once again, thank you all so much for the great reviews, they really do mean alot to me. i am so glad you are all enjoying this story, it is a ton of fun to write. as always, let me know what you all think of the newest chapter. :)
IN TRANSIT
Chapter 4
"So, what have you heard?"
The four teens exchanged nervous glances, none wanting to tell the brothers what it was they knew about the trains. It wasn't that they were afraid of Sam and Dean, well, they were a little afraid of them, but that wasn't the reason. No, the real reason they didn't want to tell them the story was because it was childish. After all, ghosts weren't real, everyone knew that, and now two grown men were asking them to retell a story made for kids and each and every teen felt like they were under the microscope.
"It's just a story." Kayle began nervously her eyes drifting back and forth between the brothers.
"Well, Sammy, here tells me we got at least eight hours to the next stop. So, let's listen." Dean smiled.
He knew a lot of these kinds of stories were nothing more than people talking but, every once in a while, you got a group of people who actually knew what was going on. And that made the often long and, 'well people talk' stories worth listening to.
"Well, apparently there was this girl, she and her family lived out here near the tracks. Real backwoods kind of people, and when the girl could get away from the house she'd just sit and watch the trains. Her family was really weird, you know, wouldn't let her out, tried to pick her husband for her, all that kinds of stuff. But she always snuck down to the tracks and, over the years, she fell in with some of the riders.
"There was this one guy, well he said he was going to marry her, take her away from her oppressive family. She was so happy, she snuck out one night, and went back to the tracks, but he never showed up."
"What happened to the girl?" Sam asked, trying to sound as interested in the story as he could. In reality, his mind was already running a mile a minute, processing every bit of information he could.
"No one knows. She was never seen by the tracks again. Some people say she killed herself, and others say that her family killed her. But no one really knows the truth."
"Do you know her name? Or where abouts she lived?" Dean asked, leaning towards the teens, his broken arm held close to his body.
"No." Kayle began like he just asked her if the sky was purple. "What's it matter anyway, it was like, fifty years ago."
"Really. That long ago?" Dean leaned back, shooting Sam a glance before turning back towards the teens.
He was having trouble thinking over the pain in his arm, but he wasn't about to let that stop him. No, this hunt had been his idea, and there was no way in hell he would ever admit Sam was right. Nope, that was something that would just never happen, because well, he was the oldest, and he was always supposed to be right. Even when he was wrong. But, he was right about one thing, it was an angry spirit. He just couldn't figure out why it took nearly fifty years for the thing to start it's attack.
"Yeah, I guess." Kayle stated, not really all the interested in her own story anymore.
"So what, you four heard the story and decided to hope on the next train?"
"Yeah, pretty much." Trevor smiled, obviously enjoying the brothers company, and his impromptu trip.
Dean just shook his head. When had kids stopped sitting in front of the tv playing video games for fun? It was a hell of a lot safer than hoping on haunted trains, that's for sure.
"Have you seen anything yet?"
"Of course not." Larissa broke in. "Ghosts aren't real."
"Then why'd you even come on this trip, Ris?" Kayle spoke up, her voice sharp. This obviously wasn't the first time they'd had this conversation.
"I came because Robby wanted to."
"Don't drag me into this."
"What? You're not even gonna stand up for me?"
"I didn't say that, I just asked you not to drag me into it."
"Well what else would that mean?"
"Ok." Dean began, breaking into the growing fight. "I think it's time, Sammy and me made our exit."
"Huh, what?" Sam asked, nervous eyes shooting back to his brother.
"You guys are leaving?" Trevor asked, his voice and eyes both dropping.
Dean couldn't believe it, it was like the kid had found his knew best friends. But they were on a hunt, and baby-sitting a bunch of bickering kids was only going to happen if and when said bickering kids were on the wrong end of the spirit. Other than that, they were on their own. Besides, he kind of liked moving between the trains, even though Sam seemed to think it was suicidal.
"Looks that way, buddy."
"Maybe we could come with you?" Trevor asked, his eyes lighting up at the idea.
"No!" Sam broke in, a little louder than he probably intended. "Uh, no, I mean, you guys are new at this and moving through trains is pretty dangerous. In fact, I think we're just gonna stay put, too."
"Suit yourself, Sam." Dean chided, pushing himself up off the dirty floor, barely concealing a wince as he pulled at his injured arm. "But I'm gonna be moving along."
"Dean." Sam rose to his feet quickly, following Dean towards the door.
"What!"
"Why can't you just stay put?"
"Cause I'm bored."
"So you've decided to go for the stroll of death?"
"You don't have to be so dramatic about it."
"Dramatic. Dude, you almost fell off three times."
"I did not. I was just keeping you sharp."
