Video Killed the Radio Star

"You want another beer?" Dean asked, running a hand through his hair, sighing loudly, and getting up from the table.

"Nah, I'm good." Sam shook his head and kept flipping through websites, looking for something, anything weird that they could possibly go check out. They'd been cooped up in the bunker for weeks. Strange happenings had all but ceased. Everything had been on radio silence. That in itself was weird, and the brothers were going stir crazy, especially Dean. He never could chill for very long.

Dean left for the kitchen, returning with not one, but two beers for himself. Sam raised his eyebrows.

"What?" Dean asked, popping the cap off of one and setting the other near a stack of books he'd been pretending to read. "I'm stocking up." He frowned at his little brother, plopped down on his chair, and opened a book on Greek history.

"Really Dean?"

"What? I like Greek History." Dean gave him a superior look. "I'm cultured, damn it."

"You don't read Greek."

Dean looked at the book again. It was, indeed, written in Greek. "Son of a bitch." He swore, tossing the book aside and taking a long pull from his beer. Sam smiled and went back to his computer.

His email icon began to flash, and he clicked on it. It was from Charlie, and the subject simply read "URGENT."

"Hey Dean, check this out. Charlie sent us something." Sam turned the laptop so they both could see it, and clicked on the link. A Youtube video popped up and began to play.

"Did Charlie send us porn?" Dean asked. "Because that would be awesome."

"I have a feeling this isn't porn." Sam replied flatly.

As they continued to watch, a bright yellow screen popped up, with the words "Chelsea's Awesome Podcast" in purple lettering, and the beginning strains of "Hell's Bells" began to play. Then a young woman slid onto the screen on a rolling desk chair. She was about twenty five years old or so, and had long brown hair and very green eyes. Sam noticed they were peculiarly similar to Dean's eye color.

"Hey everyone, Chelsea here! Today's podcast is gonna be short, sorry about that. It's just kinda a weird story." She was sitting at a desk, obviously filming herself with her computer camera. "So you all know how a few weeks ago, mom told me that she found this old ring that my dad supposedly left for me, and gave it to me?" She held up what looked to be an old bronze ring, with red stones set in it. It looked like a rendition of the Green Man, with the stones as his eyes. "Well, I took the thing down to the college archaeology department to have it looked at, and the thing is ancient. It's like, a pagan relic or something. But since I've gotten it, the weirdest thing is happening. It will not stay where I put it. I keep finding it in random places." She got a wide eyed expression on her freckled face. "I swear to God, I'm not fucking with you guys. I left it on my nightstand last night, and this morning I found it in my bathroom. To be honest, I'm a little freaked out." She appeared to look around the room, then back at the camera. "I don't know a whole lot about my dad, but mom says he was this guy who showed up in a big black car one day. See, she was living in this old house with a bunch of other college students, and people started dying. And it turned out there were ghosts living in the house. That's apparently what the guy did for a living- he travelled around and killed ghosts and shit. I always thought mom was making up stories, until this ring showed up."

Dean and Sam slowly turned to look at each other. "What am I hearing, Sammy?" Dean asked his brother.

"Shh, it's not over yet... is this even possible?"

The girl on the video, Chelsea, continued. "So basically, my dad, shows up, saves the rest of the people who live in this house, and he and my mom, er, have relations... and he takes off and doesn't find out about me until years later. And he sends money and stuff, and leaves me this creepy ring. Mom said his name was John. But seriously, does anyone have any advice about this ring? Leave it in the comments! Til next time, love you guys!"

The video ended, and the brothers stared at each other.

"What the fuck, Sam? Mom said his name was John? He showed up in a big black car?" Dean's eyes were like saucers.

"Yeah... apparently dad wasn't real good at using condoms." Sam looked just as shocked as his brother. "So we have a sister... who's Youtube videos average 20K hits each... oh shit."

"What?"

