Sam
"I'm Agent Plant and this is Agent Bonham," Sam said, gesturing to Dean and tucking his fake FBI badge back into his coat. "We'd like to ask you a few questions about your son's disappearance."
Dr. Smith clearly hadn't been expecting visitors today. The man was dressed in sweatpants and a paint-stained T-shirt, and his face looked as tired as his clothes. Sam couldn't even begin to understand what he was feeling, with his son missing for two days.
"I already talked to the police," Dr. Smith said, opening his door wider and frowning.
"We've been following another case and we think it might be related. We just have a few routine questions, if that's all right," Dean said.
Dr. Smith regarded them carefully for another long moment and then nodded. He stepped back to allow them entry into his home. It was a modest one-story building, with a neat garden in the front, a small garage, and solar panels on the roof. Dr. Smith was a senior researcher at the nearby university's library.
Sam let his gaze linger on the framed photos around the house of Devin Smith, Dr. Smith's missing son. He picked up a few quick facts—the kid played soccer, enjoyed mint chip ice cream, and loved to read. Not surprising even with his dyslexia, given his dad's profession.
Dr. Smith led them into his living room and onto the couch. He sat in an armchair next to them. They sat in silence for a moment while Sam pulled out his notepad.
"Oh," Dr. Smith said, patting his legs like he was about to get up. "Um, would you like anything? Water? Coffee?"
"We're fine, thank you," Dean said with a polite smile.
Dr. Smith nodded. "What, uh, what would you like to know?"
"Walk us through what happened," Sam said, his pen poised over his notepad. He didn't really need it, but he'd come to learn it was expected of him by civilians.
Dr. Smith swallowed hard. He touched a photo of his son, then cleared his throat again. "Well, Devin had soccer practice after school. Sometimes his friend Jimmy's parents give him a ride home—that was the plan, that day. So I was worried when I got home from work and he wasn't here. I called Jimmy's father, and he said Devin was already gone when they picked Jimmy up. They thought I'd picked him up."
"And what did Jimmy say? Did he see where Devin went?" Dean asked.
Dr. Smith shrugged helplessly. "He said Devin went to the locker room to change and never came out. He thought he'd left through a different exit."
"That's when you went to the school yourself and found the evidence?" Sam said, checking his notes from the official police report.
Dr. Smith nodded. "I went to the locker room and found Devin's bag surrounded by that weird dust. He was gone—" he choked, his eyes welling up.
"It's okay, you don't have to keep going. We have the report," Dean said with a grim face.
"That's when I called the police," Dr. Smith said through his sniffles. "But they haven't found anything yet."
"That's what they told us. We just wanted to double-check, in case you remembered anything new," Sam said.
Dr. Smith rubbed his eyes and looked up at Sam. "You said you've been following a similar case?"
"Yes. Similar story—missing kid, the strange stone fragments left behind. It's a few cities away, but it's possible they could be related," Sam admitted.
Dr. Smith sighed, looking at his hands in his lap. "Is there anything else you need from me?"
Sam exchanged a look with Dean. It was never easy asking their weird questions.
"Is there anyone who might want to hurt you or Devin? Anyone who holds a grudge against you, or you've fought with?" Sam asked.
Dr. Smith shook his head. "I'm a glorified librarian. I've never fought someone once in my life. The worst I've done is raised my voice to rowdy kids in the library."
"What about Devin's ADHD and dyslexia? They can be genetic, did they come from you or his mother?" Sam asked.
"W-what? Uh, probably his mother. How did you—why does that matter?"
"What can you tell us about Devin's birth mother?" Dean asked instead of answering his question. "What was her name? Does she ever visit?"
Dr. Smith frowned, suspicion coloring his face. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"Please, just answer the question," Sam was quick to say, keeping his voice calm and welcoming. "Sometimes, in cases like these, it could be the parent is involved."
"You think she might have taken him?"
"It's possible."
"No!" Dr. Smith said, suddenly very animated. His hands fidgeted in his lap, his eyes darting back and forth between Sam and Dean. "I haven't seen her since the day she dropped him off as a baby. She's never wanted anything to do with him. He's my son, not hers! And I don't appreciate these questions!"
"We're sorry, Dr. Smith," Sam said, holding out a placating hand. "We just have to cover all our bases."
Dr. Smith deflated, putting his head in his hands. "I'm sorry. I just—it's been a difficult few days."
Dean got to his feet, holding out one of their fake business cards. "We understand. We have everything we need. Please, call us if you remember anything else. We'll let you know if we find anything."
Dr. Smith took the card without looking at them. He didn't get up even as Sam and Dean made their way to the front door. When he still didn't move, they left.
