"Domain of the Beloved" by Tidia

Chapter 4

Sam and Dean descended the stairs in silence. The emergency light from the stairwell became dimmer as they reached the basement. A locked metal door greeted them. Sam crouched down; shifting to the side so the remaining light would be enough to pick the lock. He smiled as the door opened. Dean stepped in first, glancing to the left and right before allowing enough room for the younger Winchester to join him.

"So which way?" The older hunter asked.

Sam nodded, understanding he was the one who was going to provide guidance. He smelled the dirt and dampness of the basement. It was cool, even with the heat outside and the air conditioning not reaching the underground depths. He could not explain to his brother that he didn't know what direction they should take. He took in a deep breath and let it out. He exposed his senses, hoped for the best and expected embarrassing failure, "Right."

Quietly they crept through the humming basement. It was an open floor plan with some rooms crudely constructed with two by fours and chicken wire, providing storage space. They followed along with their flashlights as the only light, until they illuminated a solid wall with a door.

Dean twisted the door knob, and it came ajar. Sam stepped to the side, flat against the wall. The younger hunter peered in. "Clear," Sam stated, finding no evidence of any person in the little room.

There was a string hanging down the center of the room. Sam pulled on it, and the bare light bulb lit the enclosed area. The brothers scanned the area. There was a desk made from two saw horses and a piece of plywood. A rickety black office chair was tucked underneath.

"Sam?" Dean called out to get his brother's attention. His hand rested against the wall. "It's a freakin' shrine."

A myriad of pictures-some color, and others black and white littered all four walls. They were layered on top of each other. Some were full pictures, some were just of head shots, but all were of one single person-Christy Kenney.

"Stalker," Sam swallowed the word and all its meanings. The shrine made it tangible. The younger Winchester acknowledged each photo. For a fleeting moment Sam wanted some sort of memoriam to Jess. His stomach turned because he knew it was wrong to worship her. She would always be his ideal. Being interested in Sarah was acceptable because she was different than Jessica. She was a brunette and more conservative where Jessica had been a vibrant blonde. It sickened him, because inadvertently he had created a shrine for his dead girlfriend for self protection. He shook his head, and focused on his brother. Dean was attacking the pictures, taking each down and tossing them to the ground.

His brother turned around, with a photo in his hand. The older hunter loosened his grip on it, so that it fluttered to the floor. He looked haunted, and turned his back to Sam, but did not remove another photo. The younger hunter couldn't understand his brother's layers. The surface Dean was the one he knew best. The other layers scared him because it meant at some level the two brothers were the same. "Some of these pictures . . . He was watching her in the showers. . . She was 16 years old." Dean said softly.

Sam felt angry. Christy Kenny was someone's daughter or sister, and she required a certain amount of respect, never a sick man's obsession. "We should call the cops."

"No," the older hunter faced his brother. He clenched the rifle.

Sam had thought they had decided the police were better equipped to deal with live human beings, especially after their last incident. They had walked away from the Bender family with the help of the local deputy. "Dean, we're not vigilantes."

"She wants a little more justice." Dean stated. Sam noticed he didn't directly look at the pictures.

'You know that?" The younger hunter raised his voice in aggravation. "Cause I was thinking she wanted someone to know the truth." Sam pointed a finger to his head. He reminded his brother he was the one with the psychic ability.

Dean didn't answer. His mouth formed a thin line of perseverance. "How are we going to explain how we found this?" The older Winchester gestured with his hand to the walls. "Like they say in CSI – 'we need a link.' You need to put the janitor with the evidence."

Sam exhaled. Dean had used logic, and pop culture and he was right. "Fine, but we do this my way." The younger Winchester rubbed his chin, formulating a plan to bring the stalker to the attention of the police.

The brothers pulled the string, and again were in darkness. Using the flashlights they made their way out of the school. Dean chained and locked the door, patting the door two times. The younger hunter knew his brother was making a promise to the fallen girl.

The Impala was silent, Judas Priest's Victim of Changes playing on the speakers helped Sam to think. Simple plans worked best. "Okay, I have an idea."

By the time they entered the motel Sam had relayed his plan to Dean.

"Sounds good," Dean concluded and went into the bathroom.

The youngest Winchester didn't know if his brother was being complacent or not. He hated when he couldn't trust Dean. Part of him knew that there was no one else to trust, but there was also the loose cannon factor. Sam had it, like when he wanted to charge ahead and search for their father on his own.

Sam was tenacious, and lacked patience. He wanted to give Jess a ring, even though he had graduate school ahead of him. He had wanted it all. Rather than tenacity it may have been desperation. He probably reeked of the need to fit in. What had Dean said earlier? Sometimes feelings were on the surface and other times they were deep. These feelings ran deep.

The bathroom door opened. "Your turn." Dean announced as he flopped on to the bed.

"Man, I just. . ." Sam gathered his thoughts. "We'll get this guy."

Dean reached for the remote control. "Sure we will, Sammy."

While Sam showered he had this overwhelming sense that his brother was hiding something. He dried off, holding on to the thought, but it would have to wait since Dean was asleep, and the next morning the thought was forgotten as the young hunter squinted against the morning's bright light.

He sipped the lukewarm coffee. Dean had used the coffee maker in the motel, which made a barely palatable morning drink. But, they wanted to be to the school early, right after the day started. "So we're all set?"

