Okay - here it is! A sequel to Sammie Rae. Thanks to everyone who has been requesting this, and to hotshow for some plotting advice.
Ch1 – An average Day
"Sammy!" Dean bellowed, standing by the monkey bars at a neighborhood park. Sam's head poked over the top of a covered slide. Rae's little face hung over the edge of a lookout tower on top of the huge playground structure. She was grinning ear to ear.
Dean waved his arm. "Get over here!"
Rae raced over to Dean, leaping onto him and hanging from his waist. Sam disentangled himself from playground equipment meant for people a third of his height before ambling over. "What's up, Dean?"
"Got a lead. Let's go check it out." Dean headed toward the car, half-dragging Rae with him.
"What's the lead?" Sam asked, slowing his normal pace to stay in step with his brother.
"But I'm not ready to leave yet!" Rae shouted into Dean's side.
"Too bad, kiddo," Dean ruffled her hair affectionately. "Uncle Sam and I need to check this out before anyone else gets hurt."
She stopped dragging her feet to walk between them. Rae let out a loud sigh. "What's the lead?" she asked, defeated.
Dean shot Sam a grin over her head. "There was a similar attack a few years ago, but the victim survived. It was a woman who still lives in town. Thought we might pay her a little visit."
"You are NOT going to make me talk to her," Rae announced as they neared the Impala.
Dean squatted to talk to her eye to eye. "When have I ever made you talk to someone?" he demanded.
Rae thought hard. "Well, never. I'm just saying."
Dean squeezed his eye shut and shook his head. "Do me favor? Worry about stuff that may actually happen, not stuff you invent."
She jumped into the front seat. "We'll see."
He looked over at his brother. Sam shrugged before climbing into the passenger seat. "So, any idea what attacked her?"
"Nope," Dean started the car, "that's why we're going to talk to her."
Miss Lisa Jerome lived in a tiny house in a cul-de-sac of average, American homes. Her lawn was cut, but browning in the middle. Her hedges could have used a trim. In fact, the entire house looked as if it could use a make-over. Armed with their press identities, Sam and Dean approached the front door after donning ties and sports jackets. Rae trailed close behind Dean.
Sam rapped on the door. "Good afternoon. Is this the residence of Miss Lisa Jerome?" he asked, his boy next door smile plastered across his face.
The woman inside did not step into full view. One eye peered through her cracked front door.
"Um…We are researching some attacks that happened just outside of town. We understand something similar happened to you a few years ago?" Sam shifted from foot to foot. That single eye was difficult to read. "Could we, uh, just talk to you for a few minutes? Ask you about what happened?"
"What's wrong with the kid?" A hoarse voice asked.
Rae was clinging to Dean's leg, hiding her face behind his back.
"Oh, uh," Sam whirled between Rae and Miss Jerome, "she just, uh, doesn't talk. You know, to anyone but, um, us." Sam gestured to Dean and himself.
"Why?" She croaked.
Sam looked back at Dean, who shrugged, nodding.
Sam took a deep breath. "Because she saw her parents murdered," he said, his eyes downcast.
The door swung open and a hand motioned for them to come inside. Sam stepped in, followed closely by Dean and Rae. Then they saw why she was so secretive. Most of her face was covered with ugly, thick scars.
"Oh my God," Dean stepped forward, his face radiating concern. "What the hell did that do you?" He sounded angry and Rae clutched his coat tighter.
She gasped, backing away, covering her face.
"No, wait," Sam pushed Dean back, "we just want to help. Really."
Rae was pulling on Dean's coat, tears streaming over her cheeks. Dean finally looked down. He pulled her up into his arms, wiping away the tears. "What's wrong with you?"
She whispered into Dean's ear. Dean's eyes widened as he listened.
Lisa Jerome was backed against the wall, hands covering her face. "What did she say?" she demanded through her fingers.
Dean held Rae close as he met the woman's eyes. "She said that the – thing" he spat the word, "that killed her parents clawed up her mothers face before it…"
Her eyes widened behind her splayed hands. "Before it what?"
Sam swallowed. "Before it ate them." His conscience burned as he heard a small yelp from Rae.
"Dude!" Dean snapped.
Guilt was written all over Sam's face as he reached out to touch Rae. "Hey, I'm sorry, Sunshine."
The sound of a throat clearing caused the brothers to turn around. "Would…Would you like come coffee?"
Dean belted Rae in next to him in the Impala. "Well, if that isn't another friggin' werewolf, I don't know what it is. What do you think?" His eyes met Rae's.
She nodded. "Werewolf. Gotta be."
"Why?" Sam asked, slamming his door.
Rae took a deep breath. "First of all, it happened on a full moon. Next, it sounds like a werewolf."
They waited, but she did not say anything else.
"And?" Sam prompted. "I think you missed something. Think about it."
Rae sighed, resting her chin on a fist to think. Dean chuckled as he backed out of Lisa Jerome's driveway. "Come on Uncle Sam, doesn't she get a day off?"
"Not unless we do," Sam replied.
Dean cut his eyes at Rae. "Think about claw marks," he whispered.
"Oh! A Wendingo has five claws and werewolves have four!" Her face scrunched as she turned to Sam. "So? How does that help?"
Sam tapped her on the nose. "If you were paying attention instead of hiding, you might have noticed the four claw marks across her throat. Four, not five."
"Ah, cut her a little slack there, Sam. That wasn't exactly one of our easier interviews." Dean's voice conveyed a lot more than his words did.
"Yeah," Sam stared down at his hands, "sorry about that."
Rae leaned against her Uncle Sam. She wrapped her arms around his left arm and squeezed tight. "Thanks, Sunshine," he whispered into her hair.