Title: What Lies Beneath
Author: Michealangela
Rating: T (for some cursing)
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own these guys. (
A/N: Ok hi everybody!! Again! I know I just posted my first chapter yesterday and all but when I logged on today I was swamped with so many AWESOME reviews!! Thank you so much…you all totally made my day! But anyways, getting all this feedback and stuff made me HAVE to write my next chapter…duh duh duhnnnn! Haha. So anyways here is chapter 2. For anyone who forgot, chapter one left off with Dean and Sam heading off to the woods with the lake in it. And just a reminder-- this is still my first fanfiction story EVER so reviews are always welcomed-majorly! AHH! Thanks a million!
A/N2: Oh and thanks to all those people who added my story to their favorites list! That is so cool for me!! I have a huge ass smile spread wide across my face right now! (They like me! They really like me!!) And thanks to all those who put me on their alert thingy…you guys rock!! J
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WHAT LIES BENEATH
--CHAPTER TWO--
-30 minutes later-
"Son of a bitch," Dean grunted as he hit the forest floor with a thud, tripping over the roots of an old rotting tree. Great, just great. This was so just his luck. First the Colt is gone, then a hunt in the middle of nowhere, then a spirit who has a certain fetish for guys like Sam, and now this… Could anything else possibly go wrong today?
"Dude! You are such a friggen liar… I thought you said this little 'hike' would only take like fifteen minutes. It's been over a half hour and I still can't even see this damn lake. Hell! I don't even see so much as a puddle!" Dean remained seated on the forest floor, brushing off the dirt that had managed to tack itself to his clothing. The annoyance was clearly etched in Dean's voice. Sam turned around reluctantly and worked his way back toward his fuming older sibling. When he finally reached the spot where Dean had decided to play 'I suck at being a ballerina', Sam held out a hand and began to pull Dean to his feet. Bad idea. In a matter of two seconds Dean had managed to reverse their positions, leaving a dumbstruck Sam now sitting on his ass in the middle of the trail. This was just wonderful.
Sam lingered on the ground for a moment and shook his head. He was beginning to have second thoughts about this hunt, wondering if maybe he should have saved it for a time when Dean wasn't so moody. Nevertheless, Sam slowly got up off the ground and brushed himself off. Knowing that Dean was becoming more and more impatient by the minute, he resumed hiking at a slightly faster pace. The sooner this was over with, the better.
"Relax, it's just ahead. And besides, I never said it would take fifteen minutes. I believe what I said was that it was a 'pretty short hike' from the car. Considering we've only covered about a mile and a half in ground, I would say that that qualifies under the 'pretty short hike' category." Sam grinned inwardly to himself as he felt Dean struggle to stumble upon a decent comeback. God did Sam love having the one-up on his brother. His smirk quickly subsided when Dean, clearly wanting to be the bigger man, whacked Sam upside the head.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Well then college boy, if you think you're so smart then tell me how exactly do you think we are gonna waste this guy? I mean, from what I gather, there isn't exactly any remains to pull a routine salt-and-burn. So even if we find this bastard and you prove that it's Micheal, what are we gonna do? Throw a little party to celebrate that you were right for a change?" Dean had remembered what Sam had told him about the accident: dude was on his boat in the lake, friends were on the shore, and then the boat just exploded. The boat and Micheal just went M.I.A. But if they were really gone, then how could his spirit be killing people? Something just wasn't right.
"Ha ha. You're hilarious, you know that? But seriously, I had to think about that one for a while. I mean, if you look at it realistically, the explosion couldn't have been planned more perfectly to prevent a supernatural being from haunting the lake. The boat was covered in gasoline from the explosion and it was on a SALT-water lake when it burnt. That probably explains why there is nothing left, at least nothing of Micheal or the fishing boat. But I looked a little closer at the police report and I think I figured it out." Sam stopped, looking over at Dean to see if he was keeping up. Watching Dean think was always a rare and amusing occasion for Sam to see (seeing as it occurred oh so little). Sam took advantage of the situation and remained silent, with nothing but a seemingly childish 'I know something you don't know' look present on his face.
After a few minutes in deep concentration, Dean came up with nothing. Jack squat. There was no boat, no bones, no hair, no clothes, no body, no blood, no nothing. What the hell could this spirit still be attached to? One look at Sam and his annoyance peaked. "Any day now, Grandma."
"What? You mean to tell me that you, Dean Winchester, master of everything known to mankind, can't figure this one out?" Sam was savoring his victory, knowing that it would be very short lived.
Dean attempted to think of a rebuttal to throw back at Sam. Sometimes he swore he could strangle this kid. He was this close. But seeing as a good handful of spirits, monsters, and supernatural entities in general had already succeeded in strangling Sam to the point of unconsciousness, the temptation was slightly less appealing. A minute or two later, Dean rolled his eyes and claimed defeat. "Uh excuse me man, but I am only the master of important things, the things they don't teach you in some lousy books. For example: women. I know them inside and out, literally. I could give you a lesson or two sometime. From the look of things, you could use a little help in that department." Dean grinned at the appalled look that Sammy was now sporting in light of his last comment. Poor little innocent Sam…teasing him would never get old. Never. "Anyways, would you spit it out already? What gives?"
