SPN Fic: No One Gets Left Behind (PG-13)
Oct. 24th, 2006 06:52 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
blue_icy_roseYeah, so this took forever to actually get done in between papers and midterms (and really, I think that professors should just learn to make their schedules revolve around fandom because it'd so much easier) but I got it done. So here you go, herowlness, the birthday fic I promised you forever and a day ago! LOL, it's my first SPN fic so if they're horribly out of character, I'm sorry. :)
Hope you like it!
“I don’t know if this is such a good idea, Tom.” The young man looked behind him, clearly calculating how fast he could get back to the car.
“Come on, Will, you’re not serious, are you?” Tom glanced over at their other friends and then back at Will. “What are you worried about anyway?”
He shifted, kicking a rock and glancing around the woods. “It’s just…” He shrugged. “Haven’t you ever heard the rumors about this place?”
There was a burst of laughter and then Kenny threw himself to the ground dramatically. “You mean the ghost? Oh no, help me, Mike, the ghost is going to get me!”
“Stand up, jackass. Look, you guys coming or what? Because we’re going to keep going, whether you want to or not.” Mike grinned as they began walking again. “You can just sit and wait back at the car, like a good little girl,” he called back.
Swearing, Will sent a glare in the general direction of their backs and turned to head back to the car, muttering about what bastards his friends were to just leave him like this.
There was the crunch and snap of twigs behind him and he tensed for a minute, the ghost story running through his mind like a bad horror movie. Yeah, this was definitely the part where the schmuck who got left behind bit the dust.
Yay him.
“Man, come on, wait up.”
He paused and turned to see Tom running up behind him. “What’s up?”
The look he got in response as Tom slowed to a walk next to him said that he hadn’t asked that as casually as he’d hoped. “Don’t bullshit me, man. You’re pissed about all that crap that Mike said.” He shrugged and shifted uncomfortably. “Anyway, I figured I’d keep you company or whatever.”
“Yeah, okay.” Will nodded as they reached the car, each of them leaning against the side.
There was more uncomfortable silence as they each tried to come up with something decidedly manly to say until the sound of shouting ripped through the air. They listened as the shouts turned to high-pitched screams followed by the sounds of scraping and then silence.
Tom snorted and shook his head. “Lame joke,” he muttered.
“Yeah,” Will agreed, this time hoping his tone was relaxed instead of slightly freaked out. “Should’ve waited longer before starting up with that. More believable and all.”
“Nice try, assholes! Knock it off and let’s get out of here already,” Tom yelled. There was no response. He sighed. “They are not seriously trying to pull this off.”
“Maybe we should check it out.”
“And what? Have them jump on us as soon as we get close enough? Yeah, sure.” He shook his head. “I’d rather just let them sit out there, wondering if their joke is working.”
Will considered this and then nodded. “Yeah, that works for me. See how long it takes them to crack. You know it won’t take long before Kenny comes storming back here, complaining about how we didn’t even go check on him or whatever.”
“And Mike’ll be pissed because Kenny couldn’t wait just a little longer to come back.” Tom laughed, shaking his head. It was going to be a slightly predictable reaction but it was going to be so worth it to see the look on their faces.
They waited another ten minutes before they both began to look uneasy again. “They should have been back by now,” Will muttered, trying to hide his concern with annoyance. Tom nodded.
“Yeah.”
It’s an unspoken agreement that now is the time to go check on them, make sure they’re okay and then yell at them and maybe punch them a few times for actually getting them worried. But Will can’t help but swallow nervously as they walk through the woods, down the narrow path that Mike and Kenny had taken. He can’t stop jumping at small sounds, stupid sounds, like crickets chirping and he can’t help but wonder if all of this would be much better and normal if he had some alcohol in his system.
Next time. Yeah, next time he was going to get good and drunk before agreeing to go along with one of Kenny’s half-assed ideas.
Tom’s arm in front of him brings him out of his thoughts and he glances around confused at first until he realizes that they stopped because they had to. They’re at the edge, a sharp drop that leads to nothing but jagged rocks that probably hurt like hell.
Something tells him that they should just turn around right the hell now and not look back but it’s almost as if he’s drawn forward and the only thing that keeps him from sliding off the edge is Tom’s grip. Tom’s pale, as if he realizes that the only place left for Mike and Kenny to have gone is down and Will doesn’t want to think of that or of the fact that unless you were looking for it, the drop seemed to come out of nowhere.
“Will,” Tom starts but Will shakes his head. He has to know and so he moves closer to the edge and peers down.
Tom doesn’t have to ask what he sees. He knows when Will turns his head and promptly gets sick.
~*~
“Sam, you are going to do two things. You’re going to take that back and then you are getting in the car.” Dean lovingly patted the roof of the Impala as if that would get Sam moving faster.
“I am not getting in that car,” Sam said.
Dean looked like Sam had shot him. Again.
“Get in the car, Sammy.”
“It’s Sam,” was the automatic response. “And I’m not getting in that car. It’s possessed.”
This time Dean almost growled. “My car is not possessed.”
“The engine revved.”
The look Dean gave him when he said that clearly told him that Dean thought he had the mental capacity of a two-year-old. “You’ve got to be kidding me. That’s it? That’s your proof? Spare me.”
“We weren’t even in the car!”
“I am seriously regretting ever letting you watch Christine,” Dean muttered.
This time Sam decided to try for reasonable logic. “Look at what we do, Dean. You can’t tell me that the idea of a car getting possessed is crazy.”
“No. The idea of my car getting possessed is crazy.”
Sam managed, just barely, to keep from sighing. He shook his head instead. It was impossible to talk to Dean when it came to his car.
He’d probably have more luck in getting Dean to talk about his feelings than getting him to admit something might be wrong with the Impala.
This was almost as bad as the time he’d said the engine was starting to sound funny.
And okay, so he’d been wrong about the engine but that didn’t mean he was wrong about this.
“If you’re so sure, let me test it.” He held up a bottle of holy water and rolled his eyes at the look of pure dismay on his brother’s face at the mere suggestion. “Dean, it’s just holy water.”
Dean moved to lean protectively against the hood. “You’re not pouring water on the seats.” He crossed his arms over his chest.
“Okay, first, I never said anything about the seats. I can just as easily put water on the hood or something. And second, you do remember that it is just a car, right?” he asked.
Going by the look on Dean’s face, Sam had just committed blasphemy. He frowned as he looked down and stroked a hand over the hood as if comforting the car. “Don’t you listen to him, baby. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
“Tell me I did not just hear that,” Sam muttered to himself. He stared at Dean, who only raised an eyebrow, and sighed. “You’re such a freak.”
“Excuse me? You have a love affair with books, Sammy. Books. At least mine’s a car.”
It was Sam’s turn to look offended. “There’s nothing wrong with books.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my car, either,” Dean said, voice smug. Sam shot him a dirty look and before he could do anything else, Sam had opened the lid of the holy water and tossed a few drops on the hood.
“Hey,” Dean started, pushing away from the car. Sam waved him off and looked down to see the reaction the holy water had caused.
Nothing happened.
Sam frowned as Dean glared at him wiping the water off the hood. “Huh,” he said.
“Are you satisfied now you paranoid giant?” Dean demanded. Sam scowled at him and walked to the passenger side of the car, climbing in silently. Dean shook his head and went back to the driver’s side, shutting the door behind him. There was a few more moments of silence and then,
“If this car finds someway to strangle me or something the next time you get out of the car, I am so haunting your ass for the rest of your life.”
