Home on the Highway Pt 1/? - For lyricathon...
Reposted and cleaned it up a bit - hopefully, eez better!!
*Hugs*
FB is love, dudes...
Title: Home on the Highway Part 1/?
Author: PhoenixDragon
Fandom: Supernatural
Genre: Horror, Gen, AU fic
Characters/Pairing: Sam & Dean, mentions Of John and Mary
Rating: NC-17 (as always just in case)
Warnings: Watch for the language - that naughty Dean and his nasty mouth, lol! Also some blood and angsty Dark situations. Spoilers for 'Asylum' and 'Faith', set immediately after 'Faith'.
A/N: "Home in the darkness. Home on the highway. Home isn't my way. Home I'll never be." Lyricathon Challenge. Had the idea for awhile - it was only recently that I could make it coherent. Well... Semi-coherent anyway, lol!
Summary: See lyric above. Reflections of home and what it means to the Winchesters with some nasty revelations for our Sammy in between.
Wordcount: 5,959
Disclaimer(s): Don't own them - though I put a bid in on E-Bay, Kripke got them first. Dammit. Then they put a bid in on me, and they totally own me! (Though I think they split the difference with other characters), all mistakes are mine - and I'm sure that they are many - FB is love, but raspberries will be filed away for consideration on a later date - otherwise know as, don't throw facts into my fantasy, lol!!
Home in the darkness. Home on the highway. Home isn't my way. Home I'll never be. -
'Burning for You' by B.O.C.
The flames rose like fingers to the dark sheet of advancing night, their orange and red claws extending to the stars as if to pull them down from the very heavens.
Light answering light.
And steadily, the house burned, and blackened skeleton of wood and ashy soot - a scream of agony amongst the stealthy ruins of the surrounding woods. Their only consolation is that the house had been far enough away from the forest and the neighborhood to keep the fire from spreading.
That was their only consolation, though.
" Do you think they are actually gone?" Sam asked, eyes shadowed even as the fire danced and spun in front of them.
" I hope so," Dean answered quietly.
" Are we done, then?"
Dean was silent for a moment, lips pursed like a smoker longing for that last cigarette before the firing squad arrived.
" Yeah." Was the eventual reply, quiet and hidden enough to make Sam look up at him sharply, brow furrowed in concern.
" Yeah... We're done."
And there was no answer for that, either...
* * * * * * * *
" So, where is this place again?" The question was so sudden, so out-of-the-blue, Sam almost dropped the flashlight on his knees. He took a moment to readjust with a forced shrug and a raising of eyebrows before he replied, his answer wary and slightly hesitant. Dean's mood and been so odd, here the past few days, that he had found himself practically tiptoeing around him, unsure if he was going to explode outwardly or self destruct. A couple of days had gone by since they had last said good-bye to Layla, and Dean had been quiet and uncommunicative since then, his only reply to any questions Sam had asked him being 'Don't wanna talk about it' and 'Drop it Samantha - I don't feel like going into it. Save your emo and hug-fest for the chicks, okay?!'.
Hence, the egg-shells and long stretches of silence between them.
This silence was different in oh-so-many ways than his brother's usual James Dean impressions. Sometimes he seemed so close to screaming himself hoarse just below the surface of his eyes - and other times he looked like he might cry. It was all Sam could do to keep from shaking him and asking him what the fuck his goddamned problem was. But he already knew what the problem was, and that in itself, was the problem.
//' I am normal - I'm just telling the truth for the first time.'//
//'Do you really hate me that much?'// Calmly, so calmly - like he knew it all along. He had just been - waiting.
" Any day now, Sammy." with that razor tipped edge. Sam managed not to jump and told Dean where they were going, struggling to keep the tremors of horror out of his voice. What he had said to him.
God.
How he had hurt him.
How could he have done that?
" Just off of I-264, a place called Dixie Highway. The locals call it Dixie-Dieway for laughs." Not even so much as a twitch. Sam sighed inwardly and began to read off the directions to Dean as a matter of rote, both of them already planning and strategizing for a quick in and out. This was looked to all intents and purposes to be a piece of cake. But then, so had the last couple of jobs - and look how those turned out.
'Oh, Dean I am so sorry.'
//'Hey, Dean. I'm sorry, man, I...I said some awful things back there.'//
//'You remember all that.'// Flatly. Surprised in a non-surprised way. Trying so hard to not look like Sam had cut him to the bone.
//'Yeah.'//
So non-chalant. Dammit why, why, why could he be so empathetic, so sympathetic to other people, and just blow off his brother's feelings like they didn't matter? That half-hearted 'let's talk about this' emo crap.
What the fuck was wrong with him?
//'It was like I couldn't control it. But I didn't mean it. Any of it.'//
So damned NON-convincing. He couldn't even buy it himself. No wonder Dean didn't even so much as bite.
//'You didn't, huh?'//
//'No, of course not!'//
That struggling-to-be-so-manly bob of the head from Dean. How Dean wouldn't even really LOOK at him. And when he did, it was like he was seeing through him.
Seeing through the lie.
//' Do we need to talk about this?'//
Lame. So damned lame! What a fool.
//'No.'//
Turning away, that quick, almost not there shrug, as if to say 'no skin off my nose'. But Sam could tell it had hurt - badly.
//'I'm not really in the sharing and caring kind of mood. I just wanna get some sleep.'//
Game over, lights out - The End.
And he, like a total dumb-ass, had just given Dean a stupid 'look' and had let it go.
Like it didn't matter.
Like HE didn't matter.
Which went a long way towards explaining the fight they'd had the next day, and Dean's behavior all the way up to this point.
And that was what worried him.
He had been so selfish, acted like such an idiot - placing his wants, his needs and, let's face it, his obsessions - before the feelings and well-being of his brother. God, he didn't know he'd had it in him to be such a dickhead.
And in the end, Dean was the better man.
When he walked off and left him behind, so he could find Dad, yeah, Dean had pulled away - but if he had called him, Dean would have been there in a heartbeat and he knew it.
Trouble was, he couldn't say the same for himself.
And that phone call.
Dean telling him how proud he was of him. How he had always wanted better for him - how he admired him, for godssakes. All this was to assure Sam and let him know all was fine, and that Dean loved him.
And all it succeeded in doing was scaring the shit out of him.
As well as it should have.
Dean was preparing to die - and if he hadn't of shown at the very last minute -
" Gears are burning, Sammy." A quick glance and then eyes back on the road, mouth quirked in the first bemused smile he had seen in over a week or so. " I can smell 'em from here. Means you are thinkin' too hard. Penny?"
" Nahh." A shrug back, eyes cutting away to keep Dean from seeing the truth, the worry in his eyes. " Just thinking about the next job, how we're gonna get around this ghost."
The smile faded from Dean's lips, that same 'no skin off of my nose' look rising to cover the hurt that flashed and died in his eyes, a frown marring the set of his features before he turned to look back at the road, eyes frozen to a spot above the headlights.
" Yeah. Right."
Sam could feel the irritation yank at him, but quashed it as quickly as it came. He had deserved that, every bit of it, and he knew it.
" No, really man." Softly, a smile hovering in his voice. " But you know more about this one - so tell me, O-Master-of-the-Rock-Salt, how do we defeat it?"
