This is my first Supernatural fanfic...if you read my profile, it's the story I was thinking about posting about the Winchester Mansion, also known as the Winchester Mystery House. It is based on a true story (believe me, I did research), and every excerpt read by either Sam or Dean from the internet is real. I'm not sure yet how many chapters this is going to turn out to be, but it will probably end up being fairly long – at least longer than anything I've written so far. This chapter is short, but it's just the introduction – more will come, I promise! If I get reviews, I just might add chapters (hint-hint!)! Please read and tell me what you think.
"Dude, that's just disgusting."
'What?" retorted Dean. "This happens to be some high-quality beef."
"High-quality beef? Have you even read the ingredients?"
"What kind of idiot actually reads the freakin' ingredients, Sam? Was that some hobby you and your super-brainy vegetarian college friends had?"
"Yeah, Dean, it was. We read the ingredients of everything we had in the dorm right before we burst into song about the joys of college life. What do you think?" replied Sam angrily.
Dean waved an imaginary flag into the air, as if calling for a truce. "Jeez, Sammy, lighten up a bit. Can't a man eat a Slim Jim in peace? Why must I be persecuted by my younger, less-hot brother for my taste in snack food?"
"Give me that," said Sam, attempting to grab the half-eaten stick of meat from his brother's hand.
"Nah, Sammy, don't think so!" Dean waved his hand wildly in the air, taunting his younger sibling. "Ah, too slow...you lose, Karate Kid. Only when you grab the Slim-Jim from my hand have you mastered the art of meat-snatching."
"Come on, Dean!" sighed the defeated Sam. "at least LOOK at the ingredients so you know what you're putting in your body-"
"-you mean my HOT body, right?" interjected Dean, patting his abs. "I've lived twenty-seven years without reading the ingredients on anything, and still managed to keep a six-pack. Now that, my friend, is an accomplishment I'm proud of."
"Yeah, whatever Dean. Just-"
"I know, Sam. Fine. I'll look at them just to shut you up." Dean peeled off the red and yellow wrapper from his snack, squinting his eyes in order to read the fine black print at the bottom. Sam could tell it was taking a lot of self-control for his brother not to gag at what he read – he was determined to prove to Sam that his choice of food was worthy of consumption.
"Looks fine to me."
Sam's eyes widened in surprise.
"Uh, Dean? I happen to know for a fact that one of the ingredients is 'mechanically separated chicken parts.' Don't tell me you've read that and still think that the Slim Jim qualifies as a quality snack."
"What, and that funky soy-protein organic granola bar that you're eating does? What kind of crap is that?"
"Crap that's gonna let me live longer than you, Dean. If some demon doesn't kill you, you'll die of clogged arteries."
"Who cares about clogged arteries, man? You only live once." With that, Dean stuffed the remainder of the Slim Jim into his mouth, chewing noisily.
"Fine, I give up," sighed Sam.
"Good," said Dean. "It's about time you respected your elders."
"I'm not even going to reply to that, Dean. We're wasting too much time as it is. Now what about this next gig?"
"What about it?" answered Dean.
"What do you mean, 'what about it?' Haven't you done any more research?"
"I TOLD you, man, my laptop freaked out on me. I still need to fix it. Anyway, since when is the research my responsibility? That's always been your job."
"It's your responsibility since you bet me ten bucks you could dig up better info than me, remember? Apparently you weren't satisfied with...uh, what were your words again? Oh yeah-'how goddamned slow' I did the research on that water demon case."
"Well yeah, dude. A monkey could've solved that case faster than you."
"OK, then, that's why it's your turn now. You did bet me, remember?"
"You took me seriously? I was drunk, man. You can't listen to me when I'm drunk."
"Okay, noted. But I didn't know that then. A bet is a bet."
"God, Sammy! Let it rest already!"
"No." replied Sam simply.
"What, just 'no'? Ooooh, now I've changed my mind, Sam. With logic like that, how couldn't I?"
Sam just smiled.
"What, Sammy? You're kinda creepin' me out with that freaky smirk of yours."
"Nothing, Dean. It's just that if you don't agree to do the research, I'm gonna walk back into that gas station and tell them that I forgot to buy laxatives for my brother."
Dean looked down, recognizing his defeat. "Jerk," he muttered.
Dean turned the key in the ignition, starting the engine of his beloved black Chevy Impala. He pulled out of the deserted gas station and onto the road, heading towards what would be the newest place of residence for the Winchester brothers: Sid's Motel. It was a trashy, run-down building, but it would do. They couldn't afford any of the more expensive hotel rooms of San Jose, California, anyway-the location of their newest mystery: The Winchester Mansion.
Review, please! I'm begging you here!