Dean snorted. “Sure you will, Sammy.”
~*~
The next day found them in Missouri with Dean complaining about the fact that he hadn’t been able to make as much money at the pool hall and Sam searching through old newspaper articles about the area that was apparently called Zombie Road. Which, of course, was something else that Dean felt the need to share his opinion about.
“Dude, do you think it was named that because zombies are the ones behind the killings?” Dean couldn’t quite hide the bit of glee in his voice at the prospect of getting to go after a zombie and Sam smiled, shaking his head. His brother had a strange fascination when it came to zombies, as in he’d always wanted to kill one. And while he knew Dean didn’t like the idea of anyone having to die before their attention was drawn to the area he could practically see the energy rolling off him in waves.
“You think you could calm down?” he whispered, glancing around. Dean made a face.
“Relax. I’m not going to do a table dance in the middle of the library.” He grinned. “But if I did, I bet that chick over there would be all over me.”
All Sam could do was roll his eyes and turn back to the newspapers.
Really, there were just no words to describe the weirdness that was his brother.
Dean’s snort interrupted his thoughts and he looked up with a frown. “What?”
“You’re weirder.”
“I said that out loud?” Sam asked, blinking. When Dean smirked, Sam smiled and shook his head. “Whatever, doesn’t matter. It’s true.”
“What, that you’re weirder? Yeah, Sammy, that’s a given.”
“It’s Sam.”
“Yeah, sure.”
Normally, this would be the part where Sam rolled his eyes—a reaction that just came naturally around Dean—and muttered something that would cause more sarcasm to come flying out of Dean’s mouth. But this time, Sam was distracted as he read another article on yet another set of killings and something clicked with him.
“I found the connection.”
Dean leaned forward, all traces of joking gone, and began to scan the article even as he spoke. “And that would be?”
“The victims and the survivors.” He slid over so Dean could get a better look at the article. “It’s always a group of guys, something happens and a few of them end up dead.”
“Same deal for each of them?”
“Over the edge, looking like they’re missing some skin, bodies completely broken.”
Dean frowned. “Missing skin? Something important about that or no?” He glanced over as Sam shook his head.
“Doesn’t look like it. I think whatever is doing this just adds that in for some entertainment.”
“Or because it’s pissed off about something they do and that’s their punishment.”
Sam let out a breath, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah.”
“Hey, Sam,” Dean said, still studying the article as if it held the answers to everything, “What’s the earliest killing like this?”
“Earliest killing where someone ends up broken and skinless?” Sam pushed Dean over, scooting forward to go back to the archives. “1973.”
“Anything big happen in that area earlier in the year? Like a murder?”
Even as Sam checked to be sure he was shaking his head. “Not that I remember seeing. You think we’re dealing with an angry spirit?” he asked. Dean shrugged.
“Couldn’t hurt to check. Who were the survivors this time around?”
“Will Graham and Tom Kirkwood.”
Nodding, Dean stood. “Well then, what do you say we pay Will and Tom a visit, see what they know?”
~*~
It was almost ridiculous how easily they always managed to talk their way into people’s houses and Dean had to fight not to snort at Sam. Seriously, he’d been going into the wrong profession by going for law school. Little brother had the psychiatrist’s voice down pat.
Still, even the sympathetic voice wouldn’t have been enough to get them in but then a slow grin had crossed over Dean’s face as Sam smiled a bit sheepishly and suddenly Will Graham’s mom was opening the door all the way and ushering them inside, saying that cousins of Kenny’s were welcome and she was so sorry for their loss.
“Will’s in the other room,” she explained. “He’s been feeling just horrible ever since he and Tom found…” She glanced away, letting the sentence trail off.
“If this is a bad time, we can come back later,” Sam offered, ignoring the frown he was getting from Dean.
She shook her head. “That’s sweet of you, really, but I don’t think it’ll get much better anytime soon. And I think it might help him to talk to you.” She turned to lead them into the other room as Dean smirked at Sam.
“You’re so sweet, Sammy,” he whispered. Sam made a face and reached out, smacking Dean in the head.
“Shut up,” he muttered as they entered the kitchen.
That Will Graham was feeling horrible was an understatement if his looks were anything to go by. He looked like he hadn’t been sleeping all that well and judging by the coffee cup in his hand, he’d been doing whatever he could to keep it that way.
“Will? This is Sam and Dean. They’re Kenny’s cousins,” his mother said, voice soft. Will’s eyes snapped up, zeroing in on them. Sam smiled slightly while Dean just raised an eyebrow. Sam fought the urge to step on his brother’s foot. He could at least try to look a bit more sympathetic or like he was grieving.
“I don’t remember Kenny having cousins named that.”
Dean shrugged. “Yeah, well, we were pretty close but it was pretty tough to keep in touch after we moved.” He figured they were lucky that Kenny even had cousins and that his parents hadn’t been only children.
“We just wanted to come talk, see how things had been going for Kenny since we talked to him last.” Even as he said it, Sam wondered why someone would want to do that. He shook his head, not seeing how knowing someone had been happy before they died brought closure. Wouldn’t it just make the survivors angrier that the dead hadn’t gotten the chance to continue being happy?
“He was good, I guess. He was Kenny, you know?” Will’s lips twitched, the corners turning up in a half smile. “Acting like a jackass and pulling pranks every chance he got.” He shakes his head, glancing back down at the table and even with so little words, Sam begins to get a picture of what Kenny Bedford had been like and he can’t help the almost automatic sympathy at the sight of this guy’s grief.
Despite that, it’s Dean that pulls out a chair and leans back in it as if he had been visiting that kitchen every single day of his life. “Yeah, Kenny sure did like his pranks.” His voice has a hint of amusement in it even as he shakes his head and apparently the movement is familiar to Will when discussing Kenny because he laughs a bit and looks back up.
“Yeah.” He paused as if unsure about what he was going to say next. “That’s…that’s what I thought it was. That night, I mean.”
Sam pulled out a chair as well, glancing back to find that Will’s mom had apparently left the room sometime during the conversation to give them some privacy. “What do you mean?” he asked.
“I heard Kenny and Mike. They were screaming and it sounded like…like they were fighting someone. But me and Tom just thought they were making fun of us. Because we hadn’t gone in the woods with them, you know?” He took a deep breath. “I mean, Tom was going to go and Mike was laughing at me because I thought it was a bad idea and Kenny was just being Kenny, acting all dramatic about it. I didn’t want to go so Mike told me to wait at the car, made some jackass comment about me being a girl and then Tom showed up, said he figured he’d keep me company.” He shifted in his seat. “And then we were at the car, we heard screams and we figured they were just messing with us because of the stories.”
Dean leaned forward, interest spiking. “What stories?”
“Local legend type thing. This guy and his friends went there to have some fun and when they were climbing up the side of the cliff, he fell and instead of helping him, his friends left him there.”
“Nice guys.”
Will shrugged. “Yeah. Anyway, story goes that the guy’s ghost haunts the place now, pissed off because his friends left him behind. There’s other stories, like about this dude and the railroad tracks, but this is the one that people seem to believe is real. Or more real. Whatever. Anyway, Mike and Kenny thought it’d be funny to go there, check it out and that’s why we were even there.”