Dean visibly relaxed and smiled back, his gaze almost - hopeful.
Sam's heart sank.
' Have I really fucked up that badly?'
He didn't like the answer too well.
So he made himself listen. Dean had been doing this longer - throwing himself into it, body and soul. Saving people, hunting things - defending those who were unable to defend themselves. And he had mocked that?
Again - how could he have done that? And to the man who had raised him like he was his own son, when he had been too young to even be thinking about such things. His brother, who was also his father and his best friend.
I mean, how could anyone say 'I love you',- better than that?
//'Good little soldier. That desperate for Dad's approval?! I'm not pathetic like you.'//
God, God, GOD!
//'You really hate me that much. Enough to kill your own brother?'//
And God help him, he had pulled the trigger.
He had pulled the trigger - not once, but two or three times.
And Dean had shrugged it off, had knocked him out and down and before blackness had descended, he'd heard those awful, awful loving words.
//'Sorry, Sammy.'//
Like he hadn't earned that punch.
And like he hadn't earned a dozen since then. They went through all that, and he still hadn't learned - only to go chasing after his obsession not but mere hours later.
Not to long before he had rubbed it in Dean's face, that they hadn't found Dad - and then he went running off like a spoiled brat to go find him, heedless of the hurt and pain he had caused his brother in the asylum, and heedless of the pain he was putting him through at that moment. Dean had come to get him, begging, to help him find Dad - which they would, he knew, even though when Dean had first shown up, all he had wanted to do was kick him right back to the curb.
But he got so wrapped up.
Dad wasn't to be found by rushing off after an elusive phone call, all pell-mell and topsy-turvy. He knew it then, and he knows it now. But at that time, he couldn't have cared less.
And Dean had been paying the price ever since.
So arrogant.
//'You know, if you are hinting that you need my help, all you have to do is ask.'//
//'I'm not hinting anything.'//
Surprised. Slightly upset that Sam would think that that was all he was calling for, when what he was calling for was so much worse. He was calling to say goodbye, so long -
' Getting ready to ride off into that sunset Jim-Bob, so don't you worry none about me.'
Good thing he had though, or Dean would be just another mask for that scarecrow-god to wear - until the next year, and the next set of victims.
All over Sammy-boy's obsessive need to do it all himself.
//'I want you to know. I mean - don't think -'//
Think what, Dean? He thought he had known, but now, he wondered. He had been so nervous, so soothing over the phone -
The fear was a pit in his stomach, one that gnawed and gnawed and -
//'Yeah.'//
He had replied.
//'I'm sorry, too.'//
But he hadn't been.
He hadn't been.
All he could think was 'Wow, he really can't do it without me.'
But, boy, was he sorry now...
//'You were right. Gotta do your own thing, live your own life.'//
I'm proud of you - I love you - I'm sorry - Don't hate me anymore, little brother.
My God, what a mess!
" Sammy - Sam?" Hesitant, unsure again - and Sam could feel hate rise in his heart, for the both of them. For Dean to let him hurt him so badly, and for him to actually do it again, and again. " You okay, bro?"
" Yeah..." A smile as weak as sunlight on a wintry day. " Just got a mild headache."
He could hear Dean rummaging in the backseat, unable to look at him, and was unsurprised to find a bottle of Tylenol in his hand a minute later. He risked peeking at him from under his bangs to find Dean smiling at him in concern.
" Got some mineral water in the glove box if ya need it."
" Thanks." Smiling the concern away from Dean's brow. He blinked distractedly and took the Tylenol, aware of Dean's eyes half on him and half on the dark stretch of road.
" Now," he said after a swallow of water. " What was it you were saying? Salt the outside, and then?"
" Yeah. Keep it inside before we smoke that bitch - you know, kinda like we did in Oklahoma that one time-"
His voice was a soothing balm to the backdrop of memories that played in Sam's head. It made the ache easier, made the questions fade - made him want to forget the ugly tickle in the back of his mind that something was seriously wrong with his brother - something that he could fix, if he just took the time and effort to fucking give a shit for someone besides himself.
' It's official - I am an asshole.' He thought wearily.
" Hey, Sam." Dean asked softly, cutting himself off in mid-sentence. " Why don't we take this up at the hotel, huh? You look like you could use some shut-eye, dude. Why don't you curl up for a few, okay? I'll wake you when we get there."
Dean looked worse than him, but he nodded, relenting in the face of his brother's unspoken love for him - eyes already sliding shut in emotional exhaustion.
" Okay Dean - just be sure to wake me." Sleepily.
" I will, man - get some rest," said with a hearty slap against the wheel, mouth gentle and smiling. " I'll wake you when it's time."
Sam rolled over and tried to get his mind to shut off, but it was still quite a few minutes before sleep claimed him, his dreams restless and fraught with nightmares of a life without this man watching over him - keeping him safe from the things that go bump in the night...
* * * * * * * *
//'You've always known what you want, and you go after it. Stand up to Dad. Hell, I wish I'd -'//
' No, no you don't Dean. Sometimes I wish I had shut my mouth and opened my ears a little more, then maybe I'd know how to help you.'
//'Say you'll take care of yourself.'//
' But I can't Dean. I never could. I need you, depend on you to help me do that. I can't do this on my own, anymore.'
//'I will.'//
Jesus, what a lame fucker - how fucking LAME can you GET, Samantha?!
//'Call me when you find Dad.'// -
If I'm not dead by then, Sammy - call. And if I AM dead, the phone will just ring and ring and ring -
' No. No, I can't - I WON'T let that happen Dean. I can save you! I have these shiny new powers, see? - And I can SAVE you!!'
He tries to hold them up, show them to his brother, who isn't looking at him - he's looking away, because the dead can't FACE the living, he's dead, and these shiny new powers just fall to the ground - so much dust. So much USELESS dust in the wind - all we are is dust in the wind - and now he's dead, and he's dust, and if he had just said 'I'm sorry' ONCE and meant it, this would never have happened, and he'd be safe and there wouldn't be all these tears, all these silver shiny tears that were dust and regret before the corpse of his brother because the dead don't rise, once you're dead it is too late, too late, too late -
//'Looks like you're gonna leave town without me. Better take care of that car, I swear I'll haunt your ass.'//
Like he's gone already, like he doesn't want to come back - like it's over.
' But, LOOK! I can save you, I can take care of YOU now, I can be your brother, again. Pleasepleaseplease! Don't. Don't DO this - don't leave me. Don't leave me alone.'
//'I drew the short straw, that's it, end of story.'//
End of me, over - goodbye - so solly Challie - catchin' that next train to Graceland and Elvis said don't be late cause the next line out is a be-atch.
And even as Sam reaches out for him, his eyes fall back into his head like decayed marbles, his voice no more than a whisper from beyond the grave, his tongue the dust of ages.
" Doesn't this make it easier, Sammy? Isn't this what you wanted? To be free? Well, the only way you can be free, Samantha, is for me to die. Like this, Sammy - this what you wanna see? How are them powers now, Sammy?"
A scream of nothingness, lower jaw flapping and yawning against his chest, maggots writhing, dancing in the eye-sockets of his peeling skull.
