now, but they've got a gig later on that we can check out."

A groan escaped Dean's mouth. "Just don't expect me to stick around if it is a group of teeneyboppers."

"I'll be expecting you to stick around," Sam said. "Regardless of what type of music. You'll be my eyes on the inside, ground level. I'm going to be talking to the kids backstage, and you're going to be keeping an eye out for anyone or anything strange down here. Savvy?"

"Yeah, sure thing, Captain Jack," Dean grumbled. "I just hope they're good."

The good news was, they were a good band. Dean swayed back and forth a bit in his seat, listening to their cover of Hell Freezes Over by The Eagles. All four of the kids up there, he had seen around the school over the past few days. Sam was waiting in a room at the back, talking to the manager of the place to see if he knew anything. When the show was over and the kids went there to pack up, he would talk to them as well. It was a bit more formal than Sam was often comfortable with, and Dean knew that it would be awkward just being him. He shrugged and sighed. There was nothing that could be done, so for bow he would just sit there listening to the music, while keeping one eye on the floor and the other on the girl who was strumming softly at her guitar.

The set ended, and Dean sat outside of the room. He could hear the confused exclamations and almost every word that as being said in there as Sam grilled the kids for information. Apparently, he had somehow already talked to the new kid--Adam, his name was--and he stormed out of the room carrying his guitar case. Dean watched closely, but when he stepped out the door, a minivan pulled up and a kindly-looking mother stepped out. She helped him pack out whatever they needed to bring, and Dean lost interest. It wasn't Adam. He knew that now.

He turned his focus back to the room and whatever words leaked out through the low quality door. At least, until somebody tapped on his shoulder. He turned around and there was the goth chick, top hat and all. "Did you enjoy the show?" she asked, smiling mischievously. "Yeah," Dean replied, "I did."

"Well," she asked, "What would you say to a little...walk along the beach...and maybe a bit of fun while we're at it?"

Her eyes were strange, but beautiful--a sapphire blue that shimmered like the ocean's surface. He could get lost in those--

Dean shook his head. What? He didn't think like that!

"I mean, unless your dad's such an iron assed son of a bitch that you can't even take a walk."

The girl's voice was gentle and melodic, hypnotic, like gentle ocean waves. "Sure," he heard himself say. "I'd like that a lot." He took her extended hand and they walked out the door.