Author's Note: Although Charlie No Face is necessarily fictionalized for this story, he is based on the actual Raymond Robinson. You can look him up on Google.
This story takes place a ways back, when the boys were wee but not as wee as they used to be. This month, they were in Beaver Falls, Pennsylvania. Dean was sixteen, with a freshly-laminated driver's license burning a hole in his pocket. Sam was eleven, small and quiet and preferring to keep his own company, as boys that age sometimes are.
Their father was there on business. He'd heard tell of a Lady in White, a bride jilted at the altar and had hung herself by her own bridal veil. So now she haunted the honeymoon suite at a local hotel. If it concerns you, John ended up salting and burning its bones, but that's not what our story concerns. You see, there's a long-standing compact between the hunters and what we might call the spirit realm. Now, you don't hear much about benevolent spirits… your animal ghosts and fairies and whatnot. They tend to their own business, whatever it might be, and don't bother humans so long as they ain't bothered. So the hunters leave them alone. Even the most vengeful hunters have bigger fish to fry than your average leprechaun.
One of these spirits was a native to Beaver Falls. When he was alive, they called him Raymond Robinson. Then the poor boy fell on an electrical cable. It burned his face off, blinded him clean out, but it didn't kill him. Maybe he was too stupid to die, maybe he had too much living to do, but either way, Charlie No Face (as he came to be called) kept right on living until the end of his days. And each day he walked the road between Koppel and New Galilee, Route 251. Old Charlie carried a walking stick and guided himself like so: one foot on the pavement and the other on the gravel berm.
Charlie No Face was popular with the kids, 'specially the older ones. They'd meet him on their walks, driving their jalopies and bringing their dates, and they'd drink beers and smoke cigarettes with him. Charlie No Face was always affable and friendly, telling jokes and having a nice time. After a time, he got to be a fixture. People would hear him singing his song and say "Must be old Ray, walking his miles."
He dropped dead at the ripe old age of seventy-four. He didn't die on one of his walks, of being struck by a car, despite what the legends say. He died in his sleep, all peaceful like. And the next day his spirit got up and went walking, one foot on the pavement and the other on the gravel berm.
So there Charlie was, long dead and still walking for whatever reason. And there the boys were, bored and young, with only the car for amusement. Dean cleaned every gun in the apartment before walking up to Sam, who was drawing with his crayons.
"Sammy, let's hit the road," Dean said, jerking his thumb towards the door in the way impatient people do.
Sam didn't look up from his crayons. "Why?"
"Dad says I'm supposed to watch you and I can't watch you 'less you're with me."
"Where are we going?"
Dean smiled, wide and toothy. "We're gonna go see a monster, Sammy."
Sam shivered, messing up his meticulous drawing. "I don't like monsters, Dean. You go see it yourself. I don't wanna see it."
"Don't be such a baby, Sammy. Come on now or I'll leave you home alone."
"You will not!" Sam cried with shrill insistence.
"Yes I will," Dean said, with the cruelty big brothers had. "And then I'll tell the monster where you live, so it can come and eat you up."
"You will not!"
Dean jangled the doorknob. "I'm off to tell the monster you're all alone Sam!"
Sam got up, clutching his paper in one hand and his crayons in the other, and ran after Dean. Dean clapped him on the shoulders as the little boy came out the door. "Thatta boy, Sammy!"
Now, you may think the boys went to see Charlie No Face then. After all, that's the way Dean tells it if he has to tell it. Maybe he's just forgot or maybe he's just plum embarrassed, but that isn't the way it happened. The way it happened is this. Dean got in the car, Sam opened the passenger-side door – "Get in the back, Sammy." "Why do I have to get in the back?" "Cuz I said so, that's why!" – Dean buckled his seatbelt, checked his mirror, shoved a tape into the cassette player and smiled as Metallica started the bombs dropping with One, then put pedal to metal.
The Impala roamed through town, thirty miles per hour, thirty-five when Dean felt brave. The cops didn't say nothin'. Sam was actually enjoying himself, drawing his pictures and bopping his head to the bass line until the car pulled to a stop. Dean looked over his shoulder at Sam. Sam was towered over by his big brother.
"I don't want you to screw this up, Sammy. You kept your mouth shut and you be good, ya got that?"
Sam nodded, scared.
"Good boy. Wait in the car."
Dean got out and walked to the front door of the house they had pulled up in front of. Sam watched through the window as Dean started negotiated. A sweaty fat man with his clip-on tie unclipped answered the door, then deferred Dean to thin woman in a blue dress, pearls and a bonnet hat over a shriveled face. Dean nodded a lot and stood up straight. Then a girl came out. She was about Dean's age, a mite shorter than him and a more-than-a-mite thicker around the chest. Dean smiled at her and she chirped as he led her back to the Impala.