" I'm still prettier than you Sammy - but that ain't saying much little brother."
A cackle of sheer evil and hatred - and now he knows what to do.
Salt and burn - salt and burn, that's how you get rid of it that's how you
(MURDER)
bury your dead. So they can't rise and haunt you, so they can't rise again and hurt you and hurt themselves and oh god, he's doing it - he's pouring holy water on the Thing that was his brother, and it's screaming in earnest now, jigging and flailing in the bed and -
O god does it never stop SCREAMING?! -
" How do you like it, Sammy?!" The Creature howls, grinning in hateful pain and gleeful horror.
" You're killing me, Sammy - KILLING me!! What a good boy, what a good son - Dad will love you best now, he won't have to love me anymore, won't hafta fight to PRETEND like you do, won't hafta pretend that I don't make him sick, make you both SICK - it's so much easier, Sammy, so much easier to hate and kill and kill and kill and - do it!"
And he's pointing the gun at him, but there are actual BULLETS this time - bullets - and as Dean's face shears apart in a wave of blood and bone, all he can think is -
(Salt and Burn)
OMG, I've done it - and he holds his hands aloft to his dead Brother-Thing-Dust-Corpse and says -
" They're all gone - ALL GONE - will that make it better, will it make it stop?! PLEASE Dean!! Make it STOP!"
And his powers dribble out of his hand like slime, and touch the sheets and they are salt, and out of the salt is FIRE, so fierce, so hot - and he sees him, lying in the field, Death standing over him and he is Ashes and Fire -
(' No more pain, Dean.')
"-do it, Sammy!"
The Creature howls from the hospital bed-
"-do it, Sammy."
He sobs from the Reaper's hold, crawling, shivering screaming on the ground at the ceaseless mercy of it all-
"-do it, Sammy..."
He whispers, oh-so-darkly and sweetly from the floor of that godawful hospital - smiling and smiling and his head is GONE. GOD - NO - his HEAD!
And he Burns and it smells of freedom and Jess and normalcy and no more damn Winchesters and death, horrible death and Dean make it stop make it stop please if you love me make it -
STOPENDSTOP -
" STOP!!!"
He screams, and hold his head tightly, tightly to keep them in those horrible images and thoughts and - God, did he BURN him?!
" O GOD DEAN! MAKE IT STOP! PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEGODPLEASE -"
- And he is there, oh jesusmaryandjosephandalltheangelsIsweartoGOD -
And Sam finds he can't look - he'll be that grinning skull, reaching from beyond the grave and there will be fire and dust and he will die all over again and he's insane he's gone nuts mad he can'tcan'tcan't -
" Sammy?! SAMMY?!"
And strong arms yank him out of the metal prison of the car - fresh air and his head is pounding vomiting these sick, twisted dreams into his mind - and he vomits with them, hot bile splatting the pavement, and Dean is shaking him roughly, panicked and afraid - Dean is afraid he doesn't fear anything even Death - and that's going to be the end, the end, the end -
" Please." He croaks, and the strong, warm hands release him immediately, and he feels the loss like a blow to the solar plexus, deep and aching.
" I'm sorry, Samm- Sam... What's wrong!? What's happening!?"
A plea, he can practically HEAR him wringing his hands - if he would just open his eyes, he could make it better for him, but the THING -
Sam managed to calm himself at last, taking a deep breath and peering through the haze of nightmares to find Dean, standing there so lonely and scared, his face pale, ashen - the ghost of his dreams.
He squeezed his eyes shut once more, and tried to stand, noticing the jolt forward by Dean to help him, before his brother stuffed his hands in his pockets and turned away to give him privacy - to let him get a GRIP -
' Don't turn away, Dean, please for the love of God, don't - because that's how it starts, and that's how it ends - help me save you.'
" I'm... I'm fine. Dean - help me-"
(Stop this)
" -up, my legs -"
And he was there in a flash, guiding, steadying - like always, and how could he have abandoned him, how could he have resigned him to 'The Past' all these years.
His brother, his best friend - and, once upon a time - his WORLD.
Why did it feel like centuries had passed since then?
" I'm, I'm so -"
" It's okay, Sam." Dean soothed, making small shushing noises and rubbing his shoulder-blades vigorously, one hand in a death-grip on his arm - not that Sam would complain, oh-no, not this time, buddy.
" You're okay."
A shaky laugh.
" But, I think you scared the locals -" Hang the locals I scared myself, Dean- " Think we'd better get inside, huh? This room is courtesy of Mr. Allbright of Detroit, Michigan-"
With a cheeky grin, marred only by the staccato twitch of his jaw - the only residual left of the fright that had possessed him when he had come back out to the car and found Sam screaming like the Devil himself had come down upon him.
And from the look of him, He probably had.
" Good ol' Allbright," Sam answered wearily. " Old bastard still comes to bat for us now and again, huh?"
" Damn skippy Samm- Sam." Quietly.
" Sammy." He interrupted.
" Huh?"
Dean almost tripped he came up short so fast.
" Sammy." Sam smiled, trying to show he was okay, he was alright -
' You shouldn't worry so damn much, Dean.'
" It's Sammy, remember - or did my screaming addle what little brains you have left, big brother?"
Dean's smile hesitated, then widened, as he ruffled Sam's shaggy locks, a look of relief washing briefly over his face.
He snugged him closer and half carried, half marched him to the hotel room door, swinging the keys easily out of his pocket and in one swift motion they were inside.
" No, Samantha - I think the only one addled was you, screamin' like a big emo-girly-boy in the middle of the parking lot."
But with no sting, concern still heavy in his voice.
" So - what was that all about? A vision?"
' Well, you could say that-'
Sam's smile was thin, watery as he collapsed on the bed hugging his arms over his head to block out the light.
" Naw, man, more like a nightmare. Sorry about that."
" 'Sokay, Sammy." Was the soft reply. " I'll unpack - you just tuck in and get some more shut-eye. You need anything?"
" No. No, I'm good, dude." A pause.
" Dean?"
" Hmmm?"
" Thanks."
" Any time, little brother - any time." Was the gentle reply, before the door clicked shut on his words, the last thing Sam remembered before sleep dragged him down into the depths, was the touch of his brother's hands as they removed his shoes and tucked him under the covers, a whispered 'Night, Sammy', trailing down with him to the deep ends of sleep.
He had no more nightmares that all that night.
* * * * * * * *
Morning came early, and as Sam lifted his head from the warm, yet scratchy comfort of the pillow beneath his head, he spied Dean seated in a chair next to him, head slumped on his chest, gun resting across his thigh, one hand curled loosely around the walnut grip.
Panic rose to flutter weakly against the walls of his mind - Dean was so still, so motionless -
Before he saw the steaming cup of coffee sitting beside him on the nightstand - a matching cup near Dean's left elbow.
So he had gone to get coffee and had fallen asleep while waiting for Sam to wake up.
That was just so...DEAN.
" Hey." He called softly, knowing better than to jar Dean awake - especially if he was as exhausted as he looked. " Ya got coffee?"
Dean startled - then covered himself by masking it with a lazy yawn and exaggerated stretch, grin spilling across the grayness of his face, eyes lined and shadowed with exhaustion.