"You know what." Sam began, sliding out onto the side of the car. "You're a freaking jerk."
"No, you're just a pansy." Dean smirked, a little amazed that he had now managed to get Sam out the car doors by simply walking towards them. Reverse psychology at its best. "And dude, if you try to hold my hand again, I'm gonna smack you." Dean added, winking at the dumbfounded teens before sliding out the door himself.
"I was saving your life." Sam shouted over the roar of the train and wind, both brothers making their way to the next car.
It was slow and dangerous going, Dean having to hold onto the metal struts and supports for all he was worth. But he wasn't about to stop, oh no, this was something he has wanted to do ever since he was a little kid and, by god, he was going to do it, broken, no, heavily sprained arm or not.
"You keep telling yourself that, Sammy."
"Fine, next time I'll just let you fall."
"You'd never."
"Oh no?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because if I'm this annoying as a brother, imagine how I'd be as a spook."
Dean watched the smile break out across his baby brother's face, the younger man shaking his head at the truly Dean answer. If Dean was being at all honest with himself, he was more than a little terrified to be on the side of a train with only one good arm. And if he was worried, then mother hen Sam had to be going out of his mind. So, the older man did what he did best, he calmed Sam down.
"So." Sam began, grabbing Dean's collar as the older man leaned back a little too far. "Tell me again why we couldn't stay in the nice safe boxcar."
"Dude, do you really want to try and discuss this case in front of a bunch of kids?"
"Point taken."
"Beside, that poor guy was about to the the girlfriend lecture. I couldn't just sit there and watch him get thrown to the wolves."
"What the hell's the girlfriend lecture?"
"Oh you know. 'You don't look at me ten times a day anymore, now it's only eight, you must not love me anymore.'" Dean began, his voice high pitched and whining.
"That's proof right there that you've never had a girlfriend."
"They're always saying stuff like that to me. 'Why are you leaving? Did I do something wrong?'"
"You need to go on Dr. Phil or something."
"That weird bald guy? Hell no, Sammy. I'd rather go toe to toe with a werewolf."
"You'd rather fight a werewolf then talk to Dr. Phil?"
"Yes."
"You're twisted."
"I'm twisted. You're suggesting I take relationship advice from a tubby little bald man."
But Sam just rolled his eyes, ducking into the next, thankfully empty car. He heaved Dean in a little harder than was necessary, depositing the fuming older man on the floor before going for his laptop.
"Dude, careful with the merchandize."
"Bite me." Sam muttered, powering up the computer. "Now, back to the reason why we're here."
"Spoil sport."
"Based on what those kids said, I think it's a spirit."
"Told you so."
"But." Sam continued, completely ignoring his brother. "Why start killing now?"
"Maybe her house was leveled? Maybe she just died and wants revenge? Who knows."
"Uh, we should, seeing as how, it's out job."
"You know you sound like a broken record."
"Well, if you would focus I wouldn't have to keep repeating myself."
"Yada, yada, yada."
"Fine. Just don't come crying to me when this ghosts beats the crap out of you."
"They never beat the crap out of me."
"They always do."
"No, they give me a nice little fight and then they burn away into dust."
"A nice little fight? Right, that's exactly how I would describe it."
"Have you found anything over there yet, geek-boy?"
"Dean, I've only been looking for like, thirty seconds."
"Nope, minute in a half."
"Are you timing me?"
"No. Not really anyway, it was just an observation."
"Dude, you need some Ridillen."
"No, I need a nerdy little brother that can type faster."
"Well maybe if you'd shut up, I could pay attention to what I'm doing."
"Fine."
"Fine."
They sat in silence for no more than fifteen minutes, Sam innocently typing away on his computer, before the humming started. It was low at first, almost inaudible above the roar of the train but, as the time wore on, the humming grew louder and louder. It wasn't like an engine humming, like something on the outside of the train in the wind, no, it was a song, something melodic that slowly made its way to the younger hunter's ears.
"Dude, would you knock it off." Sam began, rubbing his face before shooting annoyed eyes at Dean. But, for once, Dean looked back at him innocently.
"Knock what off?"
"The humming. It's annoying."
"I'm not humming."
"Yes, you are."
"Sam, I think I'd know if I was humming. It's not like, oops there I go, humming again."
"Dean, stop trying to trick me. I know it's you, there's no one else here."
"And I'm telling you, it's not me."
Sam was about to start arguing again when the humming returned, louder than before, almost as if it were coming from just beyond the half closed door. The brothers exchanged glances as Sam crawled quietly towards their weapons, pulling out two shotguns and a few extra salt rounds. They could hear the voice, echoing, its song both horrifying and mesmerizing. It was a lament, a song sung for the dead, and it was coming from right around the corner.