1) Here's my attempt to mimic an actual episode of Supernatural. In my mind we can consider it the goofy side adventure that is NECESSARY after an episode like "Abandon All Hope." However, I think it could also pretty much take place anywhere during Season 5.
2) This will make a lot more sense if you've read Twilight, but I think it will also be enjoyable to those who are merely aware of the phenomenon.
3) I did some research on Forks. That research is pretty much irrelevant to this story. The extent of the tourism there is COMPLETELY exaggerated for plot purposes. (My apologies to any actual inhabitants of Forks or La Push, on the off chance that you are reading this.)
Sam and Dean Go to Forks
Chapter 1: Welcome to Forks
Seventeen-year-old Tiffany Wallace squealed as she tripped over a tree root, nearly losing her footing completely. She caught her balance in time, however, and took a moment to catch her breath and make sure her appearance hadn't been disheveled somehow. She ran her fingers through her long brown hair and straightened her dress, which had a low-cut neckline and was made of a blue silky fabric; not the sort of thing people normally wore when making their way through a dense forest in the middle of the night. The dress was important, though. She wanted to look perfect.
Taking a deep breath, she pressed on, glad she had decided to wear her black Converse sneakers instead of the heels she'd been considering earlier that evening.
It was dark, but there was enough space between the branches overhead for rays of moonlight to beat against the forest floor, lighting her way. She knew exactly where she was going. The directions he'd given her had been simple: enter the forest at a certain location, stop at the clearing about a hundred yards in. He would be there, waiting for her, with a surprise.
She'd been giggling to herself all day, wondering what that surprise could be. She hoped that maybe he would decorate the clearing with Christmas lights and Chinese lanterns, and romantic music would be playing and they would slow dance. Maybe they would even have sex. It was all so romantic she could hardly stand it.
The trees finally gave way to a clearing, and she looked around with giddy curiosity. No pretty lights in sight, but the moon bathed the entire area in silver light. That was more romantic anyway. Probably he'd thought of that.
"William?" she called. She couldn't see or hear anything amongst the trees, but she knew he was there. The bond between them was so strong she would always know he was there, no matter how quickly and silently he could move.
Sure enough, a few seconds later he stepped into the clearing as if melting out of the shadows. Tiffany felt her heart begin to race, like it had every time she saw him since the first time two days ago. He was just so hot. It had been so easy to figure out he was a vampire, because surely no human could be that good looking. His skin was so pale it was almost white, bleached even more in the light of the moon, which cast shadows beneath his chiseled cheekbones. His eyes were a deep gold color, like molten amber, and when he looked at her Tiffany knew that he was looking at all of her, right down to her soul, the way no one had ever been able to before. His brown hair was highlighted in gold, which shone in the moonlight, and it was gelled up in a sort of devil-may-care style like usual. He was wearing a dress shirt and a tie, and in his hand was a single rose.
Tiffany felt her face heat up as her emotions swirled. William would be pleased, he liked when she blushed.
"Did you think I wouldn't come?" he asked as he approached. He stopped about five feet away from her. Tiffany wasn't surprised. She was staring at his eyes anyway, and noticed how they were locked on her face, on the blood flooding her cheeks. He wouldn't come nearer because he needed a moment to compose himself. It was so brave of him, and he worked so hard. His thirst for her blood was so great that Tiffany knew he didn't even want to be in a relationship with her, for fear he might succumb to that thirst. But their love was too strong for either of them to resist.
"I didn't think that," she answered quietly. "You said you'd be here, and I believed you."
He broke out into a smile, his straight white teeth gleaming. Tiffany was momentarily dazzled. But then his expression darkened and he took a half-step away from her.
"You told someone you were coming, didn't you?" he asked seriously.
Tiffany bit her lip and started to twirl a piece of her hair around one finger nervously. "Well... not really. I sort of told my Mom I was sleeping over at Dina's..."
William looked aggrieved, and Tiffany's heart literally hurt knowing she had caused him even the slightest pain. But she knew she had done the right thing, no matter how angry he was with her.
"Tiffany," he said, his eyes closed, "You know that was stupid. What if something happens?"
"Nothing is going to happen," Tiffany said firmly. "But if it did... well this way it won't be trouble for you and your family. You can keep living here, and stuff. Nobody will know."
"That's not the point," William said. He was getting all dark and broody now, God that was so attractive. "And besides, you know I couldn't bear to live if anything happened to you, especially if I was the cause."