" Hmmm? Yeah, Princess - I know what a bear you can be without your cuppa - and I really didn't feel like hearin' your bitchin' this morning-"
He laughed and dodged as Sam made as if to throw the pillow at him, the sound of his laughter easing the tight knot that had settled in his middle like a nest of angry bees.
He laughed back and took another 'swipe' at his brother, feeling rested and strangely contented. This - was home. Crappy, run-down, smelly and cramped, but home.
Home, he was coming to find, was where Dean was - and though he still longed for whatever passed for normal in this world, he was slightly alarmed to find that he was easing back in just as quickly as he had eased out.
He tried to keep that thought from rising to his eyes, and was absurdly grateful when Dean didn't seem to notice, to busy chuckling and rescuing his own coffee from his vile, pillow-waving sibling.
" Careful," he warned. " You knock it over, you get to walk to the store and get another for yourself, sweetheart."
Sam conceded the point and put the pillow down in favor of warm, thick, sweat-sock tasting convenience store coffee.
Mmm-mmm...
Yuck.
But it was warm, and strong, and that was the whole point, really - his days of being a coffee snob were over - for the time being at least.
" So," he said, ignoring Dean's head-splitting yawn with an almost demure politeness. " What have we got again?"
" Well," Dean croaked, scrubbing one hand over his face, gun quite forgotten in the other, as he reached for his own cup o'sludge.
" First of all, welcome to Louisville, Kentucky."
" Yeehaw." Sam muttered to himself.
" Yes, indeed, Sammy-m'boy - at least in this end. We are in Shively, a little shitty assed burg right smack dab on Dixie Dieway - a kind of 'city' within the city, know what I mean?"
" I'm sure I don't, but please - feel free to continue."
" Thank you. Anyway, the "ha'aints", as they would say 'round these parts, are particularly virulent over near Radcliffe, another shitty assed burg, but one not attached to Louisville - it just seems to kinda 'float' in it's own little area, right outside of a bigger shitty-assed burg called Elizabethtown-"
" Isn't that where-"
" Yes, indeedy - now, I know ol' Orlando makes you all hot and everything, honey-bunch, but that's besides the point-"
" O'rly?"
" Yes, Princess, now - pay attention." Dean crowed gleefully, ducking as Sam took another swipe at him with the pillow and missed.
" Lemme guess," Sam interrupted. "Ha'ainted Haouse?"
" You win the gold Sammy - but wait - there's more!"
" The house itself IS the haunt?"
" And you go straight to the final round, Sammy! Looks like you were paying attention last night after all."
Sam pretended to be offended and went back to sipping at the sludge in his cup - noting that said sludge was MUCH better when it was actually hot.
" So - shower?"
" Me first, Sammy - you get us packed up, then we can go - unlike you, I don't need beauty sleep, as I am plenty pretty already, but some hot water to freshen me up wouldn't hurt. Sitting for long periods and snoozing in a crappy motel chair doesn't help with the wakefulness in the middle of a hunt."
Dean stretched again and stood, twisting to work out the kinks from being in a chair all night, running on little to no sleep for several days - usually Sam's department.
Sam shook the hair out of his eyes and swung his legs out of bed dutifully, packing up what little they - Dean - had unpacked the night before and stowing it in the trunk of the Impala.
Maybe Dean would let him drive, and his older brother could get some much needed rest before they tackled this 'ha'aint'. He looked like he needed it - and it was, in Sam's estimation, the very least he could do for him.
* * * * * * * *
The drive took longer than he expected, between traffic -
so THAT'S why it's called Dixie Dieway -
and the stop for gas, and food - it was mid-afternoon by the time they actually arrived at the outskirts of town.
Getting directions from the locals was a bit tricky, but in the end, they got their destination and it's location, and they pulled into the far edge of the property about six o'clock in the evening.
Dean had slept for most of the trip, chin tucked into his chest, arms crossed, sunglasses perched firmly on his nose as the Impala purred her way to the site, waking only when she stopped. He woke up now, and got out of the car, giving her an unconscious pat on his way out, stretching as discreetly as he could, while he muffled his yawns behind one tightly clenched fist.
" Oooo-ahhh..." He groaned, almost falling over.
" So, this is it?" He asked, gesturing to the big tract of nothing but trees in front of him.
" 'Cause, correct me if I'm wrong, but I thought there was suppose to be a HOUSE here."
" The house is further back on the property, smart-ass - locals said you couldn't get back there except by walking - path's too overgrown."
" So how'd we hear about this place? I mean, if no one has been here in over a million years, why does it concern us? Let nature take it's course."
" Five kids missing - that ring a bell? All around this house and it's property - the one kid who got away-"
" Yeah, yeah - I know the story, probably better than you. I just wonder if this ain't one big waste of our o-so-precious time here, bro. We could be hitting the bars, making some money - maybe getting laid. Well... Making some money at least."
" Louisville is rumored to have some of the most beautiful women you can find on the east coast," Sam teased.
" Yeah? Well, in case you ain't noticed geek-boy, this ain't Louisville - this is bumfuck."
Sam chuckled and popped the trunk, rummaging around for two shotguns, a box of rock-salt rounds and a silver blade, while Dean grabbed the bag of salt and the gas can.
When they were loaded up and ready, Dean pocketed the keys and they took off towards the northeast, ever mindful of the sinking sun behind them.
* * * * * * * *
It was a nightmare - literally and figuratively.
They hit the house when full dark had come upon them, the trees so thick and looming, they blotted out the very sky -
Then they saw the house.
The last thing Sam remembered Dean saying before they hit the front door, was that if the house wasn't haunted, it should be, just based on looks alone - then he laughed and said that's probably exactly what happened.
But he was so very, very wrong.
One minute, Dean was beside him -
And the next, the floor opened up and he was swallowed by the house - falling, falling until he landed on the bottom -
In a dank and rotting basement, no less. Yay.
He gathered his wits about him and grumbled as he swiped at the dirt and other bric-a-brac on his favorite pair of blue jeans, scanning the hole in the floor that he had stumbled into - only to realize that there wasn't a hole there anymore.
Of course.
" Great - just fucking perfect." He muttered, waving his hands as if to rid his fingers of the sticky, gluey feeling of what-ever-the-fuck he landed on.
He squinted at what looked like a crack in the wall, and rejoiced inwardly. Now, Dean wouldn't have to come rescue him and plague him about it endlessly, as he strolled through with that devil-may-care grin, dispatching the ghoulies for his Sammy-boy, showing him how to do it, all the while extolling the virtues of -
Who else but him?
Sam grinned and made for the light on the other end of the room, hoping at most that it led to a set of steps, at the least a room with a set of steps.
Annnnnddd - jackpot!!
He almost clicked his heels together when he spotted a set of rickety steps leading to an even more rickety-looking door, that opened (hopefully) on the first floor and - man, he would never let Dean hear the end of it -
' Yeah, I got bored and had to rescue myself, since my older brother has gotten so old and SLOW.'
He chuckled and hit the first step, shotgun on the ready, rock-salt rounds ready to go -
And that's when he heard the chilling, eerie sound of Dean, as he started to scream.
That was also the same time that he noticed that he was holding both shotguns -
And that there was a padlock on the inside of the door.
