I am taking over this story because it has a lot of potential and I like it…it is really good in my opinion and I like working with everything so yeah…lets see where this one goes…
"Wake up the house is on fire,
and the cat's caught in the dryer.
Philosophy's a liar
when your home is your headstone."
- Deadbeat Holiday, Green Day
"Jesus, Dad! You scared the hell out of me." Okay, so maybe the words were a bit anticlimactic after having their missing father suddenly show up in the hotel the brothers had been staying in, but after spending an hour dodging projectiles that an angry ghost kept throwing at them Sam didn't really have enough energy to criticize Dean lack of…whatever.
They had been looking for their father for about three months now. It was a relief to see John for several reasons. Sam had, in the months since Jessica's death, been more driven to hunt than he had ever been. For a while he had thought the he and dean would work together better that ever; Sam' lust for revenge matching Dean's need to kill the demon who had stolen the mother.
Dean had always been the real hunter of the family. Even at a young age he seemed more enthused about it that even John. He just thrived on it, the tracking, the fight, the kill. Their father had, of course, encouraged it. As far back as Sam could remember, their dad had allowed Dean to spend weeks at a tie with other hunters so that he could learn from them, rarely letting him stay with them for more that a few days or a week before leaving again. He had even let him travel for almost a year with some hunter going on some "special jobs" when he was around eleven. They never really talked about it much, but Dean had seemed more…dedicated when he returned.
Despite his long absences they had been close. To Sam, Dean was God. He took care of Sam. No matter, what; like Sammy was really the only thing that mattered. Screw the rest of the world. It was Dean that inspired him to excel in school, because where there father might just give his approval, Dean treated everyone of Sam accomplishments as though they actually something to be proud of. He hadn't really wanted to be anything other that a hunter. Sure, he didn't really take to the life like the rest of his family did, but he was good at it, and he knew that he would never work with anyone in the same fluid way that he could with his brother.
That changed when Sam was sixteen. Dean disappeared; his father said that he was going on another trip, about a month this time. Sam had been mad that Dean had left without saying goodbye, he'd been begging his father to let him go on one of the trips, but John had refused him each time. He settled down to wait though; it wouldn't matter as long as it was only for a month. Dean had talked Sam into applying for Stanford, saying that it was the end of high school(he had started kindergarten a year early), so high might as well apply early decision to at least one school to get the councilors off his back. Stanford had been brought up as a joke; if Sam just got an acceptance it would be proof that he was a nerd. It didn't really matter, but Sam still wanted Dean to be there when he got his letter.
Time went by though, and the letter came two months later, before Dean had come home. Questioning his father had only told him that Dean would be gone longer, he didn't no how long, and no Dean had told John that he didn't have enough time to talk to Sam or call back. More time passed, and the tension between Sam and his father, which Dean had always before dissipated, grew. Without Dean, Sam began to hate the lifestyle which he lived. One night, after a fight with John, he announced that he would be going to Stanford. It wasn't until the first week of classes that he heard from Dean. After a short conversation which pretty much revolved around Sam's request that his brother, "fuck off" Sam slammed down the phone and threw himself into his studies. Other than the voice messages left by Dean Sam didn't see or hear from him until the night that his apartment was broken into.
Dean might have seemed rough around the edges, be he really was the more empathic of the two. All the same, it didn't take Sam long to notice that their was something wrong with his brother. As the days went by he seemed to grow impatient and almost desperate to find their father. Even hunting seemed to hold no interest to Dean. When Sam finally confronted him about it, it was like pulling teeth. After said prying, he'd gotten it out of his brother that Dean hadn't seen their father for almost half a year. They did most of their hunting separately and it had only been two weeks earlier that John had stopped answering his phone.
After Dean's surprised exclamation, he rushed towards his father. Sam inched closer as they embraced, hesitantly accepting a hug from his father a moment later. Sam had hoped that their father's return would bring Dean out of his mood. He cast a glance at his brother. 'Damn.' Something was seriously wrong. Dean kept on casting glances around the room nervously. He was even starting to fidget. Dean never fidgeted, not unless he was bored out of his mind.
Apparently having arrived at some course of action, Dean abruptly stopped his movements and cleared his thought before beginning, "Dad are you okay? anything following you?"
John looked at his son, noticing for the first time how…antsy he seemed. Realizing after a moment that his silence wasn't doing anything the improve Dean's apparently frayed nerves he answered, "No…Dean everything is fine. I thought I was closing in on the demon, and I need to stay under the radar. I think…I think that I've found a way to track it. We might really be able to…" his voice trailed off as Dean fixed him with a deep searching stare, "Dean, what's wrong."
Dean shook his head, seeming to come back to reality. "Nothing it's just...nothing. You're sure that you're okay?" At John's somewhat confused nod he continued. "Alright…alright then. That's good. You're okay. And Sammy, you're going to be okay too." Dean looked at his father and brother again. "Yeah, you guys'll do fine as long as you can learn how to be in the same room for ten minutes without arguing."