"Don't say that," Tiffany chastised him. Slowly, carefully so as not to startle him, she began to close the gap between them. She approached until she was close enough for him to pull her into his arms, but he didn't. He looked strained, and she knew it would take another minute for him to compose himself. She was patient.
"Kiss me, William," she said. But not very patient.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He didn't have to breathe at all, Tiffany knew, but he could, and right now he was taking in her scent. "I don't know if I can," he said quietly.
Wondering where her boldness came from, Tiffany reached up and put her arms around his neck, pulling him to her until their bodies were touching. She could feel through their clothes that his chest was all muscle, and starkly cold. Just like in the books.
"Kiss me," she said again.
William gripped her around her waist suddenly, but this is not what alerted Tiffany to the fact that something was wrong. It was the second set of teeth, much longer and more needle-like than his usual pearly whites, which suddenly descended from his gums as his face contorted into a ferocious grin.
His voice was much less light and suave than it usually was as he said cheekily, "Well, if you insist!" Tiffany screamed as he sank his fangs into her neck.
Dean's head was flat on the surface of their corner table in the tiny diner. He was snoring lightly. Two empty coffee mugs sat nearby, but neither had apparently done much good. The Winchester brothers had been driving all night, escaping trouble, but as always in search of a new one.
He groaned when Sam put his laptop down, creating way more noise than was necessary, and lifted his head groggily.
"Five more minutes," he complained.
"We can sleep later," Sam replied, in all-business mode, much to Dean's annoyance. "I found a job."
This caught Dean's attention. He sat up and stretched his arms over his head, yawning profusely. "Got some demonic omens?" he asked gamely. "Lightning storms? Cow mutilations? Three headed kittens?"
"No demons," Sam replied, his eyes scanning his computer screen. "I'm thinking vampires."
Dean slumped back in his chair. "Vampires? Well, it's certainly been a while. But if it's not apocalypse-related, I vote sleep…" He started to rest his head back on the table.
"Dean," Sam said seriously, "We can't just ignore this if there are people who need our help."
"Do you always have to be so good?" Dean complained. "Remember when you were turning evil? Let's try that again."
Dean sighed. "Fine, fine, show me what we're looking at."
Sam flipped his laptop around so Dean could see the screen, which was filled top to bottom with scans of various newspaper articles. All of them were decorated with similar headlines, "Local Girl Goes Missing," "Fourth Girl Disappears," "Missing Girl's Body Found." Dean frowned, dropping his joking manner altogether.
"How many?" he asked.
"Looks like nine, pretty evenly spaced apart, for the past month," Sam answered.
"Could be our kind of gig," Dean said, "Or it could just be a psychopath. What makes you think vampires?"
Wordlessly, Sam zoomed in on the article regarding the found body and highlighted a sentence. Dean squinted and read the words, "The coroner's report shows that the body of the victim, local Forks High School student Tiffany Wallace, had been exsanguinated via an unknown process."
"Exsanguination, huh?" Dean said thoughtfully.
"'Via an unknown process'," Sam added. "I'm gonna take a guess and say fangs and a whole lot of sucking."
"You know," said Dean, "I could really use a good old-fashioned hunt right now. Where we headed?"
Sam snapped his laptop shut. "Forks, Washington."
Dean held the cell phone away from his ear. Sam could hear Bobby's yelling over the sound of the wind rushing through the windows of the speeding Impala, but the only intelligible words were "damned" and "ijit."
Dean was attempting to be calming. "I know there's an apocalypse going on right now, Bobby…. Look, we're just going to swing by and check this out, okay? … These things are killing people just as well as the demons are, what's the difference? … Yeah, yeah okay. … Look, we'll find them, we'll make with some quick chopping, and we'll get back on the road, all right?" He was about to say more, but from his expression Bobby had hung up. "Grumpy old redneck," Dean grumbled to himself.
Sam defended him. "He's got cabin fever. You know he'd like to be here with us if he could. I'm sure a vampire hunt sounds just as good to him as it does to us."
"Yeah, I guess," Dean agreed unwillingly. "And how weird is that, that vampires are all grandma's apple pie to us now. Wasn't too long ago we didn't even know they existed."
"I've pretty much made it a rule since then not to believe anything doesn't exist," Sam said.
They rode in silence for a while, the road they followed delving deeper and deeper into forested area. They were getting close to Forks, which Sam had informed Dean earlier was the rainiest town in the entire country. Dean was not particularly looking forward to that.
"Hey," he said suddenly, "Remember that vamp chick who didn't like to eat people?"
