I'm changing this story! Sorry but I deleted most of the chapters, changed most of this one (Chapter 2) and plan on taking this story in a new direction. It's different from the 3rd paragraph on. I hope I haven't disappointed anyone, but I'm much more enthusiastic about writing the story now. BTW I don't plan to do that with any of my other stories, just this one. Thanks for reading! If there was a scene you really liked from the previous version, let me know, maybe I can recreate it somehow.
Charred branches, barely intact, ready to crumble, having lost all life by a fire that felt no remorse for what it took. Held together by ice so cold, the entire forest knew nothing of the flames that had heated each tree to oblivion. Now the ice that held them intact was who they were – cold, destitute, aching for something they could never have. Tears kept forming and ice took each tear, making the sadness solid and permanent.
Dean woke up abruptly from his nightmare. He had to grab the blanket covering him and wrap it tightly around him because he was shivering so hard. He reflected on the dream – Dean had dreamt of hell many times, but those dreams were filled with heat, smothered him with charred and smoky ashes that always tasted like human suffering and misery, and repetitively flashed images of the most vile cuts imaginable on a human body, and Dean causing those cuts, no matter how much he wanted to stop.
This time, it was a hellish dream for sure, but the coldness of the dream seemed to drain out any possibility of happiness and hope, making the warm hell dreams seem compassionate in comparison. And the sadness seemed eternal, never changing, in some ways a worse hell. At least his usual hell dreams had shifting images. He continued to shiver, and held the thin motel blankets tighter to him, remembering how Castiel's warm body once touched Dean's, longing to feel that exquisite ache to be quenched again by Castiel's skin. That and a look at his angelic face and soul-piercing eyes would heat up anything, even this infinite chill Dean had woken up with.
Dean finally talked himself out of bed with a hot shower and a cup of hot coffee afterwards. Sam too, looked cold, he kept rubbing his arms and turning up the small heater in the room up a little higher as they were getting ready to set out for the day. Neither of the men wanted to set a foot out into the drizzle they could see through the window, but they had come here for a reason, and were determined to see it through.
Sam wanted to find out if the locals believed or even knew about the story of the vanishing house. They decided the best way to find out was to get something to eat for breakfast at a local diner and to find out if anyone there would talk. They were staying in a nearby small town called Merrill, because Hamburg had no motels. It wasn't even a real town, more of a rural area. But hopefully Merrill was close enough that people would know about the house.
Dean just had to try Susie's Leaning Tower of Pancakes, but was disappointed the highest stack of pancakes on the menu was only 4 high. He was about to ask the waitress about the discrepancy when he noticed there was a breakfast pie on the menu.
"Hey, what's a breakfast pie?" Dean asked the waitress.
"You'll just have to order it, Sugar, and find out," she said, winking at Dean.
Dean couldn't resist a pie he'd never tasted. Or the chance to get his curiosity satisfied. He ordered the mystery pie and Sam ordered bacon and eggs.
Minutes later, Dean was so engrossed in his slice of pie, which tasted similar to pancakes and blueberry syrup with some cinnamon mixed in, that he almost forgot they were supposed to be trying to get some answers. But Sam remembered.
"So, Dean," he said rather loudly, "I wonder if there is any truth to that legend of the vanishing house or that vanishing dad near here in Hamburg? It's such a weird story, I don't know that it could actually be true."
"Yeah, but something happened," Dean said, just as loudly. "Otherwise, why would that article be in the paper? It's not like it was the Enquirer."
A big man sitting at the counter on a red stool turned around and got up, heading over to Dean and Sam's table. Hook, line and sinker, Dean thought, trying not to smirk too much.
The man was wearing a cotton plaid shirt, jean overalls, and a blue logging cap. His red-tinged sideburns looked as long as an airstrip. "I overheard you boys talking," he said. "I could tell you something about it."
Sam gave him a grateful look. "Please, sit down and join us. That would be great."
The man sat down on the extra chair, totally swallowing it with his large frame. He made eye contact with both Dean and Sam. "My name's Larry." Dean and Sam introduced themselves as well. "I'm a local logger and I grew up here in Merrill. Pretty much everyone here in town knows about that house and what happens and believes it. Not that we usually tell outsiders about it though, we don't. People just wouldn't understand. But you two look like you have an open mind."
"We do, and thank you," Sam said.
"You see, it's one of those things like Bigfoot," Larry continued. "Hard to explain and hardly anyone has seen any proof. But my grandma lived near that house back then, raising my mom. She knew the family there, knew the house had been standing. She even knew the little children that disappeared. When that happened, she figured it was kidnappers. But when the whole house disappeared, the family with it, she was flabbergasted as all get-out."
