A/N: Dedicated to my good friend Eli, who helped me come up with this idea during a particularly boring pep rally. Also many kudos to my old high school English Teacher who shall remain nameless. For entertaining me greatly, and for learning that books on my desk are better left untouched.
This is a Supernatural/Drawing Blood crossover, Drawing Blood is a novel by Poppy Z Brite, and a terrific one, at that.
Please note: I took creative license with the plot/time line, because Drawing Blood was set in the early 1990's. Set pre season 4 of Supernatural.
Enjoy!
The House on Violin Road
"Sam, wake up!" Dean forcefully shoved his younger brother out of his makeshift bed of piled dirty laundry. They had been camping for over a week, waiting for a call, an e-mail or shady news report over the radio, and whilst it was Sam's idea to be outside, where something suspicious ought to occur; he was the one who complained the most when nothing ended up happening. This being the eighth day, however, Dean had been tuning the dial on the radio when he heard a station talk show discussing a man, Bobby McGee, out in Missing Mile, North Carolina, whom, twenty years ago, had killed his wife, youngest son and himself, leaving only his oldest son alive. It turned out that the eldest son had been spotted returning to the town he had once lived, in search of answers relating to what made his father turn into the psychotic monster he had become.
It sounded like too good of an opportunity to pass up considering the rest of the week had come up dry without so much as an oddly enormous fish making the headlines.
The younger brother shook his head full of dark brown hair in a groggy fashion-his eyesight blurry from the lack of REM sleep, as laundry wasn't exactly the best thing for one's body.
"What?" He growled, his voice raspy as he stifled a yawn to accompany it. Dean rolled his eyes-his brother was always so dramatic when waking up.
"We got a hit up in North Carolina, up in butt-fuck nowhere. Get your ass in the car, if we get going now, we can get there before nightfall." Dean picked up a large arm full of the dirty laundry, figuring they could find a laundromat in Missing Mile if nothing else. Sam jerked up, his face alert as he climbed into the passenger seat of their Chevy Impala, Dean running the ignition until he heard the distinctive purr of the well maintained engine.
"What is it? Vampires? Werewolves? Green goblins?" Sam asked, taking a final look at the Dothan environment. The old Alabama town looked unchanged since it was first settled. The buildings were stout and sepia coloured, wooden panels and the distinct smell of manure in the air, it tinged every corner of the town. It didn't smell dirty though, it smelled like people trying to earn an honest living and making the town better for it. He loved it, where the people had been friendly towards them, the kids had not been seen pickpocketing old ladies, and, whether this was a good fact or bad, Sam couldn't decide; but it hadn't had any encounters of the extraterrestrial, spiritual, nor demonic of any kind. Good for the people, bad for the brothers.
"None, actually. Possibly haunting, but get this, so this guy, Bobby McGee, he's a cartoonist, right? Makes these adult comic books and stuff, well he moves his family to Missing Mile, and before three months is up, he goes bat-shit and kills them all. Except one son, Trevor. He left his oldest son alive in his sleep. Now, speculation is that he was drunk and forgot about him before he killed himself, but some people are saying that there was a reason the kid was left alive. Anyway now the little dumbass went back to the murder house and is trying to figure out WHY he's still alive. I figured it's worth checking out since dead guys who left their last revenge on the Earth are always in for some fun." Dean grinned, he loved psychopaths. What hooked him, though, was the timing. People who knew him in Texas had said that Bobby had been a devoted father, and never once even raised his voice at his wife, or two sons.
People in North Carolina, however, had said that when the family first arrived, he seemed like an average Joe, just relocating and dealing with life, and noticed that he went downhill from there, he never smiled, hardly ever left the house, never accompanied his wife out to do shopping, nothing. Maybe he went crazy during the drive? Maybe there was something in the town that made him go insane. Or, what Dean had been hoping, it was something in that particular house. They only had a ten and a half hour drive to get there to find out.
The drive had gone by without any significant event, they had under estimated traffic along the I-85, as it was already approaching dusk, and they had left well before eight o'clock in the morning.
They rolled into Missing Mile, the streets abandoned, without life or vehicle of any sort. They hadn't even seen another car on the road since Gastonia, and that was almost two hours ago. Sam stretched restlessly in the passenger seat. Him and Dean had swapped driving duties after they made an emergency bladder evacuation in Georgia, but they promptly switched again once Dean deemed Sam's driving "more frightening than any mother-fucker Satan could conjure."
"So let's see, psychotic murderer? Check. Creepy ghost town? Check. Dark outside? Check. Hmm, this is starting to look more like a cheesy B-horror film than an actual supernatural encounter." Dean was slightly sceptical, this place didn't look real, it looked too much like your average run down town with no inhabitants.