"What's your take?" Sam asked once they were out of earshot.
"He clammed up pretty quick when we asked about the mother," Dean said. "Didn't even give us her name."
"I noticed that too," Sam said, flipping through his notes. "Think he's lying?"
"I don't know. I think he believes she wouldn't come after the kid. But there's something about her that he didn't tell us. Could be important. How 'bout you do your thing on the Internet while I check out the school locker room?"
Sam nodded as they hopped into the Impala. "Yeah, I'll see if I can find anything about her. Drop me off at the motel."
The Impala engine rumbled to life, that familiar sound that Sam could recognize in a crowded parking lot since he was a kid.
Dean was quiet as he drove. He had been quiet on the trip from Kansas to California, too, aside from singing along to his music or asking Sam for snacks. He'd been like that during hunts ever since he and Cas got together. Dean was as good a hunter as always—the best hunter Sam knew—but he was quieter. A little less prone to risky, impulsive maneuvers. A little more strategic with his plans. Whenever Sam asked why he'd cut back on hunting, Dean always said it was because he didn't want to die a hunter anymore, that he didn't want to do this forever. But Sam knew there was more to it than that. He'd heard Dean's message to Cas before they left the bunker.
Sam didn't blame him. He was happy for his brother—beyond happy. Dean hadn't been as subtle as he thought about his feelings before, and Sam had been silently rooting for the two of them to get their heads out of their asses for a long time now. He was glad they'd finally done it. He loved seeing how happy they made each other after all the years of pining and loss. But he understood Dean's hesitation about going into the field now that he had something big to lose. It was the same hesitation Sam had felt fifteen years ago when Dean first came to get him at Stanford when he was with Jessica.
Dean had something good now. And Sam would do everything in his power to make sure he kept it.
~
"Nothing new at the school," Dean said by way of greeting when he entered the motel room, dropping a takeout bag on the table. "No sulfur, no EMF, nothing. Just the stone residue like the report said."
Sam reached for the bag, pulling out his salad. Dean rolled his eyes as Sam dressed his salad, taking his own burger and chomping into it with no regard for manners. That, at least, hadn't changed.
"So it's not a demon or ghost, but that was unlikely anyway," Sam said.
"Any luck on your end?" Dean asked through a mouthful of burger.
Sam grimaced as bits of food fell from Dean's mouth onto the table. Dean just smiled.
Sam dragged over his laptop, pulling up a news page and pointing to a photo. It showed the university librarians gathered around one of those new short story dispensers. Dr. Smith was at one end, and next to him was a woman with blonde hair and gray eyes.
"That her?" Dean asked.
Sam shrugged. "Maybe. It's the only thing I could find since he didn't give us her name."
Dean pointed to the caption. "Says her name is Olivia Durant."
"Yeah, I checked. Olivia Durant doesn't exist. This is the only mention of her anywhere."
Dean frowned, looking closer at the image. "Well, she looks like she could be the kid's mom. But why the fake name?"
Sam shrugged again. "Like I said, there's nothing about her besides this."
"Huh. So there's definitely something shady going on here."
"Not just with Dr. Smith," Sam said, pulling up another page. This one had an image of Dr. Mirlees, a biochemist in Bridgeport whose daughter went missing, holding a certificate for a research grant he received. In the background of the image were his assistants and colleagues. One woman had the same blonde hair and gray eyes as Olivia Durant, though she was a bit taller and her face more angular.
"Says her name is Mindy Farris," Dean said. "But I see the resemblance."
Sam clicked through a few more pages. "Same with the other two fathers in Sonora and Mariposa. It took a lot of digging, but I found pictures of them with another woman who looks like her. Different names, different faces each time. But the eyes are the same."
Dean finally put down his burger, only to shove some fries into his mouth. "Okay, so maybe they do all have the same mother, no matter how weird and impossible that seems. That doesn't mean that she's the one taking the kids, though."
"No, it doesn't," Sam agreed with a sigh. "There's still a hundred things that could be behind this. But it's a lead."
"Any luck on the who? Or what?"
Sam shook his head. "Do you know how many things in the lore have connections to stone and kids? Too many to count. We need another lead before I can narrow it down."
"Well, I'm beat," Dean said after finishing his food—probably faster than was healthy. "We'll hit the library tomorrow."
"Yeah, sure," Sam said, going back to his salad.
Sam didn't miss how Dean checked his phone before going to the bathroom, and then again right before climbing into bed. By the dim look on his face, there was nothing from Cas. Logically, they both knew it was unlikely to receive word from him while he was in heaven.
But Sam knew all too well that love didn't obey logic.