“You didn’t want to be there?” Sam asked.
“Not really. I mean, I think the story’s bull but weird shit happens there sometimes.”
Sam nodded and gave him a small smile, thinking of the past few years when he’d tried so hard to forget that monsters under the bed were real and not just something you imagined as a kid. “Yeah, I get that.”
Dean glanced over sharply and then turned back to Will. “So if you thought they were just playing a joke, how come you didn’t go after them, give them some hell?”
“We figured it’d be funnier to let them sit out there and wonder if it was real. Make them come to us so we could laugh at Kenny because he’d probably crack first and ask what was taking us so long and Mike would start bitching about Kenny not being able to sit still.”
Now Dean nodded, understanding on his face as he grinned at Sam, thinking back on times he’d pulled something similar on a fifteen-year-old Sam, waiting just around the corner of a building while Sam wondered what was taking him so long in the bathroom.
Dean took pride in the fact that Sam almost always came looking for him.
Sam scowled, shooting a look at Dean that clearly meant Asshole, before turning back to Will, who was looking guiltier by the second.
“It wasn’t your fault. Kenny did crap like that all the time,” Sam assured him, all the while hoping that he wasn’t feeding this kid a bunch of lies and Kenny really was just a prankster at heart.
Whether it was true or not though, it seemed to ease Will’s mind a bit judging by the way he relaxed slightly. “Yeah.”
There was a few moments of silence and then Dean pushed back his chair, standing. “Thanks for talking to us, Will, but we’ve got to get going.” At the blank stare he got in response, Dean lifted a shoulder. “Told the family we wouldn’t be gone long.”
“Right. Um, well, thanks, I guess. For coming over and all that.”
Sam nodded as he stood. “Thanks for talking to us. It helped,” he said.
~*~
“All right, spit it out,” Dean ordered once they were outside. “You figured something out in there. What was it?”
“That story, the one about the kid getting left by his friends.”
“You think that’s the spirit or is this leading to some story from when we were kids and you wanted to go play football?”
“Soccer.”
“Whatever, dude, you get my point.”
Knowing exactly where this conversation was going to lead, Sam changed the subject. “I think that’s the spirit we’re dealing with. None of these killings have ever happened near the railroad tracks, they’re always over by the cliff.”
“Where his pals ditched him to go have some fun.”
Sam nodded. “Exactly.”
Which meant all they needed to know was the kid’s name. “Okay then. Let’s get back to the library and you can do your geek thing and find out his name.” Dean grinned. “And then, we’re salting and burning the bastard.”
“And then we’re getting dinner.”
“Yeah, I could go for some food.”
“I’m picking.”
Dean snorted as he got in the car. “Like hell you are. We’ll end up eating something weird like oats.”
Sam frowned. “Would not. And even if we did, there’s nothing wrong with eating health food.”
“And if I were a horse, oats would be just dandy, but I’m not so I’m picking and that means actual food.”
This time, Sam gave into the urge to roll his eyes and sat back, muttering about the fact that he got picked on just because he sometimes wanted a salad.
~*~
“Walter Criswell,” Sam read. “Age 18, went missing in the summer of ’72.” He groaned.
“Missing?” Dean looked up, a frown on his face. “You sure?”
“Says so right here. And there’s no articles saying that they found his body.”
“Shit.” Dean threw his pen on the table. “You realize what this means?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “We’ve got to go down there and find his bones on our own.”
Sighing, Sam reached over and closed out the article. “And we have to try not to start a complete forest fire while we’re at it.”
“Great.” Shaking his head, he stood up. “After this, I’m getting a drink. And possibly a brunette.”
Sam snorted as he cleared off the table. “Typical.”
~*~
“They couldn’t at least have reported him? This is such a pain in the ass,” Dean muttered as he and Sam continued to move down the slope, flashlights cutting through the dark. Sam figured it could have been worse. They could have had to try to actually climb down the side of the cliff rather than taking the path down.
That didn’t mean he couldn’t give Dean crap about it though.
“Like you’ve never gone rock climbing.”
Dean gave Sam one of his You can be such an idiot looks. “Yeah, that was always on my list of things to do. Exorcise demon, save girl, get thank you kiss, and then go take rock climbing lessons with Joe.”
“Whatever. Quit whining, Deanna.”
“Dude, you did not just call me that.”
Sam grinned. “You know, hearing is supposed to be one of the first things to go. Starting to show your age there, aren’t you?”
Dean kicked out, grinning in satisfaction when he connected with Sam’s leg. “Whatever, Samantha, I’m not the one who cries like a two-year-old at movies or when I see a clown.”
“Shut up.”
Dean’s grin grew. “Or at movies about clowns.”
“Shut up, Dean.”
“Hey, you want to rent IT after this?”
“Damn it, Dean!”
Laughing, Dean jumped the last few inches, avoiding the rocks. “You’re so easy.”
Sam shook his head as he jumped down. “You’re a jerk, you know that?”
“Privilege of being the older brother, Sammy. Deal with it.” He began scanning the rocks. “So…see any skeletons just laying around?”
“No, but if one jumps out and says ‘You found me!’ I’ll let you know.”
Dean’s lips twitched. “No need for sarcasm, little brother.”
Looking over, Sam grinned. “Are you kidding me? I’m related to you.”
“Meaning?”
“There’s always a need for sarcasm.”
Dean grinned and then turned to look back at the ground. “Yeah, yeah. Enough of this, let’s just find this dude and finish it. I’m thirsty.”
Shaking his head, Sam began to search as well, kicking rocks out of his way as he did so. “So why do you think he’s killing anyway?”
“Still pissed off at his friends, I guess.”
Sam nodded but frowned. “Still, makes you wonder how he picks his victims.”
That caused to Dean to pause before he shrugged and kept going. “He goes after people who remind him of his friends. Look at what happened to Mike and Kenny. They decided to leave Will behind and go on without him.”
“Like the way Walter’s friends did when he fell,” Sam said in understanding.
“Exactly. My guess? The only thing that saved Tom’s ass is that he decided to go back after Will. Otherwise, Wally would have gotten three instead of two.” He bent lower to the ground, brushing some leaves aside with the flashlight. “We may have to just torch this entire area.”
“I thought we were going to avoid a forest fire.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “Did I say we were going to do that? Didn’t they teach you anything in college, Sammy?”
“Excuse me if I fail to see how torching the area could be seen as anything other than starting a forest fire.”
Sighing, Dean straightened. “You do small areas at a time and that way you don’t have to worry about the fire getting completely out of control. Takes longer but it gets the job done.”
Sam glanced around. “Well, that might be our best bet but I’m going to look a little bit more. If we can do this in just one try, I’d rather do it that way.”
“Alright.” Dean shrugged and waved him on. “I’ll look over here then.”
Neither of them spoke as they continued the search. Sam sighed as he looked up and frowned. He glanced around and realized that he’d wandered way further than he’d meant to. “Crap,” he muttered, shifting his bag to his other shoulder. He turned to head back in the direction he’d come from and shouted in surprise.
Walter Criswell, he thought as he stared at what could only be described as a broken young man. What had once been skin was a raw, angry red and when he moved, Sam could hear the shift of bones that were no longer really there. This was definitely Walter Criswell, looking the way he must have after his fall.
And judging by the look on his face, he was pissed.
“Stay together,” he said, voice a half whisper, half growl.