"This is my brother, Sam," Dean said as he ushered the girl into the shotgun seat. "He's cool."
"Nice to meet you, little man," the girl said, nodding at him. Her T-shirt was cut off at the waist and her shorts were like the girl on the Dukes of Hazzard. Sam uncomfortably nodded back.
"Sammy, this is Esther. We're gonna take her to see the monster, ain't we?"
"Sure, Dean."
"Alright." Dean turned the key in the ignition and they were off. Three blocks later, Esther took some weed out of the glove compartment and rolled herself a joint. After a few puffs, she put it in Dean's mouth. He took a deep drag before letting her take it back. Esther grinned and kissed him on the cheek.
"Aren't you worried about your brother?" Esther said, indicating the weed.
Dean gave her a look like he was thinking maybe you should've thought of that before you lit up, but what he said was "I told you Sam was cool, didn't I? You're cool, ain't you champ?"
Sam kept drawing. "Yeah, Dean."
"Trust me, little guy knows how to keep a secret."
"I'm not little, Dean!" Sam protested.
"Sure you aren't. Esther, babe, give me another hit."
They kept driving like that until they were well out of town. It was after dark, a cloudless night like you don't get much. Sam had to go to the bathroom, but when he said so, Dean kept putting him off. Finally, they reached the marker for Route 251.
"Alright, we're here." Dean put the Impala in park and got out to stretch his legs. "There are some bushes, Sammy boy, go do your business."
"What about the monster?"
Dean was helping Esther out of the car. "It ain't that kind of monster, Sammy." He nodded towards Esther, as if to say you think I'd really take a chick out to see one of the dangerous ones?
Sam nodded and went behind the bushes. When he got back, Dean was leaning over Esther, one arm resting against the car just beside her. Esther had her hands locked together so that her arms pressed her breasts against each other, making them look even larger. They were both smiling at each other and Sam felt the urge to yak.
"Dean, I'm tired," Sam said.
"'Course you are, champ, it's past your bedtime. As soon as we see the monster, I'll drop you off at home." Dean had Esther hanging off him.
"What about you?" Sam said plaintively.
"I'll think of something to keep occupied." Dean buried his nose in Esther's ear and the girl giggled. He slipped the keys into her hand. "Babe, you drive, I'll rustle us up the monster."
Now, some of you may be saying now that Dean would never let anyone else drive his car. Of course, that ain't necessarily true, as most things about people aren't. So the thing to keep in mind was that Dean was at an ornery age and this girl was the kind of girl that made guys do things they wouldn't usually do. That's not to say what happened was her fault, because you and I both know that Dean should've known better. I'm just sayin' that she had the kind of body that had a certain effect on men and she enjoyed that effect, just like Dean had enjoyed his effect on her, if you get my meaning. And if that had been the end of it, it would've been just fine. But Dean had to get too big for his britches and worse yet, he had to drag his little brother into things. There's a lesson in there that's going to be lost on those who need to learn it most, so let's get back to the story.
The girl, Esther her name was, was sitting in the driver's seat while Dean hung out the passenger-side window, high on weed and having a pretty girl wrapped around his finger. He was calling out "Hey, Charlie No Face, come out so I can have words with thee!" And Sam was holding his hands over his ears and Esther was adding in her own little cat-calls, like "C'mon, Charlie No Face, move your ass over here so we can see you!" The Impala was barely moving, just going at about ten miles an hour. Esther didn't have her foot on the gas pedal, but Route 251 was at a slight incline so they were picking up speed.
"Dean, I wanna go home right now!" Sam said, crossing his arms and pouting.
"Not just yet, Sammy boy, we haven't seen a monster! Yo, Charlie No Face, come out so I can have words with thee!"
Then there was a whistle. It could've been a steam whistle or a pea whistle or any whistle, far enough away, but it was Charlie No Face, don't you doubt it. The all three of them stopped hollering and listened real carefully, sorta like you might be reading this. They were paying so much attention that they all heard it at once.
The whistling was slow, steady, lilting up and down… and coming closer.
"It's Forever Blowing Bubbles!" Esther cried. "I recognize that sound!"
Dean grabbed her arm, silencing her. He had climbed back into the car. "Keep your eyes on the road and your foot on the gas," he whispered to her harshly. They were passing a field of cornstalks, taller than a man's chest, taller than a man's car.
"Charlie No Face, come out so I can have words with thee," Dean muttered under his breath, not sure if he wanted ol' Charlie to hear him.