"Lenore," Sam replied, his voice neutral.
Dean shook his head. "Man, why can't they all be like that?"
Sam stared straight ahead at the road, his expression unreadable. "Some things are just evil."
"This is evil all right," Dean said. His expression was fixed somewhere between bewilderment and horror.
Forks, Sam had led him to believe, was a small town. Small town to Dean implied good food, quaint values, vicious monsters (usually of the cult figure/ex-pagan god persuasion), and most obviously, small population. The town of Forks, in its entirety, was as crowded as a shopping mall on Black Friday.
And just about everyone seemed to be a teenage girl.
"You know," Dean commented, "I figured the fact that all of the victims were young girls was some kind of sicko pattern with our vamps. Now I think it's more likely that there just isn't anyone else to eat around here."
"So you're saying they're not crazy?" Sam wondered. "Great. Except for the whole bloodlust thing." He was distracted even as he traded quips with Dean. Maneuvering through the streets of Forks wasn't a simple task, considering every crosswalk was teaming with girls who all seemed to have somewhere they desperately needed to be—or else were too busy giggling amongst themselves to notice cars, of which admittedly there weren't too many. (Presumably because not many people in town appeared to be of driving age.)
"This is insane," Sam commented.
There was certainly something strange about Forks. Dean had assumed that vampire attacks would be the weirdest thing going on. As well as the weather, which was drearily overcast and according to Sam wasn't about to brighten up anytime soon. But looking around, he decided that the atmosphere in the town was much, much weirder than either of those things. Everyone was excited, like the whole town was some kind of theme park.
Sam stopped so abruptly Dean almost hit his head on the dashboard. He cursed, and then looked up with an expression that was perhaps a little too hopeful as he asked, "Did we hit one?"
Disregarding the fact that by "one" his brother meant a human being, Sam shook his head and said, "Look. I think I found someone we can talk to."
Dean followed his sightline to a man sweeping the sidewalk in front of a small bakery. It was oddly refreshing to see someone not a teenager and not a girl, both of which this guy definitely was not. He was old, grizzled even, with a salt-and-pepper mustache and grey hair grown just a little too long in the back. He wore a plaid flannel shirt that had seen better days. As he swept outside the tiny shop, he glared at each and every passerby individually.
"Good spot, Sammy," Dean said approvingly.
Sam shrugged, "He's kind of hard to miss in this crowd."
He pulled the Impala into a parking spot almost right in front of the bakery. They could hardly resist the urge to look around more properly. They were in the heart of the town now, smack in the middle of Main Street, and it seemed more crowded here than anywhere else.
They both noticed that on either side of the bakery (which had a quaint checkered awning and a hand-painted sign) were two shops of an entirely different genre. On the left of the bakery was a bookshop, which had a black sign on which was written in sparkling letters, "Books to Die For," while on the right was an eatery, similarly labeled, called "The Eclipse Café." Both appeared oddly new and well, tacky, compared to the bakery.
"Excuse me," Dean said amiably as they approached the old man. "We just got into town and we're looking for some information."
The man looked up from his dual task of sweeping and glaring and arched bushy eyebrows at the Winchesters.
"You boys fans?" he asked.
Sam and Dean exchanged glances, both thinking along the lines of, Fans of what?
"No sir," Sam replied. Taking a stab in the dark he added, "But we're sure it's a really good bakery." He glanced at Dean, who shrugged. The old man stared like Sam had grown an extra head. "We were hoping you could tell us what exactly is going on in town today. Is this some kind of local holiday?"
"You mean this?" the man replied, gesturing around him. A group of four girls, all about age fourteen, walked past giggling. Sam noticed that each was wearing a shirt with the same face printed on it. Some celebrity or another whom he couldn't quite place. Keeping up with current pop culture hadn't been particularly easy what with the apocalypse going on.
"This is nothing," continued the man. "You should have seen it last week. Bella's birthday. You'd think the kids would all be headed to Italy instead, but no, of course they flock here. Like flies on flypaper."
"Um, right," said Sam. "Well, okay then." He seemed momentarily at a loss, perhaps attempting to make any sense of what the man had just said to him.
Dean brushed it off and asked, "We heard there have been some murders here recently… some girls going missing?"
"They all come here," the old man grumbled. "Like moths to a flame."
"I thought they were flies on flypaper?" Dean wondered.
Sam elbowed him lightly and asked, "You mean you think all these girls are in danger?"
The old man regarded the both of them appraisingly and said, "I think you boys are in danger. I would watch out if I were you."
