Chapter four

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The car rolled up the driveway, the roar of its engine loud against the surrounding young men got out of the time-worn but cherished Impala, green duffel bags over their shoulders, and made their way to the front door of the two story edifice set in the middle of an extensive junk-yard; junk-yard filled with the skeletons of once pristine and proud cars, arranged in haphazard rows, waiting to be plundered of any still usable parts.

X

The Winchester brothers, for that's who they were, called this place home, and the owner, if not to his face but in their hearts, called father.

This was an oasis in their apocalyptic world, where they could come for help, shelter or just to wind down after each of the countless life-threatening moments in their young lives.

These boys were very special, both had been burned and tortured in Hell and both had amazingly survived to tell the tale.

X

They had been packed off to the sea-shore by Bobby to work on the recently discovered power of telepathy that had spontaneously developed between them.

At first they had tried to ignore the ephemeral whispers of each other's thoughts that occasionally insinuated themselves into their minds but Bobby had encouraged them to explore and investigate the phenomenon.

He had pulled in a favour, managed to get the use of a flat on the ocean-front and had "persuaded," helped by a symphony of cussing, the stubborn idjits to go on a working holiday and thrash out the implications of their mind-touching.

And that's exactly what they had done.

They had "rocked, papered and scissored" each day to see who would get the morning on the beach and who would drive the Impala further and further out to see if there was a limit to the distance from which their thoughts could be heard.

On their last day, Sam had driven more than a hundred miles out but there seemed to be no confines to their communication.

The brothers had been over the moon, they had no idea why or where this ability had originated, but the idea of always knowing where the other was and being able to communicate over vast distances in times of danger or need, filled them with satisfaction.

They had decided, however to resort to thought transference only in times of emergency, keeping it hidden from everyone except Bobby.

X

They were still high from it all as they knocked on Bobby's door.

The days on the beach had given them both a healthy tan and the repose had rejuvenated

them both, slipping years off their faces and making them look like the two carefree young men they should have been if they hadn't been caught up in the dark world of hunting.

x

"Dean, knock again,maybe he's still out on the couch or something. He usually appears as soon as he hears the Impala in the driveway."

"Dude, I just about broke my knuckles banging on the door," complained Dean.

"Maybe he's gone on a food run."

"No, his truck's parked over there:"

Dean shot a concerned glance at his brother and turned the handle.

"Bobby, it's us. Bobby!"

They pushed open the door and paled as they took in the sight that met their eyes.

It seemed that a tornado had swept through the rooms.

Bobby could never have been called a tidy man but the utter chaos laid out in front of them caused their hearts to contract in fear.

"Bobby! Bobby!" Their panicked voices called in unison.

"God, Dean, What the hell happened here while we were away? Where's Bobby?"

Dean had no answer for hs younger brother, but if the rage that was taking the place of his panic was anything to go by, anyone who had laid a hand on Bobby would wish he had never heard the name Winchester.

x

"Over here Dean." Sam pointed to a blood-stain just inside the door. "Bobby must have opened the door to someone and been..."

"... attacked," finished Dean, holding up Bobby's favourite cap, spotted with blood.

"But why?"

"Do I have to write you a list Sammy? I'm surprised they've left him alone for so long. You know better than me what happens to anyone that gets close to us. We're bad luck, Sam," sighed Dean, sick at heart with fear for Bobby.

"Don't worry, we'll find him." Sam tried to console his brother and heroically pushed back the quiver that was threatening to infiltrate his words.

"Come on Sam, first stop, Sheriff Mills. Maybe she can shed some light on this whole thing.

The brothers ran for the Impala, their fear for Bobby putting wings to their feet.

TBC