AN: I know, I know. I shouldn't be starting another story when my other three are a bit dead at the moment, but I'll get to those eventually, I swear! Anyways, this is another collab fic, though it's just between myself and Angry Mushroom (u/4109001/Angry-Mushroom). The idea kinda came into my head and we've been wanting to RP (but can't continue the Avengers fic until our third person is online too) so here we have it! Enjoy guys! The feedback is what keeps us going. (:
He wasn't sure how long they'd been on the road. Usually he took account of it, but after the 18 hour mark, he'd kinda just let the time go. Sam Winchester was finding it difficult to keep his eyes open, though he forced himself to do so to make sure his brother didn't steer off the road. He trusted Dean, of course, but... you could never be too careful. Pushing his hair to the side so that he could see a bit better, Sam looked onto the darkened asphalt in front of them - the only light illuminating it coming from the black '67 Impala they sat in currently.
Fighting back a yawn, Dean drummed his hands on the wheel to Black Sabbath playing through the speakers. So far it was doing most of the work at keeping him awake, Sam having gone quiet. Might as well, though. He had nothing to talk about. Only thing he cared about was knowing what it was and how to kill it. And he knew both. Only thing he needed now was a four hour break for sleep and some booze. The nearest rest station seemed forever away though. Seeing a sign for a turn up ahead, he had no choice but to break the 'silence'. "This our exit, Sammy?"
Sam's attention seemed to snap back into place as he heard the sound of his brother's voice, asking for confirmation as to whether or not the sign up ahead indicated their exit. They hadn't spoken in a while, the younger sibling having been in deep thought over plenty of things which didn't really suit topics of conversation. Even though he was much more open to talking about situations within his life than Dean was, some things he did in fact prefer to keep to himself. "Yeah, this should be it coming up," he answered, the tired tone evident in his voice. He wasn't driving, of course, but having stayed up just as long and straight as Dean had, he was plenty exhausted as well.
"Alright. We're crashing at the first available place. I'm dying here." Turning off where Sam indicated, Dean's tired eyes started darting between buildings in the distance quickly approaching for any sign of an 'inn' sign. 'Kind of a weirdly hamlet type place for a wendigo sighting...' he thought to himself as he pondered tomorrow's mission. But then again, there were woods here and there throughout and a large mass of it surrounding the place. Couldn't be that hard for one to live comfortably out here. Or did it even live in the woods? He recalled vaguely Sam reading him the articles about the mysterious killings. Many far too close or in town for a wendigo to normally be. Well that was an issue for debate later. He finally spotted a shabby looking inn and pulled into the parking lot.
"No problems here," said Sam thankfully, immensely grateful that they would be stopping - hopefully, if they sighted a motel or hotel of some sort. He spotted it shortly after Dean, as his brother rounded the pavement and quickly found the parking lot. It didn't take long for a space to be found; the lot seemed rather empty. It wasn't surprising, though. The two siblings had a tendency to pick places to crash where they'd be least disturbed. That was the smartest way to go, in any case. Sam got out of the car as soon as its engine had stopped running, and it didn't take long for him to attempt stretching his back out. His legs felt strange after being in the Impala for so long a time, though as soon as he was done, he grabbed a small duffel bag from the back seat and slung it over his shoulder. Its contents included a laptop as well as a few small weapons in case of emergency. As soon as he had it in tow, he began walking towards the front of the building, assuming Dean was behind.
Barely a few feet behind his brother, Dean had his duffel in tow. Clothes and food and a few other necessities for an overnight stay inside. He fiddled with his keys and a few small knives in his pockets to look for his wallet. Fake IDs and credit cards already inside so they were ready to check in as soon as humanly possible, he pulled out the first one his fingers touched and waved it to the middle-aged man behind the desk. "We'd like a room for the night please. Separate beds. Mini bar if you got it." he added after thinking of how much he could use a drink. The man raised an eyebrow, but spoke not a word while accepting the card and taking care of what needed to be done for a room. Signing the guest book (as Brian Johnson for himself and Bill Ward for his brother), he grabbed the key from the counter for their room. Glancing at the key to find their room number, 24, indicated for Sam to follow him now.
Sam didn't say much of anything as Dean did the usual stuff, taking out the IDs which held no truth to them but instead served as masks. Showing them to the manager and asking for a room with separate beds. It had gotten to that point, funnily enough. Where they had to request a room with separate beds, because the clerks behind the desks kept asking if they'd like a queen size bed. Sam wondered vaguely what made people think they were gay when they must have held some family resemblance. He shrugged mentally, figuring it was food for thought for another day. He was too tired to speak, following Dean like a puppy dog, so ready for sleep that he didn't bother questioning any of the goings on around them.
