1/26/08
Summary:
The Tree Hill gang decides they are in need for a little vacation. Well more like Brooke decides for them. But what happens when this fun road trip turns out to be a desperate fight for their lives? Crossover with Supernatural and Thirteen Ghosts Plot. I'll try and explain it while you read; no knowledge of the movie is necessary. Dean Brooke.
February 19th, 3: 46 a.m, six years in the past
John Winchester had opened up another can of beer as he sat in the motel chair; he was the only one awake, again, with nothing but a shotgun in his left, and a cell phone in the right. It started ringing, the only sound that seemed to penetrate the stillness. He stared at the phone for a bit before deciding to answer.
"Hello?" He heard commotion and moaning on the other side of the line. "Who is this?"
"John! It's Henry Rafkin. Listen, Dennis is dead. I got here too late. It was them John, the twelve Cyrus was collecting. The Black Zodiac."
John stood up, now concerned, "Wait, how is that possible? Where are you?"
"Look, my brother called me earlier today begging for help. The nephew of our old friend had inherited Cyrus's madhouse. I just got here now, but it seems to me that the house was destroyed and Cyrus, who had faked his own death, came back and tried to finnish what he started with the thirtenth ghost."
"Thirteenth ghost? Who? Where is he now you have to stop him Henry," John's voice was stern with his command.
"Well he's dead. The ghosts were set free, and while enraged, they killed him. The family's name is Arthur Kriticos, the potential thirteenth ghost, and his two kids Kathy and Robert and their nanny Maggie Bess. But they've left."
John sat back down, rubbing his temples, "Henry, I'm sorry about Dennis. I know you loved your brother. But listen to me, that house needs to stay destroyed. The only problem is the ghosts. The twelve of them are deadly and obviously upset and they'll probably attack the nearest human they can. They need to be stopped."
"John you know as well as I, they can't be stopped. The house was a jail to them, to keep them contained."
"Well look how well that turned out. An innocent family was almost killed that can't happen again."
"John, it's either one pack of high teenagers just looking for a good scare in the middle of the woods, or thousands of innocent families. The only thing to do is to rebuild the house."
John took a deep sigh and looked down at his feet, "Alright. Build it as soon as possible, and help Bobby re-capture the spirits."
"Re-capture? John that's suicide." The voice sounded concerned and fearful.
"Henry, you're no older then my son, but you know some of the best hunter's in the business. I've got a job up here so I can't help you out. But I'm sure the lot of you will be able to handle it." There was a stirring over in one of the full beds in the rundown motel. "I've got to go. Good luck and call me with any changes." He hung up before his old friend had any time to reply.
"Dad? Everything okay?" Someone sat up in the bed and stared at John Winchester.
"Yeah Dean, get some sleep. We've got to go get Sammy tomorrow so we'll have to be up bright and early." He said to his oldest son and watched him collapse back on the bed. He stared at his cell phone and shook his head. Even ghosts hunters needed some sleep too.
January 26 4:32 p.m. present day
The engine of the Chevy Impala revved as it was speeding and gliding down the road. It was a dry winter day, bitter cold, and sunny. The long stretch of road led in one direction, and the two boys fastened in the car argued.
"Dean, slow down! We're in no hurry to get anywhere," his younger brother was gripping the sides of the door and the top of the dashboard, trying to hold himself in place.
Dean snorted and looked at his brother, "Relax Sammy. And that's where you're wrong."
"What do you mean?" Sam questioned.
"We've got a hunt," He stepped on the gas a little more and laughed harder as his brother's knuckles grew white.
Moments before Dean and Sam took off; they were sitting in the car outside of a North Carolina bar, arguing some more about what they should be doing. As if on cue, there was a faint ringing in the glove compartment. Dean looked to Sam, and then opened the drawer. He opened up his father's old phone and began to talk.
"No this is not John, this is his son Dean, John's dead and has been for several months. How can I help you?"
He looked over to his brother who shot him a look and whispered a "What the Hell was that?"
"What? They were going to ask anyway," He shrugged back. The person at the other line began talking. He apologized and offered sympathy at first for their father's tragic death. Dean said not to worry about it and the man continued with what he was saying.
"Well my name is Henry Rafkin. I was a friend of your fathers, and a few years ago he instructed me to rebuild this house and recapture these spirits. You see, the house was made of glass, and had Latin writings that contained these dangerous ghosts. There was an accident there and the house was destroyed, setting the spirits free to roam and destroy. Me and a few other hunters finished the job a year or two ago. But there's been a slight road bump. The public found the house hidden in the woods and have exposed it to the outside world. People are starting to rent it out as a vacation home. We're concered for their saftey. Years ago, there was no known way to destroy the entities, so we did the only thing we knew was right, we put the ghosts back in the house, locked away. However, you're father called me I guess a few months before his death it would seem, saying he had discovered a Latin book, that would destory the beings for good."
Dean had just required all the information from this guy, and replied, "Oh?"
"And I'm going to need you to bring it to the house and help me recite the incantations. Please, it's an emergency."
"Okay yeah I'm sure we can, I don't know where it'd be though. Our dad wasn't exactly the "sharing secrets type", and that would certaintly be a secret he'd keep from us." He looked over at Sam, who tilted his head. The voice on the other line of the phone mumbled something and Dean raised his eyebrow. "Look where? Uh… okay." He reached behind his brothers seat and began rummaging through somethings under his chair. He felt something smooth and black and pulled it up. He twisted back around and looked at the book he had just retrieved. The front cover was torn up and pages were falling out. It was an old book, he concluded. Dean opened it and skimmed the first few pages. There were disturbing pictures and things written in the Latin language. "I think I found it."
"Okay great. I'll meet you two in a few hours or days, depending on your location."
"Alright, see you later." Dean hung up the phone and threw it back into the compartment.
"Well what was that about?" Sam finally asked his brother.
He looked at his concerned brother and smirked, starting up his car and pulling out of the parking space.
"Alright, that's it! Peyton! Where are you?" Brooke came into her new house, slammed the front door, and yelled to her roommate.
Peyton came out of the bathroom, toothbrush in hand, and leaned against the wall. "Everything okay?" She asked, mouth full of toothpaste.
"No everything is not okay! Not since Victoria rolled in," Brooke moaned fusteratedly, "Sometimes I wish I was still in highschool and only saw my mother a few weeks in the year. Anyway, we're going on a road trip P.Sawyer. I'm tired of this rich famous-girl lifestyle. I want a weekend with my friends, and catching up and sharing secrets and just being kids. Pack your bags, I'm calling Mouth and Lucas and Naley and we're just all going to get out of here!" She stormed out of the room and upstairs into hers.
Peyton continued to brush her teeth and sighed. She turned back into the bathroom and spit into the sink. "Guess I'd better pack." She thought to herself for a moment and called back up to her best friend. "Brooke, where are we going anyway?"
She heard Brooke's faint voice from the upper level of her house, "It's this really cool private house in the woods, not so far away from here."
"How'd you hear of it?" Peyton yelled.
Brooke came back downstairs, tired of hollering back and fourth. "Well Milicent's father is in the retail bussiness. The house goes on the market in a few months. I told her about my stressed out life as of now, and she offered it to me for a week. I invited her to come with, but no go." Brooke shrugged and skipped back up the stairs, "Oh! Bring warm clothes! The house is made entirely of glass and it's January. It'll be cold!"