As if on cue, the Impala stalled, no smoke, no warning lights, no flat tires, it just stopped. Dean, confused, tried to turn it back on, the engine didn't even make a sound, the key turned, and the gas pedal went down, but no sound came from his precious baby.
"Of course, you know, I'm sick of clichés, can we just not do this today?" Sam groaned, opening the door and undoing his seatbelt so he could get a better look at the front of the car. Dean wanted to both hit his head over the dashboard and chuckle at the same time, this was all just too made up.
"Is there even a mechanic in this town?" Dean asked, watched as his younger brother lifted up the hood. No smoke spiralled up, nor did any peculiar smell, or sound. For some reason, the Impala just decided to give up.
"Here, get out, we'll walk down the road, there had to be something still open. Oh well, looks like we're camping again tonight, Dead." Sam slammed the hood down, the latch clicking into place. He started to saunter down the dusty road, there were no marked walkways, nor were the roads paved, it was all compacted dirt. The walls had a permanent layer of dust on it, if they had been any other colour any previous years, you couldn't tell. They all had the same acorn colour plastered to them. It looked as if the owners didn't mind, seeing as the majority of the buildings looked as if they were for decoration only.
The only store they saw was a small corner store, the big foam letters at the top had been eroded by wind, and some were missing, the sign, instead of reading 'Missing Mile Corner Store' read 'Miss Mi Corn to e'. That made Sam smirk as he pointed it out to Sam.
"Hey Sam, what's a corn toe?" He sniggered, taking note of how it was the only building that had any sign whatsoever, missing or not, every other store front was empty, looking like it had never even been inhabited, there was no dust on the inside, those doors had never even been unlocked.
"The opposite of a camel toe, and by the sounds of it, very painful. I wouldn't advise going in there." Sam shook his head, glad they could find humour in the town that otherwise was far more eerie than they had imagined.
"Hey, over there, a mechanic shop, and by the looks of it, still open!" Dean patted Sam's shoulder roughly, pointing across the street, some shops down. He was right, the garage door was open, the large neon sign lit up displaying that it was, indeed, opened.
"Hey there, say, you aren't locals, are you?" The tall boy, around twenty-five or so, his hair shoulder length and cut so it dropped in large spikes. He glanced at Sam and Dean as they entered, smirking to himself.
"Uhh, no, how could you tell?" Dean asked, wigged out again, did they have to add 'citizens have telepathy' to their list?
"Well all the local kids are over at the Sacred Yew, everyone knows that's where to find Kinsey. Sorry boys, he runs this place, only mechanic in town, also works as town counsellor, bar owner, drink distributor, music man and on the side he takes in kids who have no where else to go. I'm Terry Buckett, owner of The Whirling Disc, and I happen to play in the second most popular band in town." Terry reached over the counter, shaking Sam's hand, as Dean didn't bother to extend his.
"So you're telling me the only man capable of fixing our car is out playing karaoke with a bunch of druggies?"Dean's anger flaring slightly, he had enough of this bullshit, he was starting to regret taking the trip up here, considering he just spent the past twelve hours cramped in the small drivers seat of the Impala, he wasn't in one of his better moods. Terry noticed immediately, throwing his hands over his head in his defence.
"Look man, I don't know who you are, but Kinsey does more for this town any other person here, I know you don't know what you're talking about, but show a little respect, alright? Look, the Sacred Yew is just a couple streets down, talk to Kinsey, he'll set you up with a place to stay. In the meantime, I'm just here fixing some of the electrical stuff in this place, the lights don't turn off, but the vents don't turn on." Terry felt bad, he did, this town was strange, and he knew it, and he knew that the arrival of these two meant Trevor didn't come back by accident. This was more visitors in the past three days than they had received in the three years.
"Alright, fine, Sacred Yew, was it? Thanks." Dean shrugged as he left, he understood now why the sign had been lit. As Sam joined him back outside, the stiff, humid dusty air choking both of them simultaneously, he said to Dean.
"Could be a connection with that McGee kid, maybe it's the entire town that's fucked up."
Dean nodded, agreeing with Sam about that, he didn't like the feel of it, and would be glad it was over.
"Look, you were the one who found this place, I thought you would be grateful that there was finally something fun going on." Sam added, noticing Dean's bad mood. Gulping, he thought briefly if the town was getting to Dean.
"No, I'm fine, it's just been a long day, I need pie, and sleep. Tomorrow morning we'll look for the kid." Dean waved Sam away dismissively, making Sam smile, that sounded like Dean again.