There were many things to consider for the hunt tomorrow. But none seemed to matter now. Only thing on Dean's mind was sleep. He wasn't even sure why he grabbed his bag. Force of habit probably. As soon as the door was opened, Dean found the first bed, comforter and pillows on top different shades of red, and collapsed on it still fully clothed. "Good night, Sammy."
Sam followed suit, taking after Dean and falling onto the second bed, dropping his bag softly onto the ground next to it as he savored the slight comfort the pillows gave him, as well as that feeling of your back stretching out after having put pressure on it for so long a time. The younger sibling looked towards his brother and replied with a small smile, "You too, Dean." Before he, himself, could sleep, however, he knew he had to set the alarm since it was usually his job to do it anyways. After setting it for around 8:30am, he finally succumbed to exhaustion, passing out without even lifting the covers.
The morning air was cold, as per usual in the Virginia winters. A tired pair of eyes flitted open with mild consciousness, as Will Graham tried getting his brain to function past the strangely vivid dreams he'd had throughout the night. It was fifteen minutes later before he was fully awake, and ten more until he was dressed enough to let his pack of strays outside. The canines bounded out, seeking the new scents of the grass. Winston, in particular, seemed very interested in one of the pine trees nearby, as his paws dragged across the plant's trunk. It seemed there was some sort of animal in the branches. Will allowed himself one last yawn before calling the dogs back inside so he could feed them and make his way out the door. Locking it firmly, the man approached his car. From there, he planned to drive to Hannibal's psychiatry office.
Having just seen a patient out the door, Hannibal paced his office looking for imperfections to fix before his next patient. Using a clean tissue to throw away some dirty ones that yet another patient left so carelessly on his clean glass table, he debated putting a small trash tin next to the chair. It would keep the temptations away to fill his freezer that was for sure. After straitening his papers and checking his datebook, he noticed Will was his next patient. Having plenty of time to kill before he arrived after another patient had cancelled however, he decided to get an early lunch around. Perhaps even invite Will to dine with him again. He loved having him for meals.
The thrum of the car's engine seemed to run smoothly as Will kept his eyes on the road. It was a bit of a ways to get to Hannibal's office, but then again, Will had to drive a bit to get to Jack and the classrooms too. He pretty much lived in the middle of nowhere, with barely any other houses around besides his own. But Wolf's Trap, Virginia wasn't known for its population, mostly its scenery. Actually, Will wasn't entirely sure that Wolf's Trap was known much at all. A shrug physically escaped him in response to his thoughts. Though he attempted to focus on the empty streets ahead of him, somehow Will couldn't help the blurriness that tended to engulf his vision in millisecond intervals. Will feared that he may be, in fact, growing crazier by the day. And that thought scared him nearly to death. Or the breaking point. Whichever came first.
A little while later, Will's car found itself in the small parking lot of Hannibal's office quarters. There never were too many people here at any given time, though Will had always supposed that was more due to Hannibal's need to relax every now and again more than any lack of popularity. On the contrary, he was one of the top psychiatrists in the area. But that was besides the point. Shaking his head, Will locked his car and stuffed the keys in his pocket, heading up the stairs and towards the door which he now knew all too well. He knocked hesitantly, feeling a bit strange and out of it today more than most days for some reason.
The microwave oven announced the French onion soup he had prepared just moments before he received the calling card from his next patient. Letting the soup sit, he first decided to open the door. It would be rude to have his next patient wait. Opening the door he greeted the face he correctly expected, "Hello, Will. How are you today?" He stepped aside and opened the door wide to invite him in without having to say.
Will nodded without many more words, heading inside once Hannibal stepped away from the door. He wasn't sure why he felt off... but for some reason he did. He just felt exhausted, though even with the dreams he should have gotten plenty of sleep the night before. "Well enough..." Will answered in his usual somewhat wavering tone. Though he felt more at ease around Hannibal these days, somehow he couldn't shake the work Jack was having him do. The empathy he experienced with the killers they came in contact with seemed never ending, whether he was on or off cases. He looked up at Hannibal, realizing he must have been gazing off at nothing for a few moments. "What about you?"
Hannibal smiled at the personal question. He pondered if Will asked it as something to change the subject, or as a friend. He liked to think it was the latter, but it was most likely to change the topic. Course he wouldn't avoid it for long. It was clear the man was bothered by something. Whether it be personal life or work, he'd soon have to question. As his psychiatrist and as his friend. "As well as can be expected. Come. Sit. I was just preparing lunch. I hoped you'd join me even though it's a session."