Sam nodded, taking a deep breath as he tried to figure out how to get his shotgun out without making the spirit even angrier.
Dean was going to be pissed that he hadn’t taken it out when they’d separated.
Where the hell was Dean, anyway?
Mind racing, Sam figured that Dean was probably still back by the bottom of the cliff. It was more likely the bones would be near that area anyway because while they definitely wouldn’t be in the place Walter had landed years ago, he doubted that time had moved them too far over.
So really, Sam had two choices. He could stall and hope that Dean found the bones before Walter got too impatient or he could get the hell out of there and make a break in Dean’s direction.
The choice was taken from him when Walter lunged for him, digging fingers that were nothing more than sharp bones into his arms, and yanked him forward.
“Dean!”
He wasn’t even sure how loud that shout had been (and it was definitely a shout because he was a Winchester and Winchesters did not scream) but as he watched his bag go flying, he really hoped his brother had heard him.
He felt the tear of skin, the trickle of blood, and instinctively lashed out.
If he could be hurt, it was only logical that he could hurt it right back.
Of course, logic rarely factored in when it came to spirits and so Sam wasn’t surprised that his hand did nothing more than pass through Walter. He felt a surge of relief when that brought a bit of a reprieve, causing Walter to flicker and allowing him to start running again.
He swore when a now angrier looking Walter knocked him flat on his back. He’d been hoping to get farther before Walter pulled that reappearing trick. And this time there’s no denying that it’s a scream that’s ripped from him as those sharp bones cut easily through his shirt and into his chest.
Vaguely, he’s aware of pounding footsteps and knows that wherever Dean was, he’d heard him and was on his way.
“Hey, asshole.” Dean’s voice is deathly calm as he says it and above him, the spirit faltered.
Sam felt a sigh of relief building as the sound of a shotgun going off filled the air and suddenly Walter was gone and Dean was there.
“Thanks,” he groaned.
“You okay, Sammy?”
Sam grinned, hearing the concern beneath the forced calm, and nodded. “Yeah,” was all he said in response because he knew, spirit to get rid of or not, Dean would kill him if this became too emotional.
“Good.” That was all the warning he got before Dean smacked him in the back of his head. “Why the hell wasn’t your gun out already? Or at least in a place that was easy to get too?” he demanded, anger mixing with concern. “Damn it, Sam, he was ready to rip into you. Hell, he was ripping into you.” Dean paused. “Wait. Why the hell was he going after you?”
“Considering the only thing he said to me was ‘Stay together,’ I’m going to go with he thought I was leaving you behind since I’d wandered so far off.” The moment the words were out of his mouth, Sam had to stop himself from flinching. Leaving was still a sore subject between him and Dean and this wasn’t going to help matters.
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence and then Dean nodded. “Okay. I found his bones, so let’s get rid of this bastard.” Dean glanced at the spot where Walter’s spirit had been last and scowled as he pushed away the image of Sam on his back, skin tearing open.
That wasn’t going to ever happen again.
Sam didn’t say anything, just moved to grab his bag and then follow Dean. There wasn’t anything to say to that really. He wasn’t leaving again, no matter how much he may have once wanted to, and nothing he could say would convince his brother of that.
Time would.
“So where’d you find the bones?” he asked as they began to walk to an area about twelve feet from the bottom of the cliff.
“Buried beneath a bunch of leaves and crap. Found them scattered around there.” Dean motioned to the spot where he’d kicked the bones into a pile.
“Let’s do this and get out of here then.” Out of the corner of his eye, Sam saw Dean shoot him a concerned look before he turned to pull the salt out of the bag while Sam took out the gasoline. Silently they began to douse the bones in both.
There was a flicker to their right and Dean swore as Walter materialized and began to head straight for Sam. Why these things had such a hard on for his brother, he’d never know. “Here,” he said, handing the box of matches to Sam. “Finish it up.” Quickly he threw more salt on the bones and then moved around Sam, heading for Walter. “Hey, bitch, over here!” He smirked when the spirit turned towards him. “Yeah, I’m talking to you.” Behind him, he heard the strike of the match and then there was a flash of heat as the fire flared to life. He didn’t turn around, choosing to watch, as Walter seemed to sink in on himself with one last scream. “Let’s go get you patched up. No girl is going to want to go near you if we go to the bar with you looking like that.”
“What and that’d keep them from you then?”
Dean turned, cocky grin in place. “When are you going to learn, Sam? Nothing keeps them away from me.”
Sam snorted as they began the walk back up the path. “Unless they’re a waitress in Oklahoma.” He grinned. “You remember her, right? Wasn’t interested in you at all.”
With a wave of his hand, Dean dismissed the waitress entirely. “Please. I totally let you have her. You need to seriously work on your flirting skills and Midge or whatever was perfect for that.”
“Martha,” Sam corrected.
“Whatever, dude.”
There was a moment of silence and then, “Midge?”
“I knew a Midge once. It’s a name.”
Sam laughed. “Somehow, I don’t even want to know.” He shook his head at Dean who was getting a considering look on his face.
“Maybe I should look Midge up again, send her in your direction.” He raised an eyebrow. “Bet she could teach you a thing or two.”
“Do you ever think about anything else?”
“Sure, I do.”
“Yeah, right. Name one town we’ve gone where you haven’t hit on a girl.”
It was quiet for a bit and just when Sam was going to get very smug, Dean spoke. “Jericho.” His voice was quiet as he said it and Sam sucked in a breath as he remembered what Jericho had led to. He swallowed and then took a deep breath.
“I don’t know, I thought you were flirting with the missing guy’s girlfriend.”
Dean shot him a look. “Please. She was still in high school. I’ve got some boundaries. I didn’t hit on a single woman in Jericho. So there.”
“Real mature, Dean.”
“I know I am.”
All Sam could do was groan.
~*~
“Have fun last night?” Sam asked, grinning at the way Dean was squinting up at him from his bed.
“Yeah. You only wish you had as great a time as I did with Liz.” Now he grinned as he took a drink of coffee. “And I do mean great.”
Sam shook his head. “No words,” he muttered.
Dean didn’t respond, just grinned and stood up, stretching and heading into the bathroom. A moment later, the sound of the shower could be heard.
Still shaking his head, Sam turned to the laptop and began looking through various newspapers for signs of their next job.
More than twenty minutes later, Dean was coming out of the bathroom in boxers and heading for his bag to search for a pair of jeans. “Anything?”
“Other than the fact that you’re almost worse than a girl when it comes to showers?” Sam asked. “Yeah. Couple of unexplainable deaths in Albany. Looks like it might be our kind of thing.”
“Nothing wrong with appreciating a hot shower, Sam.” Dean pulled a shirt over his head. “Albany, huh? We better get going then.” As he finished getting ready, he glanced around the room, making sure there was nothing that was going to be left behind. “You packed?”
“Yeah, surprisingly it didn’t take me thirty minutes to pack.”
“You’re not going to throw a hissy fit about getting in the car again, are you?” Dean asked instead of answering. “Because I’m not listening to you bitch about possessed cars again. At all.”
Sam rolled his eyes as they grabbed their bags and headed to the car. “You never know, Dean. It could happen.”
Dean shook his head, giving Sam a look that said he was crazy as he slid into the driver’s seat. “When are you going to learn, Sam?”
“Learn what?”
He glanced over. “That when it comes to my baby, I’m always right.”
