A/N: Inspired by the Doctor Who episode of the same name, where bad things happen if you go the wrong way at the wrong time. I may at some point write the alternative outcome to this.

Disclaimer: I don't own SH or SPN, this is for fun not for profit etc.

Turn Left

It's morning in late fall. Somewhere in Maine, a black 1967 Chevy Impala is winding her way through the state's country roads, the growl of her engine a lonely, isolated noise among the denseness of the trees. Outside the air is damp and chill, and the driver has cranked the heating up to stop the two travellers' breath misting up the windows, although it's doing no good for visibility from all the fog outside. It's been like this for the past few miles, shortly after they passed the sign welcoming them to Toluca County, and now the fog has grown so thick they aren't too sure where they are.

Well, the passenger isn't sure. The driver is still insisting that he knows.

"Dean, we're lost," the man on the right of the car says, glancing over at his brother driving on the left.

The response he gets is defensive and irritable. "We're not lost, Sam."

They are lost. They've been driving in this for almost an hour and they're supposed to be on their way to a hunt in Pleasant River, which Dean thought they should have seen a sign for by now, but it's literally like driving through a cloud and he can't make out anything further than a few metres in front of him. Even with full fog lights on, if they passed a sign or a turn off at any point there's a good chance he missed it, but he's hardly ever gotten lost in all the years he's spent driving back and forth across this country and he damn well isn't going to admit to it now.

Sam sighs in exasperation. "We should have taken that turn off about three miles back. There's a road that would have taken us straight there."

He has his phone out and is looking at a map on the screen, and Dean scowls at it. "There wasn't a turn off three miles back. We haven't reached it yet."

"Yes there was, Dean."

"And what, is that according to your GPS? Last time you checked you couldn't get it to find us."

Now it's Sam's turn to look disgruntled as he checks the indicators on the screen. "No, just got the map, GPS is still down. Phone reception's gone now too."

"Great," Dean replies sarcastically, "So you don't have any more of a clue where we are than it does."

"Well apparently you do, so tell me why we haven't found the town yet?"

"We will. We just need to take the next right."

"No we don't, we need to take the next left. There's a gorge somewhere on our right."

Sam might be correct, for all Dean knows, but he doesn't really want to let Sam know that. "The road's been curving left for miles. We have to turn right at some point."

"Stop being so stubborn. Just admit you're lost."

"I'm not lost."

"Yes you are."

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

The bickering is at least somewhat amiable, if not especially productive. There's a pause in which Dean smiles slightly, but he's concentrating more on the road. "Sam, you see a sign or the GPS starts working, let me know, okay? But until then I'm sure it's this way." He's overstating his confidence by more than a slight amount.

Sam knows that and rolls his eyes. "Alright. But whatever way it is we've hardly got any gas left, and we're gonna have to find somewhere to refill soon."

Dean scowls again. "I'm aware of that."

It's fortunate that something helpful happens in the next few seconds, otherwise the argument would have probably continued. The beam of the Impala's fog lights comes to rest on something up ahead as Dean realises the road they've been driving on appears to have come to an end. Now it forks, splitting into two branches while directly ahead of them is a rock face, in front of which stands a sign featuring two arrows. They're pointing in each direction and Dean squints to make out the labels attached to them.

On the left: Brahms, 7.5 miles

On the right: Silent Hill, 19 miles

Of course neither is the town they actually want to go to. Helpful.

The car rolls to a stop as Dean glares at the sign, but Sam seems to think it might actually be of some use. "There. Brahms. I think that's en route. We need to go left."

"Sam, I'm telling you it's right." Dean isn't even sure why he's arguing this point so strongly, but Sam's just going off an app on his phone and Dean's instincts are telling him there's a reason they need to go right.

Sam frowns, unconvinced. "Look, Brahms is closer and we don't have the gas to go much further, okay? They're bound to have a gas station there and we can refill and ask for directions. That's got to be better than just getting more lost in the fog."

Dean glances briefly in both directions, and it's hard to be sure, but he thinks that maybe the fog is just a bit thinner on the left. Biting his lip, he looks over at his brother. He has this strange feeling that going right will take them where they want to be to get to the bottom of whatever's going on in Pleasant River, but Sam sounds much more confident than Dean feels about how to get to the actual town. And he has a point about the gas.

The younger Winchester looks back over at his brother, and he isn't quite doing the puppy dog eyes, but it's a persuasive look he's used on Dean plenty of times in the past. Of course, Dean's always had a hard time saying no.

"Alright, fine," he grunts, sounding more irritated than he actually feels. "Crazy weather like this, of course it's gonna make things difficult. May as well go refill Baby while we can." That's enough of an excuse without actually admitting to being lost, right? Dean decides that it is and puts his foot to the accelerator again.

He turns left.

A/N: So, they're not gonna straight off end up in Silent Hill this way. The hunt may not even have anything to do with the town… should I write Turn Right?