Title: Sulfer, Halos and Crop Circles.
Rating: PG-13.
Character(s): Dean and Sam Winchester.
Spoilers: Set during the first break in season four. After "Heaven and Hell" but before "Family Remains."
Summary: Possible One-Shot. Not sure if to write more. This was a starter roleplay comment I wrote for someone in the Doctor Who fandom; for a possible cross-over. Though, I'm not sure I'd write this story that way. Dean wants to take a break and hit up Mardi Gras, and Sam- after consideration- agrees. But on their way down south, the brothers run into a case that they weren't exactly familiar with. R&R, please. :)
Inspiration: I was trying to think up something where Supernatural and Doctor Who could crossover. Though- it doesn't mention anything of the sort in the story. This is just what I ended up coming up with as a beginning.
Disclaimer: If I owned Dean and Sam- they wouldn't be traveling the states hunting demons. They'd be at my house. NAO.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Sulfer, Halos and Crop Circles.
The Impala: one night ago.
"After everything though… everything we've been though the past few days. With Anna- and everyone one else. I just think we could use a break. We are allowed to take vacations, Sammy."
Dean glanced at his little brother, a look of all-knowing stamped across his face before turning his attention back to the road. His hands were at ten and two, tapping lightly against the black leather steering wheel to the beat of the godlike Blue Oyster Cult- whom at the moment rocked the almost too classy cassette player. There was nothing better than Dad's old cassette tapes… which were now Deans, of course. And he wouldn't trade them for anything in the world. All this new age music was way over the Winchester boy's head; AC/DC, Van Halen, Motorhead… they were the way to go.
The music he rocked was only the best. Dean sometimes got shivers at night just thinking about that ipod-jack Sam had douched her up with when he was downstairs. Whodoes that kind of thing to such a classic, perfect car. The 1967 Chevy Impala.
It was a car crafted by the gods- there's nothing else too it. It was the one piece of perfection that Dean had to call his own, and there was nothing in the world he would trade it for. End of discussion.
"Dean…"
"Come on, man." Dean cut him off, "It's Mardi Gras. I'm thinking we hit up the real deal down in Mississippi for a few days-" Girls. Food. Parties. What could be better? "-then we can jump on the first job we find; all refreshed and ready to go." Dean shot a smile at Sammy, knowing that there was no way his little brother could say no. After all, Dean was right. They've been through a lot the past few days, and it's been a while since they've took some kind of a break.
The last time it was Atlantic City, New Jersey. Four and a half months prior to Dean's trip down under. He came walking out of a game 'a craps with ten thousand and a woman at each arm.
Ah, those were the days.
"Come on, man. Sammy."
There was a sigh. "Alright, alright. Mardi Gras it is- but not for too long, all right? There's a lot going on now with everything, and we can't manage to be taking breaks all the time."
"What do you mean, 'all the time?' When was the last time we stopped to put our feet up for more than five minutes, Sam?"
"I dunno… I'm just saying. We're facing the apocalypse here, Dean, and you want to go to Mardi Gras."
"What- and you've never wanted to go?" There was a sort of accusingly offended tone to his voice just as cassette popped out of the player, causing an eerie silence in which Dean rummaged for another tape with his free hand, eyes still on the road. Tossing in the first he could he get his hands on, which happened to be motorhead, Dean turned his attention back to the topic at hand.
"Well, yeah…"
"See. Everyone wants to go to this thing. And I'm twenty-seven, Sam. This needs to happen before I hit thirty- because that's just bad. I'm not going to Mardi-Gras when I'm thirty."
Sam just shook his head, with nothing more than the hope that he at least got his point across- that this trip couldn't last too long. Yes, the brothers have been through a lot- but that doesn't mean the world just places itself on hold so that they have time to recoup. Anna's still out there- as is Cas and Muriel- as well as thousands and thousands of demons. Lilith is getting closer to unlocking those seals everyday- and by the way things are playing out, Lucifer himself would be walking among them all.
The angels were losing.
And they were going to Mardi Gras.
A few minutes had past, Ace of Spades being the only reason why the silence wasn't as awkward- the classic metal jamming through the Impala speakers. But Dean decided to break it. "Listen, Sam." He started, tilting his head lightly to look at his brother; face set and serious. "I know what you're saying. Things are getting worse by the day, and we've gotta keep on top of it all. I get that, I know. Believe me, I know. But a day or two in New Orleans won't set us too far behind. We won't be long. This is good for us." There was a pause. "Okay?"
"Yeah." Sam agreed, leaning his head against the chilled car window- closing his eyes to the motorhead song he's heard enough times to last a lifetime. "Yeah. All right."
Idabel, Oklahoma. Six hours later.
The Impala slowly pulled into a Holiday Inn, the outside light for the motel sign flickering lightly and consistently enough to get Dean's attention. These long days were catching up to him- it wasn't often that he couldn't drive through the night… but Mardi Gras lasted a week, he figured. That was the beauty of it. A few hours of sleep wouldn't matter- as the festivities never seemed to end. Just as well, Dean wanted to be awake and refreshed for everything that was going on. After all- it was Mardi Gras.