His older brother rolled his eyes, and opened the door to the Impala. Sam stepped into the passenger seat, placing a newspaper from the vending machine on the dash. "Why are you bringing a bag of weapons?" The younger sibling hadn't missed the fact that Dean placed a duffle in the backseat.

Dean grinned. "I'm just hoping he puts up a fight. A boy can dream can't he?"

Sam shook his head in response.

The brothers used the side entrance, avoiding the office. The halls were quiet. Class was in session, and the staff was in the administrative center. Lloyd just required time. Eventually, he would return to his private room, and they would be ready.

As they walked they grabbed the three plastic trash cans in the hallway. Sam carried two, and placed the newspaper inside. Dean carried one. They descended the stairs, again opening the door, leading into the basement and propped it open with one of the barrels.

Dean wiped his hands on his jeans. They walked twenty feet into the basement and left a trash barrel there, another twenty feet they were by the door of Lloyd's private room. Sam felt the sticky residue from the plastic garbage cans on his hands. He emulated his brother and rubbed his palms on his pants.

Each brother took a stance by the door frame. Dean reached the knob and pushed it open wide. They rushed in; shocked that Lloyd was in the room as if waiting for them. The older Winchester reacted first, unleashing the pent up hostility for the janitor in a swift side kick to the solar plexus.

The janitor never stood a chance. Sam followed his brother's attack with a satisfying backfist, and Lloyd landed hard against the desk. He slumped down. Each hunter grabbed an arm, and deposited him in the chair. Sam kept a restraining hand on the man's chest while Dean secured him with duct tape.

The younger Winchester studied the fallen man. In their fallibility they didn't recognize this man as a threat. The janitor had been so innocuous, so insignificant until now. Sam felt he should have instinctively known Lloyd was evil. His facial features were what Sam thought a stalker should be. Previously normal characteristics were sinister-beady eyes, and a feral smile. Presently, the janitor was pathetic, with a little trail of blood coming down from his split lip courtesy of Sam.

Dean bound the wrists to each other, forcefully ripping the tape which gave off a caustic smell. The ankles were next then the arms were attached to the torso. Lastly, Dean took an inch strip of the silver tape, but held off placing it over Lloyd's mouth.

Sam removed his hand from the janitor's chest, and stood next to his brother. Their father had taught them interrogation techniques. If a perpetrator looked up and to the left that meant they were accessing true memories. If the person looked up and to the right they were using their creative side, and inventing falsehoods. The older Winchester brother had excelled in reading people. "Nice place you got here." Sam commented. He was surprised the janitor had not screamed for assistance. He was calm or maybe in shock by the whole ordeal, either way they would use it to their advantage. "Great décor." The younger hunter stated, as he pulled at the nearest picture and flung it at the seated janitor. "She's very photogenic."

"Who? How did . . ." Lloyd glanced back and forth to each brother, unable to meet either in the eye.

Dean placed his finger on the janitor's chest, poking hard to enunciate his diatribe. "You watched her grow up in this school, and thought that she could be yours. And finally, it dawned on you that she was never going to be yours. So you murdered her. You murdered a sixteen year old girl. You are one sick bastard." The older Winchester's eyes blazed with ferocity.

"No!" The janitor yelled and tried to stand.

Sam pushed him back down with a hard shove. "She didn't even know you existed." The younger hunter snorted with disgust. Lloyd almost succeeded in receiving no punishment, and maybe fate had brought them to Dumas to right the wrong. "You're going to jail for a very long time."

Before the janitor had a chance to reply, Dean placed the duct tape over his mouth, suffocating any words on Lloyd's lips. "Go ahead Sam and pull the alarm." Dean prompted with a jerk of his chin.

"Dean…" Sam warned, knowing his brother too well. The older hunter looked dangerous and ready to pounce. Most hunts were not personal and Dean was relaxed during those hunts. Sam guessed because their training made them react instinctively. His brother was not relaxed now. His body was taunt with control.

"We'll be fine." The older hunter stepped away from the janitor to show he would not hit him.

Sam nodded. He hoped Dean would restrain himself and leave something for the police to arrest. Aggression could be satisfying, but it also seeped into the soul over time, leaving bitterness in its wake. Sam never wanted Dean to be bitter.

He jogged the path back to the first floor. The red alarm was in the hallway, and he pulled hard, not waiting to hear it click into action.

He ran down the stairs, fishing the lighter from his jean pocket. The newspaper lay on top of the garbage where he had placed it. He pulled a third away and crumpled it, lighting one of the edges. He deposited into the garbage, and went to light the next beacon.

Sam could hear the shuffling in the hallway of action. Students would be shuffling through the exits, glad for the break and patiently waiting for the authorities to come.

As he finished at the second garbage can, Sam heard a distinctive thwack. He ran to the third can, lighting the remaining newspaper and throwing it the garbage that propped open the door to the private room. He came to a halt in front of Dean. His older brother was three feet away from the janitor.

"Roundhouse kick?" Sam asked after surveying the mark on Lloyd's face and the glare he gave the older Winchester.

Dean shrugged his shoulders.

"We're done here, someone will find him soon." The younger hunter said. They needed to leave the premises. Lloyd would soon have his day of reckoning.

Sam followed his brother out the door. Dean turned around not to give the janitor a second look, but directly at Sam. "We still have to finish this, Sammy."