This story is written by Alterra and myself as a part of our alternate re-telling of Supernatural.
The hideously decorated motel room was blissfully dark. Deep shadows loomed in every corner subduing the brain-numbing, kaleidoscopic wallpaper.
At least that is something to be grateful for, Dean thought wryly, staring at the wall in front of him.
He sat on one of the two narrow beds, a half-empty bottle of JD in his hand. His short hair was tousled after he had mindlessly run his fingers through it time and time again, his eyes that usually held a mischievous spark was dark and dull, his sensuous lips were pressed together in a thin line, the jaw set, shoulders slumped. He looked as if he had been carrying the world on his shoulder and dropped it.
He was wracked with guilt.
The truth about his father's death, the fact that John Winchester had made a pact with a demon, that he had died instead of Dean... it was eating him up inside. It was torture - and not the fun kind.
And there was no way he was going to tell Sam. The kid had been through enough.
"Take care of your brother", dad had always said. And Dean had done his best. Take care of him... John had whispered before he died. Be strong, Dean. Don't hesitate if it comes to that...
That.
Just the thought of turning a weapon against his little brother was enough to make him tremble. Was enough to make him curse and hate his father for leaving, for dying when it should have been him.
Dean lifted the bottle to his lips and took a swallow. The whiskey was liquid silk in his mouth and fire in his throat.
To die... To be at peace, free from this world's mortal coil...
Dean longed for it, for the silence, the end of the nightmares. But John Winchester had tied him to life with bonds of blood and duty. And he hated him for it. And loved him.
The sound of the door being unlocked woke Dean from his gloomy thoughts. He looked up just in time to see the turquoise door (Turquoise? Who the hell had thought it was a good idea to paint the door turquoise when the wallpaper where swirling dots and lines of pink and orange?) open.
A head of tousled brown curls led the taller body of Deans 'little ' brother into the shadow cast room. Rays of purple neon invading the open space from the motels cheap blinking sign.
"Sammy…" Dean drawled in a slightly hoarse voice, his fingers lingering on the much shorter haircut, the bottle rising to his full lips. Sam stopped just inside the door closing it… locking it… without a second thought. His soft brown eyes taking in his older brother, the only one he allowed to call him 'Sammy'. Noting the dark circles under his eyes .The tight line of his lips.
"What?" Dean asked in mild annoyance as Sam's eyes followed the bottles motion from mouth to lap.
Sam shook his head softly, his tall form leaner almost gangly compared to Deans shorter stouter body. He stayed by the door his eyes taking on that wild colt eyed roll as he flashed on the last few months.
He was in college ...had a beautiful girl ... had a life... But all that was over now, he was back hunting with his brother who seemed more a stranger than family at times. And their father only a week gone... Tears burned the back of his eyes, blurring his vision as he moved suddenly to sit on the rickety bed across from Dean, grabbing the bottle he took a long harsh swig as Deans eyes widened ...
"I had the most ...terrible dream " He finally whispered as his eyes met those of his brothers...
Dean's eyes were suddenly filled with life, with concern. "What kind of dream, Sammy?"
"I dreamt... I dreamt you never got the car fixed and we ended up having to drive a Volvo. It was beige." Sam shuddered. He was rewarded by a pale smile, then the smile faded like a ray of sunshine behind a dark cloud.
"What did you really dream about?" Dean asked, deftly taking the bottle of JD from his little brother's hand.
Sam shrugged a little. "About fog."
"Fog?" Dean said with a sardonic lift of his eyebrow. "That doesn't seem so scary to me."
"It wasn't the fog itself", Sam said, trying to find the words to describe the eerie and frightening dream. "It was something beyond the fog, something dark... and there were sheep there. Dead sheep..."
"Do you know were this 'there' is?" Dean asked regarding his brother carefully.
Dean shrugged. "It was somewhere near the sea. I could smell the salt and the seaweed in the air." His eyes grew distant for a moment. "Maine..." he said slowly. "I think."
