Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural, but I'm borrowing them for now, for free of course.
Hello fellow fan fic lovers! Well, this is my first time posting here. I've posted at supernatural.tv, thought I'd give this a try. Hope you like it, and please if you feel so inclined, go ahead and leave me a review. I'd appreciate it!
Also, this takes place sometime after Something Wicked, but before the season finale. Kind of my own time line.
Sam glanced over at his brother, who was intently studying the road ahead of them, his barriers once again in place. Dean's last words to Sam were over three hours before they left the motel after Sam had opened his big mouth and said he wished he could have innocence again. It had shocked him to the bone when Dean had said he wished Sam could too. His voice had been laced with so much emotion Sam had been at a loss for words. Now he just felt stupid and ashamed. He laughed to himself. He always thought he had the carte blanche on guilt. And come to find out that Dean's guilt and sense of responsibility ran far deeper than his. And after all the crap that Sam had given his older brother for the last year, Dean didn't hold it against him. Even when Sam had tried to apologize Dean passed it all off. Sam had learned a new side of his brother during their hunt for the Striga. And he gained a whole new understanding for him. And he was truly sorry for all the crap he had given him about following orders. But the apology would never leave his lips. His brother wouldn't allow that. He was after all, just doing what a big brother was supposed to do.
Now they sat driving in silence, with Dean's music playing softly in the background. It was Ozzie Osborne's The Road To Nowhere and Sam was a little surprised Dean didn't crank it, but he was relieved. He knew the song playing backwards and forwards, thanks to Dean constantly playing it. And he did kind of like it. What he didn't like was that he had come to realize that the only time Dean played this particular song was when he was upset or had something on his mind. He wasn't sure if Dean even realized he did it.
Dean glanced quickly at his brother then back to the road, "Yeah."
"How come you only play this song when you're upset?" Sam figured he wouldn't beat around the bush on this one.
Dean's scrunched up his forehead, "What are you talking about? I'm not upset."
Sam smiled, "That's the only time you play this song. I've noticed."
Dean shook his head, "I've got no reason to be upset Sam. I just like this song. Stop over analyzing everything."
Sam laughed, "Yeah yeah." His brother was so damn stubborn.
"How much further before we find our turn?" Dean asked him, purposely shifting the conversation back to the job at hand.
"Probably another twenty minutes. The sign will say Tretheway Road."
Dean nodded and relaxed back into his seat, enjoying the last of his song. He knew he always played this song when he had things on his mind. He felt like it was his song. It described his life, and it just made him feel better to hear it. And only his psychologist wanna be brother would figure it out. Damn, he was going to have to be more careful. It was bad enough he almost broke down in front of Sam when he told him how he had almost let his little brother die before. That kid was just too good at reading him, and he was only getting better. Dean knew he'd have to work harder to keep up his facade.
"So Sammy, how many people were killed at this place again?"
"Eleven. All of them pretty gruesomely too."
"And this was a what, a halfway house or something."
"Yeah, this old couple who owned the local convenient store bought the place and made it into a place for homeless to stay until they were back on their feet. They had a few runaways and a few mentally challenged people. Their three kids lived there too. All of them were killed in their beds."
"Figure we'll check it out in the daylight, get a room, then go back later tonight. Sound good?"
Sam nodded his agreement. "Hey, there's the turn off." He pointed to the right.
Dean took the turn and they were suddenly headed down an old country road, eyes scanning for the house. About two miles down they spotted it. Dean turned in the driveway and put the car in park. He turned to Sam and said, "We're gonna need a bigger boat."
Sam had to laugh. "A bigger boat?"
"Yeah" Dean said waving his hand toward the house. "Dude, you said this was a halfway house, not a freakin hotel. Look at the size of that thing. Three stories! It's gonna take forever to go through it!"
Sam stared at the house, "Yeah well, I didn't know. But wer're here, so let's check it out."
Dean nodded and got out of the car. Both boys made their way to the trunk and began loading up with the necessary weapons. "All right Sammy, one more time, give me the history."
"How many times have I told you already? Getting a little forgetful in your old age Dean?"
"Just do your job geek boy."