And plus- falling asleep at the wheel wouldn't exactly be a good thing either. The Winchester needed some shut eye… it was rare for him to get a proper sleep during the last few months out of hell. Dean's sleep were either dull and dreamless, or littered with nightmares of his experiences in the pit. He could still hear the screams of the innocent souls he tossed on the rack… he could still smell the sizzling flesh dripping from their tortured bodies, and the vast amounts of blood that seemed to create the threshold and existence of everything that seemed to be. He could still hear them moaning for their loved ones just has he had for Sam…
"Hi. One room. Two doubles, please."
The man behind the counter had slapped a key in his hand almost at once, and Dean shot him a somewhat tired grin before turning to follow Sam out the door to find their room.
It was a cool night, and the stars seemed to shine terribly bright in the Oklahoma sky. If Dean had paid attention in science class, maybe he'd be able to point out a constellation or two. But school was never his strong point; his attention was always focused on dad, and what the current job was. School didn't matter. Math, English, Science, the stars- it all didn't matter.
There was evil in the world… evil that had to be killed.
It was the family business, and nothing else mattered more to Dean than that. Well, other than Sammy. Sam was always his first responsibility- and nothing came before that boy's safety.
But that doesn't mean sometimes he didn't wonder if there was something more. If there was something beyond heaven and hell… beyond the demons, angels, ghosts, shape shifters, and witches. If Earth was God's only plan- because there had to be more. This universe was so damn big… there just had to be more.
And within five minutes of entering the motel room, both Winchesters were passed out completely. Clothes, shoes, and jackets on still; sprawled out awkwardly under the sheets, their quiet snores filling the dark room.
They would have deep, dreamless sleeps tonight- the constant evils of their lives escaping them for just the short hours of the night.
But maybe- just maybe- that was enough.
Idabel, Oklahoma. Present day.
Police siren.
Police siren.
Another police siren.
Enough police sirens to wake the brothers from their beauty sleep, at least. They both seemed to stir in their beds about the same time, looking around in confusion as to what could be happening before rushing up to get changed and making their way out of the motel. Because if there were police sirens this early in the morning- it means that something's gone wrong. And about fifty percent of those times… it was their kind of wrong.
For all they knew- it might not have been anything at all. Just a small kitchen fire or a blunt 911 call about nothing important. But it was always worth checking into… just incase it was something big and bad. And in this case…
"What?" Sam glanced at his brother, finding the same look of utter disbelief on his face that he had on his own. It didn't seem right… as a matter of fact, it didn't even seem possible.
"I know, I wouldn't have believed it m'self if I hadn't heard the old man screamin.'" The civilian repeated, shaking his head multiple times before looking back up at the brothers. "But I swear I heard it right. He was yellin' that he had the devil in his fields."
Dean let out a smirk, looking both ways as though trying to spot someone else that was in on this joke. It had to be a joke! There was nothing else to it. "Crop circles, though? I mean- come on." He paused, shoving his hands in his leather jacket pockets and adjusting his stance, taking one more look around in disbelief. "Wanna know what I think? I think you've been watching too much X-Files."
"Thank you for your help." Sam added just after, smiling lightly at the civilian before shooting a death glare at his brother. "We'll look into it." And with that, both brothers turned on their heels and headed back towards the Impala- hands in pockets and minds scrambled.
There was nothing that either of them knew of that made these so called… crop circles. Dad didn't have anything down about it in his journal, and Bobby's certainly never mentioned anything- but it's not as though the topic has really come up. They always believed that crop circles were just a practical joke- two kids running around America; pressing corn over night- making farmers believe that it was the devil… or aliens.
But there was no such thing as aliens.
And no devil or demon that they knew of pressed corn for fun.
"I dunno about you, but I've gotta see this for myself." Dean started, stepping into the drivers seat of the Impala and turning the ignition. The farm where this so called "incident" happened wasn't too far away… five minutes tops.
"Yeah, me too. But I mean- Dean. This kind of thing happens all the time… it could be some sort of practical joke."
"It probably is," He reasoned, glancing at Sammy. "But that doesn't mean it isn't worth a look."
Sammy was right. This probably was just some joke… some kids messing around in the corn. Or maybe a plow machine went haywire over night- or maybe this was just a bad year for corn. Crops should always be rotated; that way the same nutrients in the soil don't get used up every year, causing the land to go dry. Maybe the corn didn't have their weaties this time around. The ground was dry, the corn died, the case was solved.
There was a big chance that this whole thing wasn't real. It wasn't real at all.
Thing was…
It was real.
"Wow. Crap." Dean muttered, squinting against the bright suns rays, holding a hand to his forehead to block it. This really was the real deal… or so it seemed. The giant design in the field seemed to stretch through the hundreds of acres of corn, each pressed down lightly to the ground. But they weren't broken, they were just flat. It seemed impossible- but it wasn't. This task was humongous… perfect in it's every detail. It couldn't have been completed in one night. Not by humans, anyway.
"So… crop circles."
"Yeah."
Dean adjusted his stance, still trying to come to terms as to what was going on. "Think this is our kinda gig?"
"I dunno man. It might be."
There was a pause. "I guess I was just never meant to go to Mardi Gras."