"Alright… so the boat and Micheal both blew up and completely disintegrated, BUT the rope and the dock that the boat was attached to still remain in tack, perfectly unscathed. I figure the boat was probably attached to Micheal's dock by a rope. Seeing as the boat obviously had some sentimental value to him, the rope is my guess as to why our buddy Micheal is still around. I mean, technically the rope and the dock are just as much a part of the boat as the boat itself. It would be like completely destroying the Impala except for one tire. If that tire was still in existence, you'd sure as hell be out to haunt whoever's ass was stupid enough to mess with the Impala in the first place, right?"
"Well hell yeah I would! Dude, I would cruise right on past 'haunt' and move straight to murder! Maybe even torture." Dean allowed a couple of seconds to regain his composure and process everything. He glanced over at Sam in shock… Sam really was a walking encyclopedia of weirdness. First off, to even suggest doing something so inhumane to his baby was absolutely unfathomable. But to piece together the whole dock-rope-boat thing was actually pretty impressive, although Dean would have never admitted that to Sam. He himself wouldn't have thought of the rope or the dock as being the supernatural connection but now that Sam mentioned it, it seemed to make sense. "So you think that's it? All we have to do is torch the rope and the dock that belonged to Micheal and then we'll be home free—no more spirit to deal with?"
Sam nodded in confirmation. "Uh huh. Well kinda. See, what I still don't get is the third victim's death. He was pierced through his heart with a dull piece of wood from the dock. Dull…meaning not sharp. How many blunt pieces of wood do you know that can penetrate that far into a human body, let alone make it directly through the heart? And I don't understand how Micheal could have even used the board anyways. Most spirits are pretty limited in how they kill. They have patterns, rules that they follow. If Micheal killed the first two guys with a method involving water, why the sudden change?"
"Sam, you would have to put some serious force that wood to get it to even break skin. There has to be some kind of supernatural element at play to pull something like that off. I don't know man…maybe Micheal possesses super strength or was a Wheaties addict." Dean shook his head in a downcast manner. Even as he said it, he knew that a spirit having 'super strength' sounded absolutely retarded and if there even was such a thing as a 'Wheaties addict', Dean sure as hell didn't want to meet one of them. The incredulous look on Sam's face only confirmed that thought.
"Ha! Super strength…this is a spirit we are talking about here Dean. Leave batman out of this one. And just a little f.y.i. — Wheaties aren't like crack. I am pretty sure you can't become addicted."
Dean picked up the pace, leaving Sam chuckling to himself a few yards behind. He hiked a moment in silence, replaying the whole scenario in his head. Sam was right. This was weird. "Man, whatever. You know what I mean. I say we just torch the whole friggen dock, rope and all. Then we should bust outa this hellhole, leaving this cruddy town in our rearview mirror. If anyone else dies after that, then we'll come back and figure something else out later."
"Yeah, alright." Sam didn't like the idea of letting any more people die because of this apparition, but, seeing as he didn't have any better ideas, Dean's plan would have to suffice.
After five more minutes of laborious climbing through the brush and rocky terrain, they finally reached Lake Champlain. All sides of the lake were encircled by trees, cutting it off in isolation from any surrounding civilization. The lake itself was a little weird to begin with. Salt-water lakes aren't usually present in the middle of Wyoming, but, when Sam researched the area, all records said that it had always been salt water as opposed to fresh water. There was some funky explanation involving the glaciers. Salt-water or not, Lake Champlain was a moderately small sized lake. Nothing too small, but large enough to be a problem. There were several privately owned docks protruding from the exterior of the lake; twelve total. When Sam saw this, only one thought came to mind: OH SHIT! Sam's heart plummeted. His brain kept repeating those two words, as if it was a silent mantra screaming inside his head. He knew he had forgotten to do something before he left. Sam had felt that nagging feeling all afternoon but had brushed it off as nerves. He hadn't thought to check the layout of the lake to locate exactly which dock's was Micheal's. And, seeing as there were twelve docks around the seven mile radius of the lake, this was a definite problem. "Uh Dean," Sam's constricted throat managed to squeeze out. "We may have a slight dilemma here."
Dean turned to face Sam, not liking the look that was clearly plastered all over his brother's face. Dean knew he wasn't going to like this. Great. Fucking great. Just add another thing to his list of shitty things that seem to be happening today. Dean already had a bad feeling about this hunt and he knew that feeling wasn't going anywhere soon in the near future. "What is it now?"
"It's just that, well, see…" Sam was trying to figure out the best way to break the news to the highly agitated Dean in a way that wouldn't end in pain infliction upon the messenger. Considering they were in the middle of nowhere with no laptop or cell reception and they were both left slightly tired and grumpy from their hike through the woods, this was without a doubt going to be an impossible task to accomplish on Sam's part. Nonetheless, he progressed onward. "Okay. So the thing is that I, uh, well I don't exactly know, per say, which dock belongs to Micheal Pristine. I mean I know it's one of these, but I'm not sure exactly which one it is." Sam began mentally beating himself up. God! How could he be so stupid to forget to check something as trivial as the dock location? It was a rookie mistake. His dad would be ashamed of him if he were standing here right now.
