Well, I'm happy people are enjoying this, and I'm glad that you feel bad for Bobby. I feel bad, too. Great way to start a story, though, huh?
Also, I went multi-media with this story and made a promo for it that's up on Youtube right now. Check it out if you're interested :)
"Glad you boys could make it." Ellen Harvelle stepped aside and ushered Sam and Dean into her house.
"You kidding? There's safety in numbers, especially if something goes down tonight," Sam said, holding up the bag of food he'd gotten earlier that day. She pointed him to the kitchen.
"What do you mean, you're glad we could make it?" Dean asked, a question which earned him a fleeting glare from his brother.
Ellen shrugged. "Nobody else seemed to be home. I called Bobby, Missouri, Josh, and a few others. Sam was the only one who answered. Well, besides Jo."
Dean's eyes went wide. "You found her?"
"She found me," the blonde confirmed, stepping out from behind her mother and flashing a smile at the older hunter, "and all by herself, too."
"Hey, Ellen," Sam said slowly, walking back from the kitchen and grinning wickedly at Dean, "Dean has something he wants to ask you."
Ellen eyed Dean suspiciously, wondering if she even wanted to know, but finally gave in. "What is it, honey?"
The hunter glared daggers at his brother and shrugged. "I wanted to know if you would take Sam trick or treating. I told him he's too old, but he won't listen. I don't want to take him, because Halloween's a kiddie holiday, but he's dead-set on going. Would you mind?" Ellen blinked. "He still needs a costume, too. I'm thinking a clown."
The older hunter cleared her throat and turned slowly toward Sam. "I'm flattered you asked, Sammy, but, uh," she looked him up and down, "we've already got plans. We're gonna have a movie marathon."
"All right!" Dean gushed. "What're we watching?"
"'Titanic,'" Jo stated simply, turning and heading down the hall into a large room.
"She serious?" Dean asked.
Ellen nodded. "You could always take Sam out if you really want to avoid it."
Dean glanced at his brother, then back at the older hunter. "Uh…"
"Kate Winslet takes her clothes off halfway through," Sam said.
"Pop it in and turn it on," Dean grinned, striding confidently past his brother to the room Jo had disappeared into.
"You just need to know how to speak his language," Sam grinned, looking at Ellen.
"I'm not taking you trick or treating," she said, a note of disgust in her voice, as she followed Dean down the hallway.
o0o0o0o0o0o
Dean opened his eyes and found himself in a dumpy motel room. He sat up and looked around. Sam was sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at him intently. "I fall asleep?" Dean asked. Sam nodded. "Dude, you could've woken me up when she took her clothes off." Sam shook his head. "You all right?"
Sam stared at his brother. His eyes were dark, unfeeling, different. His upper lip curled into a snarl, the expression looking out of place on his kind face, his eyes flashing with unearthly rage.
"Maybe I'm just not feeling like myself today," Sam growled, "I wonder whose fault that is?"
He jumped up suddenly, pushing Dean back onto the bed, pinning him down, trapping him. The older hunter stared up into merciless eyes, eyes that couldn't have belonged to his brother, as Sam forced his hands back up to the headboard of the bed. He released his grip, but didn't back away from his brother.
Dean tried to reach up and push him off, but found it impossible. Somehow, his hands had been tied to the headboard.
"What do you say we have a little fun, huh?" Sam hissed, grinning wickedly as he reached down and ripped the necklace from his brother's neck with a snap.
"What's wrong with you?" Dean asked as his brother reached beneath the pillow and pulled out a long knife.
"I told you. I'm not quite myself today. What's dead should stay dead and all that jazz." He smirked and he sliced a clean line through his brother's arm, eliciting no more than a quiet whimper. Dean wouldn't scream, wouldn't give whatever was pretending to be his brother the pleasure.
"Not big on the whole torture, thing, huh?" Sam asked, tossing the knife aside and staring down at Dean with hunger in his eyes. "That's all right. There are other ways to make you scream." He started unbuttoning his brother's shirt, moving slowly down and unzipping his fly.