A door that just happened to be made of metal...
TBC...
*Hugs*
FB is love, dudes...
Title: Home on the Highway Part 1/?
Author: PhoenixDragon
Fandom: Supernatural
Genre: Horror, Gen, AU fic
Characters/Pairing: Sam & Dean, mentions Of John and Mary
Rating: NC-17 (as always just in case)
Warnings: Watch for the language - that naughty Dean and his nasty mouth, lol! Also some blood and angsty Dark situations. Spoilers for 'Asylum' and 'Faith', set immediately after 'Faith'.
A/N: "Home in the darkness. Home on the highway. Home isn't my way. Home I'll never be." Lyricathon Challenge. Had the idea for awhile - it was only recently that I could make it coherent. Well... Semi-coherent anyway, lol!
Summary: See lyric above. Reflections of home and what it means to the Winchesters with some nasty revelations for our Sammy in between.
Wordcount: 5,959
Disclaimer(s): Don't own them - though I put a bid in on E-Bay, Kripke got them first. Dammit. Then they put a bid in on me, and they totally own me! (Though I think they split the difference with other characters), all mistakes are mine - and I'm sure that they are many - FB is love, but raspberries will be filed away for consideration on a later date - otherwise know as, don't throw facts into my fantasy, lol!!
Home in the darkness. Home on the highway. Home isn't my way. Home I'll never be. -
'Burning for You' by B.O.C.
The flames rose like fingers to the dark sheet of advancing night, their orange and red claws extending to the stars as if to pull them down from the very heavens.
Light answering light.
And steadily, the house burned, and blackened skeleton of wood and ashy soot - a scream of agony amongst the stealthy ruins of the surrounding woods. Their only consolation is that the house had been far enough away from the forest and the neighborhood to keep the fire from spreading.
That was their only consolation, though.
" Do you think they are actually gone?" Sam asked, eyes shadowed even as the fire danced and spun in front of them.
" I hope so," Dean answered quietly.
" Are we done, then?"
Dean was silent for a moment, lips pursed like a smoker longing for that last cigarette before the firing squad arrived.
" Yeah." Was the eventual reply, quiet and hidden enough to make Sam look up at him sharply, brow furrowed in concern.
" Yeah... We're done."
And there was no answer for that, either...
* * * * * * * *
" So, where is this place again?" The question was so sudden, so out-of-the-blue, Sam almost dropped the flashlight on his knees. He took a moment to readjust with a forced shrug and a raising of eyebrows before he replied, his answer wary and slightly hesitant. Dean's mood and been so odd, here the past few days, that he had found himself practically tiptoeing around him, unsure if he was going to explode outwardly or self destruct. A couple of days had gone by since they had last said good-bye to Layla, and Dean had been quiet and uncommunicative since then, his only reply to any questions Sam had asked him being 'Don't wanna talk about it' and 'Drop it Samantha - I don't feel like going into it. Save your emo and hug-fest for the chicks, okay?!'.
Hence, the egg-shells and long stretches of silence between them.
This silence was different in oh-so-many ways than his brother's usual James Dean impressions. Sometimes he seemed so close to screaming himself hoarse just below the surface of his eyes - and other times he looked like he might cry. It was all Sam could do to keep from shaking him and asking him what the fuck his goddamned problem was. But he already knew what the problem was, and that in itself, was the problem.
//' I am normal - I'm just telling the truth for the first time.'//
//'Do you really hate me that much?'// Calmly, so calmly - like he knew it all along. He had just been - waiting.
" Any day now, Sammy." with that razor tipped edge. Sam managed not to jump and told Dean where they were going, struggling to keep the tremors of horror out of his voice. What he had said to him.
God.
How he had hurt him.
How could he have done that?
" Just off of I-264, a place called Dixie Highway. The locals call it Dixie-Dieway for laughs." Not even so much as a twitch. Sam sighed inwardly and began to read off the directions to Dean as a matter of rote, both of them already planning and strategizing for a quick in and out. This was looked to all intents and purposes to be a piece of cake. But then, so had the last couple of jobs - and look how those turned out.
'Oh, Dean I am so sorry.'
//'Hey, Dean. I'm sorry, man, I...I said some awful things back there.'//
//'You remember all that.'// Flatly. Surprised in a non-surprised way. Trying so hard to not look like Sam had cut him to the bone.
//'Yeah.'//
So non-chalant. Dammit why, why, why could he be so empathetic, so sympathetic to other people, and just blow off his brother's feelings like they didn't matter? That half-hearted 'let's talk about this' emo crap.
What the fuck was wrong with him?
//'It was like I couldn't control it. But I didn't mean it. Any of it.'//
So damned NON-convincing. He couldn't even buy it himself. No wonder Dean didn't even so much as bite.
//'You didn't, huh?'//
//'No, of course not!'//
That struggling-to-be-so-manly bob of the head from Dean. How Dean wouldn't even really LOOK at him. And when he did, it was like he was seeing through him.
Seeing through the lie.
//' Do we need to talk about this?'//
Lame. So damned lame! What a fool.
//'No.'//
Turning away, that quick, almost not there shrug, as if to say 'no skin off my nose'. But Sam could tell it had hurt - badly.
//'I'm not really in the sharing and caring kind of mood. I just wanna get some sleep.'//
Game over, lights out - The End.
And he, like a total dumb-ass, had just given Dean a stupid 'look' and had let it go.
Like it didn't matter.
Like HE didn't matter.
Which went a long way towards explaining the fight they'd had the next day, and Dean's behavior all the way up to this point.
And that was what worried him.
He had been so selfish, acted like such an idiot - placing his wants, his needs and, let's face it, his obsessions - before the feelings and well-being of his brother. God, he didn't know he'd had it in him to be such a dickhead.
And in the end, Dean was the better man.
When he walked off and left him behind, so he could find Dad, yeah, Dean had pulled away - but if he had called him, Dean would have been there in a heartbeat and he knew it.
Trouble was, he couldn't say the same for himself.
And that phone call.
Dean telling him how proud he was of him. How he had always wanted better for him - how he admired him, for godssakes. All this was to assure Sam and let him know all was fine, and that Dean loved him.
And all it succeeded in doing was scaring the shit out of him.
As well as it should have.
Dean was preparing to die - and if he hadn't of shown at the very last minute -
" Gears are burning, Sammy." A quick glance and then eyes back on the road, mouth quirked in the first bemused smile he had seen in over a week or so. " I can smell 'em from here. Means you are thinkin' too hard. Penny?"
" Nahh." A shrug back, eyes cutting away to keep Dean from seeing the truth, the worry in his eyes. " Just thinking about the next job, how we're gonna get around this ghost."
The smile faded from Dean's lips, that same 'no skin off of my nose' look rising to cover the hurt that flashed and died in his eyes, a frown marring the set of his features before he turned to look back at the road, eyes frozen to a spot above the headlights.
" Yeah. Right."
Sam could feel the irritation yank at him, but quashed it as quickly as it came. He had deserved that, every bit of it, and he knew it.
" No, really man." Softly, a smile hovering in his voice. " But you know more about this one - so tell me, O-Master-of-the-Rock-Salt, how do we defeat it?"