“Right.” Sam shook his head. “One of these days…”
“Yeah, you wish.”
~fin~
*Zombie Road and the stories related to it are real. All I made up was Walter and the killings.*
herowlness, the birthday fic I promised you forever and a day ago! LOL, it's my first SPN fic so if they're horribly out of character, I'm sorry. :)Hope you like it!
“I don’t know if this is such a good idea, Tom.” The young man looked behind him, clearly calculating how fast he could get back to the car.
“Come on, Will, you’re not serious, are you?” Tom glanced over at their other friends and then back at Will. “What are you worried about anyway?”
He shifted, kicking a rock and glancing around the woods. “It’s just…” He shrugged. “Haven’t you ever heard the rumors about this place?”
There was a burst of laughter and then Kenny threw himself to the ground dramatically. “You mean the ghost? Oh no, help me, Mike, the ghost is going to get me!”
“Stand up, jackass. Look, you guys coming or what? Because we’re going to keep going, whether you want to or not.” Mike grinned as they began walking again. “You can just sit and wait back at the car, like a good little girl,” he called back.
Swearing, Will sent a glare in the general direction of their backs and turned to head back to the car, muttering about what bastards his friends were to just leave him like this.
There was the crunch and snap of twigs behind him and he tensed for a minute, the ghost story running through his mind like a bad horror movie. Yeah, this was definitely the part where the schmuck who got left behind bit the dust.
Yay him.
“Man, come on, wait up.”
He paused and turned to see Tom running up behind him. “What’s up?”
The look he got in response as Tom slowed to a walk next to him said that he hadn’t asked that as casually as he’d hoped. “Don’t bullshit me, man. You’re pissed about all that crap that Mike said.” He shrugged and shifted uncomfortably. “Anyway, I figured I’d keep you company or whatever.”
“Yeah, okay.” Will nodded as they reached the car, each of them leaning against the side.
There was more uncomfortable silence as they each tried to come up with something decidedly manly to say until the sound of shouting ripped through the air. They listened as the shouts turned to high-pitched screams followed by the sounds of scraping and then silence.
Tom snorted and shook his head. “Lame joke,” he muttered.
“Yeah,” Will agreed, this time hoping his tone was relaxed instead of slightly freaked out. “Should’ve waited longer before starting up with that. More believable and all.”
“Nice try, assholes! Knock it off and let’s get out of here already,” Tom yelled. There was no response. He sighed. “They are not seriously trying to pull this off.”
“Maybe we should check it out.”
“And what? Have them jump on us as soon as we get close enough? Yeah, sure.” He shook his head. “I’d rather just let them sit out there, wondering if their joke is working.”
Will considered this and then nodded. “Yeah, that works for me. See how long it takes them to crack. You know it won’t take long before Kenny comes storming back here, complaining about how we didn’t even go check on him or whatever.”
“And Mike’ll be pissed because Kenny couldn’t wait just a little longer to come back.” Tom laughed, shaking his head. It was going to be a slightly predictable reaction but it was going to be so worth it to see the look on their faces.
They waited another ten minutes before they both began to look uneasy again. “They should have been back by now,” Will muttered, trying to hide his concern with annoyance. Tom nodded.
“Yeah.”
It’s an unspoken agreement that now is the time to go check on them, make sure they’re okay and then yell at them and maybe punch them a few times for actually getting them worried. But Will can’t help but swallow nervously as they walk through the woods, down the narrow path that Mike and Kenny had taken. He can’t stop jumping at small sounds, stupid sounds, like crickets chirping and he can’t help but wonder if all of this would be much better and normal if he had some alcohol in his system.
Next time. Yeah, next time he was going to get good and drunk before agreeing to go along with one of Kenny’s half-assed ideas.
Tom’s arm in front of him brings him out of his thoughts and he glances around confused at first until he realizes that they stopped because they had to. They’re at the edge, a sharp drop that leads to nothing but jagged rocks that probably hurt like hell.
Something tells him that they should just turn around right the hell now and not look back but it’s almost as if he’s drawn forward and the only thing that keeps him from sliding off the edge is Tom’s grip. Tom’s pale, as if he realizes that the only place left for Mike and Kenny to have gone is down and Will doesn’t want to think of that or of the fact that unless you were looking for it, the drop seemed to come out of nowhere.
“Will,” Tom starts but Will shakes his head. He has to know and so he moves closer to the edge and peers down.
Tom doesn’t have to ask what he sees. He knows when Will turns his head and promptly gets sick.
“Sam, you are going to do two things. You’re going to take that back and then you are getting in the car.” Dean lovingly patted the roof of the Impala as if that would get Sam moving faster.
“I am not getting in that car,” Sam said.
Dean looked like Sam had shot him. Again.
“Get in the car, Sammy.”
“It’s Sam,” was the automatic response. “And I’m not getting in that car. It’s possessed.”
This time Dean almost growled. “My car is not possessed.”
“The engine revved.”
The look Dean gave him when he said that clearly told him that Dean thought he had the mental capacity of a two-year-old. “You’ve got to be kidding me. That’s it? That’s your proof? Spare me.”
“We weren’t even in the car!”
“I am seriously regretting ever letting you watch Christine,” Dean muttered.
This time Sam decided to try for reasonable logic. “Look at what we do, Dean. You can’t tell me that the idea of a car getting possessed is crazy.”
“No. The idea of my car getting possessed is crazy.”
Sam managed, just barely, to keep from sighing. He shook his head instead. It was impossible to talk to Dean when it came to his car.
He’d probably have more luck in getting Dean to talk about his feelings than getting him to admit something might be wrong with the Impala.
This was almost as bad as the time he’d said the engine was starting to sound funny.
And okay, so he’d been wrong about the engine but that didn’t mean he was wrong about this.
“If you’re so sure, let me test it.” He held up a bottle of holy water and rolled his eyes at the look of pure dismay on his brother’s face at the mere suggestion. “Dean, it’s just holy water.”
Dean moved to lean protectively against the hood. “You’re not pouring water on the seats.” He crossed his arms over his chest.
“Okay, first, I never said anything about the seats. I can just as easily put water on the hood or something. And second, you do remember that it is just a car, right?” he asked.
Going by the look on Dean’s face, Sam had just committed blasphemy. He frowned as he looked down and stroked a hand over the hood as if comforting the car. “Don’t you listen to him, baby. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
“Tell me I did not just hear that,” Sam muttered to himself. He stared at Dean, who only raised an eyebrow, and sighed. “You’re such a freak.”
“Excuse me? You have a love affair with books, Sammy. Books. At least mine’s a car.”
It was Sam’s turn to look offended. “There’s nothing wrong with books.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my car, either,” Dean said, voice smug. Sam shot him a dirty look and before he could do anything else, Sam had opened the lid of the holy water and tossed a few drops on the hood.
“Hey,” Dean started, pushing away from the car. Sam waved him off and looked down to see the reaction the holy water had caused.
Nothing happened.
Sam frowned as Dean glared at him wiping the water off the hood. “Huh,” he said.
“Are you satisfied now you paranoid giant?” Dean demanded. Sam scowled at him and walked to the passenger side of the car, climbing in silently. Dean shook his head and went back to the driver’s side, shutting the door behind him. There was a few more moments of silence and then,
“If this car finds someway to strangle me or something the next time you get out of the car, I am so haunting your ass for the rest of your life.”
