A/N: Okay, this is my first Wee!Chester...This idea came to me...now this is weird, hehe...while I was taking the dog out and I saw that the neighbours were having a little midnight campfire, thus this story. Now the ghost story John tells is a real story. I always liked it, and I got it from: "Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark." It is called 'The Attic'...This story is just something I did to pass the time as my other stories are being seriously neglected, hehe. maybe this will help knock down the block...Let's hope shall we, hehe!! Enjoy at any rate!!
Disclaimer: CW owns all SPN Characters...the ghost story, as I said belongs to a book by Alvin Schwartz...Love your books man!!!
John led the boys down the dark trail as owls hooted at their side. Dean lifted his pack onto his back, trying to keep up, but it was hard for an eleven year old to stay in line with a man who insisted they follow his exact movements. Little Sammy kept falling behind as every little sound, every snap of a twig startled him, making him stop and stare into the trees and wonder if something was out to get them. In their father's line of work, things usually were, but tonight it was all about fun, marshmallows, and ghost stories.
After trudging another 100 feet through the dense forest, John stopped, and the boys slammed into his back, Sammy stopped just short of getting Dean's backpack in his eye. He looked around in the small clearing and breathed in the clear air. They had not done this is years, not since Dean's 5th birthday, and Sammy was just a baby. It was the first time they had gotten out of their hotel and into any sense of normalcy. Sam had been unusually calm, watching the birds flitter in the trees, and the clouds pass overhead. Dean had caught fireflies and locked them in a jelly jar to take home that evening. John had loved the idea of a real family they portrayed, if only it had lasted longer, and if only Mary had been there to enjoy it.
"Okay boys, we are gonna set up camp here." John slid his bag off his shoulders and leaned it against a nearby boulder. He lifted Sammy onto his shoulders and bounced him, making him giggle. Dean chuckled, happy that his father could get past the anger and bitterness of the last seven years. It had been so long since he had seen a smile on his father's hard face. It was a warm feeling.
A few hours later, after they had set up their tent and got the fire started, John sat on a log, leaning on his knees. Dean ran after his baby brother, yelling that Sammy had been it, and he was cheating. Sammy was laughing and calling Dean a doo doo head and to prove it. John chuckled as Dean jumped on Sam and they rolled on the grass and leaves. Dean shoved leaves down his brother's pants, making Sammy squeal. The seven year old kicked at Dean, then squirmed out from under his bigger brother. Dean fell backwards, grabbing for more leaves, when Sam lunged at him growling like a dog. They wrestled for another five minutes when John called them over to the fire to get their hot dogs.
"Daddy," Sam flopped down beside his dad, leaning on him, panting hard. Leaves were stuck in his brown mop of hair. John suppressed a laugh, but when Sammy looked up at him with his puppy dog eyes, he lost it. Sammy looked at him like his father had a screw loose. John waved his hands at his youngest, then clearest his throat, telling him to continue.
"Daddy, Deany got leaves in my pants. I think I got some ants in there to, I can feel 'em biting." Sam scratched at his bottom, then wiggled in his seat. Dean rolled his eyes, then grabbed for a hot dog bun. His brother always did have a paranoid streak, even for a kid. Sam hopped off the log then swiped the bun out of Dean's hand. Dean pulled back, a look of pure horror on his young face.
"Hey, what the..." Dean threw his hands up. Sam smiled like a Cheshire cat, then stuck his tongue out. John tapped his son on the shoulder. Sam's tongue slipped back in is mouth and the hot dog bun threatened to fall to the dirt floor. He knew he had made a mistake, and daddy had caught him.
"Samuel Thomas...in this family we do not steal from others, now give that back." John had a stern look on his face, and Sam did just as he was told. Dean smiled smugly, but with a quick look from his father, it was wiped off instantly.
Sam plopped a hot dog on his bun, then drenched it in mustard and relish. He watched as his brother drowned his in ketchup. Sam made a face. Dean stared at his brother, waving the beef frank under his nose. Sam pulled back in disgust. Dean shrugged his shoulders. As he took a large bite of it, the red paste slipped past his lips and down his chin. Sam groaned. John tilted his head, crossing his arms at his oldest.
"Dean Edward, do you have any manners?" John handed Dean a napkin, and he wiped the mess off his face. He apologized, then ate the rest of the dog a little slower.
Some time later, as the sun began to fall, John told the boys it was ghost story time. Sam was less than enthused, but Dean was right at his father's side rubbing his hands together like a gambler waiting for an ace. John asked Sam if he wanted to sit on his lap, but Sam shook his head hard, then sat next to his brother, gripping his shirt sleeve. Dean grinned at his baby brother, then put an arm around him.