Dean visibly relaxed and smiled back, his gaze almost - hopeful.
Sam's heart sank.
' Have I really fucked up that badly?'
He didn't like the answer too well.
So he made himself listen. Dean had been doing this longer - throwing himself into it, body and soul. Saving people, hunting things - defending those who were unable to defend themselves. And he had mocked that?
Again - how could he have done that? And to the man who had raised him like he was his own son, when he had been too young to even be thinking about such things. His brother, who was also his father and his best friend.
I mean, how could anyone say 'I love you',- better than that?
//'Good little soldier. That desperate for Dad's approval?! I'm not pathetic like you.'//
God, God, GOD!
//'You really hate me that much. Enough to kill your own brother?'//
And God help him, he had pulled the trigger.
He had pulled the trigger - not once, but two or three times.
And Dean had shrugged it off, had knocked him out and down and before blackness had descended, he'd heard those awful, awful loving words.
//'Sorry, Sammy.'//
Like he hadn't earned that punch.
And like he hadn't earned a dozen since then. They went through all that, and he still hadn't learned - only to go chasing after his obsession not but mere hours later.
Not to long before he had rubbed it in Dean's face, that they hadn't found Dad - and then he went running off like a spoiled brat to go find him, heedless of the hurt and pain he had caused his brother in the asylum, and heedless of the pain he was putting him through at that moment. Dean had come to get him, begging, to help him find Dad - which they would, he knew, even though when Dean had first shown up, all he had wanted to do was kick him right back to the curb.
But he got so wrapped up.
Dad wasn't to be found by rushing off after an elusive phone call, all pell-mell and topsy-turvy. He knew it then, and he knows it now. But at that time, he couldn't have cared less.
And Dean had been paying the price ever since.
So arrogant.
//'You know, if you are hinting that you need my help, all you have to do is ask.'//
//'I'm not hinting anything.'//
Surprised. Slightly upset that Sam would think that that was all he was calling for, when what he was calling for was so much worse. He was calling to say goodbye, so long -
' Getting ready to ride off into that sunset Jim-Bob, so don't you worry none about me.'
Good thing he had though, or Dean would be just another mask for that scarecrow-god to wear - until the next year, and the next set of victims.
All over Sammy-boy's obsessive need to do it all himself.
//'I want you to know. I mean - don't think -'//
Think what, Dean? He thought he had known, but now, he wondered. He had been so nervous, so soothing over the phone -
The fear was a pit in his stomach, one that gnawed and gnawed and -
//'Yeah.'//
He had replied.
//'I'm sorry, too.'//
But he hadn't been.
He hadn't been.
All he could think was 'Wow, he really can't do it without me.'
But, boy, was he sorry now...
//'You were right. Gotta do your own thing, live your own life.'//
I'm proud of you - I love you - I'm sorry - Don't hate me anymore, little brother.
My God, what a mess!
" Sammy - Sam?" Hesitant, unsure again - and Sam could feel hate rise in his heart, for the both of them. For Dean to let him hurt him so badly, and for him to actually do it again, and again. " You okay, bro?"
" Yeah..." A smile as weak as sunlight on a wintry day. " Just got a mild headache."
He could hear Dean rummaging in the backseat, unable to look at him, and was unsurprised to find a bottle of Tylenol in his hand a minute later. He risked peeking at him from under his bangs to find Dean smiling at him in concern.
" Got some mineral water in the glove box if ya need it."
" Thanks." Smiling the concern away from Dean's brow. He blinked distractedly and took the Tylenol, aware of Dean's eyes half on him and half on the dark stretch of road.
" Now," he said after a swallow of water. " What was it you were saying? Salt the outside, and then?"
" Yeah. Keep it inside before we smoke that bitch - you know, kinda like we did in Oklahoma that one time-"
His voice was a soothing balm to the backdrop of memories that played in Sam's head. It made the ache easier, made the questions fade - made him want to forget the ugly tickle in the back of his mind that something was seriously wrong with his brother - something that he could fix, if he just took the time and effort to fucking give a shit for someone besides himself.
' It's official - I am an asshole.' He thought wearily.
" Hey, Sam." Dean asked softly, cutting himself off in mid-sentence. " Why don't we take this up at the hotel, huh? You look like you could use some shut-eye, dude. Why don't you curl up for a few, okay? I'll wake you when we get there."
Dean looked worse than him, but he nodded, relenting in the face of his brother's unspoken love for him - eyes already sliding shut in emotional exhaustion.
" Okay Dean - just be sure to wake me." Sleepily.
" I will, man - get some rest," said with a hearty slap against the wheel, mouth gentle and smiling. " I'll wake you when it's time."
Sam rolled over and tried to get his mind to shut off, but it was still quite a few minutes before sleep claimed him, his dreams restless and fraught with nightmares of a life without this man watching over him - keeping him safe from the things that go bump in the night...
* * * * * * * *
//'You've always known what you want, and you go after it. Stand up to Dad. Hell, I wish I'd -'//
' No, no you don't Dean. Sometimes I wish I had shut my mouth and opened my ears a little more, then maybe I'd know how to help you.'
//'Say you'll take care of yourself.'//
' But I can't Dean. I never could. I need you, depend on you to help me do that. I can't do this on my own, anymore.'
//'I will.'//
Jesus, what a lame fucker - how fucking LAME can you GET, Samantha?!
//'Call me when you find Dad.'// -
If I'm not dead by then, Sammy - call. And if I AM dead, the phone will just ring and ring and ring -
' No. No, I can't - I WON'T let that happen Dean. I can save you! I have these shiny new powers, see? - And I can SAVE you!!'
He tries to hold them up, show them to his brother, who isn't looking at him - he's looking away, because the dead can't FACE the living, he's dead, and these shiny new powers just fall to the ground - so much dust. So much USELESS dust in the wind - all we are is dust in the wind - and now he's dead, and he's dust, and if he had just said 'I'm sorry' ONCE and meant it, this would never have happened, and he'd be safe and there wouldn't be all these tears, all these silver shiny tears that were dust and regret before the corpse of his brother because the dead don't rise, once you're dead it is too late, too late, too late -
//'Looks like you're gonna leave town without me. Better take care of that car, I swear I'll haunt your ass.'//
Like he's gone already, like he doesn't want to come back - like it's over.
' But, LOOK! I can save you, I can take care of YOU now, I can be your brother, again. Pleasepleaseplease! Don't. Don't DO this - don't leave me. Don't leave me alone.'
//'I drew the short straw, that's it, end of story.'//
End of me, over - goodbye - so solly Challie - catchin' that next train to Graceland and Elvis said don't be late cause the next line out is a be-atch.
And even as Sam reaches out for him, his eyes fall back into his head like decayed marbles, his voice no more than a whisper from beyond the grave, his tongue the dust of ages.
" Doesn't this make it easier, Sammy? Isn't this what you wanted? To be free? Well, the only way you can be free, Samantha, is for me to die. Like this, Sammy - this what you wanna see? How are them powers now, Sammy?"
A scream of nothingness, lower jaw flapping and yawning against his chest, maggots writhing, dancing in the eye-sockets of his peeling skull.
" I'm still prettier than you Sammy - but that ain't saying much little brother."
