AN: Sorry it's so short. I just wanted to get something up to show how the real plot is starting up. Plus I won't be working on this story at all for like three weeks. One word, final exams. Okay two words but still…I'll update in June, but don't expect any updates for a little while.
Disclaimer:
Dean: There would be a lot of 'to be continued's ' if she owned Supernatural.
Sam: That's because of her love for cliffhangers.
Me: I hate them happening to me though.
Chapter three: Déjà vu
It was dark. In fact, it was pitch black. Dean was terrified. He had no idea why, but he was terrified. The presence of Sam at his back offered a slight comfort, that is, until the laughter began. It was an old wheezing laugh, and it was coming from every direction.
As Dean's eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see the form of someone laying a few feet away. He felt more then saw that it was Matt, and he knew he was dead.
He heard a sudden cry from Sam to watch out and before he knew what was happening he had been thrown forward right next to Matt's body. Dean looked up to Matt and for a second he thought he would be sick.
It was Matt, blonde, skinny, probably a few inches shorter then him, and unmistakably dead. There was an old rusty ax right between his eyes, a look of shock plastered on his pale face. Dried blood was caked to his face, and it was apperent he had been dead for a while. Dean stumbled back and something flew at Matt, and lifted the ax with a sickening squish of flesh.
Dean quickly reached for his gun but found it was not there. Wondering what had happened before the darkness he scanned the dark floor. He didn't spot it, and a sudden force threw him backwards and into a bookcase. He and the bookcase fell to the ground, with the shelves landing with a loud crack on his legs. Dean groaned in pain as a burning sensation spread through his legs. He tried to pull himself free but he couldn't move.
He looked up in time to see Sam turning toward him to see if he was alright. Before he could say a word, the ax in the old ghosts hand went flying and impaled him in the back of the back of the head.
Dean woke with a gasp and was on his feet before he realized he had been dreaming. His surroundings came back to him quickly, they were in a decent motel room, the sheets were at least clean and there wasn't much dust throughout the room. They had found this room yesterday after an unsuccessful day of research.
Neither Dean or Sam had found anything strange about the house, but had agreed they should check out the house the next day. In the meantime, Sam had suggested they find something to do the next day besides the hunt. Dean hadn't been particularly fond of this idea, considering how stressful their last day off had been.
He did not want to go to New London, Wisconsin anytime soon. Everyone there was weird, and the town was creepy. (1)
Dean glanced at the clock, it was six in the morning. He could hear the shower going and he assumed that's where Sam was.
These dreams were really starting to piss him off. This dream didn't even tie in with any of his old cases (though it did tie in with this one, considering Matt.)
"I'm not having psychic dreams," Dean said to himself. "That's Sam's specialty."
The only thing Dean was sure of was that he wanted to wrap up this case. Maybe these weird dreams would stop once he got out of this town. So that settled it, they would investigate this house tonight. The sooner he got out of this town, the better.
After much begging from Sam, Dean had agreed to find something to do in the town. ("I am not going to Walmart though," Dean told him.")
"We seem to have a talent for finding small towns' Sam said while browsing the lack of things to do. His eyes stopped on an apparent attraction and he pointed it out. "What about that?"
Dean read the ad out loud, as if he couldn't believe Sam was suggesting it. "Old world, traveling display of life in the pioneer days Sam are you nuts?"
Sam glared. "It's the most interesting thing there is."
Sadly Dean has to agree. So the two brothers headed to the display, Sam curious and Dean reluctant.
The 'old world' was set up in an old field and had a surprising amount of visitors (at least in Dean's opinion). Displays were set up showing different daily tools, including weapons.
"Ah, how we have progressed," Dean said smirking.
They stopped to watch a woman dressed in pioneer clothes start cooking over an open fire. She bit back a yelp of pain when she burned her finger on the fire and almost caught the old costume on fire. "I'll stick to microwaves, thanks," said Dean as they passed her up.
"Yeah, well there would be no microwaves if it wasn't for us," a man yelled in costume, glaring at them from a display. Dean raised an eyebrow at him and rolled his eyes to Sam.
"And what does a microwave have to do with fire?" Dean asked.
The old man glared deeply at Dean. "You youngsters have no respect! Why in these days if you were a bit younger them schoolteachers or your ma and pa could have beat you until you bled!"
The man looked like he was ready to jump from his display and attack them, so they quickly walked off. "I'm telling you Sammy, we are just not meant to have any time off."
"It's Sam," was his only response.
By nightfall Dean and Sam were bored out of their mind, and were glad to finally be doing something. Small towns like this had made them both a little weary since the scarecrow incident.
Finding the house had been simple enough, the only problem could be getting in. Luckily there were no police around, just a police line telling them not to cross. The windows were boarded up too. Aparently the demolition crew was coming…three weeks ago. Obviously they hadn't followed through.
It wasn't difficult to find a way in, and minutes later Sam and Dean were standing inside the old house. They glanced around and made their way further inside, Sam carrying the flashlight.
Dean had moved off to the side a bit, seeing a strange looking painting of a blonde girl we wanted to get a better look at. Suddenly the floor gave out beneath him. His legs fell through the hole in the floor but he managed to get a good grip on the floorboards in front of him. He thanked God for his good reflexes but cringed when he heard a clattering as something fell to the ground under his legs. Sam was quickly by his side and helped him onto solid ground. They both stood and moved away from the hole in the floor.
They made their way out of the main room and glanced into another. It looked like some sort of den. Then suddenly a soft wheezing laugh found its way into the room. Both boys froze, but neither could locate the direction the laughter was coming from.
Dean caught a glimpse of a boy on the floor a few feet away, and a bookcase on the other side of the room.
Then Sam's flashlight went out, and the laughter paused and all was silent.
It was dark. Not just dark, pitch black. Dean was terrified, and he knew exactly why. He knew this had happened before.
This was his dream.
/…/…/…/…/
AN: And now the plot really begins. Hope you enjoyed, and review! I'll update in a couple weeks, after finals.
Note 1: This and everything referring to their old day off has to do with my other Supernatural fic 'Stressful day off.' It also refers slightly to a one-shot I'm working on about their trip to Walmart, so…yeah. xD
