Title: Rats

Author: sciencegeek51

Rating: T

Summary: Tag to Hell House, just needed to explore Dean's reaction to the rats down in the root cellar.

Disclaimer: We all know that Kripke owns all (even if the Warner megacorp holds the copyrights), but he didn't say the boys couldn't come out and play. Oh yeah, it's only fair to warn you all that I only have a glimmer of where this one is going... so there'll likely be long waits between chapters. I say this because I had the whole outline of my last story back in May '07 and only just finished it this month. Of course, a review or two might spur me into quicker action. How subtle was that?????

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Several hours drive after leaving the fun town of Richardson, Texas found the Winchester brothers still on the open road headed north. Riding shotgun, Sam stretched out as best he could, his long frame feeling a bit cramped from the prolonged inactivity.

He glanced over to his brother who sat relaxed behind the wheel, tapping away in time to the music blaring from the tape deck. All was looking good in Dean's world and Sam felt a smile coming on himself. One more supernatural threat taken care of, only marred by the fact that they had failed to protect that poor high school girl from the tulpa. But at least they managed to neutralize the thing before anyone else suffered. And thank god that the stupid prank war was finally over... at least for now.

Dean's joking threat of resuming again was just empty noise. Sam knew that they were both equally glad to be at peace with each other; though crammed together as they were in the Impala for days on end would once again trigger some kind of juvenile behavior on both their parts if they couldn't find some more constructive outlet for their pent up energy.

The sudden thought of the two clueless, paranormal wannabees headed for Los Angeles in their booby trapped vehicle brought out a full on grin as he thought about the fish Dean had placed under their back seat. He could just imagine the aroma as they ripened, and his own role in convincing the duo that they had gotten their book and movie deal was enough to make him chuckle out loud. Throwing the roleplaying option into the "deal" had been a last minute inspiration prompted by memories of some the geekier class mates from his freshman dorm and their obsession with gaming at all hours of the day and night. It had been a well played scam and, despite his frequent snipes about their lack of legitimate income, he could appreciate the satisfaction Dean might feel when he was hustling some local yokels at pool or poker. Sam stretched back in his seat, hands behind his head. Yes, life was good.

"Whatcha thinkin'?"

Sam was startled from his reverie. "Uh? Oh. Just thinking about ... you know... the tulpa and all... "

"Yeah, me too. Man, I'd love to be there when our ghost busting hellhounds get to LA. Once they finish fumigating their car, that is." The smile on Dean's face got bigger and bigger. No doubt about it, life was very, very good.

Grinning, Sam wondered just where the hell Dean had found the fish; but then how he had managed to get his hands on whatever the hell it was that he had put into his boxers was just further testament to Dean's ability to improvise. Not to mention Dean's solution to the tulpa problem. Actually, both solutions. It wasn't Dean's fault that the Hellhound's server had crashed and screwed up his first plan. Guess they should have double checked the website before heading over to the old farmhouse, instead of assuming that everything had gone along just fine. Since when did things ever go smoothly for the Winchester clan anyway? Now that Sam wasn't completely pissed off with his brother, he was able to appreciate the fact that while he had figured out that what was going on with Mordechai was actually a tulpa rather than a restless spirit, it was Dean who had come up with the way to put an end to it.

Further reflection upon the case revealed an uncomfortable truth. That whole Hell House fiasco was the result of a practical joke gone horribly wrong. Sam remembered the haunted look on Craig's face as he admitted to staging the prank with his cousin's help. It was her use of the Tibetan meditation symbol coupled with it being displayed on the Hellhound's website that , in essence, "created" the tulpa and started its brief reign of terror. Sam resolved to monitor the site and make sure that interest in Mordachai Murdoch died down and the tulpa stayed dormant, or whatever. He'd do his best to make sure that Dean's solution became permanent.

The miles kept speeding by and the two brothers enjoyed the ride, each immersed in their thoughts.

Sam had dozed off for awhile, despite Dean's music, but woke as the Impala pulled off the road and into the rest stop parking area. 'Oh great', he thought, 'more roadside junk food.' It constantly amazed him how Dean could cope with the steady diet, if it was even deserving of the term, of grease and sugar served up along the various roads they traveled. Of course, until he'd gone to Stanford and been invited over to friend's homes for holiday visits, the closest Sam had come to balanced meals was what was served in school cafeterias and the occasional family style restaurants that Dad would take them to when money wasn't tight.

"Dude... ready for a bite to eat? 'Cause I'm up for it."

"I guess, but this the best you could come up with?"

"Hey, I needed a break, the car needs gas and this is all that was available. Stop being such a princess.", was Dean's grumbled response. "Keep it up and you can take over filling the tank."