Dean snorted. “Sure you will, Sammy.”
The next day found them in Missouri with Dean complaining about the fact that he hadn’t been able to make as much money at the pool hall and Sam searching through old newspaper articles about the area that was apparently called Zombie Road. Which, of course, was something else that Dean felt the need to share his opinion about.
“Dude, do you think it was named that because zombies are the ones behind the killings?” Dean couldn’t quite hide the bit of glee in his voice at the prospect of getting to go after a zombie and Sam smiled, shaking his head. His brother had a strange fascination when it came to zombies, as in he’d always wanted to kill one. And while he knew Dean didn’t like the idea of anyone having to die before their attention was drawn to the area he could practically see the energy rolling off him in waves.
“You think you could calm down?” he whispered, glancing around. Dean made a face.
“Relax. I’m not going to do a table dance in the middle of the library.” He grinned. “But if I did, I bet that chick over there would be all over me.”
All Sam could do was roll his eyes and turn back to the newspapers.
Really, there were just no words to describe the weirdness that was his brother.
Dean’s snort interrupted his thoughts and he looked up with a frown. “What?”
“You’re weirder.”
“I said that out loud?” Sam asked, blinking. When Dean smirked, Sam smiled and shook his head. “Whatever, doesn’t matter. It’s true.”
“What, that you’re weirder? Yeah, Sammy, that’s a given.”
“It’s Sam.”
“Yeah, sure.”
Normally, this would be the part where Sam rolled his eyes—a reaction that just came naturally around Dean—and muttered something that would cause more sarcasm to come flying out of Dean’s mouth. But this time, Sam was distracted as he read another article on yet another set of killings and something clicked with him.
“I found the connection.”
Dean leaned forward, all traces of joking gone, and began to scan the article even as he spoke. “And that would be?”
“The victims and the survivors.” He slid over so Dean could get a better look at the article. “It’s always a group of guys, something happens and a few of them end up dead.”
“Same deal for each of them?”
“Over the edge, looking like they’re missing some skin, bodies completely broken.”
Dean frowned. “Missing skin? Something important about that or no?” He glanced over as Sam shook his head.
“Doesn’t look like it. I think whatever is doing this just adds that in for some entertainment.”
“Or because it’s pissed off about something they do and that’s their punishment.”
Sam let out a breath, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah.”
“Hey, Sam,” Dean said, still studying the article as if it held the answers to everything, “What’s the earliest killing like this?”
“Earliest killing where someone ends up broken and skinless?” Sam pushed Dean over, scooting forward to go back to the archives. “1973.”
“Anything big happen in that area earlier in the year? Like a murder?”
Even as Sam checked to be sure he was shaking his head. “Not that I remember seeing. You think we’re dealing with an angry spirit?” he asked. Dean shrugged.
“Couldn’t hurt to check. Who were the survivors this time around?”
“Will Graham and Tom Kirkwood.”
Nodding, Dean stood. “Well then, what do you say we pay Will and Tom a visit, see what they know?”
It was almost ridiculous how easily they always managed to talk their way into people’s houses and Dean had to fight not to snort at Sam. Seriously, he’d been going into the wrong profession by going for law school. Little brother had the psychiatrist’s voice down pat.
Still, even the sympathetic voice wouldn’t have been enough to get them in but then a slow grin had crossed over Dean’s face as Sam smiled a bit sheepishly and suddenly Will Graham’s mom was opening the door all the way and ushering them inside, saying that cousins of Kenny’s were welcome and she was so sorry for their loss.
“Will’s in the other room,” she explained. “He’s been feeling just horrible ever since he and Tom found…” She glanced away, letting the sentence trail off.
“If this is a bad time, we can come back later,” Sam offered, ignoring the frown he was getting from Dean.
She shook her head. “That’s sweet of you, really, but I don’t think it’ll get much better anytime soon. And I think it might help him to talk to you.” She turned to lead them into the other room as Dean smirked at Sam.
“You’re so sweet, Sammy,” he whispered. Sam made a face and reached out, smacking Dean in the head.
“Shut up,” he muttered as they entered the kitchen.
That Will Graham was feeling horrible was an understatement if his looks were anything to go by. He looked like he hadn’t been sleeping all that well and judging by the coffee cup in his hand, he’d been doing whatever he could to keep it that way.
“Will? This is Sam and Dean. They’re Kenny’s cousins,” his mother said, voice soft. Will’s eyes snapped up, zeroing in on them. Sam smiled slightly while Dean just raised an eyebrow. Sam fought the urge to step on his brother’s foot. He could at least try to look a bit more sympathetic or like he was grieving.
“I don’t remember Kenny having cousins named that.”
Dean shrugged. “Yeah, well, we were pretty close but it was pretty tough to keep in touch after we moved.” He figured they were lucky that Kenny even had cousins and that his parents hadn’t been only children.
“We just wanted to come talk, see how things had been going for Kenny since we talked to him last.” Even as he said it, Sam wondered why someone would want to do that. He shook his head, not seeing how knowing someone had been happy before they died brought closure. Wouldn’t it just make the survivors angrier that the dead hadn’t gotten the chance to continue being happy?
“He was good, I guess. He was Kenny, you know?” Will’s lips twitched, the corners turning up in a half smile. “Acting like a jackass and pulling pranks every chance he got.” He shakes his head, glancing back down at the table and even with so little words, Sam begins to get a picture of what Kenny Bedford had been like and he can’t help the almost automatic sympathy at the sight of this guy’s grief.
Despite that, it’s Dean that pulls out a chair and leans back in it as if he had been visiting that kitchen every single day of his life. “Yeah, Kenny sure did like his pranks.” His voice has a hint of amusement in it even as he shakes his head and apparently the movement is familiar to Will when discussing Kenny because he laughs a bit and looks back up.
“Yeah.” He paused as if unsure about what he was going to say next. “That’s…that’s what I thought it was. That night, I mean.”
Sam pulled out a chair as well, glancing back to find that Will’s mom had apparently left the room sometime during the conversation to give them some privacy. “What do you mean?” he asked.
“I heard Kenny and Mike. They were screaming and it sounded like…like they were fighting someone. But me and Tom just thought they were making fun of us. Because we hadn’t gone in the woods with them, you know?” He took a deep breath. “I mean, Tom was going to go and Mike was laughing at me because I thought it was a bad idea and Kenny was just being Kenny, acting all dramatic about it. I didn’t want to go so Mike told me to wait at the car, made some jackass comment about me being a girl and then Tom showed up, said he figured he’d keep me company.” He shifted in his seat. “And then we were at the car, we heard screams and we figured they were just messing with us because of the stories.”
Dean leaned forward, interest spiking. “What stories?”
“Local legend type thing. This guy and his friends went there to have some fun and when they were climbing up the side of the cliff, he fell and instead of helping him, his friends left him there.”
“Nice guys.”
Will shrugged. “Yeah. Anyway, story goes that the guy’s ghost haunts the place now, pissed off because his friends left him behind. There’s other stories, like about this dude and the railroad tracks, but this is the one that people seem to believe is real. Or more real. Whatever. Anyway, Mike and Kenny thought it’d be funny to go there, check it out and that’s why we were even there.”
“You didn’t want to be there?” Sam asked.
“Not really. I mean, I think the story’s bull but weird shit happens there sometimes.”
