Winfair Elementary School let out at 3:30 pm, and it was 3:15. I tapped my pencil impatiently...
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Youngest Winchester
- Thread starter Gendie07
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Adam 1
Gendie07
Not too sore, are you?
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Winfair Elementary School let out at 3:30 pm, and it was 3:15. I tapped my pencil impatiently, wishing that minute hand on the clock would move faster so I didn't have to keep listening to the teacher about grammar, something about prefixes. God, being a kid again was so boring.
Looking at the clock again, I noticed that the hand that counted seconds was being particularly slow, and with a sigh of frustration, I looked out the window, to my left. There wasn't much to see, just a typical green lawn, the road called 6th avenue, and a neighborhood of houses on the other side, obscured by trees. Minnesota was mostly a flat place, with little variation in the surroundings, and little room for a view.
In my past life, I had lived in Albuquerque, New Mexico, a place that had mountains, and sat in a rift valley. Here in Windom, Minnesota, it was flat. Really flat.
Oh well, at least it wasn't the deep south, where the vegetation was so thick it was claustrophobic for people used to wide open spaces.
I glanced at the clock again. A minute had passed, and the teacher was still droning on about prefixes.
Funny thing, this new life I had found myself in: when I had first woken up at the age of three, I simply thought that I had time traveled to the past, and was living a different life than my original one. My name was Adam Milligan, and I didn't realize the significance of that for many years, not until four years later when I had found an old, faded photo of a man, a man that seemed vaguely familiar to me, but I just couldn't put my finger on why.
I had found the photo while helping my new mother, Kate Milligan, reorganize her home office. When I had asked her who the person in the photo was, she had spoken a name that chilled me to the bone: John Winchester.
At that moment, all of the pieces of the puzzle had come together, and I realized the significance of who I was and where I was.
I was the kid that had gotten mauled by monsters called ghouls in the TV show, and I was in the supernatural universe, the universe of a horror show that had gone on for over a decade.
I glanced at the clock again. There was five minutes left until the end of day bell rang. The teacher, who's name I hadn't bothered to learn cause I had larger concerns, had finished talking about prefixes and was now handing out homework sheets. It was the third grade, the last year I would attend Winfair, and almost my birthday. I would be turning nine in a few weeks.
I wasn't planning on having a birthday party, as I hadn't bothered to befriend anyone at the school, as they were children, and I wasn't particularly fond of children. I was known as the loner boy, the guy who spent lunch reading books on supernatural lore (whatever I could find at the local library), and spent recess running laps around the playground. The adults probably thought I was weird, and the children avoided me, I had no idea why.
I didn't mind, though. Less time spend dealing with children meant more time to spend on my interests.
The bell finally rang, and I instantly jumped up, packing away the homework sheet in my bag and dashing out of the room before the teacher could say another word. It was Thursday, and we had tomorrow and Monday off this week cause of labor day next week.
I was glad to have a long weekend, cause I planned to use it constructively. I planned to nag mom about dad all weekend, so that by the time labor day rolls around, she'll want to call him just to get me off her case.
I stepped out of the school doors, and walked down the paved pathway to 6th avenue, before coming to a halt on the sidewalk. Go home, or go to the library? I thought for a moment, and recalled that mom had said she was working a late shift tonight, so she wouldn't be home. Home was only a short walk from the school, so I had no problem getting there on my own.
I was itching to go to the library first though, even though it was a longer walk away. Mom preferred that I did my homework as soon as I got home, but it was a four day weekend, I had plenty of time.
Destination decided, I turned south, walking down 6th ave. To get to the library, I had to go down to 10th street, make a left, then make a right at 4th ave.
When I had finally figured out where and when I was, I decided right then and there that I wasn't going to be helpless. After all, I didn't want to get mauled by a ghoul like in the show. I didn't know if I was the right kind of person to be a hunter, but I suspected that I may have to become one, in the end, if only to protect myself.
The thing was, the Ghouls were the least of my problems. My real problem was Michael. I wasn't really interested in becoming a meat suit for some douche-bag arch-angel, and I definitely wasn't interested in being tortured by said douche-bag arch-angel's sycophants into saying yes.
The thing was, to become a hunter, I needed training, and there was only one person who could realistically provide that training, and that was John Winchester.
However, it wasn't just enough to call up John Winchester and ask him to train me. No, I had to show him I had the potential to be a hunter. To that end, I had asked Mom to sign me up for martial arts training, and started taking morning runs around our block. In my spare time when I wasn't at martial arts training, or at school, I was at the library looking up lore on monsters, demons, ghosts, angels, you name it.
Fortunately, I had discovered that the Masquerade was surprisingly porous, as much of the lore I had looked up in the local library seemed to match up with what I remembered about the show.
Now, a year later, I felt I was ready. A year studying mixed martial arts didn't really mean much, but what really mattered was that I had made the effort, that I was willing to improve myself. And the reading about mythology and monsters? Meant to plant the idea in his head that I was trainable.
Then, all I would have to do is ask him what he did for a living. If he lied, I could call him out on it. And if he told the truth…
I suspected it wouldn't take much to convince him that once a Winchester, always a Winchester.
Looking at the clock again, I noticed that the hand that counted seconds was being particularly slow, and with a sigh of frustration, I looked out the window, to my left. There wasn't much to see, just a typical green lawn, the road called 6th avenue, and a neighborhood of houses on the other side, obscured by trees. Minnesota was mostly a flat place, with little variation in the surroundings, and little room for a view.
In my past life, I had lived in Albuquerque, New Mexico, a place that had mountains, and sat in a rift valley. Here in Windom, Minnesota, it was flat. Really flat.
Oh well, at least it wasn't the deep south, where the vegetation was so thick it was claustrophobic for people used to wide open spaces.
I glanced at the clock again. A minute had passed, and the teacher was still droning on about prefixes.
Funny thing, this new life I had found myself in: when I had first woken up at the age of three, I simply thought that I had time traveled to the past, and was living a different life than my original one. My name was Adam Milligan, and I didn't realize the significance of that for many years, not until four years later when I had found an old, faded photo of a man, a man that seemed vaguely familiar to me, but I just couldn't put my finger on why.
I had found the photo while helping my new mother, Kate Milligan, reorganize her home office. When I had asked her who the person in the photo was, she had spoken a name that chilled me to the bone: John Winchester.
At that moment, all of the pieces of the puzzle had come together, and I realized the significance of who I was and where I was.
I was the kid that had gotten mauled by monsters called ghouls in the TV show, and I was in the supernatural universe, the universe of a horror show that had gone on for over a decade.
I glanced at the clock again. There was five minutes left until the end of day bell rang. The teacher, who's name I hadn't bothered to learn cause I had larger concerns, had finished talking about prefixes and was now handing out homework sheets. It was the third grade, the last year I would attend Winfair, and almost my birthday. I would be turning nine in a few weeks.
I wasn't planning on having a birthday party, as I hadn't bothered to befriend anyone at the school, as they were children, and I wasn't particularly fond of children. I was known as the loner boy, the guy who spent lunch reading books on supernatural lore (whatever I could find at the local library), and spent recess running laps around the playground. The adults probably thought I was weird, and the children avoided me, I had no idea why.
I didn't mind, though. Less time spend dealing with children meant more time to spend on my interests.
The bell finally rang, and I instantly jumped up, packing away the homework sheet in my bag and dashing out of the room before the teacher could say another word. It was Thursday, and we had tomorrow and Monday off this week cause of labor day next week.
I was glad to have a long weekend, cause I planned to use it constructively. I planned to nag mom about dad all weekend, so that by the time labor day rolls around, she'll want to call him just to get me off her case.
I stepped out of the school doors, and walked down the paved pathway to 6th avenue, before coming to a halt on the sidewalk. Go home, or go to the library? I thought for a moment, and recalled that mom had said she was working a late shift tonight, so she wouldn't be home. Home was only a short walk from the school, so I had no problem getting there on my own.
I was itching to go to the library first though, even though it was a longer walk away. Mom preferred that I did my homework as soon as I got home, but it was a four day weekend, I had plenty of time.
Destination decided, I turned south, walking down 6th ave. To get to the library, I had to go down to 10th street, make a left, then make a right at 4th ave.
When I had finally figured out where and when I was, I decided right then and there that I wasn't going to be helpless. After all, I didn't want to get mauled by a ghoul like in the show. I didn't know if I was the right kind of person to be a hunter, but I suspected that I may have to become one, in the end, if only to protect myself.
The thing was, the Ghouls were the least of my problems. My real problem was Michael. I wasn't really interested in becoming a meat suit for some douche-bag arch-angel, and I definitely wasn't interested in being tortured by said douche-bag arch-angel's sycophants into saying yes.
The thing was, to become a hunter, I needed training, and there was only one person who could realistically provide that training, and that was John Winchester.
However, it wasn't just enough to call up John Winchester and ask him to train me. No, I had to show him I had the potential to be a hunter. To that end, I had asked Mom to sign me up for martial arts training, and started taking morning runs around our block. In my spare time when I wasn't at martial arts training, or at school, I was at the library looking up lore on monsters, demons, ghosts, angels, you name it.
Fortunately, I had discovered that the Masquerade was surprisingly porous, as much of the lore I had looked up in the local library seemed to match up with what I remembered about the show.
Now, a year later, I felt I was ready. A year studying mixed martial arts didn't really mean much, but what really mattered was that I had made the effort, that I was willing to improve myself. And the reading about mythology and monsters? Meant to plant the idea in his head that I was trainable.
Then, all I would have to do is ask him what he did for a living. If he lied, I could call him out on it. And if he told the truth…
I suspected it wouldn't take much to convince him that once a Winchester, always a Winchester.
John 1
Gendie07
Not too sore, are you?
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He's wrapping up a hunt when he gets the call. A pyre was burning a werewolf that he and Dean had just killed when when his hunter cell phone goes off, the phone with the number he's had since cellphones where a thing. On the screen he sees an unknown number.
"This is John Winchester," he states after he flips it open and holds it up to his ear.
"John?" said a female voice that he found vaguely familiar. "It's Kate Milligan."
Kate Milligan, he knew that name. His mind flashed back to a hunt, about nine years ago, where he got injured and ended up in the hospital. There he had met Kate, and had spent a few weeks with her to let off some steam.
"Kate, is everything alright?" John asked worriedly. He had given Kate his number before he left, and had told her to only call him if she felt she was in danger.
"No, no, everything's fine," She said hurriedly. "It's just… there's something we need to talk about."
John frowned thoughtfully, what could she have to talk about? "Hang on, give me a minute."
He pressed the phone against his chest so that Kate doesn't hear him, then turns to Dean, who is still watching the fire.
"Dean, go back to the car," he ordered. "wait for me there."
"Yes, sir." Dean said without another word. John waited until he was out of earshot before turning back to the phone.
"What is it you wish to talk about, Kate," John asked with his eye on the fire.
For a long moment she was quiet, before John heard a sigh. "Look, John, there's no easy way to say this, so I'm just gonna say it. You have a son."
Whatever he thought she was going to say, it wasn't that.
"What do you mean, I have a son?" he asked in a bare tone of voice?
"After you left..." she paused. "I took a pregnancy test, 'cause, you know, you didn't use protection, and it was positive."
