Hey, this is the first story i have posted on this website. This is a story about Sam and Dean, but they have another brother too, Carl. Please read and review, I would love to know what you think. I have posted the story on another forum and it got great reviews... give it a try.
Disclaimer: I do not own supernatural, only the character Carl.
Carl pondered the poltergeist they had defeated with vague interest, he had kill them so many times that it almost bored him. Almost.
Hunting was his life, all he had ever known. Why stop now was his attitude, he could never go back to civilisation living a normal life with an equally normal job. The thought scared him, he depended on his job. The routine and discipline a skill he had master over many years of hard work and hard love, it was a part of him, carved into his soul.
He chuckled inwardly, Sam would not agree with that. Sam had always been different to the rest of the family. He craved normalcy, he even had the courage to go after it, leaving a broken family behind doing so. Dean was like Carl, always seeing the good things about the job, relishing the kill in a way that scared Sam but made John proud.
John was such a hard man to please, always looking for the bad, the evil in innocent things. He always found it so hard to show love to his children after Mary was killed. A part of him died along with her that fateful night, the part that showed remorse and compassion. The only thing he cared about was revenge, putting that evil son of a bitch through as much pain he went through and then some.
Awakened from his thoughts, he stared around the dimly lit motel room. It was nothing fancy, two small beds in the main room, with a dirty kitchenette in the corner of the room, then leading through to an equally grimy bathroom. Dean lay sprawled on the bed breathing deeply in his sleep. The worry lines on his face grew smaller and made him look instantly younger and innocent to the cruel ways of the world.
Carl sighed and looked down at his watch, it read 7.54am. His stomach responded to the acknowledgement, with a low residing growl. Deciding that it was time for some well deserved food, but more importantly coffee, Carl tiredly rose from the bed.
"Dean, Dean get up" he yelled. Dean rolled over and opened one eye.
"What time is it?" he grunted rubbing the sleep out of his eyes gingerly.
"Time to get your lazy ass out of bed, I gonna get some coffee, you want some?" Carl replied, he was in a bad mood through lack of sleep and needed wake his brain with much needed caffeine.
"What do you think?", Dean said. Carl smiled, Dean loved his coffee, he would never refuse an offer of coffee.
"Kay well, I'll be back in around 20 minutes, you better be up and dressed when I get back!" Carl responded in mild annoyance.
Dean, mumbled under his breath and stumbled to the bathroom. A minute later the sound of water running met Carl's ears and he pulled his sneakers on, reached for the doorknob and let the morning air hit his crumpled from. Blinking from the sudden light hitting his sensitive eyes, he started toward the only coffee house in the run down town.
The journey was however interrupted by someone Carl was least expecting to see…
--
Carl stumbled back, having hit something solid. He looked at the figure astonished. The man's tall frame slumped slightly as he looked at Carl, his eyes hidden in a slight shadow streaking across his face.
"Dad! What the hell are you doing here? I thought you was in Arizona". Carl was in a state of shock.
The sun shone brightly, burning through a cloud and restricted Carls view, glaring from every reflective surface. He shielded his face and looked closely at his dad, taking in the harsh lines on his forehead, the dull bruise around his right eye and the shallow cut along his chin.
"I was but something has come up! Now, listen up, I need you to go get Sammy!" John was in no mood for pleasantries, and it showed in his gruff voice.
"What? Dad, why do we need Sam?" Carl responded, questioning his father in a way that would not end well, and he knew it.
"Look son, you need to get Sam, make him come with you, he can't stay at Stanford, he is in danger!" John was quickly losing his patience. Why did his sons question him? He thought he had drilled into them never to question his orders, that things needed to be done when he said they should be.
"Danger, what kind of danger?
"JUST GO AND GET SAM, that's an order", yelled John. Anger bubbled inside him and Carl was pushing a boundary that could send it overflowing.
Carl recognised his was hitting John's buttons but there were things more important to think about. If John said Sam was under threat from something or someone, then Carl would be there in a flash, ready to do whatever it takes to protect him.
The motel room, 10 minutes later
"Let me get this straight, dad has just told you that we need to go get Sam from Stanford because he is some kind of danger?" Dean said looking at Carl with bewilderment.
Ten minutes earlier Carl had come bursting into the room in a panicked rush. After Dean had managed to get him to calm down, Carl recited the encounter he had just had with their dad.
"Yes, we need to go now!" Carl replied, as he started to chuck his belongings into his bag haphazardly.
The urgency in his voice triggered something in Dean, and he suddenly began to realize the severity of the situation. He hastily joined Carl, retrieving his possessions and bundled them into the mucky duffle bag.
A few minutes later they were in the impala, rock music blasting into the air of the sleepy town, on their way to save their baby brother from a danger unknown to them.
The impala was speeding down the deserted highway, the black lines a blur to the human eye. Carl was scrunched in a tight ball, his sleep fitful and disturbing due to the uneven road beneath them.
Dean glanced over at his brother with worry and intrigue. Something about the whole situation unsettled Dean and certainly did Carl. Why now? Sam was living the normal life he had always dream but his brothers were about to tear that dream apart.