Will laughed with that characteristic nervous sounding chuckle of his. He did actually quite like Hannibal's cooking, and despite the fact that he felt more comfortable around him, he was glad for the excuse to get out of half a session. He just didn't like others psycho-analyzing him. It wasn't safe. It was never safe... His mind was like a ticking time bomb, when used for good, it could be a force to be reckoned with, but when used too often, it could very well explode on the one who built it for good in the first place. A sigh escaped his lips as he wearily made his way towards Han's indicated spot. He sat down as he was instructed and looked up at the other man, hoping that his expressions didn't betray him but knowing that they most likely already had.
Carefully pulling the hot bowl out with a heat pad he kept in the bag he stored the soup in, he set it on his desk and pulled out two large cup shaped bowls. Pouring the soup evenly between them, he added spoons and pushed one towards the end of the desk Will was on. "Tell me what's on your mind, Will." He asked as if it was normal conversation. But of course his conversations with Will were anything but. And that's what enjoyed most about their sessions. With each case Will became more and more like Hannibal. Hearing about each one was the highlight of his day.
Will took a little while to answer, not sure exactly what indeed was on his mind. His eyes took on a sort of glazed expression as his brows furrowed, and it was quite obvious that his thoughts were beginning to take hold. Shaking himself of the feeling, he looked up at Hannibal, feeling somewhat dazed. He took the spoon from the bowl the other man had given him and brought it to his lips, tasting the essence of the French onion soup and smiling ever so faintly. Hannibal was a great cook, if nothing else. "It's great," he said in regards to the soup, putting off the question Hannibal had asked in the first place. Finally, he breathed deeply, giving into defeat. "I've been having... vivid dreams. They don't necessarily keep me up at night, but... somehow they always make me feel restless."
Hannibal let a small smile onto his lips a moment before letting it fall to listen to Will's explanation of his sullen mood. He took a bite of the soup himself and pondered each word. Attempting to imagine the vivid dreams. Were they bloody? Did he kill in them? He was curious, but didn't want to let his professionalism falter, so he adjusted his train of thought between another spoonful of onion and replying, "Restless in what way?" A spin on 'how does that make you feel', but he was sure Will would catch on to it anyway.
Will's mouth opened so he could answer, but his voice wouldn't make the proper sound so he closed it once more. Once he got his bearings again, he sighed softly, continuing, "There's always an elk... it's walking slowly, always taking a second to look back at me. It leads me to different places... and beforehand, they had been the murder sites of our previous cases, but last night... it had been somewhere I'd never been to. Two girls were murdered... there was blood everywhere... Their bodies were strung on a tree, ice melting off as if after a blizzard. And always the elk looks back at me... and it makes me feel guilty. As if... I was either the one who caused it, or the one who couldn't prevent it..." Will looked up at Hannibal, letting the spoon slip out of his hands and gently back into the bowl as the full income of his worried expression caved in.
Setting his own spoon down, Hannibal looked sympathetically into Will's eyes and remained in his ever calm demeanor. He knew full well what the dreams the younger man had meant. But he wasn't about to turn himself in. "They were just dreams, Will. You're not a killer, you didn't kill any girls. It would be foolish to blame yourself for something you didn't do or have any control over."
Will's brows furrowed again, though his face relaxed a bit more. "Maybe... but I don't understand why before it was things I knew and now it's something I've never seen..." He mused, unsure of the spectacle and realizing now that perhaps this was the main reason behind his 'off' feeling today. "Just dreams, then, I suppose. You're probably right..." Will eventually replied, giving up on the matter. If he gave any more thought to it, besides, he might just go nuts.
Hannibal nodded and continued to finish his soup. He didn't expect Will's dreams to start predicting kills. How was that even possible? Just another thing about him to figure out and explore. His curiosity over Will would most likely be his downfall, but he couldn't help himself. "These girls you dreamed about. Did you recognize them?"
Will took a moment to gaze up from his now finished soup before steadying himself to reply, "No... no, I don't remember knowing them..." He trailed off, meaning to add something else but cutting himself off when he heard the unmistakable ring of his cell. He smiled apologetically at Hannibal before grabbing it from his pocket and answering it. "This is Will speaking," he said into the phone. A loud and recognizable voice could be heard through the speaker, and Will's eyes could be seen widening. "N-no, Jack, what do you mean?" he asked with apprehension and a tinge of fear. Jack's voice came right back, "We've got another case, Will. We need you down here right away." Will gulped, nodding though he knew Jack wouldn't be able to see it, and responding swiftly, "Got it. We're on our way." He promptly put his phone away, looking towards Hannibal now. "That was Jack. We need to go, there's been..." he trailed off, a look of hesitancy distorting his features. "There's been a double murder..."
Writing Credits:
Sam & Will: Moki Hunter
Dean & Hannibal: Angry Mushroom
Characters/Shows (c) Rightful Creators