A cackle of sheer evil and hatred - and now he knows what to do.
Salt and burn - salt and burn, that's how you get rid of it that's how you
(MURDER)
bury your dead. So they can't rise and haunt you, so they can't rise again and hurt you and hurt themselves and oh god, he's doing it - he's pouring holy water on the Thing that was his brother, and it's screaming in earnest now, jigging and flailing in the bed and -
O god does it never stop SCREAMING?! -
" How do you like it, Sammy?!" The Creature howls, grinning in hateful pain and gleeful horror.
" You're killing me, Sammy - KILLING me!! What a good boy, what a good son - Dad will love you best now, he won't have to love me anymore, won't hafta fight to PRETEND like you do, won't hafta pretend that I don't make him sick, make you both SICK - it's so much easier, Sammy, so much easier to hate and kill and kill and kill and - do it!"
And he's pointing the gun at him, but there are actual BULLETS this time - bullets - and as Dean's face shears apart in a wave of blood and bone, all he can think is -
(Salt and Burn)
OMG, I've done it - and he holds his hands aloft to his dead Brother-Thing-Dust-Corpse and says -
" They're all gone - ALL GONE - will that make it better, will it make it stop?! PLEASE Dean!! Make it STOP!"
And his powers dribble out of his hand like slime, and touch the sheets and they are salt, and out of the salt is FIRE, so fierce, so hot - and he sees him, lying in the field, Death standing over him and he is Ashes and Fire -
(' No more pain, Dean.')
"-do it, Sammy!"
The Creature howls from the hospital bed-
"-do it, Sammy."
He sobs from the Reaper's hold, crawling, shivering screaming on the ground at the ceaseless mercy of it all-
"-do it, Sammy..."
He whispers, oh-so-darkly and sweetly from the floor of that godawful hospital - smiling and smiling and his head is GONE. GOD - NO - his HEAD!
And he Burns and it smells of freedom and Jess and normalcy and no more damn Winchesters and death, horrible death and Dean make it stop make it stop please if you love me make it -
STOPENDSTOP -
" STOP!!!"
He screams, and hold his head tightly, tightly to keep them in those horrible images and thoughts and - God, did he BURN him?!
" O GOD DEAN! MAKE IT STOP! PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEGODPLEASE -"
- And he is there, oh jesusmaryandjosephandalltheangelsIsweartoGOD -
And Sam finds he can't look - he'll be that grinning skull, reaching from beyond the grave and there will be fire and dust and he will die all over again and he's insane he's gone nuts mad he can'tcan'tcan't -
" Sammy?! SAMMY?!"
And strong arms yank him out of the metal prison of the car - fresh air and his head is pounding vomiting these sick, twisted dreams into his mind - and he vomits with them, hot bile splatting the pavement, and Dean is shaking him roughly, panicked and afraid - Dean is afraid he doesn't fear anything even Death - and that's going to be the end, the end, the end -
" Please." He croaks, and the strong, warm hands release him immediately, and he feels the loss like a blow to the solar plexus, deep and aching.
" I'm sorry, Samm- Sam... What's wrong!? What's happening!?"
A plea, he can practically HEAR him wringing his hands - if he would just open his eyes, he could make it better for him, but the THING -
Sam managed to calm himself at last, taking a deep breath and peering through the haze of nightmares to find Dean, standing there so lonely and scared, his face pale, ashen - the ghost of his dreams.
He squeezed his eyes shut once more, and tried to stand, noticing the jolt forward by Dean to help him, before his brother stuffed his hands in his pockets and turned away to give him privacy - to let him get a GRIP -
' Don't turn away, Dean, please for the love of God, don't - because that's how it starts, and that's how it ends - help me save you.'
" I'm... I'm fine. Dean - help me-"
(Stop this)
" -up, my legs -"
And he was there in a flash, guiding, steadying - like always, and how could he have abandoned him, how could he have resigned him to 'The Past' all these years.
His brother, his best friend - and, once upon a time - his WORLD.
Why did it feel like centuries had passed since then?
" I'm, I'm so -"
" It's okay, Sam." Dean soothed, making small shushing noises and rubbing his shoulder-blades vigorously, one hand in a death-grip on his arm - not that Sam would complain, oh-no, not this time, buddy.
" You're okay."
A shaky laugh.
" But, I think you scared the locals -" Hang the locals I scared myself, Dean- " Think we'd better get inside, huh? This room is courtesy of Mr. Allbright of Detroit, Michigan-"
With a cheeky grin, marred only by the staccato twitch of his jaw - the only residual left of the fright that had possessed him when he had come back out to the car and found Sam screaming like the Devil himself had come down upon him.
And from the look of him, He probably had.
" Good ol' Allbright," Sam answered wearily. " Old bastard still comes to bat for us now and again, huh?"
" Damn skippy Samm- Sam." Quietly.
" Sammy." He interrupted.
" Huh?"
Dean almost tripped he came up short so fast.
" Sammy." Sam smiled, trying to show he was okay, he was alright -
' You shouldn't worry so damn much, Dean.'
" It's Sammy, remember - or did my screaming addle what little brains you have left, big brother?"
Dean's smile hesitated, then widened, as he ruffled Sam's shaggy locks, a look of relief washing briefly over his face.
He snugged him closer and half carried, half marched him to the hotel room door, swinging the keys easily out of his pocket and in one swift motion they were inside.
" No, Samantha - I think the only one addled was you, screamin' like a big emo-girly-boy in the middle of the parking lot."
But with no sting, concern still heavy in his voice.
" So - what was that all about? A vision?"
' Well, you could say that-'
Sam's smile was thin, watery as he collapsed on the bed hugging his arms over his head to block out the light.
" Naw, man, more like a nightmare. Sorry about that."
" 'Sokay, Sammy." Was the soft reply. " I'll unpack - you just tuck in and get some more shut-eye. You need anything?"
" No. No, I'm good, dude." A pause.
" Dean?"
" Hmmm?"
" Thanks."
" Any time, little brother - any time." Was the gentle reply, before the door clicked shut on his words, the last thing Sam remembered before sleep dragged him down into the depths, was the touch of his brother's hands as they removed his shoes and tucked him under the covers, a whispered 'Night, Sammy', trailing down with him to the deep ends of sleep.
He had no more nightmares that all that night.
* * * * * * * *
Morning came early, and as Sam lifted his head from the warm, yet scratchy comfort of the pillow beneath his head, he spied Dean seated in a chair next to him, head slumped on his chest, gun resting across his thigh, one hand curled loosely around the walnut grip.
Panic rose to flutter weakly against the walls of his mind - Dean was so still, so motionless -
Before he saw the steaming cup of coffee sitting beside him on the nightstand - a matching cup near Dean's left elbow.
So he had gone to get coffee and had fallen asleep while waiting for Sam to wake up.
That was just so...DEAN.
" Hey." He called softly, knowing better than to jar Dean awake - especially if he was as exhausted as he looked. " Ya got coffee?"
Dean startled - then covered himself by masking it with a lazy yawn and exaggerated stretch, grin spilling across the grayness of his face, eyes lined and shadowed with exhaustion.