"Watch out for what--?" Dean demanded, clearly fed up with the cryptic conversation, but Sam tugged on his arm, interrupting him.
"Thanks for your help," Sam said hurriedly. The old man didn't reply, instead he just went back to his broom, muttering under his breath. Sam began pulling Dean down the street.
"What help?" Dean snapped. "And I appreciate the abrupt exit, but he might have been about to say something useful… maybe…" He sounded doubtful even as he said it.
"Look up there," Sam said, nodding his head in the direction. About two blocks away a large group had formed around a storefront. While the others in the crowded streets seemed to travel in packs of three or four, this bunch included at least thirty people. All of whom were staring at something with expressions of horror or disgust.
"Do you think it's another body?" Dean asked, getting down to business now. A proper lead. This was more like it. As they made their way over to the large group they were the subject of many stares from the girls they walked past, but they were both too set on their goal to notice.
Finally they reached the group. Both were tall enough to see over the heads of everyone else there, so they could see right away that the crowd was not, in fact, gathered around a murder victim, but rather they were gathered around a single man, who seemed perfectly calm in the face of the unhappy crowd. He was young, probably a few years younger than Sam, and Sam noticed he wore a black t-shirt with that same celebrity face. The portrait was faded in a way that Sam supposed was an attempt at artistic, and when he squinted he read the words "Be safe" in a slanting font at the bottom.
The tour guide (it was pretty easy to deduce that that's what he was) held his hands up in a placating manner. "Now ladies, I apologize that the shop is closed today but—"
"I want to meet Mike Newton!" someone demanded. The Winchesters were surprised to see that the interruption had come from a middle-aged woman. She wore a pink sweatshirt with the words Team Edward printed across the chest. So not everyone there was a teenager…
"He is dreamy," the tour guide agreed with a calm smile, "But as I said, this is not actually the Newtons' shop. It is, however, the only sporting goods store in town, so naturally, if any place was their shop, it would be here."
A nervous younger girl raised her hand and asked, "So… Bella never worked here?"
A few feet away from the group, Sam glanced at Dean. "There's that name again," he muttered.
Dean also kept his voice low. Neither was particularly keen on alerting the group to their presence. "It's like these people don't even speak freakin' English. What are they talking about?"
Another girl asked a question now. She was probably about sixteen, and besides her obviously-dyed black hair she wore numerous piercings and a black belly-shirt bearing the words: You are exactly my brand of heroin.
"Um, when do we get to see the Cullen house?" the girl asked.
She'd voiced her question pretty rudely, but the tour guide simply smiled a smile that made many of the girls in the group giggle. He replied, "The Cullen house is second to last on the tour, right before we get to see the cabin in the woods where Edward and Bella live." Again, general excitement and giggling from the girls. Dean noticed that one, probably the youngest of the lot at about 10 years old, was actually jumping up and down.
"That doesn't sound good..." Sam murmured to himself as the tour guide was pestered with more questions.
"What?" Dean asked. "What's a culling house?"
"Well..." Sam trailed off, thinking for a moment. Dean could just see his brother digging through the textbook library he kept in his brain. "Culling is a form of population control..." Sam said, "Farmers and animal breeders do it. They kill less-than optimal animals or remove them from the herd."
"I think some could be removed from this herd," Dean commented, nodding toward the tour group.
Sam wasn't finished. "It's also a word occasionally associated with blood-letting."
"Oh," said Dean. "So a culling house..."
"Sounds like somewhere I'd go if I was a vampire."
Dean groaned, "Do we have to follow this group around then? I don't even know what they're talking about, and they're all... squealy..." He briefly shuddered.
"We've been in town five minutes and we already have a lead," Sam said, regarding him seriously. "Do you really want to let it go?"
Another girl in the group raised her hand to ask, "If we come back tomorrow can we see the store?" Noticing that the voice was a bit lower than the others, Dean turned and looked. His jaw dropped.
She was hot. She had blonde hair that fell in choppy layers to her shoulders, tight black jeans, and a tank top (with that same face on it again) pulled down low enough to show off some killer cleavage. The group started to move away, and Dean seemed momentarily mesmerized by the movement of her hips as she walked. She was definitely not a teenager.
"No, I most certainly do not," he said, suddenly all too excited. "Come on, Sammy, the lead's getting away!"
He hurried after the group. Sam, rolling his eyes, followed.
As they went along, the chatter of the group became more and more incomprehensible. Sam and Dean wore similar expressions of confusion as two girls in the back of the group had an extremely fierce debate over whether someone named "Edward" or someone named "Jacob" was better suited to go out with the mysterious "Bella" they kept hearing about.