"And you carried the boy to term?" John fought to keep his voice level. "Kate… Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because of what you had told me," she said quietly. "You said you risk your life every day on your job, and I didn't want Adam to get to know his father, only to lose him on one of his hunts. I didn't want to expose him to what you do. I wanted him to have a normal life, to grow up to be a doctor like me."
John frowned. As much as he hated it, that was as good a reason as any.
"What changed your mind?" he asked steadily.
Kate didn't speak for long moment. "A year ago I… we were reorganizing my home office, and Adam found my picture of you. He asked me who was in the picture, and when I told him your name and that you were his father, he seemed to recognize you."
John, who had started to get used to the idea that he had another son, froze, and felt cold sweat trickle down the back of his neck. "What?"
"Oh I only realized it in retrospect, but then he started to do strange things after he saw that picture," Kate continued on, a worried tone in her voice. "He's always been very smart and mature for a little boy, but once he saw that picture, he asked to join a martial arts training program, his words, not mine, and asked for protein focused diet. I've caught him exercising on his own, and is always at the library when he isn't at school, or training, or running. He reads books on mythology when he comes home, mostly about monsters. It was only when he asked me if he could see you when I realize just how much he had changed."
John clenched his fist so hard that he could feel his nails biting into his palm. His little boy… His little boy was gone and replaced by something, either a skinchanger, or a ghoul. Or worst… possessed by a demon. His little boy that he would never know, because he had never bothered to check up on Kate after he had left.
"Kate, I want you to listen to me very carefully," he said with a harsh whisper. "Whatever you do, don't let him know you're on to him."
"What?" Kate asked in a surprised voice.
"I'll get there as soon as I can," He continued. "In the meantime, get some silver cutlery, but don't use it yet. Check the local news and see if you can find anything about local graves being disturbed, or any strange disappearances in your area."
"What? Why?" Kate asked in a shaky voice.
"If he's behaving like this, he's either been replaced, or possessed," John said grimly. "If you feel like he's going to hurt you, get yourself a silver knife and some holy water. And a gun. Keep a close eye on him and I'll be there as soon as I can. Call me back if you see or hear anything on the news."
John didn't bother to listen to her reply, simply snapping his phone close, and walking back to the car.
"What was that, dad?" Dean asked when he got there.
"Another hunt," John replied shortly.
"This is John Winchester," he states after he flips it open and holds it up to his ear.
"John?" said a female voice that he found vaguely familiar. "It's Kate Milligan."
Kate Milligan, he knew that name. His mind flashed back to a hunt, about nine years ago, where he got injured and ended up in the hospital. There he had met Kate, and had spent a few weeks with her to let off some steam.
"Kate, is everything alright?" John asked worriedly. He had given Kate his number before he left, and had told her to only call him if she felt she was in danger.
"No, no, everything's fine," She said hurriedly. "It's just… there's something we need to talk about."
John frowned thoughtfully, what could she have to talk about? "Hang on, give me a minute."
He pressed the phone against his chest so that Kate doesn't hear him, then turns to Dean, who is still watching the fire.
"Dean, go back to the car," he ordered. "wait for me there."
"Yes, sir." Dean said without another word. John waited until he was out of earshot before turning back to the phone.
"What is it you wish to talk about, Kate," John asked with his eye on the fire.
For a long moment she was quiet, before John heard a sigh. "Look, John, there's no easy way to say this, so I'm just gonna say it. You have a son."
Whatever he thought she was going to say, it wasn't that.
"What do you mean, I have a son?" he asked in a bare tone of voice?
"After you left..." she paused. "I took a pregnancy test, 'cause, you know, you didn't use protection, and it was positive."
"And you carried the boy to term?" John fought to keep his voice level. "Kate… Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because of what you had told me," she said quietly. "You said you risk your life every day on your job, and I didn't want Adam to get to know his father, only to lose him on one of his hunts. I didn't want to expose him to what you do. I wanted him to have a normal life, to grow up to be a doctor like me."
John frowned. As much as he hated it, that was as good a reason as any.
"What changed your mind?" he asked steadily.
Kate didn't speak for long moment. "A year ago I… we were reorganizing my home office, and Adam found my picture of you. He asked me who was in the picture, and when I told him your name and that you were his father, he seemed to recognize you."
John, who had started to get used to the idea that he had another son, froze, and felt cold sweat trickle down the back of his neck. "What?"
"Oh I only realized it in retrospect, but then he started to do strange things after he saw that picture," Kate continued on, a worried tone in her voice. "He's always been very smart and mature for a little boy, but once he saw that picture, he asked to join a martial arts training program, his words, not mine, and asked for protein focused diet. I've caught him exercising on his own, and is always at the library when he isn't at school, or training, or running. He reads books on mythology when he comes home, mostly about monsters. It was only when he asked me if he could see you when I realize just how much he had changed."
John clenched his fist so hard that he could feel his nails biting into his palm. His little boy… His little boy was gone and replaced by something, either a skinchanger, or a ghoul. Or worst… possessed by a demon. His little boy that he would never know, because he had never bothered to check up on Kate after he had left.
"Kate, I want you to listen to me very carefully," he said with a harsh whisper. "Whatever you do, don't let him know you're on to him."
"What?" Kate asked in a surprised voice.
"I'll get there as soon as I can," He continued. "In the meantime, get some silver cutlery, but don't use it yet. Check the local news and see if you can find anything about local graves being disturbed, or any strange disappearances in your area."
"What? Why?" Kate asked in a shaky voice.
"If he's behaving like this, he's either been replaced, or possessed," John said grimly. "If you feel like he's going to hurt you, get yourself a silver knife and some holy water. And a gun. Keep a close eye on him and I'll be there as soon as I can. Call me back if you see or hear anything on the news."
John didn't bother to listen to her reply, simply snapping his phone close, and walking back to the car.
"What was that, dad?" Dean asked when he got there.
"Another hunt," John replied shortly.
Dean 1
Gendie07
Not too sore, are you?
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It was two days later – they had gone to pick up Sam from the motel, then were on their way to who knows where. Dad hadn't said where they were going, just that he would need both of their help with this case. This was only the fourth time Dad had taken both of them on a case, he was still very over protective of Sammy, and so most of the time left him behind while Dean and him worked a case, or he would go alone.
It was four o'clock in the morning when Dean was awoken by Dad talking on the phone.
"None?" his dad said. "and no one's disappeared lately? Ok, that rules out ghouls, will have to check the other two- Wait, what? Kate… Ok fine, but we'll still check. No, wait for us to get there first, I don't know what he will do to you if you find out… fine, fine, just wait for us. Ok, see you soon."
Dad snapped his phone close, and turned his attention back to the road.
"Kate, is she a hunter?" asked Dean a moment later.
"No, she's a doctor," said Dad shortly, not taking his eyes off the road. "Her kid has been displaying some strange behavior lately."
"What kind of behavior," asked Sam from behind them. It appeared he had also been woken up by Dad's phone call.
Dad was silent for a moment, before sighing. "Listen, there's something you boys need to know. Back in 1990, I met Kate while recovering from a hunting injury. I guess we both felt something for each other, so I stayed with her for two weeks."
Dean gave his signature smirk. "Finally got some action, huh? Go Dad!"
Dad gave him a strained smile.
"Wait, you mean you left us alone for two whole weeks just so you could spend time with some girl?" said Samantha the party pooper.
"Ah leave him alone Sammy," Dean replied, turning around and slapping him on the shoulder. "After all he's been through, Dad deserved some 'me time'."
Sam just gave him a bitch face that said 'don't call me Sammy, jerk'.
"Yes, well," Dad spoke, turning to look at them. "two days ago, I got a call back from her. It turns out she had a kid by me. A boy."
At those words, Dean felt his insides tighten. Another kid, a little brother.
"And you said this kid was acting strange?" Dean asked, still displaying his signature smirk.
"Yes," Dad said shortly. "A year ago, Kate showed him a picture of me, and he recognized me, even though I've never met the kid. Then he started asking for things."
"What kind of things?" asked Sam.
Dad pulled out a phone that Dean recognized as his hunter phone. "I record all my calls on this phone, listen to the second to last one."
Dean flipped open the phone, searched for the phone recording, then his play. After listening to the rather short recording, he passed the phone to Sam.
"I don't know, Dad," Dean said after thinking for a moment. "That's strange, but I don't think it's our kind of strange."
"Yeah, the recognizing you thing is weird," said Sam thoughtfully. "but everything else? Kate said he was smart, maybe it's just the way he is."
"Yeah, if anything it sounds like he's training to be…" Dean trailed off.
"Training to be what?" asked Dad irritably.
"Training to be one of us," said Sam quietly, looking at Dean.
For a long time, Dad was quiet, focused on the road.
"There's no way he knows," Dad said finally. "Kate hasn't told him. Whatever is going on with that boy, we'll deal with it."
"But what if he's just an innocent boy?" asked Sam. "I mean, we can't just off him for acting strange."
Dad frowned grimly. "We'll see."
OO
Four hours later they arrived at Kate's place, a two story white house that sat on a block corner. The place looking boringly average to Dean, and he sighed as they got out of the car and walked up to the front door.
"Remember, whatever you do, don't let the kid know you're on to him," said Dad as they stood in front of the door. "That's an order."
"Yes, sir." Dean and Sam said together. Dad turned and knocked on the door. A few moments later, a blonde wearing scrubs with a black overcoat opened the door. Dean noticed that she was very pale, probably from fear and worry.
"John!" She spoke a moment later.
"Kate." said Dad with a smile, embracing her.
The hug was thankfully short, Kate looked at Dean and Sam. "Who are they, John?"
"Um, well…" John trailed off and rubbing the back of his neck. "I never told you this Kate, but I did have other children."
He clapped a hand on Dean's shoulder. "This is Dean, and this is Sam."
He clapped his other hand on Sam's shoulder.
"Uh… oh," said Kate soundlessly, before standing up straighter. "Well, you're all welcome, we were about to have breakfast."
Without another word, she turned and walked back into the house. After looking at each other, Dean and Sam followed Dad into the house.
The inside of the house was a bit cozy. To the right was a staircase, and to the left was a living room. Just down the hall there appeared to be a kitchen.
"Adan? Your father's here!" Kate called up the stairs.
"Coming!" a distant voice called back.
A few moments later, the kid came down the stairs and Dean got his first real look at him. The kid was young, a scrawny little thing with dirty blond hair like Dean himself, but a face that resembled his mom.
The kid stopped on the third to last stair, and looked at them. "Uh, I didn't know I had three of them."
Dean chuckled. "No, Sam and me are just your older brothers."
"Oh," that seemed to stop him short. He looked at Dad. "Then… you're my father?"
"Yes, I'm your father, Adam," John replied after a moment.
Adam smiled, a calm but happy smile that seemed slightly off, and he jumped forward, tackling Dad in a big hug.
It was four o'clock in the morning when Dean was awoken by Dad talking on the phone.
"None?" his dad said. "and no one's disappeared lately? Ok, that rules out ghouls, will have to check the other two- Wait, what? Kate… Ok fine, but we'll still check. No, wait for us to get there first, I don't know what he will do to you if you find out… fine, fine, just wait for us. Ok, see you soon."
