hello there, everyone. here is the first chapter of my newest story. i know, it is a bit short, but the other chapters will be longer, i promise.
This is a stand alone for me, and not part of either of my previous series. for timeline purposes, it takes place some time in early season 1, so yes, it will be old school supernatural.
Let me know what you all think of the intro.
D: as always, supernatural belongs to the great Kripke. this is all just for fun.
IN TRANSIT
Chapter 1
Sam huffed in the passenger seat of the impala, trying in vein to get his think-headed brother to listen to reason. He was determined to get through to the older man. Even if it only happened once in his life, he was going to get Dean to listen to him. But well, Dean seemed to have other plans, and it was just making the twenty two year old angrier with each passing moment. Hell, Sam though, listening to his brother detail the not-at-all-planned-out plan he had somehow come up with, Dean had probably concocted this entire hunt just to torture him.
"Dean, no!"
"Come on, Sammy."
"No."
"It'll be fun."
"No, it won't."
"It'll be exciting."
"No, it will be smelly, dirty and dangerous."
"It's the transportation of America."
"No it isn't."
"Come on, we'll get to see the country."
"I've seen the country, many, many times."
"We can sing hobo songs."
"Dean!"
"What, Sam? This hunt's gonna be a cake-walk."
"Well now you just jinxed us."
"I did not!"
"How do you even know that this is anything supernatural?"
"Dude, the FTRA."
"Yeah, I'm still waiting for the important part."
"It's like one of the greatest American urban legends."
"Dean, it's something that was made up by a group of guys in the 80s."
"Yeah, but now there're people dying."
"People are always dying, especially on those trains. It's dangerous."
"Yeah, but dying of fright? I mean come on, man, these people were so scared their hair turned white."
"That doesn't mean they were all killed by something supernatural."
"So what, there's just a freaky looking dude running around scaring the living daylights out of people?"
"Well, when you put it that way."
"Sammy, I know you wanna do this."
"Why the hell would I want to do this, Dean? There's no beds, jumping trains is not only stupid, but did I mention dangerous. And, on top of it all, we're gonna be surrounded by crazy, possibly homicidal people. So, tell me again, why would I want to do this?"
"Because it'll be cool. Tell me you never wanted to be a freight-hopper when you were a kid."
"I never wanted to be a freight-hopper when I was a kid."
"Wuss."
"Dean, what the hell is so appealing about any of this?"
"It's freedom man. No one knows where you are, you never know where you might end up, what might happen next."
"Dean, you just described our actual lives."
"Come on, dude, stop being such a wet blanket."
"I'm being rational."
"You're being a kill joy."
"We don't even know what we're up against."
"Angry spirit."
"How do you know?"
"What else could it be."
"Lots and lots of other things."
"You're just pissed because the last hunt you found was a bust."
"We're not keeping score."
"Oh, we're not, are we? So, the fact that your 'elusive black dog' was a homeless rottweiler has nothing to do with your current mood."
"No, nothing."
"Or the fact that I found the wendigo hunt while you were looking up something about, what was it. Gremlins?"
"It was a real hunt."
"It was an excuse to go to the beach."
"Whatever. At least the hunts I find don't involve us sleeping in dirt for two weeks."
"That's an exaggeration."
"No it isn't."
"We won't be sleeping in dirt, we'll be in boxcars."
"There's a difference?"
"Yes, Francis, there's a difference."
Sam just huffed and slid further down into the passenger seat, knowing there was no way that he would be able to change his stubborn brother's mind. Screw the fact that it was dangerous as hell, or the fact that they had no idea what they were up against. Oh no, Dean wanted to go freight-hopping and he wasn't going to let anything, not even his very logical little brother, stand in his way.
"You're a sore loser." Dean chided, smiling as he stared out the window.
"Can we just drop this."
"I'm just stating a fact."
"Yes, well, it's been stated."
"What's got you so worked up?"
"Dean, we have no idea what we're up against."
"I already told you, angry spirit."
"Alright then, shotgun, what's the spirit's name?"
"If you're so curious why don't you start researching over there, geek-boy."
"That's my point."
"That you're lazy. Shouldn't be so hard on yourself, Sammy."
"Not that point. The point that you have no idea what we're up against."
"We'll figure it out."
"When, after you've been stabbed? After you've been thrown through a wall? Pushed down a set of stairs?"
"We'll be on trains, they don't have stairs."
"Alright, so after you're thrown from a moving train?"
"Dude, none of that is gonna happen."
"Dean, that stuff always happens. You wanna know why?"
"Not really."
"Because you don't look before you leap."
"That's the beauty of it, the bad guys never know what I'm gonna do next."
"I never know what you're gonna do next."
"So I keep you sharp." Dean grinned, shooting his exasperated brother a look.
"I'm not gonna win am I?"
"I thought it wasn't a competition."
Sam just rolled his eyes, pulling out his laptop and admitting defeat. "So, what do you know about this case?"
"Twelve deaths, all along the BSNF Railways' Hi-line. A frequent favorite of the FTRA, might I add. All within the last five years."
"And they all died of fright?"
"Official cause of death is listed as heart attack. But yeah, they were all found frozen in a state of shock. Eyes wide open, hair snow white, the whole sha-bang."
"Maybe their hair was white because they were old."
"All different ages, too. Youngest being fifteen, oldest fifty five."
"Wait, fifteen?"
"Yeah, apparently the new thing is for rebellious teens to go freight-hopping. Friends found him."
"And no one knows what might be causing it?"