"Charlie didn't send this to us just to let us know we have a new family member... turns out this Chelsea girl went missing the day after she posted this video." Sam scrolled down the comments on the website. Most of them were people wondering where Chelsea had gone. He typed in a few things, and found a news article from Camden, Rhode Island. "Local Woman Missing" with a photo of Chelsea Winters underneath. It was dated a week previous.

"She's been gone a week. And I'm guessing it has something to do with that creepy ring, or Dad." Dean shook his head. "I guess we found that case we were looking for."

You had woken up a week ago in a small, dark room. All that was in it was a bed, a small desk, and in the corner, mercifully, a tiny bathroom. No one had come to see you. Your food had been delivered through a slot in the door.

You'd been nabbed the night after your last podcast. That blasted ring had taken off again, and you'd spent half the night looking for it. You'd taken it off and put it next to the sink to do dishes. You had been wearing it, thinking that would be a good way to keep track of it; but as soon as you'd set it down and taken your eyes off of it, it had moved, and you'd found it three hours later between your couch cushions, it's beady red eyes looking pointedly at the TV like they were actually watching the "Law and Order" episode that was playing. No sooner had you slipped it back on your finger than your door had been kicked in, you'd been hit by what you were pretty sure was a tranquilizer dart, and you'd woken up here.

You'd been in and out of consciousness for several days, and were pretty sure your food was being drugged. You'd held out as long as you could, but eventually hunger won out and you had to eat something.

After what seemed like an eternity, the door to your tiny cell opened. You couldn't make out the person in the doorway, but it was a large man. You pressed yourself against the wall, getting as far from him as possible.

"Ah, Chelsea Winters. You're awake." A deep voice said to you, not entirely unfriendly. "We have a lot to talk about."

"Like...like what?" You stammered, trying to make yourself smaller.

"For starters, I need to know everything you can tell me about Sam and Dean Winchester."

You looked at the shadowy figure in the doorway, confused. "Who are Sam and Dean Winchester?"

to be continued

Part 2

Dean paced nervously around the bunker. "So we have a friggin sister... who has a possessed ring... and now she's missing?" He ran a hang through his hair, popping open his second beer and straight up downing half of it. "This is not good."

"It's kind of a lot to take in at once." Sam agreed. He was watching the video again. "You think it's an angel thing again? Using her as a vessel?"

Dean finally sat down. "I doubt it. Michael is still trapped in the pit with Lucifer. So neither of them need a new body at the moment." He sighed. "Unfortunately, that would have been a best case scenario."

"Probably not Crowley. He'd have let us know by now, just to be a dick." Sam leaned on his hand.

"So whoever it is didn't know until they saw this video, I'm assuming. That's a pretty big coincidence that she'd be kidnapped right after posting it. She's how old?"

Sam typed a few things into the computer and pulled up public info on Chelsea Winters. "She's 25."

"Yeah. So they didn't wait 25 years to take her. They didn't know. And if they wanted the ring, why not just steal the ring? So it's gotta be about her." Dean was deep in thought.

"Or..." Sam shook his head. "Man... or it could be about us."

"What do you mean?"

"They could have taken her to get to us. Think about it, Dean. Look at her podcasts." He spun the computer around. "She's a huge Youtube hit, but they're all basically... well... crap. It's all makeup tutorials and shit about her cat, and reviews on romantic comedies. She isn't a hunter. She's... normal."

Dean scanned the list of videos. They were all basically boring stuff, or at least, things he found boring. "How to put on false eyelashes in under three minutes and not look like a hooker," was the title of the most viewed. "I'm assuming most of these are... comedy?"

Sam clicked on that one, and they watched a three minute video of their new found sister, theatrically putting on ridiculous fake eyelashes made of feathers, getting them stuck to her fingers, the desk, her face, her hair, the computer, her cat, and finally her eyelids. In the end she looked very much like a cheap hooker. "Yeah, I'd say they're comedy."

"Shit. She was definitely taken because of us."