Dad snapped his phone close, and turned his attention back to the road.
"Kate, is she a hunter?" asked Dean a moment later.
"No, she's a doctor," said Dad shortly, not taking his eyes off the road. "Her kid has been displaying some strange behavior lately."
"What kind of behavior," asked Sam from behind them. It appeared he had also been woken up by Dad's phone call.
Dad was silent for a moment, before sighing. "Listen, there's something you boys need to know. Back in 1990, I met Kate while recovering from a hunting injury. I guess we both felt something for each other, so I stayed with her for two weeks."
Dean gave his signature smirk. "Finally got some action, huh? Go Dad!"
Dad gave him a strained smile.
"Wait, you mean you left us alone for two whole weeks just so you could spend time with some girl?" said Samantha the party pooper.
"Ah leave him alone Sammy," Dean replied, turning around and slapping him on the shoulder. "After all he's been through, Dad deserved some 'me time'."
Sam just gave him a bitch face that said 'don't call me Sammy, jerk'.
"Yes, well," Dad spoke, turning to look at them. "two days ago, I got a call back from her. It turns out she had a kid by me. A boy."
At those words, Dean felt his insides tighten. Another kid, a little brother.
"And you said this kid was acting strange?" Dean asked, still displaying his signature smirk.
"Yes," Dad said shortly. "A year ago, Kate showed him a picture of me, and he recognized me, even though I've never met the kid. Then he started asking for things."
"What kind of things?" asked Sam.
Dad pulled out a phone that Dean recognized as his hunter phone. "I record all my calls on this phone, listen to the second to last one."
Dean flipped open the phone, searched for the phone recording, then his play. After listening to the rather short recording, he passed the phone to Sam.
"I don't know, Dad," Dean said after thinking for a moment. "That's strange, but I don't think it's our kind of strange."
"Yeah, the recognizing you thing is weird," said Sam thoughtfully. "but everything else? Kate said he was smart, maybe it's just the way he is."
"Yeah, if anything it sounds like he's training to be…" Dean trailed off.
"Training to be what?" asked Dad irritably.
"Training to be one of us," said Sam quietly, looking at Dean.
For a long time, Dad was quiet, focused on the road.
"There's no way he knows," Dad said finally. "Kate hasn't told him. Whatever is going on with that boy, we'll deal with it."
"But what if he's just an innocent boy?" asked Sam. "I mean, we can't just off him for acting strange."
Dad frowned grimly. "We'll see."
OO
Four hours later they arrived at Kate's place, a two story white house that sat on a block corner. The place looking boringly average to Dean, and he sighed as they got out of the car and walked up to the front door.
"Remember, whatever you do, don't let the kid know you're on to him," said Dad as they stood in front of the door. "That's an order."
"Yes, sir." Dean and Sam said together. Dad turned and knocked on the door. A few moments later, a blonde wearing scrubs with a black overcoat opened the door. Dean noticed that she was very pale, probably from fear and worry.
"John!" She spoke a moment later.
"Kate." said Dad with a smile, embracing her.
The hug was thankfully short, Kate looked at Dean and Sam. "Who are they, John?"
"Um, well…" John trailed off and rubbing the back of his neck. "I never told you this Kate, but I did have other children."
He clapped a hand on Dean's shoulder. "This is Dean, and this is Sam."
He clapped his other hand on Sam's shoulder.
"Uh… oh," said Kate soundlessly, before standing up straighter. "Well, you're all welcome, we were about to have breakfast."
Without another word, she turned and walked back into the house. After looking at each other, Dean and Sam followed Dad into the house.
The inside of the house was a bit cozy. To the right was a staircase, and to the left was a living room. Just down the hall there appeared to be a kitchen.
"Adan? Your father's here!" Kate called up the stairs.
"Coming!" a distant voice called back.
A few moments later, the kid came down the stairs and Dean got his first real look at him. The kid was young, a scrawny little thing with dirty blond hair like Dean himself, but a face that resembled his mom.
The kid stopped on the third to last stair, and looked at them. "Uh, I didn't know I had three of them."
Dean chuckled. "No, Sam and me are just your older brothers."
"Oh," that seemed to stop him short. He looked at Dad. "Then… you're my father?"
"Yes, I'm your father, Adam," John replied after a moment.
Adam smiled, a calm but happy smile that seemed slightly off, and he jumped forward, tackling Dad in a big hug.
Adam 2
Gendie07
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It was pretty obvious from the start that John lived a rough life; his face was covered in scars, no doubt from hunts. His left cheek had been lacerated at some point, by what looked like three claws, a nasty looking scar ran over his right eye brow, and his nose looked like it had been broken many, many times.
I kept stealing glances at him as we sat down to eat breakfast, crepes if you can believe it. My mother preferred crepes over pancakes for some reason, I didn't know why.
"In this family we say grace before each meal," said Mom after she had finished serving everyone, preventing Dean from digging right in. He gave her a mutinous look.
"Lord, we thank you for the food you have given us this day," said Mom after we all grasped hands and looked down with our eyes closed. "and we thank you for every meal that we share in the future, Amen."
Had I not known that God was actually real in this universe, I would have been annoyed that I had to deal with this every morning, as I had been an atheist in my past life. But now, while I didn't worship the man, I did understand that he could make my life very hard if he wanted to.
Dean quickly stuffed his face with crepes, while the rest of us took our time to eat. When I picked up my knife and fork, I immediately noticed something odd. This wasn't our usual cutlery, this cutlery was that unusual off white color of silver. Hmm. Something was off here.
After cutting up my crepe and taking a bite, I put my fork down and picked up my glass of water, taking a sip. I instantly noticed the difference in taste, it didn't taste like our usual tap water. Instead, this water had a more metalic taste, like it had been contained in some flask for a while. I looked over the top of my cup to notice that John, Dean, Sam, and Kate were all staring at me intensely, before looking away once they noticed I was looking at them.
I was being tested.
"Ms. Milligan, I need to use the bathroom real quick, were can I find it?" Dean asked suddenly.
"Uh, upstairs, to the right," said Mom, who was a bit startled.
I looked at Dean as he left, and turned to glance at John, who was focused on his crepes.
I was being tested, and having passed the first two tests, Dean was going to rifle through my bedroom to if there was anything to indicate that I was a monster, or worst.
Well that just sucked. I had hoped, after noticing Johns scars that I could use them get John into confessing that he was a hunter that hunted monsters. But, if they were testing me, there must have been some indication that I was more than what I seemed.
Which meant I couldn't question John about his scars as a through-line to his career as a hunter, not if I didn't want to arouse their suspicions. Which mean this whole venture was a waste of time.
Damn it. I had hoped that I would be able to start my training as a hunter before they left, but as it was, I was going to have to wait until their next visit.
"So how long are you guys going to be in town?" I asked a few minutes later.
"Just tonight," John replied a moment later. "We were passing through on a business trip, thought I'd stop and say hello after Kate called."
Normally I would have commented on the fact that he was dragging his children along on the business trip, or ask what he did for a living, but now knowing that they were suspicious of me, all I said was "Oh. Well, thank you for coming, um, Dad."
John smiled a small, crinkled smile. "You're welcome, son."
A moment later, Dean walked back into the dining room, and sat back down. When John looked at him, he gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. After he saw this, John sighed, and put his cutlery down.
"Kate, can I talk to you alone for a moment?" he asked, standing up.
"Sure," She replied, standing up too, and they both walked out, probably going to her home office.
"So, anyone want to play some Star Fox?" I asked.
"Yeah, that sound great," said Dean exuberantly, jumping off his seat.
"You two go ahead, I'm gonna get more pancakes," said Sam.
"It's Crepes, dude, pancakes are fluffier," I corrected him as we walked out.
"Oh," said Sam, nonplussed.
OO
Dean and I spent the morning playing Star Fox, with Sam joining us eventually. It was kind of fun, to play with my brothers, Dean was the goofy type while Sam was a bit more serious. Around mid morning, I felt I had built a strong enough rapport with them(mainly through letting them beat me at Star Fox) that I felt I could take a risk.
"So, where did Dad get all those scars?" I asked after Dean had beaten me for the 14th time.
Dean coughed at the unexpected question.
"Hunting accident," said Sam with a completely straight face.
"Hunting accident, huh?" I replied, rubbing my chin. "What, did a bear get a hold of him or something?"
"Or something," said Dean, looking over at Sam.
I shrugged, focusing on the tv again.
Around noon, Mom came to get us for lunch, and she seemed much happier, probably because I had passed all the tests.
When we walked back into the kitchen, John took me aside.
"You mother told me that your birthday is in a few weeks," he said kindly. "is there anything you would like as a present?"
"You don't need to worry about that," I replied hurriedly. "Just you and Sam and Dean being here is present enough."
"Adam, I would still like to give you something," John said persistently.
"Well, what about a BB gun?" I asked. "I've always wanted one of those."
"Alright, I'll get you one before I leave tomorrow," John said with a smile, before hugging me.
OO
We all spent the rest of the day in the living room, watching tv. I didn't ask anymore questions regarding what John and my older brothers did for a living, for I had sensed that while I was out of the water, I will still walking on thin ice with John. He likely didn't suspect that I was a monster anymore, but he was still going to keep an eye on me.
I was going to have to wait until his next visit to bring up the possibility of his training me to be a hunter, but at least I had managed to establish a rapport with him and my older brothers for now.
My bedtime was 8 o'clock, so when it was 7:30, I bid them good night, and went up to my room. Our house wasn't big enough for a guest room, so they would be sleeping in the living room.
After I had brushed my teeth, taken a shower, and gotten into my pajamas, my mother came in to the room to tuck me in.
"Thank you mom," I said, as she adjusted the blanket on my bet.
"What for, honey?" she asked, a bit distracted.
"For bringing my dad and my brothers here," I replied with a smile. "I'm glad I got to know them."
She smiled back. "You're welcome, Adam."
She bent down to kiss me on the forehead. "Goodnight, Adam."
"Goodnight, Mom," I replied, pulling the blankets up to my chin.
With last look, she turned the light off, and walked back down to the living room.
OO
I didn't know exactly what woke me up later that night, but when I did wake up, I realized I felt chilled to the bone. I had been sleeping on my side, so I turned over to look around, and that's when I saw them; sickly green eyes looking down at me, not a meter away. Everything else was darkness.
The sight of the green eyes sent chills down my spine. I knew, somehow, instinctively, that whatever was attached to those green eyes was pure evil, and it froze me on the spot.
"Shhhhh," the Thing whispered, and then I felt something, a cold liquid dropping down onto my lips. I instinctually licked them. The cold liquid had a strange, acerbic taste, kind of what I though battery acid might taste like.
"John?" said someone from the doorway, who a moment later I realized was Mom.
"Shhhhh," the Thing whispered again, turning its head towards her.
"Ok," she said sleepily, and started walking down the hall again.
The Thing turned its attention back to me, its sickly green eyes regarding me. For a long moment, nothing happened. In the brief time that the Thing's attention hadn't been on me, my mind had started working again and I'd realized exactly what was happening.
"ADAM! ADAM?!" Kate yelled as she ran back into my bedroom, and the Thing turned to regard her. Upon seeing the thing's face, she screamed.