Sam nodded and gave him a small smile, thinking of the past few years when he’d tried so hard to forget that monsters under the bed were real and not just something you imagined as a kid. “Yeah, I get that.”
Dean glanced over sharply and then turned back to Will. “So if you thought they were just playing a joke, how come you didn’t go after them, give them some hell?”
“We figured it’d be funnier to let them sit out there and wonder if it was real. Make them come to us so we could laugh at Kenny because he’d probably crack first and ask what was taking us so long and Mike would start bitching about Kenny not being able to sit still.”
Now Dean nodded, understanding on his face as he grinned at Sam, thinking back on times he’d pulled something similar on a fifteen-year-old Sam, waiting just around the corner of a building while Sam wondered what was taking him so long in the bathroom.
Dean took pride in the fact that Sam almost always came looking for him.
Sam scowled, shooting a look at Dean that clearly meant Asshole, before turning back to Will, who was looking guiltier by the second.
“It wasn’t your fault. Kenny did crap like that all the time,” Sam assured him, all the while hoping that he wasn’t feeding this kid a bunch of lies and Kenny really was just a prankster at heart.
Whether it was true or not though, it seemed to ease Will’s mind a bit judging by the way he relaxed slightly. “Yeah.”
There was a few moments of silence and then Dean pushed back his chair, standing. “Thanks for talking to us, Will, but we’ve got to get going.” At the blank stare he got in response, Dean lifted a shoulder. “Told the family we wouldn’t be gone long.”
“Right. Um, well, thanks, I guess. For coming over and all that.”
Sam nodded as he stood. “Thanks for talking to us. It helped,” he said.
“All right, spit it out,” Dean ordered once they were outside. “You figured something out in there. What was it?”
“That story, the one about the kid getting left by his friends.”
“You think that’s the spirit or is this leading to some story from when we were kids and you wanted to go play football?”
“Soccer.”
“Whatever, dude, you get my point.”
Knowing exactly where this conversation was going to lead, Sam changed the subject. “I think that’s the spirit we’re dealing with. None of these killings have ever happened near the railroad tracks, they’re always over by the cliff.”
“Where his pals ditched him to go have some fun.”
Sam nodded. “Exactly.”
Which meant all they needed to know was the kid’s name. “Okay then. Let’s get back to the library and you can do your geek thing and find out his name.” Dean grinned. “And then, we’re salting and burning the bastard.”
“And then we’re getting dinner.”
“Yeah, I could go for some food.”
“I’m picking.”
Dean snorted as he got in the car. “Like hell you are. We’ll end up eating something weird like oats.”
Sam frowned. “Would not. And even if we did, there’s nothing wrong with eating health food.”
“And if I were a horse, oats would be just dandy, but I’m not so I’m picking and that means actual food.”
This time, Sam gave into the urge to roll his eyes and sat back, muttering about the fact that he got picked on just because he sometimes wanted a salad.
“Walter Criswell,” Sam read. “Age 18, went missing in the summer of ’72.” He groaned.
“Missing?” Dean looked up, a frown on his face. “You sure?”
“Says so right here. And there’s no articles saying that they found his body.”
“Shit.” Dean threw his pen on the table. “You realize what this means?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “We’ve got to go down there and find his bones on our own.”
Sighing, Sam reached over and closed out the article. “And we have to try not to start a complete forest fire while we’re at it.”
“Great.” Shaking his head, he stood up. “After this, I’m getting a drink. And possibly a brunette.”
Sam snorted as he cleared off the table. “Typical.”
“They couldn’t at least have reported him? This is such a pain in the ass,” Dean muttered as he and Sam continued to move down the slope, flashlights cutting through the dark. Sam figured it could have been worse. They could have had to try to actually climb down the side of the cliff rather than taking the path down.
That didn’t mean he couldn’t give Dean crap about it though.
“Like you’ve never gone rock climbing.”
Dean gave Sam one of his You can be such an idiot looks. “Yeah, that was always on my list of things to do. Exorcise demon, save girl, get thank you kiss, and then go take rock climbing lessons with Joe.”
“Whatever. Quit whining, Deanna.”
“Dude, you did not just call me that.”
Sam grinned. “You know, hearing is supposed to be one of the first things to go. Starting to show your age there, aren’t you?”
Dean kicked out, grinning in satisfaction when he connected with Sam’s leg. “Whatever, Samantha, I’m not the one who cries like a two-year-old at movies or when I see a clown.”
“Shut up.”
Dean’s grin grew. “Or at movies about clowns.”
“Shut up, Dean.”
“Hey, you want to rent IT after this?”
“Damn it, Dean!”
Laughing, Dean jumped the last few inches, avoiding the rocks. “You’re so easy.”
Sam shook his head as he jumped down. “You’re a jerk, you know that?”
“Privilege of being the older brother, Sammy. Deal with it.” He began scanning the rocks. “So…see any skeletons just laying around?”
“No, but if one jumps out and says ‘You found me!’ I’ll let you know.”
Dean’s lips twitched. “No need for sarcasm, little brother.”
Looking over, Sam grinned. “Are you kidding me? I’m related to you.”
“Meaning?”
“There’s always a need for sarcasm.”
Dean grinned and then turned to look back at the ground. “Yeah, yeah. Enough of this, let’s just find this dude and finish it. I’m thirsty.”
Shaking his head, Sam began to search as well, kicking rocks out of his way as he did so. “So why do you think he’s killing anyway?”
“Still pissed off at his friends, I guess.”
Sam nodded but frowned. “Still, makes you wonder how he picks his victims.”
That caused to Dean to pause before he shrugged and kept going. “He goes after people who remind him of his friends. Look at what happened to Mike and Kenny. They decided to leave Will behind and go on without him.”
“Like the way Walter’s friends did when he fell,” Sam said in understanding.
“Exactly. My guess? The only thing that saved Tom’s ass is that he decided to go back after Will. Otherwise, Wally would have gotten three instead of two.” He bent lower to the ground, brushing some leaves aside with the flashlight. “We may have to just torch this entire area.”
“I thought we were going to avoid a forest fire.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “Did I say we were going to do that? Didn’t they teach you anything in college, Sammy?”
“Excuse me if I fail to see how torching the area could be seen as anything other than starting a forest fire.”
Sighing, Dean straightened. “You do small areas at a time and that way you don’t have to worry about the fire getting completely out of control. Takes longer but it gets the job done.”
Sam glanced around. “Well, that might be our best bet but I’m going to look a little bit more. If we can do this in just one try, I’d rather do it that way.”
“Alright.” Dean shrugged and waved him on. “I’ll look over here then.”
Neither of them spoke as they continued the search. Sam sighed as he looked up and frowned. He glanced around and realized that he’d wandered way further than he’d meant to. “Crap,” he muttered, shifting his bag to his other shoulder. He turned to head back in the direction he’d come from and shouted in surprise.
Walter Criswell, he thought as he stared at what could only be described as a broken young man. What had once been skin was a raw, angry red and when he moved, Sam could hear the shift of bones that were no longer really there. This was definitely Walter Criswell, looking the way he must have after his fall.
And judging by the look on his face, he was pissed.
“Stay together,” he said, voice a half whisper, half growl.
Sam nodded, taking a deep breath as he tried to figure out how to get his shotgun out without making the spirit even angrier.
Dean was going to be pissed that he hadn’t taken it out when they’d separated.