One look at Dean's face and Sam knew he might as well expect to shower in ice cold water for the next few weeks. Actually, it would probably be more like months, maybe even years before Sam would experience a decently hot shower. He dared a look into Dean's eyes. Did he say showering cold? Make that not showering at all… Dean was so going to kill him.
"Oh, well that's just fucking peachy! Real smart move there, Sam. What the hell are we supposed to do now, genius—burn down every dock in sight?! Yeah, because that's not obvious. 'Oh hi everybody! Don't mind us. We're just burning down your dock. No worries. We'll be done in a second.' Pshh…that won't attract the authority figures of any kind. Damn it, Sam! I knew this was a bad idea from the start."
Sam was struggling to come up with a plan fast before Dean would do something irrational. There was no way they could burn down all twelve docks. Not only did they not have enough gasoline, salt, and matches; neither of the brothers had the patience to hike the entire perimeter of the lake to set each of these suckers ablaze. Besides that, Dean was right. It would attract a lot of unwanted attention, something both he and Dean both preferred to avoid. 'Eenie-meenie-miney-mo' was sounding better and better by the second. 'Shit! C'mon! Think Sam, think!' was all that was running through Sam's mind. There has to be something he was missing, some clue that would point the way to Micheal's dock. And then, like it was divine intervention, an idea occurred to him.
"Dean, hear me out, alright? I think I've got it! I think I know how to figure out which dock is Micheal's. So Micheal died a little over a month ago. Well in the newspaper, the picture was of the family mourning beside the lake. They were standing alongside his dock. Surely they left flowers or a statue or something behind as an emblem for Micheal's memory. All we need to do to find the dock is locate that something they left behind."
With that being said, both brothers immediately began to scan each of the twelve docks for the presence of any items that would have been left behind by the family. Sam sighed in frustration. None of the closer docks had anything adorning their wooden planks or beaches. Dean crouched down and began to dig in his bag in search of their binoculars, knocking over and opening some small container in the process. Had this been a regular day, he would have stopped to assess the condition of the gear and make sure everything was still in functioning order, but seeing as he wanted nothing more than to leave this goddamn lake, he returned the bag to his shoulder and stood up with the binoculars in hand. Dean brought them up to his eyes and started rapidly eying in the docks. That's when he saw it. He saw the dock they had been looking for. Standing on the beach by the dock was an angel figurine holding a wreath of flowers. That just had to be it. Dean slapped Sam on the chest and pointed to the dock. It was only a brief trek from where the brothers were currently standing. Both took off in the direction of the dock, Dean in front of course, without any further hesitation.
Upon reaching the dock five minutes later, the brothers tensed up and looked around. The hairs on the back of Dean's neck began to stand on end, like soldiers preparing for battle. Something felt really eerie in the surrounding air. Dean felt as though he and Sam were being watched, and not in a good way either. Evidently, Sam was feeling the same way because he too was clearly on alert, ready for the defensive if need be. Sam grabbed the EMF detector and switched it on. Within a matter of seconds, it started going off the charts. This was most definitely it. This was Micheal Pristine's dock. Now all that was left was to torch the damn thing.
Sam flicked off the EMF detector, allowing an eerie silence to settle between the brothers. They remained stationary in this silence for a minute or two before Dean finally spoke up. "So…what do you say we send this bastard to where he belongs once and for all?"
Sam nodded briefly in agreement, unable to shake off the uneasiness that had currently snaked itself into the bottom of his stomach. He wanted this hunt to be over with like yesterday. Dean took the duffle bag off his shoulder and placed it on the ground. He began to rummage through the gear, looking for the container that held all of their matches.
"Damn it." Having found zero evidence of the container, Dean opened the bag of gear a little wider. That's when he saw it. The container of matches was empty, lid discarded only a few inches away. All of the matches were scattered under their ammo and weapons. To make matters worse, in the course of their trip out to the lake, every last one of their matches had somehow managed to get wet. Like soaked to the core wet. Dean grabbed the bottle of gasoline and the container of salt and handed them both to Sam, who had a peculiar expression on his face. It was as if Sam wanted to ask him something, but was questioning whether or not it was a wise decision at the moment. Dean ignored this look and began groping inside the bag to find a decent match as Sam turned and headed in the direction of the dock, obviously concluding his question was better off being asked at a later time. Sam eased his way out onto the dock with a determined look set on his face and began drenching the rotting wood in gasoline. Micheal's killing streak was ending today and Sam was going to be damn sure of that.
Beneath the dock, something began to creep slowly out of the murky water, something that had a slightly different plan in mind.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you for reading chapter two!! Please review! I really appriciate them! I am still new at this so a little feedback is more than welcomed!