A moment later, Kate was lifted up to the ceiling, her scream cut off and a bloody cut appearing in her midriff. Then the Thing disappeared.
"KATE! KATE?!" yelled John as he burst into the room. Looking around, he saw me frozen on my bed, a horrified expression on my face, my eyes fixated on Kate on the ceiling. He turned to look at what I was looking at, and saw Kate.
Collapsing on the floor, he moaned: "No... No!"
Then Kate burst into flames.
I kept stealing glances at him as we sat down to eat breakfast, crepes if you can believe it. My mother preferred crepes over pancakes for some reason, I didn't know why.
"In this family we say grace before each meal," said Mom after she had finished serving everyone, preventing Dean from digging right in. He gave her a mutinous look.
"Lord, we thank you for the food you have given us this day," said Mom after we all grasped hands and looked down with our eyes closed. "and we thank you for every meal that we share in the future, Amen."
Had I not known that God was actually real in this universe, I would have been annoyed that I had to deal with this every morning, as I had been an atheist in my past life. But now, while I didn't worship the man, I did understand that he could make my life very hard if he wanted to.
Dean quickly stuffed his face with crepes, while the rest of us took our time to eat. When I picked up my knife and fork, I immediately noticed something odd. This wasn't our usual cutlery, this cutlery was that unusual off white color of silver. Hmm. Something was off here.
After cutting up my crepe and taking a bite, I put my fork down and picked up my glass of water, taking a sip. I instantly noticed the difference in taste, it didn't taste like our usual tap water. Instead, this water had a more metalic taste, like it had been contained in some flask for a while. I looked over the top of my cup to notice that John, Dean, Sam, and Kate were all staring at me intensely, before looking away once they noticed I was looking at them.
I was being tested.
"Ms. Milligan, I need to use the bathroom real quick, were can I find it?" Dean asked suddenly.
"Uh, upstairs, to the right," said Mom, who was a bit startled.
I looked at Dean as he left, and turned to glance at John, who was focused on his crepes.
I was being tested, and having passed the first two tests, Dean was going to rifle through my bedroom to if there was anything to indicate that I was a monster, or worst.
Well that just sucked. I had hoped, after noticing Johns scars that I could use them get John into confessing that he was a hunter that hunted monsters. But, if they were testing me, there must have been some indication that I was more than what I seemed.
Which meant I couldn't question John about his scars as a through-line to his career as a hunter, not if I didn't want to arouse their suspicions. Which mean this whole venture was a waste of time.
Damn it. I had hoped that I would be able to start my training as a hunter before they left, but as it was, I was going to have to wait until their next visit.
"So how long are you guys going to be in town?" I asked a few minutes later.
"Just tonight," John replied a moment later. "We were passing through on a business trip, thought I'd stop and say hello after Kate called."
Normally I would have commented on the fact that he was dragging his children along on the business trip, or ask what he did for a living, but now knowing that they were suspicious of me, all I said was "Oh. Well, thank you for coming, um, Dad."
John smiled a small, crinkled smile. "You're welcome, son."
A moment later, Dean walked back into the dining room, and sat back down. When John looked at him, he gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. After he saw this, John sighed, and put his cutlery down.
"Kate, can I talk to you alone for a moment?" he asked, standing up.
"Sure," She replied, standing up too, and they both walked out, probably going to her home office.
"So, anyone want to play some Star Fox?" I asked.
"Yeah, that sound great," said Dean exuberantly, jumping off his seat.
"You two go ahead, I'm gonna get more pancakes," said Sam.
"It's Crepes, dude, pancakes are fluffier," I corrected him as we walked out.
"Oh," said Sam, nonplussed.
OO
Dean and I spent the morning playing Star Fox, with Sam joining us eventually. It was kind of fun, to play with my brothers, Dean was the goofy type while Sam was a bit more serious. Around mid morning, I felt I had built a strong enough rapport with them(mainly through letting them beat me at Star Fox) that I felt I could take a risk.
"So, where did Dad get all those scars?" I asked after Dean had beaten me for the 14th time.
Dean coughed at the unexpected question.
"Hunting accident," said Sam with a completely straight face.
"Hunting accident, huh?" I replied, rubbing my chin. "What, did a bear get a hold of him or something?"
"Or something," said Dean, looking over at Sam.
I shrugged, focusing on the tv again.
Around noon, Mom came to get us for lunch, and she seemed much happier, probably because I had passed all the tests.
When we walked back into the kitchen, John took me aside.
"You mother told me that your birthday is in a few weeks," he said kindly. "is there anything you would like as a present?"
"You don't need to worry about that," I replied hurriedly. "Just you and Sam and Dean being here is present enough."
"Adam, I would still like to give you something," John said persistently.
"Well, what about a BB gun?" I asked. "I've always wanted one of those."
"Alright, I'll get you one before I leave tomorrow," John said with a smile, before hugging me.
OO
We all spent the rest of the day in the living room, watching tv. I didn't ask anymore questions regarding what John and my older brothers did for a living, for I had sensed that while I was out of the water, I will still walking on thin ice with John. He likely didn't suspect that I was a monster anymore, but he was still going to keep an eye on me.
I was going to have to wait until his next visit to bring up the possibility of his training me to be a hunter, but at least I had managed to establish a rapport with him and my older brothers for now.
My bedtime was 8 o'clock, so when it was 7:30, I bid them good night, and went up to my room. Our house wasn't big enough for a guest room, so they would be sleeping in the living room.
After I had brushed my teeth, taken a shower, and gotten into my pajamas, my mother came in to the room to tuck me in.
"Thank you mom," I said, as she adjusted the blanket on my bet.
"What for, honey?" she asked, a bit distracted.
"For bringing my dad and my brothers here," I replied with a smile. "I'm glad I got to know them."
She smiled back. "You're welcome, Adam."
She bent down to kiss me on the forehead. "Goodnight, Adam."
"Goodnight, Mom," I replied, pulling the blankets up to my chin.
With last look, she turned the light off, and walked back down to the living room.
OO
I didn't know exactly what woke me up later that night, but when I did wake up, I realized I felt chilled to the bone. I had been sleeping on my side, so I turned over to look around, and that's when I saw them; sickly green eyes looking down at me, not a meter away. Everything else was darkness.
The sight of the green eyes sent chills down my spine. I knew, somehow, instinctively, that whatever was attached to those green eyes was pure evil, and it froze me on the spot.
"Shhhhh," the Thing whispered, and then I felt something, a cold liquid dropping down onto my lips. I instinctually licked them. The cold liquid had a strange, acerbic taste, kind of what I though battery acid might taste like.
"John?" said someone from the doorway, who a moment later I realized was Mom.
"Shhhhh," the Thing whispered again, turning its head towards her.
"Ok," she said sleepily, and started walking down the hall again.
The Thing turned its attention back to me, its sickly green eyes regarding me. For a long moment, nothing happened. In the brief time that the Thing's attention hadn't been on me, my mind had started working again and I'd realized exactly what was happening.
"ADAM! ADAM?!" Kate yelled as she ran back into my bedroom, and the Thing turned to regard her. Upon seeing the thing's face, she screamed.
A moment later, Kate was lifted up to the ceiling, her scream cut off and a bloody cut appearing in her midriff. Then the Thing disappeared.
"KATE! KATE?!" yelled John as he burst into the room. Looking around, he saw me frozen on my bed, a horrified expression on my face, my eyes fixated on Kate on the ceiling. He turned to look at what I was looking at, and saw Kate.
Collapsing on the floor, he moaned: "No... No!"
Then Kate burst into flames.
Stormbringer117
Soulless
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Azazel: "Oops I did it again~!"
Gendie07
Not too sore, are you?
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The demon had green eyes, not yellow eyes.
Adam 3 - Voodoo Doll 1
Gendie07
Not too sore, are you?
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Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
I groaned and turned over, picking up the buzzing cell phone and turning off the alarm clock. It was five in the morning in Las Cruces, New Mexico, and I was getting to enjoy the rare comfort of having my own bed for once. Usually I had to share with Dean, but this time, Dad had sprung for a three bedroom suite.
With a silent yawn, I got up and went to the bathroom. I liked to wake up early, mainly because Dean and Dad would hog the bathroom if they woke up before me. After taking a piss and a short shower, I got dressed for the day, and went to check the salt lines.
Unlike Dad and Dean, I was a bit more meticulous when it came to the salt line; they preferred to just dump it right out of the bag into a line, wasting it, whilst I would sprinkle it, making a thinner salt line that didn't waste salt.
After making sure that the salt line was intact, I walked out to Dad's truck to get my electric coffee pot, and half an hour later, the motel suite was filled with the smell of coffee. After preparing my own cup of coffee, I sat down to look for a case.
"No special breakfast this morning?" asked Dad an hour later after he had gotten up and taken a shower himself. "Usually you've have a plate full of eggs and bacon ready for me by now."
"Didn't feel like it," I mumbled, still staring at my laptop. "I'll make you something later."
"Mmm. Found anything?" he asked, sitting down on my bed and looking at my laptop.
"I think so," I replied, thoughtfully. "Look at this."
I oriented my laptop towards him. "Down in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, a 22 year old guy who regularly runs triatlons died of a heart attack in his sleep, at home."
"That's not too unusual," Dad commented.
"Normally, yeah," I replied. "but he's not the only one. During the past ten years, around 14 healthy young men have died unexpectedly of heart attacks, the youngest being 19, the oldest 43. Only one of them was a smoker, but he was young, and they were all healthy, no obesity."
Dad continued to read the news article, rubbing his chin. "Might be worth checking out. Good work, Adam."
"Thank you dad," I smiled at him, a smile he didn't return, instead getting up and walking out.
"I've got some calls to make," he said, turning around. "How about you get started on that breakfast."
It was phrased as a question, but I knew it was really an order.
"Dean up yet?" I asked in turn, closing my laptop.
"He's in the shower," Dad called back.
OO
"Mmm, bacon," Dean moaned as he bit into a slice of bacon.
"Come on, dude," I huffed. "You say that every morning!"
"I'll stop when you stop making such good bacon," Dean replied, stuffing another slice of bacon into his mouth.
I sighed, picking up my news paper and giving it a once over, before glancing over a the plate I had set aside for Dad, who had yet to return from making his calls. Dean and I were sitting down for breakfast, which I usually made with my mother's old cast iron skillet.
"Say, Adam, how do you make bacon taste this good, anyway?" asked Dean, munching yet another slice of bacon.
"Four generations of flavor on my cast iron skillet," I replied idly.
"You've said that before, I have no idea what you're talking about," Dean said blithely. "I don't know why you won't let me wash that thing, it's kind of dirty."
"I wash it every morning," I protested.
"With soap?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow.
"If I washed it with soap, my bacon would stop tasting so good," I snarked, before turning serious. "And if I ever catch you trying to wash it with soap again, I'll brain you with it, and that's a promise. That skillet is the last thing I have to remember mom by."
"Fine, fine, don't get your panties in a twist, barbie," he snarked back.
"Jerk."
"Dick."
That moment, Dad opened the door and walked back in. I noticed that he seemed really irritated about something. He was holding a file under his arm.
"Adam, Dean," he said, sitting down to eat, and plopping the file on the table.