"But she never knew us. She's 25... She's 11 years younger than you. That must've been that summer Dad left us with Bobby for most of it..." Sam trailed off.

"He left us to hunt ghosts and knock up a college coed. Father of the Year." Dean finished his beer and sat the bottle on the table with a resounding "thunk." "At least it sounds like he sent child support and stayed the hell out of her life. He did something right."

"He wasn't always the greatest, but he knew what he was doing at least half the time." Sam smiled slightly. "So what now? We obviously have to find her. Road trip to Camden?"

"Road trip to Camden. Wheels up in ten."

You really didn't know what this man was talking about. He kept going on and on about two guys, Sam and Dean. You'd never heard of them. But he was convinced you did. Absolutely convinced.

He had finally stopped standing in the doorway to the small room, and approached where you sat, pressed against the wall on the bed. He was a big man, with dark hair cut in a regular man's haircut. He wore a business suit, gray with pinstripes. His eyes were the color of the sea, except sometimes when he blinked you swore they turned black for a second.

"You don't seem to understand, Miss Winters. My interest isn't with you. It's with your brothers." The man sat on the edge of the bed, but made no move towards you. "We can make this really easy. You just tell me everything you know about them, and you walk away."

"You're mistaken. I don't have brothers. I don't have siblings. It's just me." You tried to explain.

"You DO have brothers. And they are responsible for the deaths of several of my family members. So you need to start talking."

You shook your head. "No, honest to God. It's just me and mom. Dad showed up once, knocked up my mom, that was it."

"What's your dad's name?"

It dawned on you. "Winchester... John Winchester." He was asking about a Sam and Dean Winchester. You apparently did have brothers. "But... I don't know them. I never met my dad. I definitely never met any brothers."

"You'd better hope you're telling the truth." The big man stood up. "It doesn't matter though. If you don't provide me with any useful information, they'll come looking for you."

"If I don't know about them, they probably don't know about me." You said quietly. You'd think that they'd have come looking for you by now if they knew.

"The Winchesters have a way of turning up. They'll come around. You'll be useful yet." He smiled at you, a row of perfect white teeth. This time, when he blinked, you were sure of it. His eyes were solid black.

"I feel rally weird pretending to be a federal agent to the mother of our sister." Sam said as they parked the Impala and looked up at the two story brick house in front of them. "I mean... she knew what Dad did... would it hurt to just tell her why we're here?"

Dean thought about it for a minute. "I guess not. It's possible she won't be all that glad to see anyone related to Dad, though. I mean he did love her and leave her. With a kid."

Sam shrugged. "That's a risk we'll have to take, I guess." He opened the door, took a deep breath, and swung himself out of the car. Dean got out of the drivers side and they both made their way up the walk. Dean rapped on the door a few times and they waited.

A few seconds later, a blonde woman in her forties came to the door. She wasn't what either of the guys was expecting. She was young looking for her age, and fit, wearing tight jeans and a sweater. Her eyes were red from crying. She opened the door. "Can I help you?"

"Ms. Winters?" Dean asked. She nodded. "We're here about the disappearance of your daughter, Chelsea."

She looked relieved. "Oh thank God. After the first week, it seemed like the police weren't taking it seriously anymore!"

"Yeah, about that. We aren't the police." Dean became suddenly aware that they were wearing their FBI suits.

"FBI then?" The woman looked even more hopeful.

"No, ma'am. Um... we're John Winchester's sons." Dean let it all out in one long breath. The woman looked at him, a long and hard look, and then at Sam. She finally spoke.

"Good. Maybe someone will get shit done around here then. Come on in, boys."

Hillary Winters stared down into her cup of coffee. "So he's gone? Dead for nine years now?"

Sam nodded. "I'm sorry."

She waved him away. "No, I'm sorry." She smiled. "I never knew what happened to him, but I had a feeling. He sent money every month, and then it just stopped coming... and I knew what he did for a job." She was silent for a few minutes. "Hell, I was so young. He came in, saved the day. I was just a college girl, 21. He was a good looking, bad idea." She got up and refilled her coffee. "I never knew he had other children. I always thought Chelsea was alone."