"Yeah, that narrows it down", Dean remarked taking another gulp from the bottle.
Their eyes met again and for that second Sam glimpsed pain, uncertainty… and something else in Dean's ocean green orbs.
"Dean…?"
A phone went off making them both jump. Breaking their revelry, stopping Sam's questioning gaze much to Dean's relief.
He snapped open the high tech cell phone sitting the bedside table among numerous wrappers and food cartons. At least he was still eating Sam noted.
"Yes this is Mr Hazerac." He grinned at Sam's eye roll. "What? Where? " Silence then as Sam tensed up, looking at Dean with rising anxiety.
"We don't have a car just yet", Dean threw in suddenly his face darkening for the wrecked car he loved so dearly, waiting patiently at Bobby's junkyard for some restitution…
"You're kidding… Ok…Ok. We're on it Bobby"
Dean snapped the phone shut, leaning it hard against his strong jaw line, his eyes piercing as he met Sam's.
"What?!" Sam exploded for the burning look.
"Mansion Maine… dead sheep… dead girl ...poltergeist" He drawled in a dark tone.
Sam shrugged his lean shoulders, an innocent expression lighting his boyish face. "I don't know what to say Dean..." He smiled a little "Are we driving a beige piece of shit Volvo?"
"Gee, I don't know that yet Sammy… we're meeting Bobby at daylight in the junkyard." His face softening a little for the pain shadowing Sam's hollow eyes.
It wasn't a beige Volvo that met them as the came up to Bob's house in the junkyard - it was something worse, much, much worse.
"I am not driving that!" Dean groaned eyeing the orange Beatle that shone brightly like a child's toy in the sunlight.
"There you are, boys", Bobby said, wiping his oily hands with a dirty rag.
"You can't be serious!" Dean exclaimed, pointing at the little car as Sam looked on in amusement.
"She's a real beauty", Bobby said, patting the hood of the offending car affectionately. "She's everything a man would want - dependent, fast and charming." He grinned.
"She is butt ugly", Dean pouted.
Bobby shrugged. "She'll get you to Maine in one piece, safe and sound."
"But-" Dean started but was interrupted by Sam.
"Thanks", he said, his voice soft. "For everything, Bobby."
The man shrugged again. "Nuthin' to talk about, boys. I've filled the tank and there's some food in the back. It should get you started."
"Thanks, man", Sam said again.
"I'm just going to..." Dean trailed off and wandered away.
"So", Sam said, watching his brother following the trail that led behind the house. "What can you tell me about this poltergeist?"
~*~
"Hey, baby..." Dean mumbled, running his fingers gently over the Impala's exposed engine. She was a wreck and it felt as if someone had took a knife and stabbed it straight through his heart seeing her like this. "I have to go away for a couple of days", he continued, speaking in the same soft tone of voice. "But I'll be back. I'll get you back in shape in no time..."
The sound of footsteps made him turn to see Sam come walking towards him. The sunlight created golden highlights in the soft curls that always fell down the boy's forehead.
"Are you ready?" Sam asked.
"Yeah. But I'm still not driving that... that... thing."
Sam rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'll drive."
They started walking back to the front of the house. "So, Dean asked as they reached the car. "What did Bobby say about the poltergeist?"
"It would seem its female, has a thing for offing sheep during the yearly round up and spring move from one side of the fields to the other…" Sam opened the little cars door, struggling with the seat adjuster as he spoke.
Dean walking over to the passenger side leaned over the top of the tiny car slipping his night dark shades in place as Sam struggled with the seat. "And?" he asked impatiently as Sam's head bobbed up into view, his face red from fighting the seat.
"Well it would seem this particular poltergeist has started on humans in the last year… count is three young women to date." His head disappeared again as he bashed at the seat trying to move the rusty slider.
"Pretty young women?" He heard interest rise in his older brothers voice as the seat screeched in protest moving at last.