"Sir," we replied dutifully.
For a few minutes, we were silent, Dad and Dean eating breakfast, while I read my newspaper.
"So Adam's found a case down in Baton Rouge, Louisiana," Dad said without preamble. "And I've got a call about another case over in Jericho, California. Dean, I want you to take Adam and do the Baton Rouge case, I'll do the Jericho case."
"Don't you usually take Adam?" Dean asked curiously.
"Normally, yes," Dad replied, focused on Dean. "However, this Jericho case, I can't afford to be distracted while I'm working it."
"Why? What's the case?" I asked curiously.
Dad looked at me, before opening the file, and passing one of the papers inside. It appeared to be a printout of a webpage, of a news website that was called The Jericho Herald. Upon seeing the webpage, I got a strong feeling of Deja vu. I felt that I had seen this webpage somewhere, before.
"There's this two-lane blacktop, just out of Jericho, where a man disappeared a day ago," Dad spoke, handing another page to Dean. "They found his car, but no trace of him."
"He could have been kidnapped." Dean suggested.
"Yeah, but he's not the only one," Dad replied. "Ten others have disappeared on that same stretch of road, all over the past ten years."
"You thinking ghost?" asked Dean curiously.
"Maybe, but whatever it is, it's targeting men," said Dad seriously. "It could target Adam, and I don't want to have to worry about him while I'm on the case."
"But Dad-" Dean protested.
"You're taking him, that's an order," Dad said harshly.
"Yes, sir," Dean replied stiffly.
Dad looked at me. "And Adam, you behave yourself for Dean, That's an order too."
"Yes, sir," I said minutely.
I groaned and turned over, picking up the buzzing cell phone and turning off the alarm clock. It was five in the morning in Las Cruces, New Mexico, and I was getting to enjoy the rare comfort of having my own bed for once. Usually I had to share with Dean, but this time, Dad had sprung for a three bedroom suite.
With a silent yawn, I got up and went to the bathroom. I liked to wake up early, mainly because Dean and Dad would hog the bathroom if they woke up before me. After taking a piss and a short shower, I got dressed for the day, and went to check the salt lines.
Unlike Dad and Dean, I was a bit more meticulous when it came to the salt line; they preferred to just dump it right out of the bag into a line, wasting it, whilst I would sprinkle it, making a thinner salt line that didn't waste salt.
After making sure that the salt line was intact, I walked out to Dad's truck to get my electric coffee pot, and half an hour later, the motel suite was filled with the smell of coffee. After preparing my own cup of coffee, I sat down to look for a case.
"No special breakfast this morning?" asked Dad an hour later after he had gotten up and taken a shower himself. "Usually you've have a plate full of eggs and bacon ready for me by now."
"Didn't feel like it," I mumbled, still staring at my laptop. "I'll make you something later."
"Mmm. Found anything?" he asked, sitting down on my bed and looking at my laptop.
"I think so," I replied, thoughtfully. "Look at this."
I oriented my laptop towards him. "Down in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, a 22 year old guy who regularly runs triatlons died of a heart attack in his sleep, at home."
"That's not too unusual," Dad commented.
"Normally, yeah," I replied. "but he's not the only one. During the past ten years, around 14 healthy young men have died unexpectedly of heart attacks, the youngest being 19, the oldest 43. Only one of them was a smoker, but he was young, and they were all healthy, no obesity."
Dad continued to read the news article, rubbing his chin. "Might be worth checking out. Good work, Adam."
"Thank you dad," I smiled at him, a smile he didn't return, instead getting up and walking out.
"I've got some calls to make," he said, turning around. "How about you get started on that breakfast."
It was phrased as a question, but I knew it was really an order.
"Dean up yet?" I asked in turn, closing my laptop.
"He's in the shower," Dad called back.
OO
"Mmm, bacon," Dean moaned as he bit into a slice of bacon.
"Come on, dude," I huffed. "You say that every morning!"
"I'll stop when you stop making such good bacon," Dean replied, stuffing another slice of bacon into his mouth.
I sighed, picking up my news paper and giving it a once over, before glancing over a the plate I had set aside for Dad, who had yet to return from making his calls. Dean and I were sitting down for breakfast, which I usually made with my mother's old cast iron skillet.
"Say, Adam, how do you make bacon taste this good, anyway?" asked Dean, munching yet another slice of bacon.
"Four generations of flavor on my cast iron skillet," I replied idly.
"You've said that before, I have no idea what you're talking about," Dean said blithely. "I don't know why you won't let me wash that thing, it's kind of dirty."
"I wash it every morning," I protested.
"With soap?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow.
"If I washed it with soap, my bacon would stop tasting so good," I snarked, before turning serious. "And if I ever catch you trying to wash it with soap again, I'll brain you with it, and that's a promise. That skillet is the last thing I have to remember mom by."
"Fine, fine, don't get your panties in a twist, barbie," he snarked back.
"Jerk."
"Dick."
That moment, Dad opened the door and walked back in. I noticed that he seemed really irritated about something. He was holding a file under his arm.
"Adam, Dean," he said, sitting down to eat, and plopping the file on the table.
"Sir," we replied dutifully.
For a few minutes, we were silent, Dad and Dean eating breakfast, while I read my newspaper.
"So Adam's found a case down in Baton Rouge, Louisiana," Dad said without preamble. "And I've got a call about another case over in Jericho, California. Dean, I want you to take Adam and do the Baton Rouge case, I'll do the Jericho case."
"Don't you usually take Adam?" Dean asked curiously.
"Normally, yes," Dad replied, focused on Dean. "However, this Jericho case, I can't afford to be distracted while I'm working it."
"Why? What's the case?" I asked curiously.
Dad looked at me, before opening the file, and passing one of the papers inside. It appeared to be a printout of a webpage, of a news website that was called The Jericho Herald. Upon seeing the webpage, I got a strong feeling of Deja vu. I felt that I had seen this webpage somewhere, before.
"There's this two-lane blacktop, just out of Jericho, where a man disappeared a day ago," Dad spoke, handing another page to Dean. "They found his car, but no trace of him."
"He could have been kidnapped." Dean suggested.
"Yeah, but he's not the only one," Dad replied. "Ten others have disappeared on that same stretch of road, all over the past ten years."
"You thinking ghost?" asked Dean curiously.
"Maybe, but whatever it is, it's targeting men," said Dad seriously. "It could target Adam, and I don't want to have to worry about him while I'm on the case."
"But Dad-" Dean protested.
"You're taking him, that's an order," Dad said harshly.
"Yes, sir," Dean replied stiffly.
Dad looked at me. "And Adam, you behave yourself for Dean, That's an order too."
"Yes, sir," I said minutely.
Gendie07
Not too sore, are you?
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So if you haven't realized, this chapter is just before the series starts.
I'm going to try and make my own episode, regarding that voodoo gig that Dean worked before the series started.
if you have any ideas, please share.
I'm going to try and make my own episode, regarding that voodoo gig that Dean worked before the series started.
if you have any ideas, please share.
Gendie07
Not too sore, are you?
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No, not really.
RiDDicK0011
Know what you're doing yet?
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Gendie07
Not too sore, are you?
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Dean 2 - Voodoo Doll 2
Gendie07
Not too sore, are you?
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"From what I can tell, the first nine victims were either wealthy business men, or sons of wealthy business men," said Adam as he shifted through the notes he had compiled earlier that day. "the next five victims were not, instead they were pro-athletes, or in one case, a very active janitor who had a gardening job on the side."
"So you're thinking witch?" asked Dean, glancing at Adam for a moment, before returning his attention to the road. They were in the Impala, on the way to Baton Rouge.
"Or a hoodoo priest gone bad," Adam commented idly. "It's happened before."
"Yeah, remember when Dad found that pair of Hoodoo priests that were switching bodies with people?" Dean chuckled.
Adam furrowed his brow. "Uh, no?"
"Oh come on, it wasn't that long ago," Dean looked at Adam uncertainly. "Was it?"
"I don't think I was here for that," said Adam dryly. "That's the fifth time this year you've gotten me mixed up with Sam, which I really don't understand. He and I are nothing alike."
"Goddamn it," said Dean with a huff.
It had been four years since Sam had left for collage. More and more, Adam was replacing Sam in his memories. It was understandable in Dean's mind: Adam was another little brother that he had to protect, ever since that night when Adam's Mom had died.
7 years ago
It had been the sound of Dad yelling that woke him up. Grabbing the gun from under his pillow, he had raced up the stairs to see what was going on, only to find Dad coming out of Adam's bedroom, holding Adam himself bridal style, the flickering light of flames coming from Adam's room.
"Boys, take Adam and get out as fast as you can!" Dad had shouted, passing what seemed like a comatose Adam to Dean, and Dean turned to see that Sam was right behind him. "Don't look back, Go, go!"
Dean had made haste to follow Dad's orders, jumping down the stairs after Sam, and running out the door. He hadn't paused to look at the house, instead running down the street some distance, then stopping.
"Sam, call 911," Dean had barked at him, before turning his attention to Adam's face to see what was wrong.
Adam was stiff as a board, and cold to the touch, a horrified look frozen on his face, his eyes seeing nothing.
"Hey, Adam, Adam," Dean said softly, giving Adam a light smack on the face. "Adam, wake up."
With a start, Adam came back to himself, his stiff body loosening up, his eyes focused on Dean. "She's dead, isn't she."
His voice was flat, but his blue lips trembled. Dean paused.
"We don't know for sure-"
"She's dead," Adam's tone brooked no argument, and a moment later his face broke, tears gushing out and he broke out in sobs. It was like Mom's death all over again. Not knowing what else to do, Dean had gently rocked Adam as he cried for his lost mom, and a few minutes later he had fallen asleep.
Later that night, when they had gotten to a hotel to sleep the rest of the night off, Dean had vowed in his heart that he would protect and care for this new younger brother of his, just like he had done for Sam.
Present day
Of course Adam wasn't like Sam. Whereas Sam had been a little bitch, always wining and complaining about their life, Adam was more dickish, unwilling to deal with anyone's shit, and gave as good as he got. Sam had once tried to play a prank on Adam, and got a punch to the arm for his efforts, with Dean having to break up the subsequent fight.
But then Sam had left for college, and it was just Dean, Adam, and Dad left, much like it had been before Adam had come into the picture. Adam was Dean's little brother that he had promised to protect, and Dean was Adam's big brother that trained him and hunted with him. It was almost exactly like it had been with Dean and Sam when Dad would go on a hunt and it was just them.
"So, did you notice something off with Dad this morning?" Adam asked suddenly.
"No more than usual," Dean replied, taking a turn.
"He doesn't usually say 'that's an order' unless he's upset about something," Adam commented, still flipping through his notes. "You think something's going on with him?"
"Maybe he's found a lead," said Dean thoughtfully. "God knows we've been looking for that thing for the past two decades. You know how Dad gets."
"Yeah, except Dad doesn't usually send us away," Adam rubbed his chin. "Maybe he found out what the thing is, and thinks it's too dangerous for us to be involved?"
"Dad knows what he's doing," Dean replied. "If he thinks it's too dangerous for us, then it's too dangerous for us."
He looked over at Adam and grinned. "Though he probably thinks it's too dangerous for you and wants me to babysit you."