" Hmmm? Yeah, Princess - I know what a bear you can be without your cuppa - and I really didn't feel like hearin' your bitchin' this morning-"
He laughed and dodged as Sam made as if to throw the pillow at him, the sound of his laughter easing the tight knot that had settled in his middle like a nest of angry bees.
He laughed back and took another 'swipe' at his brother, feeling rested and strangely contented. This - was home. Crappy, run-down, smelly and cramped, but home.
Home, he was coming to find, was where Dean was - and though he still longed for whatever passed for normal in this world, he was slightly alarmed to find that he was easing back in just as quickly as he had eased out.
He tried to keep that thought from rising to his eyes, and was absurdly grateful when Dean didn't seem to notice, to busy chuckling and rescuing his own coffee from his vile, pillow-waving sibling.
" Careful," he warned. " You knock it over, you get to walk to the store and get another for yourself, sweetheart."
Sam conceded the point and put the pillow down in favor of warm, thick, sweat-sock tasting convenience store coffee.
Mmm-mmm...
Yuck.
But it was warm, and strong, and that was the whole point, really - his days of being a coffee snob were over - for the time being at least.
" So," he said, ignoring Dean's head-splitting yawn with an almost demure politeness. " What have we got again?"
" Well," Dean croaked, scrubbing one hand over his face, gun quite forgotten in the other, as he reached for his own cup o'sludge.
" First of all, welcome to Louisville, Kentucky."
" Yeehaw." Sam muttered to himself.
" Yes, indeed, Sammy-m'boy - at least in this end. We are in Shively, a little shitty assed burg right smack dab on Dixie Dieway - a kind of 'city' within the city, know what I mean?"
" I'm sure I don't, but please - feel free to continue."
" Thank you. Anyway, the "ha'aints", as they would say 'round these parts, are particularly virulent over near Radcliffe, another shitty assed burg, but one not attached to Louisville - it just seems to kinda 'float' in it's own little area, right outside of a bigger shitty-assed burg called Elizabethtown-"
" Isn't that where-"
" Yes, indeedy - now, I know ol' Orlando makes you all hot and everything, honey-bunch, but that's besides the point-"
" O'rly?"
" Yes, Princess, now - pay attention." Dean crowed gleefully, ducking as Sam took another swipe at him with the pillow and missed.
" Lemme guess," Sam interrupted. "Ha'ainted Haouse?"
" You win the gold Sammy - but wait - there's more!"
" The house itself IS the haunt?"
" And you go straight to the final round, Sammy! Looks like you were paying attention last night after all."
Sam pretended to be offended and went back to sipping at the sludge in his cup - noting that said sludge was MUCH better when it was actually hot.
" So - shower?"
" Me first, Sammy - you get us packed up, then we can go - unlike you, I don't need beauty sleep, as I am plenty pretty already, but some hot water to freshen me up wouldn't hurt. Sitting for long periods and snoozing in a crappy motel chair doesn't help with the wakefulness in the middle of a hunt."
Dean stretched again and stood, twisting to work out the kinks from being in a chair all night, running on little to no sleep for several days - usually Sam's department.
Sam shook the hair out of his eyes and swung his legs out of bed dutifully, packing up what little they - Dean - had unpacked the night before and stowing it in the trunk of the Impala.
Maybe Dean would let him drive, and his older brother could get some much needed rest before they tackled this 'ha'aint'. He looked like he needed it - and it was, in Sam's estimation, the very least he could do for him.
* * * * * * * *
The drive took longer than he expected, between traffic -
so THAT'S why it's called Dixie Dieway -
and the stop for gas, and food - it was mid-afternoon by the time they actually arrived at the outskirts of town.
Getting directions from the locals was a bit tricky, but in the end, they got their destination and it's location, and they pulled into the far edge of the property about six o'clock in the evening.
Dean had slept for most of the trip, chin tucked into his chest, arms crossed, sunglasses perched firmly on his nose as the Impala purred her way to the site, waking only when she stopped. He woke up now, and got out of the car, giving her an unconscious pat on his way out, stretching as discreetly as he could, while he muffled his yawns behind one tightly clenched fist.
" Oooo-ahhh..." He groaned, almost falling over.
" So, this is it?" He asked, gesturing to the big tract of nothing but trees in front of him.
" 'Cause, correct me if I'm wrong, but I thought there was suppose to be a HOUSE here."
" The house is further back on the property, smart-ass - locals said you couldn't get back there except by walking - path's too overgrown."
" So how'd we hear about this place? I mean, if no one has been here in over a million years, why does it concern us? Let nature take it's course."
" Five kids missing - that ring a bell? All around this house and it's property - the one kid who got away-"
" Yeah, yeah - I know the story, probably better than you. I just wonder if this ain't one big waste of our o-so-precious time here, bro. We could be hitting the bars, making some money - maybe getting laid. Well... Making some money at least."
" Louisville is rumored to have some of the most beautiful women you can find on the east coast," Sam teased.
" Yeah? Well, in case you ain't noticed geek-boy, this ain't Louisville - this is bumfuck."
Sam chuckled and popped the trunk, rummaging around for two shotguns, a box of rock-salt rounds and a silver blade, while Dean grabbed the bag of salt and the gas can.
When they were loaded up and ready, Dean pocketed the keys and they took off towards the northeast, ever mindful of the sinking sun behind them.
* * * * * * * *
It was a nightmare - literally and figuratively.
They hit the house when full dark had come upon them, the trees so thick and looming, they blotted out the very sky -
Then they saw the house.
The last thing Sam remembered Dean saying before they hit the front door, was that if the house wasn't haunted, it should be, just based on looks alone - then he laughed and said that's probably exactly what happened.
But he was so very, very wrong.
One minute, Dean was beside him -
And the next, the floor opened up and he was swallowed by the house - falling, falling until he landed on the bottom -
In a dank and rotting basement, no less. Yay.
He gathered his wits about him and grumbled as he swiped at the dirt and other bric-a-brac on his favorite pair of blue jeans, scanning the hole in the floor that he had stumbled into - only to realize that there wasn't a hole there anymore.
Of course.
" Great - just fucking perfect." He muttered, waving his hands as if to rid his fingers of the sticky, gluey feeling of what-ever-the-fuck he landed on.
He squinted at what looked like a crack in the wall, and rejoiced inwardly. Now, Dean wouldn't have to come rescue him and plague him about it endlessly, as he strolled through with that devil-may-care grin, dispatching the ghoulies for his Sammy-boy, showing him how to do it, all the while extolling the virtues of -
Who else but him?
Sam grinned and made for the light on the other end of the room, hoping at most that it led to a set of steps, at the least a room with a set of steps.
Annnnnddd - jackpot!!
He almost clicked his heels together when he spotted a set of rickety steps leading to an even more rickety-looking door, that opened (hopefully) on the first floor and - man, he would never let Dean hear the end of it -
' Yeah, I got bored and had to rescue myself, since my older brother has gotten so old and SLOW.'
He chuckled and hit the first step, shotgun on the ready, rock-salt rounds ready to go -
And that's when he heard the chilling, eerie sound of Dean, as he started to scream.
That was also the same time that he noticed that he was holding both shotguns -
And that there was a padlock on the inside of the door.
A door that just happened to be made of metal...
TBC...