"Nope. Whole thing's been pretty hush, hush. There're probably more deaths than I can find."
"And it all started five years ago?"
"As far as I can tell."
"Any strange deaths that year?"
"Yeah, but none that match Mr. Scary as shit ghost's M.O."
"Is there anything else it could be, other than a spirit?"
"Sam, we just discussed this."
"And I want to discuss it again."
"No, I've never heard of anything doing this before."
"So, if it is a spirit. And that's a pretty big, if, in my book. Then why would it start killing people this way?"
"Maybe it thinks it's fun. I mean, there are a lot of twisted people in that community."
"Then you should fit right in." Sam mumbled, powering up his laptop.
"What?"
"Nothing."
Dean just rolled his eyes, shooting his brother another look before turning up the radio, the impala chewing up the asphalt beneath its tires.
666666666666
Three hours later found the boys in another dingy motel room on another forgotten highway. It was becoming as familiar to Sam as breathing, as routine as waking in the morning. Drive, eat, sleep, hunt, start cycle over again. For years Sam had tried to get away from it all, had tried to leave that lonely and repetitive life behind, but ever since Jessica, ever since his brother cam back for him, the youngest Winchester found a sort of comfort in the open road, a twisted home in the motels that littered the wayside.
It was strangely normal to him, the hum of the impala's engine, the smell of freshly cut fields, the taste of coffee in the morning. It was all like waking up again, like going home after a long trip. And, despite himself, Sam found himself falling back into it all. Truth be told, he had missed his brother dearly while he was away. But his father had slammed that door closed, had cut him out of the family, and Sam was terrified that Dean had done the same.
He wasn't sure if his brother would answer if he called, wasn't sure if Dean would welcome his wayward brother back into his life. And he was afraid to face the truth of it all. And so, he pushed it all away, pretended that his family didn't matter, that they were something left in the shadows of his past. But, as soon as his brother broke into his apartment, as soon as Dean stumbled back into his life, Sam found that he was suddenly whole again, suddenly the Sam Winchester he had always wanted to be. That was, until Jessica died, until the second best thing in his life was stolen under the cover of fire and darkness.
"Earth to, Sammy."
"Huh, what?" Sam started, his brother's voice bringing him back to the present.
"You ok over there?"
"Yeah, just thinking."
"Thinking? You looked like you were comatose."
"Well, it was deep thinking."
"Yeah, sure. So, did you find anything else out about the case?"
"Nope. Still a big pile of nothing."
"So, angry spirit then."
"Dean, no info doesn't automatically mean spirit."
"Oh yeah, it could mean black dog, too."
"Shut up."
"Is that any way to talk to you're awesome as hell older brother?"
"Yes."
"Well, you better get typing over there, geek-boy, because our train leaves in the morning."
"I really think we should know what this is before we got jumping on trains."
"Then get moving. Time's a ticking." Dean chided, flipping on the television.
"So, Dean." Sam began a few minutes later, eyeing his brother as he typed. He still had one card left to play and he was just hoping that he would be able to bluff his way out of this whole ill-fated hunt. He couldn't understand why he had such a bad feeling about it, all he knew was that they needed to stay away.
"Yeah?"
"Never-mind."
"What?"
"It's nothing."
"It's obviously something, spit it out."
"It's just, these train yard are patrolled regularly."
"Your point?"
"Well, a car like the impala, you can't really leave it anywhere. Especially around here."
"That's low."
"What?"
"Trying to use my baby to get out of this."
"I was just thinking of its well-being."
"You were using her."
"It's not a her, it's an it."
"Well, just to put your worried mind to rest. I rented a garage to keep her in while we're on the train."
"Really?" Sam mumbled, hope slipping. He really was going to go freight-hopping.
"Yeah. And that was so below the belt, dude."
"No it wasn't."
"You just threatened my baby."
"I did not, I was stating a fact."
"You could have been nicer about it. Telling me she was gonna get stripped for parts. I'll have nightmares now, you know."
"You're so full of shit."
"Low, Sammy, real low."
"Whatever."
"My poor impala, sitting up on blocks. It's enough to make a man cry, dude."
"Now who's over exaggerating."
"Nightmares, Sammy, nightmares."
"You're about to go freight-hopping with a mysterious bad guy."
"Angry spirit."
"Mysterious bad guy, and your car on blocks is giving you nightmares."
"Never get between a man and his machine, Sammy. How'd you feel if I pawned your laptop."
"You'd be eating steak through a straw."
"Yeah right, what are you gonna do, think me to death?" Dean laughed, turning back to the television.
"Well, keep your hands off my laptop and you won't have to find out."
At that Dean turned from the tv, his eyes mischievous. "Try and stop me." Dean began, reaching across the small space between the beds and slapping the back of the laptop.
"Dude, knock it off."
"Make me."
"Do you want me to research the hunt or let you act like an idiot?"
"Like I said before, Sammy. Sore loser." Dean smiled again, slamming closed the laptop before turning back to the television, pushing the volume up to near deafening levels.
Sam just scowled, pushing back open the computer and typing with far more force than necessary. He still had a lot of research to do, not at all convinced it was an evil spirit they were dealing with, or even anything supernatural, for that matter. There were lots of things that could kill a person in that fashion, both human and supernatural, and he wanted to be sure he knew what they were up against. After all, it was usually is stubborn as hell big brother that ended up on the wrong end of the fight, and he was determined to get Dean out of this hunt alive. Unless, Sam though, eyeing his brother as the porno he was watching came through loud and clear, he killed him first.