Sam shook his head and began following Dean to the house. "Okay, so back in 1986 there was this sweet older couple, The Wells, who had some kids. They owned the local convient store down the street, or did when it was there, whatever. They bought this place and made it a halfway house. People say they helped the homeless, they put people up here when they needed a hand, just an all around great American family. But seems old man Wells was a little bit of a freak. He was extremely strict with rules and manners, and was a big believer in punishment when someone broke the rules. They say he had some room in there where he would lock his kids for days on end without food or water. He would beat them. He beat his wife. He also started punishing the people who were staying here. The ones he was supposedly trying to help get back on their feet."
"Let me guess, I'm sure he thought he was doing God's work." Dean said.
Sam nodded, "That's what they say. So anyway, like I told you before, one day a family friend was coming over to visit and she found everyone in the house, everyone, dead. Said there was blood all over the walls, the floors, the place was tore up, and the bodies were pretty gruesome. All the kids were found in their beds with their bodies hacked up."
"Brings a new meaning to the words daddy dearest, don't you think?" Dean said sarcastically.
Sam shook his head, "Do you ever take anything seriously?" Before Dean could answer he added, "Technically there's no proof the dad did it. He was found in his bed with his throat slashed too. And the place has been abandoned ever since."
They reached the front porch of the old house. Dean pulled out his EMF and did a quick sweep of the immediate area. The old wooden porch creaked beneath their feet, half of the boards already broken away. A screen door hung on its hinges over the front door, looking as if it would fall any moment. There were a few broken windows and garbage laying around from loiterers. The lawn was dead and had turned to dirt, and any landscaping had crumbled away years ago. The fence was falling down and the paint on the house itself was chipping away. Not surprisingly there was caution tape strung over the front door and a sign from the city building inspection that notified of no trespassing and stated the house was condemed.
"Dude, if the place is this bad on the outside, I hate to see what the inside looks like." Dean said and Sam nodded his agreement. "This place should have already been buldozed down. Let's hope it doesn't fall down around us while we're in there."
They made slowly made their way across the porch and to the front door. To their surprise, it wasn't locked and opened with just a slight protest. Stepping inside the smell of must, mildew, age, and a few other rotten smells they couldn't identify attacked their senses. Sam and Dean scanned the immediate area, taking in the enormity of the room they were in. It looked as if the place had been left exactly how it was found after the murders. There were pieces of furniture, some covered with rotten sheets, knick knacks on tables, pictures hanging on the walls. Nothing had been removed after the murders. That also included the blood stains, which had now become permanent patterns throughout the house. Even though after all these years, the average person may not recognize the stains as blood, the boys knew what it was.
"I bet this place has rats." Dean said in disgust. "I hate rats."
Sam laughed, "Don't be a baby."
"Hey, I'm not a baby. I'm not the one who was scared of the dark."
"I was five years old you jerk!" Sam yelled in his defense, and Dean just laughed.
"Whatever. I say we split up and cover more ground, see what we can find. I'll start up top, you start down here. Sound good?" Dean asked.
"Yeah." Sam agreed and watched as Dean made his way to the stair case. "But be careful! These floors and those stairs could be rotten!."
Dean waved his hand back at Sam, "Yeah yeah Mr. Doom and Gloom. I know how to be careful." But just to be the pain in the ass he always was and just to irk his little brother Dean bolted up the stairs as fast as he could, laughing all the way.
"You're a stupid jerk!" Sam yelled up to him.
"Shut up!" Came Dean's voice down the stairs.
Sam shook his head, "if Dad was here he'd kick your ass Dean," he muttered to himself. With a sigh he headed towards the living room. At the fireplace he stopped to look at the pictures that still adorned the mantel. A normal happy looking family was portrayed. How come some times looks are so deceiving, he thought. As he turned to scan the area he felt a sudden cold chill flow through the room. Then suddenly there was a soft roaring sound, and every door in the house began to slam shut in succession. Slamming hard enough to make the windows rattle. Sam quickly pulled out his gun and turned on the EMF. It was going crazy. He ran towards the stairs.