They made it down the the club with no further issues, no other odd sightings or occurrences. The club looked like every other building in town, except this one was different. There was noise coming from it, there were people gathered on the inside, so many people that they couldn't tell if there were actually any lights on or not. The front was plainly labelled 'The Sacred Yew' in the same foam letters as the corner store. Only, this store had been in a state of upkeep, because it looked like a respectable place of business not like it had been left to weather for decades on end.
"Hold on, don't go in yet." The bouncer, if you could call him that, was a skinny teenager, maybe sixteen or seventeen, he was of colour, and had virtually no muscle on his body. Dean sniggered at him.
"You do realise you can't really stop me from forcing my way in here, bud." He said, stepping forward, hoping to intimidate the kid. It didn't work, as the boy knew that Dean was obviously not a local, he had a bit more patience.
"No, dude, I need to stamp your hand first, on Thursdays they have a raffle for free drinks and if you don't have a number you can't enter. I mean, go in if you want, but people generally want the stamp, I just needed to get out the ink pad." The kid took Dean's hand and put a large red '084' on it, doing the same to Sam's hand, only his read '085'. Dean looked at the boy again, who waved them inside, he looked nonchalant about being reamed out by his aggressive tone.
"Okay, so where's this Kinsey guy?" Sam asked, as Dean was still looking at the kid at the door, who stood there, listening to the music pouring out of the door. It was definitely Southern style, but the signer had this golden gravel voice, he couldn't understand any of the lyrics, but it was soothing, the same pitch as the guitar, it was like listening to a chorus of Mythical Sirens calling them forward, drowning them in succulent vocals.
"Terry said he worked the bar, right? We'll try looking over there." Dean snapped Sam out of his trance, he was focused on the music, he couldn't see the stage, but he could tell it was a live performance, you don't get that acoustic sound from any stereo system.
They wandered over to the bar, which was jam packed with kids, all high school age, or recently graduated. How the Hell this was legal to be serving kids alcohol Dean couldn't fathom, but, he figured, being surrounded by the dry county, in the middle of the Bible Belt, kids needed somewhere to grow up.
"Hey, are you Kinsey?" Dean asked, leaning on the counter top with his elbow, pushing a stout red haired girl out of the way slightly. A lanky figure in dark denim overalls, with long straggly brown hair turned around, he had a gentle face, his beard and moustache trimmed and groomed, presumably because he was a mechanic and had to keep it short for safety purposes. He looked Dean and Sam over once, raising an eyebrow in their direction.
"Yeah, I suppose I am. Are you looking for your kid? I'm sure I could point them out to you." Kinsey put down the glass he was drying off, standing closer to the edge of the counter, he was certainly taller than either of the Winchester brothers. Sam gave Dean a suspicious look, they were in the middle of the Bible Belt, and this guy thought they were gay. Great, just perfectly great.
"No, actually, we're here to talk to you. Our car broke down, and Terry said to talk to you about it?" Dean said, noticing how clean behind the counter looked. For a bar that serviced only teenagers, it was in wonderful condition. Interrupting the trio, a kid budged through, pulling loosely on Kinsey's overall sleeve.
"I finished organizing the record display, Kinsey, thanks for not telling my folks!" He made a thumbs up sign and immediately disappeared back into the crowd. Kinsey gave Dean an apologetic look.
"If I catch a kid doing something they aren't supposed to, or if I make a bargain with them, they work it off by cleaning for me. Most kids in this town are more broke than spit, so I even trade drinks for cleaning service, or bar tending, or manning the door, as you saw Dylan doing. I try to help out, it's not easy being a kid in a town like this. Now, what about your car? You guys need a place to stay?" Kinsey smiled. He was a lot more easy going then when they were first introduced, Sam started to like this man more and more, he was on the side of the minority, their hidden support and role model.
"Yeah, are there any hotels nearby?" Dean asked, shaking hands with the tall man that was obviously well respected by the community, or at least, it's youngest members.
"Oh don't waste your money, I could hook you up with a place to stay the night until I can take a look at your car. Sound like a fair trade?" Kinsey asked, his voice for reasoning with kids showing through, bargains and trade-offs were known as currency in this town.
Dean patted Kinsey on the arm in a friendly gesture, smiling about how this night was turning out, it couldn't get any more weird, so he decided to bite the bullet.
"Yeah, sure, great, we'll stick around until closing-hey, question, this might sound odd, but have you heard anything about the McGee family?"
A/N: Oh I am loving how this is turning out. Stay tuned, next chapter should be posted by Monday.