A/N: This story takes place between "Asylum" and "Scarecrow." Therefore, it features some spoilers from all episodes through "Asylum." It is also an A/U fic because the events that take place are NOT what happened after "Asylum" but are instead what I have made up. Please read, review, and (most importantly) enjoy!.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Supernatural characters, and I'm not profitting from this in anyway so don't sue me!
Chapter One – A Father's Request
Flames. Everywhere. The heat crept
across his skin. He couldn't look away from her accusing stare. "You
could have saved me, Sam," her eyes said. Utter horror swept
through him. The fire raged on, the heat making him sick to his
stomach. But he couldn't look away from her. He couldn't move. The
guilt kept him there, watching her burn.
"Why didn't you save me, Sam?"
she asked tearfully.
But Sam couldn't answer. He could just watch in horror as her face turned black. Her skin began to char and flake off, covering his clothing. He could feel her blood dripping all over him, running over his face and all over his arms and legs. She was dying, and Sam could have prevented it. But he just couldn't stop watching...
"Hey!" a gruff voice interrupted, jolting Sam out of his nightmare. "You having another crazy dream?" Sam looked around to see his older brother Dean, standing outside the Impala's passenger side window, sipping a coffee. The Impala now sat idling in a gas station parking lot with Sam in the passenger's seat.
Sam decided to avoid the dream question - he didn't want Dean to know that he still saw Jess's last moments. And he especially didn't want him to know just how in-depth the dreams had recently gotten about her death. He had promised his brother that he would stop dwelling on the subject, but the dreams just kept coming "Where are we?" he asked instead.
Dean passed Sam a cup of coffee through the window. Sam took it, and gingerly sipped from it, careful not to burn his lips with the hot liquid. "We're in Richmond, Kentucky," Dean answered as he walked around to the driver's side of the car. "We're about an hour away from Somerset. Another fifty miles or so."
"What time is it?" Sam asked as Dean settled into the driver's seat.
Dean pulled the sleeve of his leather coat up so that he could see his watch. "It's twelve after three. You ready to roll?"
Sam nodded, taking another sip from his coffee before opening his laptop. Just a few days before, their father had called Dean's cell early in the morning. Dean (who had once slept through a goblin attack in Omaha) hadn't budged, so Sam had rolled over and answered the phone. At first, there had been dead silence on the end of the line, but then his father's voice had come over the line:
"Somerset, Kentucky. Go, Sam."
And then the line had went dead. Sam had desperately redialed the number for ten minutes afterwards, but his father never picked up his phone. Although Sam was disappointed that their father didn't seem to want to speak with him or Dean (other than giving them hunting locations), he was secretly pleased to hear from him. At least they knew he was still alive.
It was the first time that Sam and Dean couldn't find a hunting case related to the town their father was sending them to. A broad Internet search of Somerset, Kentucky hadn't produced much of anything. There didn't seem to be any legend related to the city, i.e. no ghosts, goblins, or other creepy things lurking about. The only things of note in the news were a bank robbery, four muggings, two car accidents, and a sudden outbreak of the measles in a local daycare center. But the boys had decided that it would be best to drive to Somerset and stake out the place until they could figure out what was going on.
As Dean pulled out of the parking lot, Sam hit search on his internet browser again. "Eighteen Year Old Boy Found Dead." flashed across the top of his screen. "Score," he muttered.
"What'd you find?" Dean asked, glancing at his younger brother out of the corner of his eye.
"New story. 'Eighteen year old Josh Wallace was found shot in the chest yesterday evening. Wallace was holding a bonfire at his residence on Langston when the incident occurred. Witnesses claimed that they heard a single shot ring out from the woods behind the house. At first, Wallace's guests thought it was simply someone hunting deer, but then they began to notice that their host was missing. Jenna Murphy, 17, said that she had went looking for Wallace after the shot rang out to see if he knew anything about it. "I couldn't find him anywhere," she said. "So we all got worried and called the cops."
The police officers that responded to the call went out to investigate the wooded area. Within a half hour, they found Wallace's body. He had been shot through the chest. It is not yet known if Wallace was murdered or if a hunting accident did indeed occur. Autopsy results are still pending, and the Somerset Police Department declined to comment on the case any further.'"
"Huh," Dean grunted. "Well that sucks, but I still don't see what it has to do with us. Sounds like something more suited for that Columbo guy."
Sam sighed. "I know." He shut off the computer and leaned his head backwards against his seat. "But do you really think Dad would send us all the way to Kentucky without any reason?"
Dean began fiddling with the tape player. "Dad always has a reason, Sam. It's just that he doesn't always share it with us."
"Yeah," Sam said, watching the scenery fly past. "That's the annoying part."
Dean grinned as he inserted a Boston tape into the player. The opening chords of "More Than A Feeling" filled the car. Sam rolled his eyes. Other than Metallica, Dean liked to play this tape more than any other. It was starting to get on his nerves. There was only so much mullet rock a person could take.
"I looked up this morning, and the sun was gone," Dean sang, as Sam grit his teeth to keep from screaming.
"Turned on some music to start my day. I lost myself in a familiar song. I closed my eyes and I slipped awaaaay!" Dean began drumming his fingers against the steering wheel and bobbing his head to the beat. Sam glanced at him, as he dug through his knapsack for a Snickers bar that he knew he had left in there. And yet, it seemed to be missing. He checked the glove compartment, but it wasn't in there either. Sam, beginning to feel frustrated, ran a hand through his messy brown hair. Meanwhile, Dean was jamming to the chorus. "It's more than a feeling! When I hear that old song they used to play, I think you're dreamin--"
"DEAN!" Sam burst out. Dean, looking slightly affronted that Sam was interrupting his jam session, turned the volume down a bit.
"What?" he asked, a look of bemusement and confusion crossing his face.
"Have you seen my Snickers bar? I thought I threw it in my bag, but it's not here."
Dean's green eyes flickered a bit in the afternoon sun. "Nope. Haven't seen it."
Sam narrowed his eyes. "You ass! You ate it while I was asleep, didn't you?"
Dean kept his eyes on the road. "I know nothing of the Snickers bar of which you speak."
Sam glared at him in silence for a few seconds as Boston moved on to "Peace of Mind". Finally, Sam came to a decision. "If you know nothing about my Snickers bar, then I know nothing of Boston." And with that, he ejected the tape, rolled down his window, and dangled the tape out the window.
"Alright! I ate it! If you drop that tape, I will kick your scrawny ass, Sam."
Sam brought the tape back in the car, but instead of handing it to Dean, he put it in his jacket pocket. "You owe me a Snickers bar. And no more Boston for the rest of the trip."
"Who died and made you boss?" Dean muttered. "Bitch."
Sam grinned and rolled his window back up. Through the windshield, he glimpsed a sign that read - Somerset: 50 miles. He leaned back in his seat again and closed his eyes.
Ok, Dad, he thought. We're doing what you told us. But would it kill ya to give us a clue as to what the hell we're walking into?
To be continued...
P.S. A special thank you goes out to Witchy for being my kick-ass beta. Love ya, hon!