Adam glared at him. "Or maybe he thinks you're too immature and wants me to babysit you."
"Yeah right," Dean scoffed. "If anyone's the baby of the family, it's you."
Adam scoffed in turn. "If I'm the baby of the family, then you're the embarrassing manchild that sits on the couch all day, eating ho-hos and watching porn on the family television. At Thanksgiving."
Dean snorted, before looking back at Adam. "Come on…. Name one Thanksgiving where I actually did that."
"Uh, the first Thanksgiving after Mom died?" Adam retorted. "Dad even made a real turkey and you couldn't eat a bite cause you'd been eating ho-hos all day."
"Oh, right," Dean shook his head. "Damn, Dad was pissed."
"If I recall correctly, he told you to eat your entire turkey breast, and you threw up afterwards," Adam commented. "I don't know who was more pissed after that, Dad or Sam."
"Probably Sam," Dean replied distantly, his mind on something else. "He always wanted a real Thanksgiving with his family."
"I miss him too," Adam said quietly.
"Yeah…" Dean trailed off.
"So you're thinking witch?" asked Dean, glancing at Adam for a moment, before returning his attention to the road. They were in the Impala, on the way to Baton Rouge.
"Or a hoodoo priest gone bad," Adam commented idly. "It's happened before."
"Yeah, remember when Dad found that pair of Hoodoo priests that were switching bodies with people?" Dean chuckled.
Adam furrowed his brow. "Uh, no?"
"Oh come on, it wasn't that long ago," Dean looked at Adam uncertainly. "Was it?"
"I don't think I was here for that," said Adam dryly. "That's the fifth time this year you've gotten me mixed up with Sam, which I really don't understand. He and I are nothing alike."
"Goddamn it," said Dean with a huff.
It had been four years since Sam had left for collage. More and more, Adam was replacing Sam in his memories. It was understandable in Dean's mind: Adam was another little brother that he had to protect, ever since that night when Adam's Mom had died.
7 years ago
It had been the sound of Dad yelling that woke him up. Grabbing the gun from under his pillow, he had raced up the stairs to see what was going on, only to find Dad coming out of Adam's bedroom, holding Adam himself bridal style, the flickering light of flames coming from Adam's room.
"Boys, take Adam and get out as fast as you can!" Dad had shouted, passing what seemed like a comatose Adam to Dean, and Dean turned to see that Sam was right behind him. "Don't look back, Go, go!"
Dean had made haste to follow Dad's orders, jumping down the stairs after Sam, and running out the door. He hadn't paused to look at the house, instead running down the street some distance, then stopping.
"Sam, call 911," Dean had barked at him, before turning his attention to Adam's face to see what was wrong.
Adam was stiff as a board, and cold to the touch, a horrified look frozen on his face, his eyes seeing nothing.
"Hey, Adam, Adam," Dean said softly, giving Adam a light smack on the face. "Adam, wake up."
With a start, Adam came back to himself, his stiff body loosening up, his eyes focused on Dean. "She's dead, isn't she."
His voice was flat, but his blue lips trembled. Dean paused.
"We don't know for sure-"
"She's dead," Adam's tone brooked no argument, and a moment later his face broke, tears gushing out and he broke out in sobs. It was like Mom's death all over again. Not knowing what else to do, Dean had gently rocked Adam as he cried for his lost mom, and a few minutes later he had fallen asleep.
Later that night, when they had gotten to a hotel to sleep the rest of the night off, Dean had vowed in his heart that he would protect and care for this new younger brother of his, just like he had done for Sam.
Present day
Of course Adam wasn't like Sam. Whereas Sam had been a little bitch, always wining and complaining about their life, Adam was more dickish, unwilling to deal with anyone's shit, and gave as good as he got. Sam had once tried to play a prank on Adam, and got a punch to the arm for his efforts, with Dean having to break up the subsequent fight.
But then Sam had left for college, and it was just Dean, Adam, and Dad left, much like it had been before Adam had come into the picture. Adam was Dean's little brother that he had promised to protect, and Dean was Adam's big brother that trained him and hunted with him. It was almost exactly like it had been with Dean and Sam when Dad would go on a hunt and it was just them.
"So, did you notice something off with Dad this morning?" Adam asked suddenly.
"No more than usual," Dean replied, taking a turn.
"He doesn't usually say 'that's an order' unless he's upset about something," Adam commented, still flipping through his notes. "You think something's going on with him?"
"Maybe he's found a lead," said Dean thoughtfully. "God knows we've been looking for that thing for the past two decades. You know how Dad gets."
"Yeah, except Dad doesn't usually send us away," Adam rubbed his chin. "Maybe he found out what the thing is, and thinks it's too dangerous for us to be involved?"
"Dad knows what he's doing," Dean replied. "If he thinks it's too dangerous for us, then it's too dangerous for us."
He looked over at Adam and grinned. "Though he probably thinks it's too dangerous for you and wants me to babysit you."
Adam glared at him. "Or maybe he thinks you're too immature and wants me to babysit you."
"Yeah right," Dean scoffed. "If anyone's the baby of the family, it's you."
Adam scoffed in turn. "If I'm the baby of the family, then you're the embarrassing manchild that sits on the couch all day, eating ho-hos and watching porn on the family television. At Thanksgiving."
Dean snorted, before looking back at Adam. "Come on…. Name one Thanksgiving where I actually did that."
"Uh, the first Thanksgiving after Mom died?" Adam retorted. "Dad even made a real turkey and you couldn't eat a bite cause you'd been eating ho-hos all day."
"Oh, right," Dean shook his head. "Damn, Dad was pissed."
"If I recall correctly, he told you to eat your entire turkey breast, and you threw up afterwards," Adam commented. "I don't know who was more pissed after that, Dad or Sam."
"Probably Sam," Dean replied distantly, his mind on something else. "He always wanted a real Thanksgiving with his family."
"I miss him too," Adam said quietly.
"Yeah…" Dean trailed off.
Gendie07
Not too sore, are you?
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It's one time skip. Also i don't list pairings.
Sam left in canon, rewatch season one.
a guy1013
Versed in the lewd.
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Oh, I didn't watch season of supernatural started watching around after they killed Lilith and stop around season 12 and so the same reason as canon
Gendie07
Not too sore, are you?
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you can watch supernatural on netflix. Season one is pretty good.
Dean 3 - Voodoo Doll 3
Gendie07
Not too sore, are you?
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It was early morning when Dean pulled up in front of the rather old looking white house where the victim's parents lived. After giving the house a rather long look, Dean glanced down at the note that Adam had scribbled for him:
Victim: William Parker
lived alone in an apartment in the city, did regular triathlons.
Had a gym membership, Address:
10410 Florida blvd.
Two parents:
Andrew Mckinney Parker
Sarah Parker nee Smith
Address:
305 Banyan ave.
With a sigh, Dean reached over to the glove compartment, and pulled out his ID box. Opening the Box, he pulled out his federal marshal ID, before closing the ID box and putting it away. Getting out of the impala, Dean walked around the car and up the gravel path to the front door of the old white house, the gravel crunching under his feet. It took a few minutes after he knocked on the door for anyone to answer, and the person opening the door turned out to be a lady in her late fifties.
"Can I help you?" she asked, standing in the doorway. Dean noticed that there were bags under her eyes, and she looked rather pale, as if she hadn't gone outside in a while. Dean gave her his grade A winning smile.
"Hi, I'm a federal marshal, are you Sarah Parker?" Dean said, flashing his badge.
"Uh, yes. I've already spoken to the police," the woman said stiffly.
"Just here to follow up on a few things," Dean replied, flashing her another smile. "Just want to ask you some questions about your son, that all."
"Alright," Sarah said, backing away and opening the door wider. She then turned walked further into the house, and Dean followed her, into a well furnished living room.
Sitting down on the couch, Dean gave solemn look. "First off, when was the last time you had contact with your son before his death?"
"That night, actually," Sarah replied thoughtfully. "He called to tell me he was scared for his life. I… I didn't really understand what he meant, but I told him to come home right away, and called the police. The next morning, the police came to his house, and found him dead, died of a heart attack."
"Did the cops say that he had any unusual scars or marks?" Dean asked.
"No," Sarah replied shortly, wiping her suddenly wet eyes. "The police found him in his bed, and the coroner said he had died of a heart attack."
Dean nodded. "Alright, one last thing, has he behaved strangely in the past month before he died?"
"No, not really," said Sarah thoughtfully. "Well, maybe on thing."
"What?"
"Four months ago he started dating someone," Sarah said, thinking. "a girl called Katie Dupont. I've never met her, but Bill said she was the love of his life."
"You've never met her?" Dean asked curiously.
"Bill wouldn't let us meet her," Sarah explained. "when ever we asked to see her, he made excuses not to, saying she was out of town or too busy to meet."
Dean frowned. "Did he describe what she looked like, or give you a picture?"
Sarah stared into space for a moment. "Now that I think about it, no! That's strange, he talked about her enough. He wouldn't shut up honestly."
"Did he say how he met her?" Dean asked.
"At some dive in the sketcher part of town, he didn't tell me which," Sarah replied.
Dean flashed her his signature smile again. "Alright, well. Thank you ma'am, I think that will be all."
OO
By the time Dean got done with the friends and close relations of the last few victims, it was evening, and he returned to the motel that Adam and he were staying at.
"Found anything?" asked Adam when Dean walked back into the motel room. He was sitting at a table, his laptop open in front of him.
"Uh yeah, jack with a side of squat," Dean replied gruffly. "There's some girl involved, but nobody knows what she looks like, and she's using an alias, never using the same name twice. Apparently, the vic met her at some dive bar in the sketcher part of town, wherever that is..."
"Well that doubles down on our theory that it's a witch or a hoodoo priest, er, priestess," Adam corrected.
"Well, hoodoo priestess or not, it's not a lot to go on," Dean replied, grabbing a beer and sitting down at the table.
Adam sighed, rubbing the back of his head. "Well you're the expert. What's our next move?"
"The vic's body is still at the morgue," Dean replied. "I say I'll go check it out, and you can look for dive bars in the in the sketcher part of town. Odds are, she'll still visit them."
"Mmm," Adam agreed, before giving Dean a long look. "I'm glad you trust me to take care of myself. Dad usually doesn't involve me in his hunts."
"No kidding?" asked Dean, quirking an eyebrow. "I wonder what all that training was for then."
"Well I mean he doesn't totally shut me out, I still do research," Adam explained. "But yeah, usually I stay in the hotel."
"Huh, I never noticed," Dean replied thoughtfully. "Speaking of Dad, I'm gonna go give him a call."
"Alright, I'll go check out some dive bars," Adam said, standing up.
"Keep a gun on you, just in case," Dean replied as he walked out the door.
"I'm not an idiot, Dean," Adam called back, and Dean smirked as he closed the door.
Victim: William Parker
lived alone in an apartment in the city, did regular triathlons.
