May 28, 2006
Dean hated lying to his parents and saying he had to go to a conference. Worse yet, he hated having to lie to them because of Sam already lying and saying that he was going with some work friends to a Memorial Day concert. I swear to God, Sammy, next confession I am cursing you out to Father Daugherty…
Dean booked a ticket for a flight that would get him to the address he overheard Sam copying down. Hopefully he could intercept his brother before he was wearing a tinfoil hat and praising alien overlords. No way in hell was Sam Beretta drinking the Kool-Aid!
The house he arrived at was discomforting, to say the least. The large junkyard was full of rotted and decayed carcasses of vehicles, while the house itself lacked upkeep. It looked like something out of a horror movie. As Dean parked the rental car he heard barking and watched as a large dog barreled toward the car, growling fiercely.
"Easy Fido… Come on, boy… I'm just here to save my brother from whatever crazy cult he got himself into." Dean cautiously stated, eyeing the large dog's many teeth.
The dog didn't respond, simply growling at the car as Dean hesitantly slid toward the passenger door. Before he could sneak out he heard a man's voice.
"Rumsfeld! What ya' got boy?"
God, if you can manage a miracle, please don't have me die at the hands of some hick cultist in North Dakota…
A burly man with a beard appeared from around the rotted-out remains of an Edsel. He looked like a mechanic, his clothes were stained with grease and his baseball cap was faded. If it wasn't for the fact that Dean was currently fearing the worst, he would've been the kind of person Dean wouldn't mind talking with. It was always neat to listen to people with mechanical minds describe working on things. Unfortunately, now was not the time to discuss how to rebuild a transmission.
Dean rolled down the window, "Uh… hi? I'm Dean, Sam's brother…"
"Sam's brother? Then why the hell didn't you just come with him?" He seemed skeptical, to say the least.
Dean inhaled sharply; there really wasn't a good answer for that question. It was evident that his lack of reply did not place him in the man's good graces.
"Okay, 'Dean'. Step out of the car." The man's tone made it clear he didn't believe him.
Well, fuck. I'm going to die at the hands of some hick cultist in North Dakota trying to save my dumbass little brother. Dean opened the door and was met with a splash of water to the face. He sputtered and blinked a moment before the man nodded.
"Follow me. No funny business or Rumsfeld'll be a lot more bite than bark."
Dean eyed the dog and complied, following the man as he rounded the corner and headed toward the house. After climbing a few ramshackle steps he entered the living room. It was a crowded mess filled with books and papers, and sitting in the middle of it all nursing a mug of tea was Sam.
"Sam? This your brother?" Bobby nodded toward Dean, who was attempting to turn invisible.
Sam looked up from his reading and furrowed his brow, "Dean? What are you doing here? I thought you were going to a conference in Topeka?"
"Yeah, and you were supposed to be at a music festival with some friends from work." Dean replied, his arms crossed.
Sam frowned, "Okay-I guess we both lied. But seriously, what are you doing here?"
"Making sure you don't make a mistake and end up joining a cult. I overheard you on the phone the other day-what the hell are you thinking with spells and witches and all sorts of supernatural stuff? You know none of that stuff is real. We'll get you to a good psychiatrist. My friend Don has one that his wife uses, and he sounds really good. Please, come on…" He turned toward Bobby, resolved, "I don't care if you do have an attack dog. I'm leaving with my brother-and I will fight you to take him home."
Bobby's brow arched, "You really care about him, huh?"
"Well, I care enough to make sure you don't screw with his head." Dean quipped despite the fact that he was at least a good bit intimidated by the strange man with a scary dog-and what appeared to be a knife strapped to his leg.
"Alright. Dean, why don't you sit down and I'll explain a few things Sam and I have talked about so far." Bobby gestured toward the couch.
Dean accepted, Remember, none of what he says is true. This is all brainwashing and I have to stay out of it…
"Let's begin with the basics. The supernatural is real. Your brother is proof of that. Every creature, beast, and nightmare you ever heard of all exist. Good, decent people never deal with them, and if they do they usually don't live to tell the tale. I hunt those sonsabitches and make sure you two get to live your happy lives in some ticky-tacky suburb in the middle of Kansas unaware of the evil that lurks around every corner. I've been killing for decades and I can say that I know most of what's out there. Your brother, however, is a mystery." Bobby paused, looking at Sam, who seemed immensely nervous.
"Go ahead Bobby, tell him the theory." Sam nodded.
"Your brother is having premonitions. He's seeing deaths well-in-advance. Last night it was almost nine hours ahead of the actual death. Thing is, we have no idea where they are in order to stop them. Also doesn't help that your brother's constantly enduring emotional trauma as a result of watching dozens of people getting killed. From what we can tell it wasn't the work of any magic-we've tried counter-hexes and purification rituals and none of them work. The last one we're going to try is to check for demonic attachment or involvement."
"I'm not possessed or anything, but a demon might have somehow become attached to me or tried marking me for something. If it is that-well, it's a big problem…" Sam stated, looking grim.
Dean pleaded, "Sammy, you aren't attached to a demon. You're having weird dreams and seeing patterns where there aren't any. Just come home and try a therapist or psychiatrist. I'm sure there's something that can help-either a treatment or medication…"
"Dean, for once in your life, trust that something you can't see is real!" Sam yelled.
"I do trust in what I can't see. I have faith in God and I'm fairly sure that's enough. Sammy, you're talking about demonic attachment as if it's a real thing. It's not. This isn't ancient times. That kind of stuff is biblical, it doesn't happen anymore."
"Just let me try this last test, if it fails, then I'm crazy and we can go home." Sam looked Dean in the eye, his biggest puppy-dog eyes present.
"Fine. One test. And I never said you were crazy. Plenty of normal, healthy people go to therapists or psychiatrists."
An hour later Sam was sitting on a wooden chair in the middle of a pentagram-Which totally isn't sacrilegious…-as Bobby applied a paste to his forehead and palms. Apparently Bobby was going to try to say some 'incantation'. And when nothing happens I'm dragging your ass back to Kansas and straight into a councilor's chair!
As the bearded man spoke gibberish in a foreign tongue Dean felt as if the air had been sucked out of the room. It became uncomfortably cold as he watched the lights flicker, then pop as the bulbs in the room shattered. He tried to speak to get Bobby to stop, but it seemed as if his mouth was sealed, he could not open it. He watched in horror as Sam's hands and forehead both started to glow red as the paste released a dark cloud of vapor into the room. Then, as soon as it had started it was over. The room was back to a comfortable 70-odd degrees and his brother was sitting upright, free of paste.
"What the hell just happened?!" Dean stammered, having regained control of his voice.
"Your brother has a demonic influence. But it goes well beyond attachment…" Bobby exhaled.
"What do you mean 'beyond attachment'? What could possibly be more than attachment?" Sam got up and anxiously rubbed his neck.
"I… I've never seen a reaction so strong before aside from vessels. I know you are not one, but I don't know exactly what you are." Bobby shrugged, "I'm going to do some research. Dean, if you wanna stay I only have one guest room, so you'll have to share with your brother."
Dean shot Sam a look that conveyed that there was no way in hell he was leaving his brother alone with this guy, then returned to his car to get his stuff. It was going to be a weird few days.
