Four Roads Out of Here
Hey, Darksupernatural here! As a lot of you know I've stepped back from writing just a bit. That doesn't mean that I haven't spent my entire life recently in front of a keyboard, because I think I have. That means I've been working on something different, as I've wanted to do lately, that I hope my readers will enjoy immensely. It's a project with the wonderful, talented, so, so down to earth Soncnica. Girl, This is the first time that time differences really tick me off. Sorry it's so late on your end but I had to work;)
I mentioned DIFFERENT?
Here's how this is going to work. Each update will be two chapters. One of hers and one of mine. It's all posted under my name because it's what she felt would work the best. Each chapter is a different time, a different hunt or part of a hunt. Drop us a review at the end of each chapter if it strikes you to do so and let us know you liked. We're willing to take our chapters and expand them to full stories if we get asked, but you gotta let us know you want to see it…
By the way, I don't own anything but the words.
TITLE: Four Roads Out of Here
SUMMARY: He wonders why he was worth it to his brother.
AUTHOR: Darksupernatural
Enjoy...
Gravel shifted under his brown leather boots making him feel like he was slowly being pulled into the earth to disappear forever. His heart missed a beat. I'll never be found. Sam shook his head and stepped forward again. As he reached the center of the crossroads a mist shrouded his form, seeping, it seemed through his skin like reaching fingers. It dug through to the very marrow of his bones. He shook his head again, the unruly chestnut locks catching and trapping the mist. Water droplets formed on the strands and slid first to the ends and then down over his cheek taking the path traveled by salt water many times in his life. It was after all the easiest road.
The smell of the yellow flowers, Yarrow flowers Sam remembered, that lined each angle of the road drifted to his nose, a spicy sweet aroma making him nauseous as it floated heavily on the mist. The gravel grated under his feet like the crunch of bone against bone as he shifted and lowered himself to his knees in the center of the road. A breeze picked up, bringing the chill deeply home into his bloodstream once again. The wooden sign post creaked and groaned, sounding vaguely reminiscent of an old door opening as it grated over his raw nerves. Each of the four placards shuddered and tried to remain valiantly pointing the way in four different directions.
Sam looked down at the gravel, not really feeling the bite of sharp edges through the rips in his dark blue jeans. Not caring about the dust encrusted pockmarks that were steadily bruising deep to his bones. He took a deep breath and released it on a quiet, almost haunting sigh. He brushed long fingers softly over the gravel, feeling the texture like sandpaper over the pads of his fingers as he pictured another set of hands doing the same thing. A lone tear left the safety of its companions shining in hazel eyes and blazed the previously followed trail all over again, down his clammy cheek, scorching a path that burned in its wake.
Sam's hands clenched in the gravel and turned the small gray and ebony chips over haphazardly. His breath caught before cascading from him in a rushing wave, bursting from his chest in an ever increasing flurry of sound. Gravel flew as his hands dug with more abandon, tender skin scraping over the coarsest of sandpaper surfaces. Sam sobbed once, his shoulders hunching, flexing, muscles tightening the hoodie stretched over his lean back. The mist that had shrouded him seeped into the gravel, dampening it. Sam dug faster, revealing the deeper stones, still light gray since the mist had yet to lay claim to the dryness and infiltrate every pore of stone. Sam growled low and swept the dry gravel away to mingle with the damp as he swept the dryness from his mouth with a hard swallow and the working of his jaw.
He gasped, finally, feeling his abused fingertips claim purchase on cold, dusty metal. Sam forced his fingers under the edge of the box, wincing when gravel split his knuckle deeply. He pulled, another sob ripped from his parted lips carried away by a puff of warm mist. The ground protested losing its bounty and groaned as it finally surrendered the box to Sam's bloody, shaking, grasping hands. He pulled it into his lap and sat back onto his heels. His thumbs played with the hasp, smearing blood mixed with dust over the front of the scratched white metal box. The latch popped free with a soft snick. Sam drew a ragged breath and held it, lifting the lid of the box with a small creak of stiffened hinges. The held breath ripped from his body, leaving him wounded and winded.
His numb mind snapped to action and pained fingers moved to touch what resided in the box. His fingers smeared over a small bottle of alcohol, the white of the label clashing with the black background and the red of his blood. Old coins, some silver, some gold clinked softly against the metal of the box and the glass of the bottle. Sam's fingers stroked black velvet that held the black cat's bone, the shape forming in his mind as he outlined it beneath the soft fabric. Finally a corner of white paper peaked at him from beneath it all. "No." He whispered, fingers closing on the corner of the paper of their own accord, his dread growing as they refused to obey his screaming mind commanding them to stop. Two fingers tugged on the corner of the slightly rumpled, glossy feeling paper and the photo pulled free of the contents holding it prisoner inside the box. His heart dropped into his stomach as the picture brought back memories of a good day. Sam remembered snapping this picture with the camera Dean had gotten him for his eighteenth birthday. It seemed to reveal another life. A happy life. So out of place in the mists of this awful night. It showed a rare moment of Dean, a different Dean. Spiky blond-brown hair topped a smiling face. Fidgeting restlessly as he leaned against the gleaming black car between the headlights, before feigning indifference and hooking his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans that rested snuggly against his muscular thighs. The edges of a brown leather belt peeked out from under his black tee shirt. Tanned arms were relaxed, yet powerful looking as they rested in the sleeves of the shirt. Black boots were crossed at the ankle and a chunk of bronze seemed to glint in the photo as it rested against the muscular yet lean chest. It was a pose that Sam knew well, Dean being invisible, casual…untouchable. Sam remembered lowering the camera and watching Dean's ankles uncross as he pushed off the car. "Get in the car Sammy."
Sam swallowed down bile and stood, the box still clasped in his hands. He turned and walked slowly out of the center of the crossroads as the mist seemed to subside, releasing its grip on him. Sam glanced up from the box, tearing his eyes away. The hazel came to rest on his brother's figure standing leaned against the Impala, between the headlights. Gone was the smile, the tanned arms were covered by familiar worn brown leather. Thumbs remained hooked in pockets though, and black boot clad ankles were crossed on the gravel. Sam strode to Dean, his watery eyes hardening. The lid of the box snapped shut. Sam's arm stretched out and the box slammed into Dean's chest, clanking off a small chunk of bronze when it impacted the muscular chest beneath the black tee shirt.
"Why?" Sam asked softly, simply.
"Because I had to." The black boots uncrossed, scraping over gravel loudly in the silence that claimed both brothers. Dean pushed off the car and faced Sam. "Get in the car, Sammy."
Stay tuned for Soncnica's Burning Bones in the Dark. And don't forget to drop me a line if you liked this. I'll be willing to make it a full story if it's liked but I have to know first.
