Three's A Crowd
Summary: Emily Summers is not having a good night. Not only is her car going to be the death of her; she's stranded in an area rumored to be haunted. Luckily she runs into a pair of brothers that might be able to help… if she doesn't annoy them to death, first. Slightly OFC-Centric. :Drama/Humor:
..
Chapter One
..
Why did I not listen to my gut instinct and stay in town? Thanks to my spontaneous bouts of Stubborn, I had resisted the small (and rarely present) little voice of insight that suggested driving out on a lone highway with a gas tank riding on E wasn't one of my brightest ideas. However, in my defense, it wasn't like I had a million dollars lying around to spend on gas.
Or, you know, even a measely dollar.
I had spent the last few bucks I'd rightfully swindled from a tip jar on a large bag of chocolate donut minis at the last gas station I had visited. At least if I had to end up on the side of the road, stuck in the middle of nowhere, it would take me awhile before I would starve to death.
I liked to look on the positive side of things from time to time, in any case.
My car coughed loudly and sputtered as I drove around a low incline. The time on the dashboard read 2:19 am, and even with my car's brights on I could barely see anything of the night outside. My car was a Lame POS model anyway; I only counted on it to get me from Point A to Point B mostly- and occasionally even Point C if I was feeling particularly adventurous. Luxuries like riding in comfort or even arriving to places safely weren't a guarantee.
As I continued down the road, the only landscape on either side of me being a mass of forest trees, my car coughed and wheezed again. Glancing at my gas tank meter, I let out a sigh.
Crap, I'm practically riding on fumes... I thought.
Trying to drown out the small sense of dread that was sure to blossom into full blown panic if I didn't manage it properly, I turned up the dial of my radio to silence my thoughts. I had a plug in to my iPod, and as soon as Danny Elfman's voice poured through the speakers with "The Little Things", I immediately felt a little better.
I blindly reached over into my passenger seat with my right hand, not taking a chance to move my eyes off the road. My fingers felt paper and I grabbed it before reaching up to turn on the light. Once I did, I realized it was impossible to now see anyhting outside the windows.
I had to pull over.
So I did, drawing my car to a stop on the side of the road and turning off the engine. My music continued to play and I took small comfort in it as I unraveled the paper in my lap. It was a map of highway routes, and I was on Route 23. Tracing the lines with my finger outlining the nearest town, I realized I was still along way out. I was not naive enough to believe my car could make the distance in its current state of being out of gas, unfortunately.
If there was anything that terrified me more than a prolonged empty stomach, it was having to walk a lot.
"Gaaah!" I griped, irritated, slamming my hands against my steering wheel. I rested my head back against the seat rest and took a deep breath. Letting my eyes fall close, I tried to find a way to look at my situation in a positive light.
You can dress crap up as much as you want, my inner critic sneered. In the end, it's still crap.
Another groan- this one of despair -left my throat.
That's when a heavy knock at my window made my eyes fly open.
Turning my head, I saw a man peering in at me-
"... you really thought you could make it to the next town on an empty tank of gas?" Dean snorted, leaning back against the rickety chair he'd grabbed and planted right by the door. After I had followed them from the corridor, we had made our way further to the front of the large mansion-like house, and were now camped out in the kitchen.
I don't know entirely why we couldn't just leave, but I wasn't brave enough to try and escape on my own. Better to stay with them until I could get my bearings and I knew Ghoulish Guy wasn't going to try and make a pass at my face with his machete again.
Sam stood next to his brother, and while he remained silent, I could see the same disbelief dancing in his eyes at my earlier stupidity.
I glared at Dean, placing my hands on my hips and tapping my foot impatiently.
"Hey- you don't just interrupt a flashback!" I said hotly. "It's rude,"
"Oh? That was a flashback?" Dean asked, sounding bored. He crossed his left leg over his right and rested his shotgun across his lap. "I thought you were telling us your life story."
"And we only asked you what your name was," Sam reminded me. "How you got onto all of that... I don't really know."
I blinked.