The rest of the night was…surreal, even by their standards. Dean's nervousness seemed to have left him, however, every once in while he would just start staring at John or Sam. Whenever they caught him at it, he just ginned and cracked a joke. Sam went to be that night feeling for the first time in a long time that everything might be okay again. Still, in defense of his natural instincts, in those few moments when waking and sleep blurs, Sam felt a weird sense of dread, like Alice while she was still falling down the rabbit hole, that when he woke up everything would be wrong.
Sam groaned a little as he rolled over to turn off the alarm clock. Waking up wouldn't be nearly as painful if it weren't for that god-awful sound. He opened his eyes and slowly tried to convince himself to get out of bed before his dad got back with coffee.
'I thought that kids were supposed to stop worrying about their dad's making them get up in the morning after they turned 18.' Then again it had always been Dean who had been a stickler for that whole early to rise thing. Sam shut his eyes again trying to cut off the thought process but it was too late. 'It's been seven months. Seven months today since Dean disappeared.'
Sometime in the early morning, while Sam and his father were still asleep, not 24 hours after having found their father, Dean disappeared. He had left the Impala, leading Sam to believe that something must have taken him, but their wasn't a struggle and the woman at the diner said that she had seen someone matching Dean's description trying to hitch a ride while she was driving in to open the restaurant. Dean had left of his own free-will. They had searched for two months, but eventually they had to let it drop, Dean was one of the best trackers out there. If he didn't want to be found, he wouldn't be.
Sam and John had tried to play nice with each other while they searched for Dean. John offering a sympathetic ear when it came to Jessica, and Sam finally understanding John's determination behind killing the demon. But after so much time spend expecting a fight out of one another, it was inevitable. Strangely, after a full nigh of yelling, cursing, and bringing up bad memories, they managed to get along better.
Sam once suggested that John call up some of the hunters that Dean had spent so much time with as a child to see if they had heard from him. John had just looked at him and stated in a flat voice that he hadn't kept in touch with any of them to even know their phone numbers.
After a while, they agreed that they couldn't spend all of their time looking for Dean. They could keep an eye open for him while pursuing the demon. John finally told Sam how he planned on killing the demon. He hoped that the gun he inherited from a deceased college would be able to do it. Apparently the colt was able to kill anything, even demons. He had developed a way of tracking the demon, but all the same it was a stroke of pure luck that Sam started to get premonitions.
As he became more accustomed to understanding them, he and his father began to get closer to catching the demon each time. As far as Sam could tell, he only got premonitions about kids who were like him. Meaning that the demon had killed their mothers when they were six months old in the same fashion. I kind of creeped him out, it seemed as though the demon was somehow choosing these kids, making the physic, and corrupting them. It made Sam wonder if maybe he could be influenced by the demon.
He gave another groan as he rolled out of bed and began his morning routine. He was pulling a shirt over his head when he heard his dad let himself into the motel room. He sat down on the bed across from his dad and grabbed one of the cups of coffee. 'Thank God for caffeine. All the hunters would have died from the exhaustion and the world would be filled with random scary monsters without it.' He trying to focus on one of the print outs that his dad was holding about weather patterns when he felt a sharp stab or pain behind his eyes. His vision began to blur as it came again, and again, closer together each time, until he blacked out for a moment, only to be caught in a vision.
A woman stood in the middle of a room stretching with both arms over her head. She had dark hair cut short and curling around her face, and longer in the back. Her face could only be described as beautiful, high, rounded cheekbones and long curling lashes around closed eyes made her look like a doll. Having apparently relieved the tension in her back she rolled her shoulders a little as she walked into another room. It was…plane. Almost devoid of color, the main features seemed to be a window on one wall and a large wooden cradle in the middle of the room. Seeming to hear something inaudible to Sam she cocked her head to the side and allowed her lips to curve into a smile. She walked over the cradle and knelt down. Sam couldn't see it, but he knew that their must be a baby in there. As if hearing his thoughts a small hard reached up and tried to grad at something hanging from the woman's shirt. Smiling again, she took of what seemed to be a plastic identification card that some businesses give their workers. She dangled it from her fingers letting the little arm tug at the plastic card. Sam could just make out her photograph, a bar code, and some of the company information. He couldn't see her name from the angle she was holding it. Suddenly the woman looked up. Looking around the room she slowly straitened from her bent over position and walked towards the window. She looked out of it for a moment before whipping back around. Her eyes widened and she slammed back into the wall. Sam could make out a dark figure as she was drug onto the ceiling. The first thing he heard during the vision was the baby's crying as it's mother's stomach was opened above its cradle. Then, everything seemed to catch be fire.
Gasping, Sam tried to catch his breath as John spoke calming words. He tried clear his nose of the smell of burning hair and forget the baby's screaming, but it wasn't going away as quickly as he would have liked.
"Sam, Sam…What was it? Sam what did you see?" Focusing of his father he tried to remember. The woman, a mother. Her apartment was plain…and there was a crib. And blood and fire…no wait…the babies. The babies had grabbed at her identification card. Shit, he still didn't know her name.
"I don't know… I couldn't see. Wait…" on the card, it had the business information, town and state…she had to live there too. "Gillette, we need to go to the Gillette, Wyoming."
Yes…no. good…bad…poke your eyes out to make it stop? Please review.
