Chapter 1
"Ouch," Dean cried out as he stubbed his foot once more. "Friggin' house has more obstacles than American Gladiator." The elder Winchester shone his light toward the offending object. It looked to be an old-fashioned brass spittoon. "This guy's got seriously weird taste.
"You're telling me," Sam said as he brushed aside the trailing sleeve of an old-time hockey jersey. The shirt was mounted just above the doorframe of what appeared to be the living room. "Place looks like an Applebee's."
"Just great," Dean snapped as he panned the light around the room. "How the hell're we supposed to figure out what's haunted if everything in here was once owned by a dead guy?"
Both brothers did a quick scan of the living room, however the EMF meter Dean held remained quite as they moved into the kitchen. Sam had found the hunt in a local paper and Dean had been more than happy for something to do. At least, up until his brother had grudgingly admitted just what the owner of the house had claimed to see.
"There's no way we're looking for a gnome here, Sam. I mean you get that right?"
Even though Sam had admitted the sighting was probably a joke, he had managed to convince Dean that it was still worth checking out. Research into the background of both the house, a small rancher tucked outside of town, and its owner, one Gerald Grainger antiquities dealer, had indicated that it was most likely a spirit causing Gerry grief. Both the Winchesters refused to give credence to the idea that a small, misshapen, dwarf-like creature was living in the Philadelphia suburbs, despite what the owner claimed.
On the slim chance they were wrong, Sam had decided that checking out the house at night was going to be their best bet, as both spirits and gnomes were night creatures. Legend had it that sunshine turned gnomes into stone, and their own experience had proved that spirits were creatures of the night. So, here they were searching the house for some sign that something more than clutter existed in the one floor dwelling.
"We should have brought gnome kibble," Dean muttered as he narrowly avoided the sharp corner of the kitchen counter. Though he hadn't made contact, a piles of old books teetered precariously anyway. "Or better yet, a gnome whistle. You know the kind only dirt dwelling creatures can hear."
"Well, since I left my gnome-musk spray in the car, maybe we ought to try being quiet," Sam replied, a reluctant grin pulling at his handsome features at his brother's chortle.
"It's just as well you did, Sammy, we're looking to kill the thing, not make it horny." Dean's straight-faced delivery followed by an exaggerated eyebrow waggle had Sam laughing aloud.
"You got a point," Sam conceded.
"I always, do, Sam. I always do. Now, where did he say he saw this thing?"
"Um…in the trophy room," Sam replied as he shined the light around the kitchen.
"There," Dean said as he thumped Sam's chest and indicated a set of heavy duty wooden doors.
"Looks like," Sam replied. "That's one hell of a lock."
Dean reached the doors with their imposing dead bolt and flashed his light downward focusing the beam for Sam. "Makes you wonder just what kinda trophy's he keeps."
Sam took a knee in front of the lock and removed his picks from the inner pocket of his coat. He hadn't had to use them to gain entrance to the house as it had been unlocked to begin with. Apparently, Gerry, so upset with whatever he'd seen, had fled the house without so much as throwing on the dead bolt. Though the lock looked intimidating, it was no match for Sam's skills. Within seconds he heard the soft snick of the tumblers releasing.
With a turn of his wrist, he unlatched the door and drew out his gun. With a nod to his brother, he set himself to enter the room. Dean had drawn his gun and had him covered high so Sam was careful to stay low as they entered the dark room.
Unlike the rest of the house, this room was aglow from the moonlight that streamed in through a set of skylights that lined the cathedral ceiling. Their flashlights added to the soft glow illuminating the room. As Sam glanced about, he found himself fervently wishing he could have remained in the dark.
"What the hell?" Dean asked his voice full of disbelief.
Sam tightened his grip on his gun and repressed a shudder.
888
Dean stood only a foot away from his brother, but as he felt the hard stare of dozens and dozens of eyes beating down on him, he found himself wishing Sam were closer. Unsure of what was going on, but certain that they'd walked into a nightmare, Dean remained vigilant as he waited for an attack that never came.
Eventually, he eased his grip and felt more than saw, Sam do the same. Keeping his attention fixed forward, Dean reached back and began to paw at the wall behind him. At last, his fingers came in contact with the familiar shape of the light switch. With a flick, he flooded the room with a light so bright he had to squint for a moment.
As his eyes finally adjusted he found himself even more uneasy than he had when he'd been stuck in the dark. "Aw, that's just wrong," he muttered as he glanced about.