"We didn't know about her either until... yesterday actually." Dean accepted another cup of coffee. "A friend of ours sent us a link to Chelsea's podcast. The last one. We were..."

"Stunned." Sam finished for him. "And then we found out she was kidnapped, and, well, we're afraid it's our fault."

"How could it be your fault?"

"We do the same thing Dad did. We've pissed off the wrong people more than once. We think whoever took her might be baiting us." Sam explained. Hillary nodded.

"Did she say anything strange before she went missing? Anything about strange noises, hearing things, seeing things? Anyone following her?" Dean got down to business.

"You mean other than that damned ring?" Hillary asked. "No. Nothing. And to tell you the truth, I was going to give her that ring a long time ago, but I could never find it. I believe her when she says it moved on it's own. I've been looking for it for years, and I found it a few weeks ago, in the box I know I put it in when John sent it to me. Do you think the ring has anything to do with any of this?"

Sam shook his head. "At this point, I don't know. It could just be a catalyst- it caused her to make the podcast and someone took notice."

Hillary sighed. "I wish that damned ring had stayed hidden wherever it was all those years. Then my baby would still be here." She closed her eyes for a moment. "Promise me you'll find my little girl?"

"We'll do everything we can, Ma'am." Sam began to assure her.

"We promise." Dean looked her directly in the eyes and said determinedly.

You'd been locked back in the room for a while, but the effects of the drugged food was worn off. They'd slid a plate through a slot in the door for you a few minutes ago- you hadn't eaten it. You were getting the hell out of Dodge, and you were doing it now.

You had been working at the shackle on your ankle with a hairpin for the better part of an hour. As it turns out, it's a lot harder to pick a lock with a bobby pin than it looks in the movies. You finally felt the locking mechanism slide, and pulled the cuff from your ankle. They hadn't taken your sandals, thank God. You made your way to the only window, the tiny one in the bathroom. It had been boarded up. Shit. You looked around. You searched the room for anything you could use for leverage, to pry the boards from the wall. You flipped over the mattress and started bending one of the metal arms to the bed frame back and forth, waiting for it to snap. It was tedious work. This escaping business took a lot less time on TV then in real life. After about twenty minutes, the metal was flimsy enough to snap off. You took your new tool and began to pry the boards from the window, as quietly as you could. You were halfway done when you heard people coming down the hall.

You tossed your tool in the sink, shut the bathroom door, flipped your mattress back over, and loosly shackled yourself, so that you could get your foot out. You sat in the middle of the mattress. The door unlocked and opened. It was a woman this time. She wore a dark suit, and had long dark hair. She looked from you, to the food on the floor. "You didn't eat."

"I didn't want to be drugged."

"We didn't drug this food. The Master got here- he needs you lucid." She frowned at you and shrugged. "You'll just go hungry."

"Guess so." You replied.

The woman looked at you. Her eyes went black as she blinked as well. What was with these people? "He'd like to see you in his private quarters." She motioned to someone in the hallway, and a young man came in with a key. He bent to unlock your shackles, and paused.

"Carol, come look at this." He indicated your extremely loose cuffs.

Carol examined it, then glared at you. "Looks like someone was trying to get out." She stalked to the bathroom, flung open the door, and exposed the half- open window. She turned, staring daggers into you. "That was a very bad idea."

You were terrified, but you were honestly now kind of used to being terrified. "Guess you should have drugged the food." You replied.

Carol smiled, an extremely evil smile. "You won't like where we keep you now. We were being nice. Now, game over, kid."

You must have been knocked out, because when you woke up, you were on the cold stone floor of some kind of cellar. Your wrists were shackled above your head, and your ankles were shackled to chains attached to the ground. Your shoes had been taken from you. You had been so close to freedom, and now it had been taken away.

To be continued.