"I tell you what," Larry said. "As a teen, in high school, kids would go out and dare each other to go step onto that foundation. We'd sneak a few beers out of our parent's houses and drink up and see if we could get smashed enough to do it. But we never could. Sober or not, no one, not a single person could bring themselves to step onto that foundation. That was in the 80's. Then that guy, that father, disappeared one night my senior year. After that, no one would even go out there anymore. Heck, we had trouble just staying there for very long. That place felt bad. Like something got under your skin there and ate away at your soul, even after you left. Hell, some of us had nightmares that same night after we went out."
Dean stopped eating his pie and looked up. "Dreams about ice, and terrible sadness?" he inquired.
Larry's eyebrow rose. "Exactly! Dude, that means you've been there. Please tell me you won't walk on that foundation." He said, pointing at both of them. " Whatever you do, don't walk on it. I don't care if you think I'm crazier than a monkey's uncle, promise me that for my peace of mind."
Dean and Sam nodded solemnly. "We promise," they said in unison. "We had already decided on that anyway," Sam said. Then he looked at Dean. "You didn't tell me you'd had a nightmare."
"Sam, I have a nightmare every night. This one was just, different."
"You know what else, boys," Larry said, "like I said, I'm a logger, but no one will log that land. It was even up for grabs for awhile, but no one would take it. Not my boss, not anybody. No one likes the feel of those woods."
"Has anyone tried to destroy that foundation? Get rid of it?" Sam asked. "I'm not sure why it's still there if it spooks people so badly. "
Larry leaned in. "Yeah. One guy did try to do that. It was after that father in the 80's disappeared. He was the farmer who found the little girls practically catatonic in the car the next morning. His name's Elmer. He took a bulldozer down there, fully intending to dig it out into smithereens. That's what he told Ed at the Cat rental place before he left. And people saw Elmer taking off. Yet, some of the kids at my school went out there to check it out and they said the foundation was still there. That's when people really stopped going out there on a dare. When people asked Elmer what happened, he wouldn't talk about it. Ed was frustrated as hell when Elmer showed back up with the Cat, silent as a stone statue. Returned the keys and left without a word."
This case was getting more and more interesting, Dean thought. "Did anyone else disappear, besides the first family and that dad?"
"Not that I know of," Larry said. "But then like I said no one goes on the foundation. That's the way to stay safe."
Sam asked Larry if he knew any history about the land before the house vanished, and he said he didn't. "I'll tell you one other thing, though," he said, "that was rather odd. I read that same article you did. Notice how the dad was telling the girls how the first dad walked up on the foundation and disappeared that night? Obviously that's speculation, as how on earth would anyone know that if the dude disappeared without a trace? We all assume that's what happened, but nobody really knows. So, what I'm saying is, that's the story the local's would tell each other. I don't know how outsiders would know about it. I mean I'm telling you about it now, but back then we just didn't tell outsiders. New kids that came to the high school? We never told them about it. Real hush-hush."
"That seems strange," Sam said. "I'd think the local kids would want to brag about such a local legend. To scare the newbies, for one thing."
"We did at first," Larry said. "I wasn't in high school yet, but I heard about it. Of course kids wanted to go out there once someone opened their big mouth. Wanted to check it out. They didn't have the fear in them like we locals did. One guy even tried to stomp right up the stairs to show everybody how foolish and scaredy-catted we were. Don, on the football team that year, tackled the dude down, practically smothered him trying to get him to quit. It worked, for the time being. The guy's name was Steve. I think he's the one who disappeared in front of his girls. Because not many other outsiders found out about it the place. A few others that did got the royal creeps and never tried to go on the foundation, even if they thought the story was complete hogwash. They could still feel the vibes there."
Larry paused to look at both of Sam and Dean's faces. "You probably think I'm full of shit, and I wouldn't be surprised if you did. I just had to tell you this because I wouldn't be able to sleep at night wondering if you two were jollying around that god-forsaken place stepping on the foundation."
"Now that the story is out and public, I'm not sure you'll be able to prevent all curiosity seekers," Sam said.
"That's what I'm really afraid of. That's what we're all afraid of. Wish that article had never been published."
"Do you ever consider living somewhere else? Somewhere far away from that creepy place?" Dean asked.
"Yeah, I have," Larry said. "I think we all have." He leaned in real close. Whispered, "Do you ever get this feeling, that even though it's not your fault, you gotta take responsibility; make sure no one else gets hurt? Cause that's how I feel. If I leave, think only of myself, maybe someone will pay for that with their life. I know, I know, you probably think I'm delusional by now…"
"No," Sam said. "We know exactly how you feel. Thanks for your time. I was wondering if you could tell us where Elmer lives?"
Larry told them how to find Elmer's farmhouse, but added, "You'll be wasting your time to go. Elmer won't talk to the locals, and he really won't talk to outsiders about it. That key to his lips was flushed down the toilet years ago."
They thanked Larry again and both Winchesters received a meaty handshake as they were taking off.
Once out of the diner and into the car, well out of earshot from Larry and the wait staff that were leaning in listening the whole time, Dean and Sam both said, "We're going to Elmer's."