Animals took up every conceivable inch of space, each one stuck in a pose that he supposed was meant to look natural. It didn't, in fact, as Dean turned to meet the unblinking stare of hundreds of animals he found himself more creeped out than he had been in a long time.
Birds of prey, deer, foxes, mountain lions and even a couple of black bears stood on pedestals and hung suspended from the ceiling all around the cavernous room. It was a shrine of death all laid out and ready to be admired.
"I just don't get it, If I'm gonna shoot an animal, I sure as hell ain't gonna stuff it so I can stare at it later."
"I hear ya, but it's actually really popular. There's big money in taxidermy. I took a class that showed you how to skin an animal and preserve it," Sam said as he began checking the room over.
Dean didn't bother to hide his shock as he stared at his brother. "You took a class on taxidermy. Why, I mean why would you do that? Scratch that, why would anyone do that?"
Sam had the grace to flush lightly as he answered, "Well, I needed a walk, and I'd heard all you had to do was be good with a knife."
Dean found himself suddenly studying his brother as if he'd never seen him before. It wasn't the first time that Sam had revealed something about himself that threw Dean for a loop. As the older brother he'd always prided himself on knowing every detail of his little brother's existence. Well, at least he had until the day Sam had chosen a different path. "It's like I don't even know you," Dean said, no trace of humor in his tone.
This time the flush that graced Sam's cheeks was most assuredly not embarrassment. "Come on, Dean, what's the big deal. So, I learned to skin things. Hell, it'll probably come in handy someday."
Dean watched his sibling for a moment more before he turned away. Every time he was faced with another one of Sam's revelations he found himself scrabbling to keep up. It was like he was dealing with a shape shifter, an imposter impersonating his baby brother. What stood before him looked like Sam and sounded like Sam, and made all the correct Sam responses, but this Sam had experienced things that Dean never would. Experiences that had forever altered him in subtle and sometimes not so subtle ways.
"Yeah, whatever, lets just get out of here so we can find a real hunt," Dean said as he determinedly ignored the kicked puppy look on his brother's face.
Sam blew out a breath and seemed to hesitate for a moment as if he wanted to defend himself, but at last his shoulders slumped in defeat and he agreed, "I'm not getting any readings in here."
Dean nodded and began searching in earnest, he had no desire to linger in this room any longer than he had to. The feeling of being watched had only increased the longer he was surrounded by the dead eyes of wild kingdom. "Let's check out the rest of the place."
The brother's were nearing the exit when Dean could have sworn he saw something move out of the corner of his eye. A quick glance toward the spot revealed nothing more than a large beaver stuffed into an upright position, its yellowed buckteeth shining in the light. With a grimace, Dean shook off his tension and moved to catch up with his brother.
It was then he tripped. He hit the ground hard, unable to even slow his fall. As he lay gasping for breath, he could have sworn he heard a giggle. "Glad I could amuse you," he growled at Sam as he at last managed to get himself upright.
"What, I didn't say anything," Sam said with a shrug.
Dean didn't bother to reply, he just moved toward the door, a scowl marring his features. "Let's get out of here." For just a moment he thought his brother wasn't going to follow, but then he heard Sam's faint tread and he released a breath. No matter how annoyed he might be with his giant of a brother he had no interest in splitting up.
888
Sam stared after Dean in surprise as the older hunter growled at him then stormed out of the room. To say he was a bit baffled was an understatement. His brother had been leading the way only to end up flat on his face. Sam still wasn't sure what had tripped up the normally sure-footed hunter, but he wasn't ready to excuse Dean's bad attitude.
At last, Sam followed, knowing that his brother's surliness wouldn't get any better if he procrastinated. Many things had changed between him and Dean since they'd begun spending time together once more, but his brother's need to protect him at all costs hadn't altered one bit.
It probably should have chaffed Sam, to have Dean playing the 'big brother' card, but instead he found it somewhat reassuring. It was one of the few things about Dean that remained the same. Over the last couple of months, Sam had found himself somewhat shocked at just how much his brother had changed. He seemed harder than ever, more apt to take chances, with little to no regard for his own safety. There was a wall around Dean that hadn't been there before, a wall that seemed to have no way in. Sam sometimes found himself wondering just what had caused the changes.
Though he wanted to ask Dean if he was okay, he settled for, "We should check out the bedrooms."
Dean's non-committal grunt was the only sign that his brother had heard him and agreed. Sam sighed as he took a moment to flick on the nearest light switch. The light from the trophy room was more than enough to announce to the neighbors someone was in the house so there really was no point to fumbling in the dark.
