DISCLAIMER: I don't own Supernatural. I actually don't own much of anything. I'm pathetically poor.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is my first attempt at fan fiction ever. Please review to let me know if it's worth continuing or not. Or you can even give me ideas if you'd like. If you like it, tell me; if you don't, tell me. I'll hopefully get enough people review so I can average out the response and decide whether or not to keep writing.
Also, this is based on a real place but with new names and fictional characters. I really do live in a small town in Utah and there really is this supposedly haunted bridge in my town. It's funky, but true.
Oh, and I promise that this will get better; the first chapter is pretty dull. I generally try to write with a lot of action and plenty of violence, but I had to start somewhere, you know?
- - - - - - - - - -
Sam Winchester leaned back in his seat and tried to squirm into a more comfortable position. There is only so long a person can sit in a car before they ache all over, and he was at that point. He turned to his left, where his older but shorter brother, Dean, was driving. Dean looked completely at ease.
"Aren't you the least bit uncomfortable?" Sam finally asked.
"No, why?" Dean responded, risking a glance in Sam's direction before letting his gaze go back to the road in front of them.
"I'm going insane. I can't sleep and I can't get comfortable and there's nothing to do."
Dean grinned. "Well, you always were the odd Winchester. I think being on the road all the time is great."
"Yes, well, you're crazy. Can't we take a break? I just need to get out and stretch my legs."
The older Winchester rolled his eyes. "Fine. Next stop we'll pull over and let little Sammy walk around for a bit."
Sam glared at his brother before rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. How it was possible for Dean to not be tired after driving for twelve hours straight was beyond him. The fact of the matter was, though, that whenever the two of them DID stop at a motel, Dean slept. He slept like a rock, too. But Sam couldn't sleep. When he wasn't being plagued by nightmares of Jess being murdered over his bed, he dreamed about what could be happening to his lost father or a shapeshifter that looked like his brother or a woman in white trying to rip his heart out or a swarm of killer insects or any number of horrific things. His brain wouldn't quit, even to let his body rest. As a result, he really felt like he was going crazy.
The Winchesters had recently received a call relating to their father's location, and were trying to get back to California to check out the information they had received. They were currently passing through Utah on their way, and Dean took an exit for a small, rural town called Karstown so Sam could get out and walk. They drove to a gas station and stopped.
"I'm going inside to get something to eat, since we stopped," Dean announced, hopping out and walking away quickly.
It was a chilly November morning – much colder outside than inside the car. Sam instinctively pulled his jacket closer to him as he got up, closed his door, and leaned back against the car. He could see his breath in little puffs of white as he stood. The cold air actually felt good after a while. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths.
At that moment, a group of six teenagers walked by, chatting excitedly. Some sounded thrilled and others sounded terrified, but they were loud. Sam caught part of their conversation as they passed.
" . . . But he doesn't remember how he got back!" one teen was saying. "One minute we're standing at the bridge, and the next minute he's back at home, with no memory of the last four hours!"
"Jake exaggerates, you know," another said. "I'll bet he just made up that story because he wanted us to be freaked out, too. I don't think the place is actually haunted."
"I don't know," a third put in. "I've known Jake for a long time and I've never seen him so scared."
Sam was now listening intently, his ears picking up on key words that he was so used to noting. A haunted spot? Maybe he could convince Dean to take a small break.
"Hey," he said to the group, sauntering forward with his hands in his pockets. "Did I hear you say something about the haunted bridge?"
The whole group stopped to look at him.
"Oh, you mean Kars Crossing?" one teen asked. "Jake Thompson just went down there this weekend and some weird stuff happened."
"What kind of weird stuff?" Sam asked nonchalantly.
"Oh, you know, the usual when it comes to the Crossing. Thick, disturbing fog followed by total loss of memory."
"I see," Sam said slowly.
"Say, who ARE you?" another of the group asked. "I don't think I recognize you."
"You don't," Sam replied. "My brother and I were passing through and decided to stop for a bit. We're on a road trip."
"Then why all the interest in Kars Crossing?"
"I like scaring myself, and sometimes the only way to do that is to visit a supposedly haunted area or check out local ghosts . . . that sort of thing."
"You should definitely check this place out, then," a girl piped up from the back of the group. "Even if you don't believe in the supernatural, it's still creepy."
"How do I get there from here?" Sam asked.
The teens gave him detailed directions before one voiced a warning. "Watch out, though," he said. "The cops hate it when kids go over there and they work hard to keep people out."
"Well, there have been accidents – strange ones. But the cops always blame it on kids trying to scare each other and going too far."
"You don't believe that, though," Same said, more as a statement than a question.
The kid shook his head. "Not at all. In fact, my brother was involved in something pretty awful over there. Just make sure you watch for cops."
"Thanks," Sam said, letting the group continue on their way as Dean came out of the convenience store with an armful of chips, candy bars, and drinks.
"That could probably be termed a heart attack waiting to happen," Sam said as he surveyed the food.
"The other thing about you, college boy," Dean responded, "is that you complain too much. This food is fantastic."
"That's not food, it's salted or sweetened plastic," Sam said, rolling his eyes as he got in the car. "At any rate, I think we should stay here for a while."
"Why? You can't convince yourself to sit in a car anymore?"
"Actually, I just talked to some locals who said there's a haunted place here. Strange stuff happens there, and kids sometimes get hurt or die when they go there."
"Every place has its own urban legend, Sammy," Dean said, dumping his snacks in the seat and starting the car. "We can't stop in every single city and try to solve their problems. Most of them are just a bunch of kids trying to scare each other."
"People have died, Dean," Sam insisted. "And while we definitely can't stop in every city, we're already in this one. Why don't we just take a look?"
Dean grinned again. "If you really can't stand driving for a while, just say so."
"I just think we should take a look. It sounds interesting."
"Fine," Dean said, shrugging. "It's not like I have anything better to do, anyway. Did you at least find out where this place is?"
Sam smiled as his brother gave in, and the two of them were soon off to the mysterious Kars Crossing, and yet another dangerous run-in with the supernatural.