Had a gym membership, Address:
10410 Florida blvd.
Two parents:
Andrew Mckinney Parker
Sarah Parker nee Smith
Address:
305 Banyan ave.
With a sigh, Dean reached over to the glove compartment, and pulled out his ID box. Opening the Box, he pulled out his federal marshal ID, before closing the ID box and putting it away. Getting out of the impala, Dean walked around the car and up the gravel path to the front door of the old white house, the gravel crunching under his feet. It took a few minutes after he knocked on the door for anyone to answer, and the person opening the door turned out to be a lady in her late fifties.
"Can I help you?" she asked, standing in the doorway. Dean noticed that there were bags under her eyes, and she looked rather pale, as if she hadn't gone outside in a while. Dean gave her his grade A winning smile.
"Hi, I'm a federal marshal, are you Sarah Parker?" Dean said, flashing his badge.
"Uh, yes. I've already spoken to the police," the woman said stiffly.
"Just here to follow up on a few things," Dean replied, flashing her another smile. "Just want to ask you some questions about your son, that all."
"Alright," Sarah said, backing away and opening the door wider. She then turned walked further into the house, and Dean followed her, into a well furnished living room.
Sitting down on the couch, Dean gave solemn look. "First off, when was the last time you had contact with your son before his death?"
"That night, actually," Sarah replied thoughtfully. "He called to tell me he was scared for his life. I… I didn't really understand what he meant, but I told him to come home right away, and called the police. The next morning, the police came to his house, and found him dead, died of a heart attack."
"Did the cops say that he had any unusual scars or marks?" Dean asked.
"No," Sarah replied shortly, wiping her suddenly wet eyes. "The police found him in his bed, and the coroner said he had died of a heart attack."
Dean nodded. "Alright, one last thing, has he behaved strangely in the past month before he died?"
"No, not really," said Sarah thoughtfully. "Well, maybe on thing."
"What?"
"Four months ago he started dating someone," Sarah said, thinking. "a girl called Katie Dupont. I've never met her, but Bill said she was the love of his life."
"You've never met her?" Dean asked curiously.
"Bill wouldn't let us meet her," Sarah explained. "when ever we asked to see her, he made excuses not to, saying she was out of town or too busy to meet."
Dean frowned. "Did he describe what she looked like, or give you a picture?"
Sarah stared into space for a moment. "Now that I think about it, no! That's strange, he talked about her enough. He wouldn't shut up honestly."
"Did he say how he met her?" Dean asked.
"At some dive in the sketcher part of town, he didn't tell me which," Sarah replied.
Dean flashed her his signature smile again. "Alright, well. Thank you ma'am, I think that will be all."
OO
By the time Dean got done with the friends and close relations of the last few victims, it was evening, and he returned to the motel that Adam and he were staying at.
"Found anything?" asked Adam when Dean walked back into the motel room. He was sitting at a table, his laptop open in front of him.
"Uh yeah, jack with a side of squat," Dean replied gruffly. "There's some girl involved, but nobody knows what she looks like, and she's using an alias, never using the same name twice. Apparently, the vic met her at some dive bar in the sketcher part of town, wherever that is..."
"Well that doubles down on our theory that it's a witch or a hoodoo priest, er, priestess," Adam corrected.
"Well, hoodoo priestess or not, it's not a lot to go on," Dean replied, grabbing a beer and sitting down at the table.
Adam sighed, rubbing the back of his head. "Well you're the expert. What's our next move?"
"The vic's body is still at the morgue," Dean replied. "I say I'll go check it out, and you can look for dive bars in the in the sketcher part of town. Odds are, she'll still visit them."
"Mmm," Adam agreed, before giving Dean a long look. "I'm glad you trust me to take care of myself. Dad usually doesn't involve me in his hunts."
"No kidding?" asked Dean, quirking an eyebrow. "I wonder what all that training was for then."
"Well I mean he doesn't totally shut me out, I still do research," Adam explained. "But yeah, usually I stay in the hotel."
"Huh, I never noticed," Dean replied thoughtfully. "Speaking of Dad, I'm gonna go give him a call."
"Alright, I'll go check out some dive bars," Adam said, standing up.
"Keep a gun on you, just in case," Dean replied as he walked out the door.
"I'm not an idiot, Dean," Adam called back, and Dean smirked as he closed the door.
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Dragonvx100
Not too sore, are you?
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So since it had been a while since the last update I kind of assumed this was a necro, then I reread what happened and the Dean Adam interactions are hilarious, so happy this was brought back from the dead.
ThedudeManBro
The Dudeliest Man on the block, Bro!
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And now ive got the headcanon that Dean either carries around a Teddy bear, or the two have well trained bear. Who enjoys sitting quietly down at the table wanting to halp.
Edit:just noticed it said "a" not "the"...Are Dean And Adam trying to make a Bear Squadron to help subdue the " beefier" Supernatural Critters?
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Gendie07
Not too sore, are you?
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I meant Beer. not Bear. will edit.
Gendie07
Not too sore, are you?
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Thank you.
Adam 4 - Voodoo Doll 4
Gendie07
Not too sore, are you?
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It was the following day. I had looked up dive bars online, and had spent most of the day visiting each one I'd found, asking bartenders if they recognized the victim, whom I had a picture of. Unfortunately, all of them so far were a bust, and I only had three more to check.
I was driving around in an old busted pickup I had stolen, one that looked like it hadn't been used in years, and was using it to get around, as Dean was using the impala to visit the morgue today, and the bus system was too slow.
The dive bar I was on my way to now was in one of the shadier parts of town, a place that looked like it had been hit hard by Hurricane Katrina, as it was 2005 and Hurricane Katrina had happened last year. The town had largely been flooded, and it looked like most of the buildings that were still standing had suffered water damage.
The area had a trashy look to it, and I wondered why William Parker, the victim we were investigating, would come to a place like this. While his parents couldn't be described as rich, they weren't too bad off.
Eventually I pulled up to a place called O'Connor's Saloon. It definitely wasn't upscale, and I wondered if I should just skip it and go to the next two items on the list, before deciding that it would be better to thorough, just in case. With resignation, I pulled into a park and got out.
Stepping through the door, I noticed the place looked like a typical southern bar, with wood panel walls and flooring, and the wall were covered in things like pictures, flags, mounted deer heads, and stamps. There were a few pool tables, a dart board, and tucked away in the corner, an old pinball game.
I walked in and sat at the bar. The bartender, who was an older woman with red hair, gave me an appraising look as I sat down. "Aren't you a little young to drink alcohol?"
"I'm not here to drink," I replied, reaching into my jacket and pulling out a picture. "I just want to ask you a few questions if that's ok."
"Uh, sure," the bartender replied. "I'm not too busy right now."
"Have you seen this man in here before?" I asked, showing her the picture.
"Uh yeah, actually," the bartender replied, taking the picture and looking at it. "He used to come in here all the time with his friends, but I haven't seen him much lately. Friend of yours?"
"Old friend, I've been out of town for a while," I replied, taking the picture back. "Did he happen to meet someone last time he was here? Say, a girl?"
"You mean Bennett over there?" replied the bartender, turning around and indicating a girl on the other side of the bar. The girl in question was chatting up someone, and didn't seem to notice us. "She a regular, been coming here since before I was hired. She's always chatting up some guy or other."
"Oh, thanks," I replied, surprised. I hadn't expected to come across the suspect so soon.
I turned my attention back to the bartender. "Maybe I'll have a drink after all. A coke, mind."
"Sure thing, hun," the bartender said with a smile, before turning to get my order. With the bartender gone, I refocused my attention on the suspect.
'Bennett', if that indeed was her real name, was blonde with long, curly hair, and a slim figure. I wouldn't have expected a witch or hoodoo priestess to be so pretty, but then again, Rowena was pretty, so I guess not all witches were ugly. She was chatting up a guy that looked young and healthy, with no fat to be seen. There were 13 other people in the bar.
After my coke arrived, I pulled out my phone and texted Dean:
Adam: found suspect, 253 5th ave, Bar called O'Connor's Saloon. Suspect is chatting up a guy that's healthy and looks to be in his 20s. Suspect is blonde with curly hair and a slim figure, do not call, in hearing range. I'm keeping eyes on the suspect.
I snapped a quick picture of the suspect(flash being off), hit send, then folded up my cell phone, then checked my gun discreetly to make sure it wasn't loose, as it was in the back of my pants.
When my phone buzzed, I picked it up to find a message from Dean:
Dean: OMW, DDATIGT.
I frowned. DDATIGT meant Don't Do Anything Till I Get There, which meant Dean wanted me to sit on my ass, even if she left the bar with a possible new victim in tow. Damn it, was I part of the Winchester family or not?
Adam: Possible new vic. Family business or not?
I hit send, before turning my phone off. Dean would just make it buzz over and over again, and I didn't need the distraction. Which was a good thing then, for as soon as I turned my phone off, Bennett got up, got her drinks payed for by the guy she was with, then left with him in tow.
I waited for a few moments after they left, popped a five on the bar, got up, and walked out the door. Looking around, I noticed Bennett getting into a truck with the guy. I walked over to my truck and got in, intending to follow.
I waited half a minute after they pulled out to follow them, wanting to keep some distance between us so they wouldn't realize they were being followed. It seemed to work, and I followed them as they drove clear across town on the interstate, until they pulled off into what looked like quiet, upscale neighborhood, the kind that had one street for the front door and one street for the back door.
I observed where the truck was parked, before pulling ahead and parking my truck a few blocks over. It being an upscale neighborhood, I pulled a silencer out of the glove box(where I had put it earlier, just in case), along with a few other things, and hooked up the silencer to my gun, as guns were noisy and I didn't want to clue in anyone in the neighborhood that there was a shootout going on nearby.
I pulled out my phone and turned it on, and it turned out that Dean had tried to call me a bunch of times.
I called Dean's number:
"Adam, where are you?! I told you to stay put!" Dean's voice yelled out of the phone.
I heaved a deep sigh. "She was seducing another victim, Dean. I couldn't just stand buy and do nothing. I got her address, It's 227 Hargrove Blvd-."
"Adam, I'm telling you, don't do anything until I get there-"
But I'd already hung up, instead texting him the address since it was obvious he hadn't written it down, then turning it off again, leaving it in the truck. Tucking my gun in the back of my pants, I walked up the back street at a brisk pace, and when I got near to the suspects house, I paused and ducked behind a few trash cans, looking at the house in question and waiting for the lights to go out. Hopefully Dean would arrive soon, and-
There was no warning, one moment I was crouching behind a few trash cans, the next moment something hard impacted the back of my head and all there was was blackness.
I was driving around in an old busted pickup I had stolen, one that looked like it hadn't been used in years, and was using it to get around, as Dean was using the impala to visit the morgue today, and the bus system was too slow.
The dive bar I was on my way to now was in one of the shadier parts of town, a place that looked like it had been hit hard by Hurricane Katrina, as it was 2005 and Hurricane Katrina had happened last year. The town had largely been flooded, and it looked like most of the buildings that were still standing had suffered water damage.
The area had a trashy look to it, and I wondered why William Parker, the victim we were investigating, would come to a place like this. While his parents couldn't be described as rich, they weren't too bad off.
Eventually I pulled up to a place called O'Connor's Saloon. It definitely wasn't upscale, and I wondered if I should just skip it and go to the next two items on the list, before deciding that it would be better to thorough, just in case. With resignation, I pulled into a park and got out.