As the overhead lamp came on it illuminated the kitchen area in a swath of yellow light. His brother's groan echoed loudly as they stood shoulder to shoulder and surveyed the mess. There were piles of stuff, for lack of a better term, scattered about the room. Everything from old urns, to stacks of newspapers and magazines, to statues and even a few of Gerry's 'trophy's' that had seeped out of the main room.
"Crap," Sam swore as he looked at the mess. If his brother was right and it was a cursed or haunted item, they had no chance of finding it in this mess.
"Yeah, that's pretty much what I was thinking," Dean replied as he walked toward the hallway and flipped on another switch.
Sam grimaced at the sight of junk that littered both sides of the hall leaving only enough room for a person to pass through. It was obvious the search was going to be much larger than they'd anticipated. "What if it's not a spirit or a gnome?"
"We already know it's not a gnome," Dean grumbled as he studied the mountains of mess before him.
"Yeah, but I mean what if it wasn't anything up our alley. I mean look at his place. This guy could have rats the size of Labrador Retrievers and he'd never know it."
Sam immediately regretted his choice of words as his brother's face drained of all color and he gave a hasty glance toward the piles closest to him. "What I'm saying," Sam spat out hoping for distraction, "Is that we should probably have a talk with Gerry. Find out what he actually saw, not just what he thinks he saw."
Dean cast about another quick look before nodding in agreement. "Yeah, makes sense. No use wasting our time in case it is bogus."
Decision made the men quickly gathered up their gear and began to shut off lights as they made their way toward the garage. They'd found the side door had been open when they got there so they intended to leave the same way. Luckily, the house was a bit secluded so there was little chance anyone had even noticed their presence.
Dean was leading the way, a duffle gripped in his hand when it was Sam's turn to hit the deck. Left stunned for a moment by the fall, Sam could do little more than gasp for breath. It was the pitter patter sound of tiny feet that had him sitting up at last. "Did you hear that?" Sam questioned his brother as he looked for any sign of what might have caused the sound.
"What'd you hear," Dean questioned as he offered a hand to his brother.
With a grunt of effort, the elder Winchester heaved Sam to his feet in one swift motion. "Feet, I heard something walking."
"You mean scurrying?" Dean said as he held on tight to Sam's arm.
Sam thought back to the sound he'd heard and shook his head. "No, not scurrying, footsteps."
"Huh, I'm guessing you're thinking little tiny gnome feet?"
"Don't," Sam thundered as he pulled his arm out of his brother's grip. "I didn't just fall, I was tripped and if you recall you just took a header as well.
Dean seemed to consider Sam's words for a moment, before he at last drew a silver-plated pistol from the back of his jeans. "I heard something giggle."
Thrown off track for a moment by Dean's comment, Sam couldn't help but ask, "And you thought it was me? Dude, do I look like a giggler to you?"
"Hey, for all I know you took a class on it, Giggling 101," Dean muttered as he toed aside an antique doll.
"Dean," Sam warned his patience wearing thin.
"Okay, so fine, it wasn't you. It's just things have changed since you came back."
There it was at last, so simply put. Things had changed since his return, or maybe better yet since he'd left. He was no longer the same person he once was and that went for his brother as well. It happened, for better or worse, people change. Even as Sam admitted it to himself, he couldn't help but add, "I've still got your back."
Dean's stare was unwavering as he weighed Sam's words. At last, the elder Winchester nodded, and seemed to relax just a bit. "Yeah, I guess things haven't changed all that much after all."
"Nope," was Sam's only reply, but he trusted his brother to read all that it implied. Regardless of whatever the future held, there were some thing's that would never change.
Satisfied that the 'chick flick' moment had gone on long enough, Sam blew out a breath and turned to study the room. "So, we putting gnome back on the list of things it could be?"
The elder Winchester reached out, tapped Sam twice on the chest, hard enough to earn a wince from the younger man, and replied, "I'm telling you Sam, there's no way it's a gnome. They're nothing more than a myt—"
Dean's heavy work boots skipped over something once more causing him to take another header toward the floor. This time however, before he could hit the ground with another mind shaking jolt, strong hands caught the back of his jacket and helped him to keep his feet. This time the patter of tiny feet followed up the giggling sound.
A swift glance toward the noise had Dean doubting his own eyes as he saw a flash of blue and the tip of a red cone disappear behind a mountain of stacked planters. "Huh," was about all he could manage as he met his brother's gaze.
"You were saying?" Sam asked with a grin as he struggled to reconcile just what he'd seen.
TBC