"Oh. Right." I said, feeling slightly awkward.
If there were cricketts, they would probably be chirping right about now.
I shifted under their penetrating gazes.
"Er, I'm Emily. Emily Summers." I finally told them what they wanted to know.
"Well, Emily. Tonight isn't your lucky night," Dean said unhelpfully.
"What gave it away?" I asked in return. "The fact I have no clue where I am and I'm completely stranded? Or was it when my head was about to be separated from my body?"
Sam suddenly let out a weird sound- like he was holding back a cough or something and was failing miserably. When I glanced at him, his face was turned away but I could see the corner of his mouth twitching as if supressing laughter.
Dean actually looked like he was pondering my question.
"I'd say both," he replied after a moment.
Sam shook his head.
"Ok, ok. We can continue to chit chat, or we can go about ridding this place of the ghost and help Emily get out of here," Sam finally spoke up.
I nodded fervently.
"I like that plan," I declared.
But a moment later, my uplifted mood took a dive when a familiar shill scream pierced the air, and the windows above the kitchen sink started to frost over.
"Uh... how about we get Emily out of here and then you can go about ridding this place of the ghost?" I squeaked out hopefully, shivering from the sudden chill in the air. Dean was to his feet and moving as graceful as a panther to the threshold of the door in three seconds. His face was almost devoid of emotion, save a quiet fury flickering in his eyes.
For only a moment, a sense of calm settled over me and I felt a flicker of safe.
"Sorry, sweetheart," he drawled, pumping his shotgun. He looked back at me and told me gravely, "If you wanna get out of here alive, I suggest you stay with us. And we aren't leaving 'til Old Man Dead here takes a final walk of Getting the Hell Out."
I felt my stomach clench.
"Would you be terribly offended if I told you that doesn't reassure me at all?" I asked as Sam moved to a position behind his brother. As for me, I didn't want to be anywhere near Ghoulish Guy, so I backed up until my lower back was pressed against the kitchen sink. Dean and Sam both peered through the door, looking out into the foyer for any sign of the ghost guy.
So there was no way any of us was prepared for the sound of shattering glass and a pair of ice cold arms reaching round my shoulders to clasp around my chest. I was pulled up and over the sink and through the window with inhuman strength, the grip around my chest making it hard for me to breathe properly.
Even so, a scream tore out of my throat.
Bits of broken glass sliced though my shirt sleeves and tore my skin, but I took a little comfort in the looks of determination filling both Sam and Dean's eyes as they ran towards me, Dean's shotgun at the ready.
Unfortunately, they weren't fast enough; I was pulled through the open window into the great wilderness of the outside, the forest trees surrouding the property of the mansion immediately seeming to entrap me.
The iron grip on me was impossible to break, and even though I thrashed my feet about, I couldn't loosen the hold of my captor even an inch. Terror gripped me, but I tried to push it away. I needed a clear head if I was to find a way to escape. The air was even colder than in the kitchen, and when I breathed out in little pants, my breath became little clouds of fog.
Reaching up my hands to try and pull the arms off of me, I saw that my sleeves were now soaked with blood from the cuts I'd acquired from the broken window.
I might die from blood loss before anything else, I thought distantly.
Just as I was being pulled around the base of a large tree, out of sight from the brothers who were pulling themselves through the window to come after my captor, I shouted out weakly to them.
"If I die, I swear I'm going to haunt you!"
They might think I was being humorous, but I was very serious.
A cold, cold hand pressed over my mouth and nose, and for some reason I began to get extremely lightheaded.
"Emily!" I heard Sam yell out, possibly in an attempt to determine my location. It was probably my imagination, but Sam kinda sounded... sincerely concerned.
Please don't let me die, a small whisper of hope flared in my chest, just before my vision faded to black.
Author's Note: Here's another chapter! Woo! Thank you gaiz for your reviews; they made my day! Next chapter is going to have a little more explanation as to why the boys are there, and maybe a little rescuing will ensue.
What do I know, though?
I'm just the writer. :P