"What are you doing?"
"What you've always secretly wanted, Dean. Dean? Dean, wake up!"
o0o0o0o0o0o
Dean's eyes snapped open. He jerked away from his brother, who'd been sitting beside him on the couch to watch the movie. "What?" he gasped, staring at Sam as if seeing the other man for the first time.
"That scene's coming up. You all right? You look kind of pale."
Dean blinked, running a hand over his face. There were three sets of eyes on him, boring into him, questioning. It was starting to make him uncomfortable. "Yeah. Nightmare."
"You want to talk about it?" Sam asked, concerned to the very end.
"Uh, not really," the older man replied, eyeing his brother cautiously. He scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck, wincing with pain as his necklace fell into his lap.
"When did that break?" Sammy asked.
Dean picked it up and held it at eye level. The cord had broken, as if it had been pulled from his neck. He rubbed the sore area again, wondering if he'd accidentally ripped it off in his sleep. That didn't seem possible. It would have taken a deliberate attempt to snap the sturdy cord.
"You're bleeding," Ellen noted, pointing at his arm.
"When did that happen?" Sam asked.
"You're really big on repetitive questions tonight, huh, Sammy," Dean quipped, flinching as he gently touched the bloody line on his arm. His shirt had been cut, the skin underneath bleeding freely. "You got anything to clean this up?" he asked, looking at Ellen for help.
She nodded. "Come on, I'll fix you up." She stood and ushered him out of the room, looking over her shoulder to call out, "pause the movie."
He followed her out of the tiny living room and into one of the bathrooms. "Weird, huh?" he muttered.
"What happened?"
"I dunno," Dean shrugged, "one minute I'm asleep, the next, I'm bleeding."
"What did you dream about?"
Gingerly, he peeled his shirt off his injured arm, finally getting to see just how bad the cut was. It was bloody, but a neat line, and not too deep, which was good. "Typical stuff. Girls and cars and girls in cars."
"You sure?" Ellen asked as she started patching up the cut.
"Yeah," he replied, watching her work, "and I can do that myself. I'm a big boy now."
She barely even glanced up at him. "A big boy who wants to go trick-or-treating?"
"That's-"
"A lie. I'm not stupid, Dean. Now tell me what you really dreamt about."
Dean sighed, looking away from the white bandage that was being wrapped around his arm. "Sam," he said quietly, "it was about Sam. Only, he wasn't Sam. He was something else. Something dark. He pinned me to a bed and tried to get me to scream. I think… I think if I hadn't have woken up, he would have raped me."
Ellen stopped what she was doing. "Excuse me?"
Dean shook his head, pulling away. "It's nothing, all right? Just a stupid nightmare."
"What did he do to try and make you scream?" she asked, pulling his arm back to finish wrapping it up.
He shrugged. "Tore off my necklace, cut my arm open."
She finished her work and took a step back, appraising him. "The necklace that's broken now and the arm that got sliced?"
"Yeah…"
"And you don't think that's a little Freddy Krueger-ish?"
"You've seen those movies?"
Ellen rolled her eyes. "Don't hold it against me." She put the supplies back in a drawer and headed out of the bathroom.
"No, it's cool. I've seen 'em all. And Michael, and Jason. Well, technically, it wasn't Jason at first. But that's beside the point. I mean-"
"You're rambling."
"Sorry," Dean muttered, "what was the question? Oh, yeah, Freddy. Probably just a coincidence. Believe it or not, I tend to get hurt a lot and have no idea until later. It happens. Probably just an old cut that broke open."
"And the necklace?"
"Thing's older than me. 'Bout time it broke. I'll just tie it back on."
Ellen nodded, walking down the hall and back to the living room. "You sure you're ok, though?"
"Been hurt a lot worse," he assured, following her.
"One last thing," she said softly, turning suddenly to face him before they entered the living room.
"What's that?"
"Your fly's open." She joined Sam and her daughter in the other room as Dean stared after her. She was right.