"Screw this," Dean growled. He turned to Sam and announced, "I'm going in!"
"I don't know if that's…" Sam began, but his brother had already pushed his way through the crowd, his face as determined as if he were set on a dangerous mission. Which, Sam rather thought, he was. The old man's words rang in his head: you boys are in danger. What had he meant by that? He couldn't have been talking about the murders—all of the victims had been young girls. So what was the danger?
Lost in thought, he didn't notice as Dean made his way up to the attractive woman who had caught his attention before. He tapped on her shoulder, turned on %110 of his charm, and asked, "Excuse me, can you tell me what all of this is about?"
The woman took a moment to stare at Dean in wonder, before she opened her mouth and let out a squeal so high-pitched it might have cracked glass. "Oh my God, you are sooo hot!" she cried. Dean took a step back, completely surprised. He was used to women falling for him easily, but they were usually a lot more subtle about it, or at least tried to be. Unfortunately, when he backed up, as he was quite in the middle of the tour group now, he bumped right into the middle aged woman they'd noticed before.
From the look on her face she was about to have the same kind of reaction as the hot chick. "You are just adorable," the woman announced. "My daughter's here somewhere, you should meet her! Ellie!"
"Uh---" Dean floundered as more of the girls pressed close, all agreeing that he was extremely attractive. The squeal levels were getting higher and higher. Sam could only watch in horror, feeling frozen to the spot and not sure whether or not he should dive in and attempt to help his brother or not. If Dean was being attacked by a crowd of vampires, now that would have been easy to handle. But this… this was beyond his experience.
Then he noticed the tour guide, who had a peculiar expression on his face. The expression was, well, evil. It seemed to say, Finally something fun happens during this crappy job. Even before the guy opened his mouth, Sam thought about the old man's words again.
"What's this?" the guide announced in a voice that carried over the growing noise of the group. "Two attractive young men who both love Twilight? And they're straight?"
A brief hush fell over the crowd. Instinctively both Winchesters recognized the hush as the calm before the storm.
Sam heard his brother say carefully, "Sammy. Run," and didn't need telling twice. He ran. The girls who had been barely organized as a tour group quickly turned into a squealing mob as they all set off after him. Thanks to his long legs, Dean got ahead of the crowd quite easily, but there was still the problem that they were being viciously chased by a wild pack of…
"Fangirls," Dean panted, his tone disgusted. "Of course they're fangirls. It's like Becky times thirty back there."
Sam shook his head. "It's different. These aren't our fangirls." But it didn't quite seem to matter at the moment considering they were being chased regardless. It had been going on for three blocks now, and while the Winchesters had pulled ahead considerably, their pursuers were relentless.
"Damn," Dean hissed. "The Impala's back there. You couldn't have run the other direction?"
"I didn't have much time to think about it," Sam shot back.
"This is it," Dean replied. "We're going to die. Crushed in the crowd. Death by fangirls."
"It's not like we haven't died before," Sam pointed out, trying to be optimistic.
Dean glanced back at the hoard of girls pursuing them. The crowd had gotten bigger. Clearly other girls in town had decided to join in on the sport. The sound of their manic giggles was becoming overpowering.
"Sammy," Dean called over the noise, his voice caught between heavy breaths, "This makes hell look like kittens and rainbows."
Screeching brakes caught their attention. A black jeep with big tires, the kind you would use for off-roading, pulled up to the side of the road up ahead. A door opened and a girl jumped out. Dean had time to assess that she was in her early twenties, had bronze skin and dark hair, that her right arm was in a sling, and that she was totally hot.
"Get in!" she shouted at Sam and Dean before they could run past. The brothers looked back at the ever-approaching mob and didn't think twice. Dean hurled himself through the door, and Sam had only just folded his tall frame into the Jeep's small backseat when the mob caught up. The girl swung herself into the passenger seat and slammed the door, and the Jeep sped down the road, leaving a very disappointed hoard of fangirls in the dust. Looking through the back window, the brothers saw that some of the girls were attempting to follow the Jeep on foot.
They faced front again, panting for breath. The driver of the Jeep had yet to say a word to them, but their savior spun around in her seat, throwing the boys a cheery grin.
"Welcome to Forks," she said brightly.
To be continued…
NEXT TIME: Twilight is finally explained to Sam and Dean, and it becomes apparent that this hunt is not nearly as simple as they thought.