Not wanting to upset the comfortable rapport they had enjoyed so far, Sam nodded his assent and followed Dean into the gas stop's quick mart-cum-eatery, known as 'Bob's Eat & Go' according to the hand painted sign nailed above the door, and checked out their limited offering of microwavable items. Three tall stools were arranged around a single round table in the corner next to the counter for any patron who chose not to eat in their vehicle.

The counter clerk had poured their coffees and rung up their orders when Sam's bladder let him know it was time to be emptied. The place wasn't the worst dump they had ever stopped at, but it was pretty grungy and Sam hoped the sole john wasn't in the same shape. And it wasn't. It was worse. Sam wondered how it was that these places weren't closed down by the local health department. Besides not having seen a good mopping for a month of Sundays, the floor had a baited mouse trap in three corners. The fourth corner's trap held a long dead and very ripe mouse. Yeeesh. Sam finished up and got out of there before the smell totally killed his appetite.

Dean had taken one of the stools by the counter and was on his second cheeseburger by the time Sam joined him there. Surprisingly, the coffee was pretty good and Dean had gone back for the super sized travel mug special, deciding that it was just the ticket for the drive ahead. Eating his "nuked" burrito that wasn't too bad once it was smothered with enough onions and salsa, Sam smiled at his brother as he pictured the look on Dean's face when it came his turn to answer nature's call. 'Well', he thought, 'it's not technically a prank'. Of course, he knew darn well that Dean would not be in the mood to appreciate that fine distinction. The john had been bad enough on an empty stomach.

"Hey, Dean. Uh. That bathroom is pretty rank. Uh... just letting you know."

Dean gave his brother a penetrating stare and asked, "As in toxic waste dump or just a 1 or 2 on a scale of 1 to 10?"

"Ah, more like what the Hellhoundmobile must be like right about now."

"Great." Dean muttered, shifting his stare first from Sam to over at the offending bathroom door and then down to his drink. He glanced up from his coffee, "Thanks for the warning."

Sam shrugged, "No problem, dude." It had been the right move to preserve the current state of peace between them. Sam still had his issues with Dean, especially when in his "older brother" or "Dad's obedient soldier" mode, but there had been a special bond between himself and Dean when they were kids; and Sam was surprised at how much he missed it as he watched his brother finish his first cup of coffee while eying the restroom door before getting up and tackling this new challenge head on.

Sam watched as Dean disappeared into the restroom and he reflected further on the past few hours. Things were going good right now ... there was a sense of easiness between them now that had been missing throughout most of this "road trip" they were on. An easiness that harkened back to the rapport they once shared as kids. The Winchester brothers... Sam and Dean... together against the world, or so it seemed at the time. It felt good, but Sam knew that it wouldn't last. He and Dean were such different people; it was just a matter of time before things fell apart again. Sam resolved to just sit back and enjoy it while it lasted.

Not surprisingly, his reverie was cut short by Dean's quick return. The look on his brother's face was priceless. Dean was so not a happy camper.

"That was fast." Sam struggled to keep any trace of a laugh from his voice. If he played this right, he could needle Dean and still maintain the current peace between them. The challenge was too enticing to pass up and, despite his protests to the contrary, Sam was as responsible as his brother for maintaining the discord between them. Twenty years of sibling rivalry doesn't just disappear overnight, even in the most well adjusted families; and no one would ever mistake the Winchester family as being normal, much less functional. It was one of life's little ironies that while either brother would die to save the other without hesitation, it was figuring out how to live with each other that presented them the greatest challenge.

"Not fast enough." groused his brother, picking up his coffee filled travel mug. "Let's get the hell outta here, Sam." With that, Dean turned and stomped out through the front door. Following behind, Sam snickered at his brother's behavior but then sobered as he contemplated the thought of the next few hundred miles traveling with a pissed off Dean. Damn.

Getting into the car, Sam did a quick visual check of his brother and then settled himself into the passenger seat. No big surprise that Dean intended to stay behind the wheel; sometimes it seemed that the Impala was an extension of his brother. Dean barely glanced at him, pulling out of the lot onto the empty road as soon as Sam had shut his door. It wasn't until an hour or so later when Dean pulled over at another small filling station that Sam realized that they never did get gas at their earlier stop. Dean must have been upset to neglect his baby like that. Crap.

The next few hours Sam spent watching the scenery and sneaking quick glances at his brother. Something was off. Dean's music was playing, but he wasn't really listening. Instead, Dean was staring intently at the road, the wheel clenched tight in his hands.

Sam was puzzled by this abrupt change in his brother's demeanor and, when it didn't improve, decided to see what he could do to help Dean snap out it. The trick would be to get Dean to go along with the plan. Much easier said than done. But when Sam took a notion he tended to act on it, and Sam was tired of this quiet, closed off Dean.

Making a show of stretching and looking about, he turned to Dean and asked, "So where are we at? "