The cornstalks parted beside them and Charlie No Face came out, ambling along on his walking stick. His face was mostly hidden behind lines of stringy hair and the shadow of his straw hat. Esther gasped and Dean watched the ghost impassively.
"I am Charlie No Face," the ghost said once he had ran through his whistling. "I heard you want some words with me."
"Yeah, that's right, we do," Dean said, feeling his courage come back at Charlie No Face's obsequiousness (that means submission for all who don't have no book learning).
"Ask your questions if answers you want." Charlie No Face's voice was low as the night air and subtle as a blade, seeming to come from nowhere and everywhere.
Dean prodded his girl. "Esther, ask him something."
"Me? No, you ask him something!"
"I'll ask him something after you ask him something."
Charlie No Face started humming again, the same haunting melody.
"Alright, you stop that!" Esther snapped. "Ghost, I wanna know if Dean and I are gonna get married."
Charlie No Face looked sidelong at them. Ghost and car kept the same pace, idling down the highway, gravel crunching under the spirit's feet. "No, you aren't. Now go away and leave me be."
"We have more questions!" Dean said, although he couldn't think of anything to ask.
"Ask your questions if answers you want," Charlie No Face said, tired.
"I wanna know… how I'm gonna die!" Dean shouted with a sudden burst of courage.
"Dean, no!" Sam cried.
Charlie No Face looked between brother and brother, although Dean couldn't fathom what he was looking with. Then Charlie No Face burst into harsh laughter. "Boy, I ain't allowed to answer that. Now go away and leave me be."
"One more question!" Sam piped up.
Charlie No Face turned his attention to Sam. "Ask your question if an answer you want."
"Tell me what happened to my mom."
Charlie No Face stopped walking. Esther slammed on the brakes and the Impala rocked to a stop. Charlie No Face stood very still until he suddenly banged his walking stick against the ground. "Go away and leave me be!"
He stalked walking away, faster now, his limp noticeable.
"Go after him, Dean!" Sam said. Dean reached his leg past Esther to step on the gas and they took off, easily catching up with the spirit.
"We asked you a question, now we get an answer!" Dean said.
"I said go away and leave me be. You're not allowed!"
"Not allowed to what?"
Charlie No Face pointed at Sam. "Not allowed to bring him here! He scares me! I don't like him! Take him away!"
"It's just Sammy," Dean said, flabbergasted.
"Go away and leave me be!" Charlie No Face cried, disappearing back into the cornstalks.
The Impala's engine stuttered and died. Then the headlights shut off, leaving the three alone and trapped in the darkness.
"Dean, I'm scared," Esther said.
"Move over," Dean said noncommittally. He switched places with the girl and turned the key again. The engine howled, but wouldn't turn over. "C'mon, baby, don't let me down."
"Dean," Sam said. Dean looked at him. "I'm scared too."
"Don't be, little guy, I'm gonna get us out of this." He took Sam and Esther's hands and squeezed them as reassuringly as he could. "I'm going to get all of us out of this." He turned the key again. "Now if this stupid thing would just…"
The car came back to life, headlights illuminating Charlie No Face just in front of them. Charlie was leaning on his walking stick, hat doffed, staring right at them. They could see that most everything above his upper lip has been melted away. His nasal cavity jotted open like a skull's and his eyes were blank expanses of skin sunken into his head. Esther stifled a shriek and buried her face in Dean's jacket.
"Answers you wanted and answers you should have," Charlie No Face said, his voice louder and deeper. "Dean, you shall die as you lived. A warrior's death will be granted thee, just on the eve of your greatest triumph. You shall not live to see your victory. And Sam…" Charlie No Face flashed into a decaying cadaver, propped up ghastly on its walking stick. Esther screamed and cried into Dean's chest, clutching at his clothes. "Your mother was killed by the same thing that will kill your father and the same thing that will kill you. It comes from the deep dark where no hope lives, hating and scheming against all it finds fault with. Your destiny lies with it, although for good or ill I cannot say."
"My brother," Sam said hoarsely. "Tell me how to save my brother."
Charlie No Face grinned, revealing his rotting teeth and decayed gums. "Questions you have asked and answers you have received. Now go away and leave me be!" The last word was a howl that echoed into the night long after Charlie No Face had disappeared.
Well, there ain't much story after that. Dean drove the girl home and she never wanted to see him again. Pity. They would've been sweet together. Sam cried himself to sleep in Dean's bed and told his father what had happened the next morning when John returned. John would've been upset, only Dean had told him first. They packed and went to the next town and never spoke with Charlie No Face again.
Let that be a lesson to those of you who would have truck with spirits, less you don't like the answers you receive.