His head shot up into Dean's view again. "Get you mind out of the gutter Dean!" He snapped at Dean's mischievous white smile. The near black sunglasses hiding the twinkle in his eyes.
"Lets go" Sam sighed impatiently sliding into the car. Dean slipped into his seat cursing the tiny space.
Sam gunned the engine giving them both a nice whiplash as they pulled onto the road waving at Bobby as the car jerked across the pavement.
Not ten minutes later Dean was reaching into the backseat for one of the brown bags Bobby had placed there.
"Oh no you don't Dean", Sam said irritated. "That's got to last more than an hour bro"
"Oh c'mon Sam I just want to see what Bobby got us." His upper body now wedged between the two tiny seats as he prowled through the sacks.
Sam punched him non-to softly in the ribs, satisfied at the resounding grunt. He swerved purposely back and forth on the small country road trying to get his brother stuck... and just for a moment, that very moment all was right with his world…
"Dude!" Dean exclaimed, and there was more joy in that sound than Sam had heard since before the accident and the death of their father. "Chocolate covered raisins, Three Musketeers and moon pies!"
"Put it back, Dean", Sam said smiling, though he struggled to keep his voice stern.
"You're such a kill-joy", Dean said, his mouth filled with chocolate. "Did anyone ever tell you that?"
"You do, on a regular basis."
Dean settled back in his seat, scoffing down chocolate.
Sam glanced at him, at the chocolate bar in his hand. "Give me some of it."
His older brother grinned. "Only if you say the magic word."
Sam threw him a scathing glance as Dean gave him the eye over his black rims. Taking a slow deliberate bite of the sweet chocolate he mouthed it with mass exaggeration.
"Oh Christ… please", Sam moaned, really wanting a piece of that bar. Dean grinned leaning a bit to offer a bite of the bar.
Sam snapped fast, taking the last of it and almost Deans fingers with it.
"Hey watch it Sammy!" He yelled in mock surprise, shaking his nibbled fingers, that wonderful smile returning even if briefly. Sam wished he could change their past… really, really wished he could.
Dean settled into the tiny seat his knees rising up across the dashboard, his head bobbing before long as he fell asleep. Sam drove as so many things kept washing back and forth across his mind… He still hadn't told Dean about those dreams; the vision of the yellow-eyed demon surfacing in his mind. He shuddered as if cold… Why was he seeing this creature every time he fell asleep now?
Was it coincidence since their father's death, or his mind over-reacting? He wish it were the later… but he had a terrible feeling in the pit of his gut it was very real… or about to become so.
Hours passed and Sam watched as they passed the Maine state-border. Darkness was falling and a slow rising fog came up as Dean stirred in his seat.
Dean stretched as best he could in the cramped space, then looked out through at the fog that rolled in to soften lines and corners.
"I thought your dream took place on an island", Dean said, nodding towards the large sign that read: 'Welcome to Mansion - the friendliest little town in Maine.'
"Yeah..." Sam said, pushing his foot gently against the pedal so that the car slowly rolled forward. "Maybe I was wrong... I mean, dreams aren't known to be logical and..." His voice trailed off. "This fog. Something feels wrong."
Dean could sense it too. It was as if something hid in the thick fog. Something... dark...
They slowly rolled down the main road, passing the dark windows of closed shops. Nothing moved.
Maybe that was it, Dean thought. Maybe the silence and the stillness simply spooked them. But he wasn't going to get lulled into a false sense of security. Dad had trained him better than that.
They stopped in front of what looked like an abandoned hotel.
"So..." he finally said, "are we just going to sit here or are we going to step out of the car and find a room for the night?"
"Yeah, sure." Sam killed the engine and yanked the car brake up between them, both getting that alerted and wary gleam of the eye. Both checking their weapons at beltlines and pouches of salt in pockets as they sidled out of the tiny car. It glowed like a frigging Halloween pumpkin against the dull white fog.
"Can I help you boys?" A sensuous voice asked as they whirled around to face it, both laying nervous fingers on gun butts.