"Hey kiddo," Dean pat Sammy on the back. "Don't worry. Ghost stories are just that. Stories. But if you do get scared, I am right here for ya. I won't let anything hurt you." He paused, then leaned in real close to his brother, just so he could here.
"Not now, or ever little dude." Then he ruffled Sam's hair. Sam looked up at his big brother, a small smile on his face. He loved his brother, looked up to him whenever daddy was away. Dean could tell jokes that no one else got, knew the best games, and hung with him even if he could be a pain in the neck. Dean was his brother, his father, his mother, and his best friend. He was glad he had him at his side at times like this. Sam hugged Dean hard, and could hear his brother groan.
"Yeah, okay, a little room there before my lungs explode." Dean chuckled, pushing Sammy back.
"Okay boys, now do either of you know any good stories before I start?" John leaned forward looking at the two small faces in front of him. Dean looked at his brother who just shrugged. Dean thought a second, then and idea hit him.
"Hey daddy, tell us the one about the hunter..." Dean pointed at his father, and Sam watched his family, wondering what they had going on there. John nodded, then sat back, his eyes closed a moment. He seemed to be in thought, then his eyes opened again. Their father then sat as far forward as was allowed so as not to fall into the fire, then the story began.
"Okay boys, there is this story you see, of this hunter named Rupert. He lived in these very woods with his dog. This dog, who just happened to be named Sam..."
Sam shot up in his seat, and stared fast at his brother. He held onto Dean's shirt again, suddenly scared all over again. His hazel eyes were filled with the flames of the small fire, making them dance in the moonlight. Dean smiled, then pat him on the back, making him jump slightly.
"Well," John continued, watching his son's reaction. "Sam was a large dog, a German Shepard that Rupert had raised from a pup. Now see, Rupert always hunted and trapped every day, while Sam stayed behind to guard the house. As he was out one morning checking his traps, a feeling came over him that something was wrong at home."
Now even Dean was beginning to feel creeped out. He held his brother's hand, and they stared hard at there father, his voice low and easy. John could tell a story and make you fall into a trance. By the end you were in so deep you had no idea where the heck you were, nor realized that so much time had flown by. John smiled a bit as his boys leaned in to listen to him.
"Rupert rushed home as fast as his legs could carry him. That was when he found that Sam was missing. He searched every where in the house, then the woods. He called for him, yet could find no trace of Sam. After days of searching, he never showed up."
"Well, he decided that he should just go back to his work. Yet one morning, he thought he heard something coming from the attic. It sounded like there was something moving around up there. Rupert thought it best to be quiet about all this, so he took off his boots and went up in his bare feet..."
Dean gulped. He had suggested a different story. His dad had pulled a fast one on him, and now he and Sammy were in for a ride. Sammy sat beside him, digging his nails into his arm, never blinking. He was entranced with his father's words. Each syllable passed through his ear, landed on his brain, and stuck. Dean would have to stay up with this boy tonight, have to keep reassuring him there was nothing out there in the woods to hurt him. Way to go dad...
"Rupert began to climb the stairs, one by one by one." John made motions with his hands. They covered each other as he said each word. Sam now shrunk in his seat.
"Another and another, then he finally reached the attic door. Rupert stood outside the attic door, listening, yet heard nothing. Slowly...he opened the door, and...AAAAAAAAAAAH!"
Both boys shot off the log backwards, screaming in unison. They landed on each other, and were a tangle of arms and legs. John laughed hard at the sight of his boys all in a ball on the ground. The shoved at each other, Dean shouting at Sammy to get off his leg and Sammy yelling for Dean to get his foot out of his butt.
Once the boys were settled they slipped back onto the log. They were breathing hard, and grasping at their chests. John was still laughing, the sight never going to leave his mind. Dean glared at his father, who was not in the least happy being made a fool of. Sammy's eyes were wide in terror, and his little heart beat faster than a junkie on speed.
"Jeez dad, that was so funny." Dean rolled his eyes. He crossed his arms, then looked at his brother. Sam leaned forward and breathed deeply. Dean placed a hand on his sibling's back. Sammy muttered something neither of them could hear. John stopped laughing, coughing a bit. He slipped from his seat, then kneeled beside his son.
"Did you say something Sam?" John touched the boy's shoulder softly. Sam looked up at him.
"I asked you what happened. Why did you scream?"
John sat next to his son, then looked at Dean. He looked less upset now, so John figured it would be okay to tell the rest of the story.
"Well Sammy, you'd scream to if you stepped on a nail in your bare feet..." Sam looked at him a second, then grinned from ear to ear. A moment later John was on the ground, both of his sons on him, and he was covered in leaves.