CHAPTER 1

FUGITIVE INSPIRATION

The car was moving foward, speeding down the sundrenched road. The voices of the two brothers arguing were even louder than the motor's roar or the music coming out from the radio.

"Dean, I can't believe we really got lost!" the first of them said, crossing his arms exhasperated.

"Come on, Sammy, we are not properly lost," the second one tried to be conciliatory.

"How would you define two people who haven't the slightest idea of where they are?" Sam replied, raising his eyebrowns.

"Well, if you put it like that..." Dean muttered, without stopping from examining the road in front of them, trying to keep his eyes skinned.

Nothing. Actually, the road ran along the middle of nothing. No towns, no houses, absolutely nothing.

"And I'm not surprised we boiled down to that, seen that last night you insist on getting back to travel, while you were drunk and you took random roads!" Sam kept going on, as he was overwhelmed with the absurdity of that situation.

"I needed to drive." Dean said as an answer, shrugging his shoulder, and wondering how much can one person could bear with such a pain in the neck.

"Yeah, because you need to kick up your heels after that girl left at mid-night when she found out you didn't have enough money to pay her, right?" His brother went on for him.

"So much the worse for her," Dean said more to himself than to Sam, shaking his head.

"...But in the meanwhile, we should have been at The Road House like two days ago, and we're still here!" Sam insisted irritated.

Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm down.

"Let's not exaggerate, Sammy, we're not so late, and... oh, look!" He said with a grin. In front of them two or three houses peeped out and now something like a little village was showing out. "Now we're asking for directions and we're going to the Road House, right?"

They slowed down, and they saw a young boy who was sitting on a low wall, with a note pad in his hand and an intent look.

"Ehy, you!" Dean said, approaching him. "Can you tell us..."

"Sh!" The boy silenced him without even glancing to them, as he was busy in observing something far off.

Vaguely annoyed, Dean got out of the car going next to him, and Sam imitated him.

"What are you look...?"

"No matter," the boy sighed and finally he turned towards them. His face was tanned, and it was sorrounded by his curly, pale-blonde hair; he couldn't be more than twenty years old. "You already ruined my view."

Dean leaned over to see what the boy was talking about, and he saw a little girl, picking up flowers in a meadow.

"What are you, a pedophile?" Dean asked grimacing in disgust.

The boy started laughing, sincerely amused. "No, of course not!" he exclaimed, and his blue eyes lightened. "I'm just a poet!"

Dean furrowed his brows, puzzled. "You are... what?" He asked, wondering if he had heard that right.

"A poet!" The boy repeated, with a vague smile. "You know, one of those people writing poems. That little girl was perfect for my next work, but..." he sighted again. "Now the atmosphere is gone."

"We're really sorry," Sam said going near to them with an air of confusion similar to his brother's.

"No matter, no matter," the boy said again, shaking an hand with nonchalance.

"So, what can I do to help you?"

"We need some directions," Dean answered like he wanted to ignore the weird development of the conversation. "We need to get to Nebraska City as soon as..."

"Are you brothers?" The boy interrupted him again, looking from one to the other.

"Well, yeah," Dean said looking sincerely impressed. "And congratulations, you're the first one who guessed right at the first attempt."

Sam stopped himself from smiling amused while the boy didn't seem phased, and started laughing again.

"Oh, it was so easy!" He exclaimed right after. "I could see from the way you look at each other."

Dean couldn't be more confused, and he exchanged a furtive look to Sam, raising his eyebrowns, like he was checking; this time the brother couldn't help himself from chuckling.

"So, you need to know how to reach Nebraska City?" The boy asked again as he didn't notice anything, and when the brother nodded, he started to delve into a grey shoulder bag, until he took out a map.

"Ok, look..." he said opening it in front of them, and pointing to a road which seemed to sorround a big forest. "You must take that street, then turn left, go forward, until..."

"But with that road it will take at least two days!" Dean exclaimed, surprised. "There isn't a shorter way? One that go through the wood, for example?"

The boy lifted his eyes toward him and looked at Dean so intently that he felt pretty uncomfortable. "Of course there is," he answered after a few seconds, and he smiled again calmly. "But you can't go inside the forest, obviously."

"Why not?" Sam asked at once, confused.

"Because the forest is bewitched, isn't it?" The young boy answered with an air of incredible calmness.

Dean and Sam exchanged an eloquent look.

"What do you mean by "bewitched"?" Dean asked slowly.

"Well, you can say "cursed", if you want," the boy explained comfortably. He was always smiling, and that thing was starting to annoy the brothers. "Strange things happen to people who go inside it, they disappear, you know. But it's normal. Twenty years ago lot of women died in the forest and the spirit of a woman who died a violent death can always wake up, can't it?"

The brothers were simply astounded. For a long time they just stayed there silently, looking at the smiling face of the boy.

"Well, let's get back to the point, weren't we finding a way to Nebraska?" he asked again looking at them.

"You know what?" Dean said slowly. "No matter. Maybe we'll stay here for a couple of days, what do you think, Sammy?"

The brother nodded, with an half sigh.

"Wonderful!" The boy exclaimed and his smile, if possible, became even bigger. "Well, if you need something, just call me! I'm Ethan Grey, and I live in the house there, near the stream. It was a pleasure!"

"Same here," Dean said with a tone of irony that the boy didn't get. "Well, see you around, Ethan, alright?"

The brothers went in the car again, and they left slowly, toward the village. Sam turned himself to look at the boy, who sat again, observing his notepad with an air of thinking, passing one hand through his blonde hair.

Dean looked at Sam through the mirror of the car.

"Do I have such a brotherly look?" He muttered at the end.

Sam laughed, without answering.