Where the hell was Dean, anyway?
Mind racing, Sam figured that Dean was probably still back by the bottom of the cliff. It was more likely the bones would be near that area anyway because while they definitely wouldn’t be in the place Walter had landed years ago, he doubted that time had moved them too far over.
So really, Sam had two choices. He could stall and hope that Dean found the bones before Walter got too impatient or he could get the hell out of there and make a break in Dean’s direction.
The choice was taken from him when Walter lunged for him, digging fingers that were nothing more than sharp bones into his arms, and yanked him forward.
“Dean!”
He wasn’t even sure how loud that shout had been (and it was definitely a shout because he was a Winchester and Winchesters did not scream) but as he watched his bag go flying, he really hoped his brother had heard him.
He felt the tear of skin, the trickle of blood, and instinctively lashed out.
If he could be hurt, it was only logical that he could hurt it right back.
Of course, logic rarely factored in when it came to spirits and so Sam wasn’t surprised that his hand did nothing more than pass through Walter. He felt a surge of relief when that brought a bit of a reprieve, causing Walter to flicker and allowing him to start running again.
He swore when a now angrier looking Walter knocked him flat on his back. He’d been hoping to get farther before Walter pulled that reappearing trick. And this time there’s no denying that it’s a scream that’s ripped from him as those sharp bones cut easily through his shirt and into his chest.
Vaguely, he’s aware of pounding footsteps and knows that wherever Dean was, he’d heard him and was on his way.
“Hey, asshole.” Dean’s voice is deathly calm as he says it and above him, the spirit faltered.
Sam felt a sigh of relief building as the sound of a shotgun going off filled the air and suddenly Walter was gone and Dean was there.
“Thanks,” he groaned.
“You okay, Sammy?”
Sam grinned, hearing the concern beneath the forced calm, and nodded. “Yeah,” was all he said in response because he knew, spirit to get rid of or not, Dean would kill him if this became too emotional.
“Good.” That was all the warning he got before Dean smacked him in the back of his head. “Why the hell wasn’t your gun out already? Or at least in a place that was easy to get too?” he demanded, anger mixing with concern. “Damn it, Sam, he was ready to rip into you. Hell, he was ripping into you.” Dean paused. “Wait. Why the hell was he going after you?”
“Considering the only thing he said to me was ‘Stay together,’ I’m going to go with he thought I was leaving you behind since I’d wandered so far off.” The moment the words were out of his mouth, Sam had to stop himself from flinching. Leaving was still a sore subject between him and Dean and this wasn’t going to help matters.
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence and then Dean nodded. “Okay. I found his bones, so let’s get rid of this bastard.” Dean glanced at the spot where Walter’s spirit had been last and scowled as he pushed away the image of Sam on his back, skin tearing open.
That wasn’t going to ever happen again.
Sam didn’t say anything, just moved to grab his bag and then follow Dean. There wasn’t anything to say to that really. He wasn’t leaving again, no matter how much he may have once wanted to, and nothing he could say would convince his brother of that.
Time would.
“So where’d you find the bones?” he asked as they began to walk to an area about twelve feet from the bottom of the cliff.
“Buried beneath a bunch of leaves and crap. Found them scattered around there.” Dean motioned to the spot where he’d kicked the bones into a pile.
“Let’s do this and get out of here then.” Out of the corner of his eye, Sam saw Dean shoot him a concerned look before he turned to pull the salt out of the bag while Sam took out the gasoline. Silently they began to douse the bones in both.
There was a flicker to their right and Dean swore as Walter materialized and began to head straight for Sam. Why these things had such a hard on for his brother, he’d never know. “Here,” he said, handing the box of matches to Sam. “Finish it up.” Quickly he threw more salt on the bones and then moved around Sam, heading for Walter. “Hey, bitch, over here!” He smirked when the spirit turned towards him. “Yeah, I’m talking to you.” Behind him, he heard the strike of the match and then there was a flash of heat as the fire flared to life. He didn’t turn around, choosing to watch, as Walter seemed to sink in on himself with one last scream. “Let’s go get you patched up. No girl is going to want to go near you if we go to the bar with you looking like that.”
“What and that’d keep them from you then?”
Dean turned, cocky grin in place. “When are you going to learn, Sam? Nothing keeps them away from me.”
Sam snorted as they began the walk back up the path. “Unless they’re a waitress in Oklahoma.” He grinned. “You remember her, right? Wasn’t interested in you at all.”
With a wave of his hand, Dean dismissed the waitress entirely. “Please. I totally let you have her. You need to seriously work on your flirting skills and Midge or whatever was perfect for that.”
“Martha,” Sam corrected.
“Whatever, dude.”
There was a moment of silence and then, “Midge?”
“I knew a Midge once. It’s a name.”
Sam laughed. “Somehow, I don’t even want to know.” He shook his head at Dean who was getting a considering look on his face.
“Maybe I should look Midge up again, send her in your direction.” He raised an eyebrow. “Bet she could teach you a thing or two.”
“Do you ever think about anything else?”
“Sure, I do.”
“Yeah, right. Name one town we’ve gone where you haven’t hit on a girl.”
It was quiet for a bit and just when Sam was going to get very smug, Dean spoke. “Jericho.” His voice was quiet as he said it and Sam sucked in a breath as he remembered what Jericho had led to. He swallowed and then took a deep breath.
“I don’t know, I thought you were flirting with the missing guy’s girlfriend.”
Dean shot him a look. “Please. She was still in high school. I’ve got some boundaries. I didn’t hit on a single woman in Jericho. So there.”
“Real mature, Dean.”
“I know I am.”
All Sam could do was groan.
“Have fun last night?” Sam asked, grinning at the way Dean was squinting up at him from his bed.
“Yeah. You only wish you had as great a time as I did with Liz.” Now he grinned as he took a drink of coffee. “And I do mean great.”
Sam shook his head. “No words,” he muttered.
Dean didn’t respond, just grinned and stood up, stretching and heading into the bathroom. A moment later, the sound of the shower could be heard.
Still shaking his head, Sam turned to the laptop and began looking through various newspapers for signs of their next job.
More than twenty minutes later, Dean was coming out of the bathroom in boxers and heading for his bag to search for a pair of jeans. “Anything?”
“Other than the fact that you’re almost worse than a girl when it comes to showers?” Sam asked. “Yeah. Couple of unexplainable deaths in Albany. Looks like it might be our kind of thing.”
“Nothing wrong with appreciating a hot shower, Sam.” Dean pulled a shirt over his head. “Albany, huh? We better get going then.” As he finished getting ready, he glanced around the room, making sure there was nothing that was going to be left behind. “You packed?”
“Yeah, surprisingly it didn’t take me thirty minutes to pack.”
“You’re not going to throw a hissy fit about getting in the car again, are you?” Dean asked instead of answering. “Because I’m not listening to you bitch about possessed cars again. At all.”
Sam rolled his eyes as they grabbed their bags and headed to the car. “You never know, Dean. It could happen.”
Dean shook his head, giving Sam a look that said he was crazy as he slid into the driver’s seat. “When are you going to learn, Sam?”
“Learn what?”
He glanced over. “That when it comes to my baby, I’m always right.”
“Right.” Sam shook his head. “One of these days…”
“Yeah, you wish.”
~fin~
*Zombie Road and the stories related to it are real. All I made up was Walter and the killings.*