"Dean! Hey Dean, I've got something down here!" He called but received no answer. "Dean can you hear me!" Still no answer. For all Sam knew he could be up on the third floor and he probably wouldn't hear him. Cautiously he began to make his way up the stairs. The EMF was still going off like a siren. When he made his way to the top he came to a landing of sorts. To his left and his right was a hallway that seemed miles long. In front of him there was another staircase that led to the third floor. Looking up and down the hallway he could see all of the doors were closed. "Damn, this place is huge." Sam said to himself. "Dean! Dean where are you!" "Yeah, let's split up. You and your great ideas Dean." Sam muttered.
Just as he was about to make his way to the right of the hallway and start checking the rooms for his brother he heard the shotgun blast from overhead. "Dean!" He screamed. And without any more caution to the rotten floors than his brother showed earlier, he ran up the staircase to the third floor.
Sam bound up the stair with no regard to the creaking wood beneath his feet. Just as he reached the top he heard another gun blast from his right. He raced down the hallway to the only door that was there and threw it open, and found himself face to face with his brothers shotgun. Sam skidded to a halt.
"Dude, you want to get your head blown off!" Dean screamed as he immediately lowered the gun. "What the hell were you thinking!"
"Me? I was screaming your name and the only response I get is a gun shot! I thought you needed help!"
Dean shook his head, "I heard you Sam. But damn, next time you hear gun fire, maybe use a little caution before storming into the very room you're hearing it from!"
"If you heard me then why didn't you answer!" Sam screamed back, getting way too frustrated with this conversation.
Dean raised his eyebrows in and gave his 'duh' face and said, "Dude, I was a little busy with casper the unfreindly ghost! Sorry I didn't feel like a game of Marco Polo!"
Sam threw his hands up in frustration. "I give up!" Trying to get through to his brother was the hardest thing in the world, let alone trying get a real conversation with some type of content out of him. He looked back to Dean who was scanning the room with his EMF, which was now quiet. "So, you gonna tell me what happened or do I need to guess?"
"I was checking the room when the door suddenly slammed shut and my EMF went nuts. I turned around and came face to face with a very fugly baddy. The thing tried to go for my throat so I fired."
Sam instantly forgot his frustration with his brother and became concerned, "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. Didn't touch me. You find anything?"
"And that means?" Dean asked, his turn to be frustrated.
"Well, I was in the living room and I felt this coldness and then all the doors slammed and my EMF went off. I was trying to get your attention but I heard you fire so I came up here. So technically, I didn't find anything."
"Well excuse me Mr. Technical." Dean mocked. "Sorry to interrupt your plans."
Sam sighed, "Any reason your attitude and sarcasm is so amped up today?"
"What the hell are you talking about?" Dean asked.
"Nothing. Never mind. Let's just get back to work." Sam said and walked out of the room.
"That's the first smart thing you've said today."
They re-entered the hallway and stopped. Their detectors had gone quiet and any uneasiness they felt earlier was gone. It now felt like any other ordinary old house. "You think we should do a little more research and come back tonight?" Sam asked.
"I guess." Dean said and started to the stairs. He really wasn't in the mood for this shit today. He was actually looking forward to a couple of days off after the Striga incident, but Sam just had to find that news article about the teenage couple that had been murdered here two weeks ago. And of course they were just another statistic in a long line of teenagers being hurt or killed at the house. But he couldn't turn it down no matter how much he wanted to. But that didn't mean he had to be happy about it. Sam hadn't been wrong to notice his attitude. He sighed. Get over it Dean, he told himself.
They took the stairs slowly this time taking notice at how weak they were and just how much they creaked. Sam also took notice at just how rickety the old banister was. "When we come back tonight we need to be extra careful Dean. There've been a lot of accidents here. We should bring a couple extra lights with us."
"Whatever you say." Dean said.
Sam shook his head. Hopefully his brother would be in a better mood after he got some lunch. Sam really did have a bad feeling about this place and Dean didn't need to be distracted. Keeping his voice light and trying to avoid another smart ass contest Sam said, "Let's get something to eat, do a little research then we'll come back and take care of business. Good?"
Dean nodded. "Yeah, I'm starving."
Sam had to laugh "When aren't you starving!"
They both laughed, their moods lightening a little bit. That was until they reached the front door, went to pull it open, and found that it wouldn't budge.