Stepping through the door, I noticed the place looked like a typical southern bar, with wood panel walls and flooring, and the wall were covered in things like pictures, flags, mounted deer heads, and stamps. There were a few pool tables, a dart board, and tucked away in the corner, an old pinball game.
I walked in and sat at the bar. The bartender, who was an older woman with red hair, gave me an appraising look as I sat down. "Aren't you a little young to drink alcohol?"
"I'm not here to drink," I replied, reaching into my jacket and pulling out a picture. "I just want to ask you a few questions if that's ok."
"Uh, sure," the bartender replied. "I'm not too busy right now."
"Have you seen this man in here before?" I asked, showing her the picture.
"Uh yeah, actually," the bartender replied, taking the picture and looking at it. "He used to come in here all the time with his friends, but I haven't seen him much lately. Friend of yours?"
"Old friend, I've been out of town for a while," I replied, taking the picture back. "Did he happen to meet someone last time he was here? Say, a girl?"
"You mean Bennett over there?" replied the bartender, turning around and indicating a girl on the other side of the bar. The girl in question was chatting up someone, and didn't seem to notice us. "She a regular, been coming here since before I was hired. She's always chatting up some guy or other."
"Oh, thanks," I replied, surprised. I hadn't expected to come across the suspect so soon.
I turned my attention back to the bartender. "Maybe I'll have a drink after all. A coke, mind."
"Sure thing, hun," the bartender said with a smile, before turning to get my order. With the bartender gone, I refocused my attention on the suspect.
'Bennett', if that indeed was her real name, was blonde with long, curly hair, and a slim figure. I wouldn't have expected a witch or hoodoo priestess to be so pretty, but then again, Rowena was pretty, so I guess not all witches were ugly. She was chatting up a guy that looked young and healthy, with no fat to be seen. There were 13 other people in the bar.
After my coke arrived, I pulled out my phone and texted Dean:
Adam: found suspect, 253 5th ave, Bar called O'Connor's Saloon. Suspect is chatting up a guy that's healthy and looks to be in his 20s. Suspect is blonde with curly hair and a slim figure, do not call, in hearing range. I'm keeping eyes on the suspect.
I snapped a quick picture of the suspect(flash being off), hit send, then folded up my cell phone, then checked my gun discreetly to make sure it wasn't loose, as it was in the back of my pants.
When my phone buzzed, I picked it up to find a message from Dean:
Dean: OMW, DDATIGT.
I frowned. DDATIGT meant Don't Do Anything Till I Get There, which meant Dean wanted me to sit on my ass, even if she left the bar with a possible new victim in tow. Damn it, was I part of the Winchester family or not?
Adam: Possible new vic. Family business or not?
I hit send, before turning my phone off. Dean would just make it buzz over and over again, and I didn't need the distraction. Which was a good thing then, for as soon as I turned my phone off, Bennett got up, got her drinks payed for by the guy she was with, then left with him in tow.
I waited for a few moments after they left, popped a five on the bar, got up, and walked out the door. Looking around, I noticed Bennett getting into a truck with the guy. I walked over to my truck and got in, intending to follow.
I waited half a minute after they pulled out to follow them, wanting to keep some distance between us so they wouldn't realize they were being followed. It seemed to work, and I followed them as they drove clear across town on the interstate, until they pulled off into what looked like quiet, upscale neighborhood, the kind that had one street for the front door and one street for the back door.
I observed where the truck was parked, before pulling ahead and parking my truck a few blocks over. It being an upscale neighborhood, I pulled a silencer out of the glove box(where I had put it earlier, just in case), along with a few other things, and hooked up the silencer to my gun, as guns were noisy and I didn't want to clue in anyone in the neighborhood that there was a shootout going on nearby.
I pulled out my phone and turned it on, and it turned out that Dean had tried to call me a bunch of times.
I called Dean's number:
"Adam, where are you?! I told you to stay put!" Dean's voice yelled out of the phone.
I heaved a deep sigh. "She was seducing another victim, Dean. I couldn't just stand buy and do nothing. I got her address, It's 227 Hargrove Blvd-."
"Adam, I'm telling you, don't do anything until I get there-"
But I'd already hung up, instead texting him the address since it was obvious he hadn't written it down, then turning it off again, leaving it in the truck. Tucking my gun in the back of my pants, I walked up the back street at a brisk pace, and when I got near to the suspects house, I paused and ducked behind a few trash cans, looking at the house in question and waiting for the lights to go out. Hopefully Dean would arrive soon, and-
There was no warning, one moment I was crouching behind a few trash cans, the next moment something hard impacted the back of my head and all there was was blackness.
Edifier
Trusted within thoughts.
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Tho I feel trepidation from reading this you've caught the feeling of verisimilitude, in a good way.
I can't seem to figure out what advantages you could possibly get with foreknowledge in this kind of world.
I can't seem to figure out what advantages you could possibly get with foreknowledge in this kind of world.
Gendie07
Not too sore, are you?
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Thank you, I try to be true to the characters, at least.
At most, one can try to prevent the various apocalypses from happening. As for power... one can either become a Witch, or a monster. The options arn't very good there.
duncke
I trust you know where the happy button is?
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You could also try finding the Men of Letters bunker, we know they know how to do magic and know almost everything there is to know about the supernatural, after all Henry was able to go forward half a century in time with no consequences.
Gendie07
Not too sore, are you?
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Even if he did find it, he wouldn't beable to get in. You need a key, remember?
Vergil1989 Crossover King
Connoisseur.
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Well this has been a pretty nice treat. Carry on my wayward son, carry on. 
Adam 5 - Voodoo Doll 5
Gendie07
Not too sore, are you?
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I didn't know why, but I was walking along a creek trail, deep in what looked like a dried out canyon. For some reason, the creek seemed very familiar, like I had been here before, but for the life of me, I couldn't remember where exactly this creek was.
Eventually, the creek trail itself veered off the creek itself, turning onto a mountain pass. Instead of continuing to follow the trail, I continued down the creek itself, until eventually I came across a massive grotto, a grotto that the water of the creek fell down into. Peering over the edge of the grotto, I noticed that there seemed to be an entrance below that the water flowed out of, but otherwise the rest of the grotto was covered in darkness.
I had seen this grotto somewhere before, but where? Shrugging, I turned back, and when I got to the trail again, I walked along the mountain pass, following it as it trailed over the side of the mountain, before following it down to where it seemed like two canyons met to form one, the water of two creeks forming into a river.
Shrugging, I turned to follow the right-most creek back to the grotto, intending to check it out. By the time I had got there, the sun had set, and every thing was wreathed in moonlight. Looking through the bottom entrance to the grotto, I got the feeling that there was something very important here, something that I could use.
However, before I could set one more foot inside the grotto, what looked like three pairs of glowing red eyes opened, blinking in the moonlight, and a moment later, I heard a terrible growling sound.
There emerged a terribly massive three-headed dog, black as night, wreathed in shadow. It was so large it towered over me, and I was frozen on the spot in fear. However, before either of us could make a move, ice cold water splashed over me, and I awoke with a start.
After spluttering for a few moments, and blinking the water out of my eyes, I came to in what seemed to be an attic. I was tied tight to a plush chair with cord rope, my hands tied behind me. The attic had all the usual stuff in it, old furniture, suitcases, dust everywhere, and a massive white vanity with a huge fucking mirror on it. It had a few candles, what looked like 5 remarkably lifelike wax dolls, and various fabrics and pin cushions, and my gun on it. The mirror seemed to have a few veve carved into it, but I didn't recognize them.
Standing in front of the vanity was Bennett, who seemed to be working on another wax doll, only this one was a lot cruder. In the mirror, I saw a huge dark-skinned man standing behind me, a blank expression on his face. He was holding the bucket that apparently had been holding the water that was used to wake me up.
"That'd be all, Carl," Bennett said eventually, looking up from her work to stare at me in the mirror.
The dark skinned man, whom I assumed to be Carl, turned and left, closing the door behind him.
"So..." Bennett turned around to look at me, picking up my gun. She had a wary expression on her face. "What's a pretty boy like you doing running around with a pretty gun like this in your pocket?"
She indicated the gun in question.
I gave my best impression of a Dean-smirk. "What's a pretty witch like you doing running around seducing pretty men like that and enslaving them?"
I glanced at the door that Carl had just left out of, before giving her a once over with my eyes, and then did a sharp whistle. "I mean, I've met quite a few witches in my day, and none of them were near as pretty as you."
Actually I didn't really find her to be pretty at all, she wore a lot of jewelry(which I found gaudy), had clearly had a face-lift at some point, and now seeing her up close and personal, I realized that her hair was an ugly bleached color, instead of natural blonde. Also, I wasn't attracted to women, men were more my speed.
Still, I had told her that to A, put her off guard and B, give her the impression that I was just like any other guy, so she would underestimate me.
"Ugh, men," she scoffed, mostly to herself. "Ok, A, ew, and B, I'm pagan, not a witch."
"Yeah, I kind of figured after seeing the veve on your mirror," I replied. "Still, enslaving people against their will would class you as a witch in most hunter's books."
"I didn't know they started training hunters so young," She said while walking up to me. "So whats your name, hunter?"
"Ben Tyson," I replied with a straight face. "What's yours?"
"Hmm, try again," She said, walking around me. I stopped moving my arms, as I had slowly been loosening the ropes.
"What do you mean? My name really is Ben Tyson," I replied in a faux-confused voice.
She slapped me across the face. "Don't lie to me, little boy."
Holding up the doll she had been working on earlier, she pressed her thumb to the doll's chest, and I felt pressure on mine.
It was a Voodoo doll, I realized. "I'm not lying."
She pressed harder, and it soon became hard for me to draw in a breath, my ribs feeling like they could buckle under the strain.
"Tell me your name," The witch hissed.
While it didn't come up often in the TV show, in the supernatural universe, names had power. After all, you needed a being's name if you were going to summon them, and it was easier for witches to cast a spell on someone if they had their name. I assumed she wanted my name to make it easier to enslave me.
"Kind of… hard to.. say anything… if I… can't breathe," I gasped out.
She removed her thumb from the doll's chest, and I choked in a breath.
"Tell me your name, or I'll start breaking arms," the witch replied, holding up one of the arms of the doll.
"Go ahead," I growled out. I think one of my ribs had actually cracked. "It's not like I haven't had a broken arm before. I'd rather be dead than enslaved."
The witch regarded me for a moment. "Is that so?"
I glared up at her defiantly.
"Hmm, well that's too bad," the witch said a few moments later. "It would have been nice to have a younger companion for once. I guess I'll just have to wait for your brother to arrive."
I looked up at her in surprise. How did she know about Dean? I was about to ask, but she already had the head of the doll in her grip, and I felt the pressure on my head.
She really was going to kill me, I realized. And Dean… Dean was walking into a trap.
I closed my eyes, flipped a switch, then opened them again.
The witch had been slowly twisting the head of the doll around, probably intending to twist my head off with it. But when I opened my eyes, something in them caused her to flinch violently, and doll dropped from her boneless fingers. I caught it easily with my power, and now that she didn't have any control over it, I melted it so she couldn't use it again.
The next instant, I used my power to undo the ropes binding me to the chair. The instant after that, I stood up, grabbing the witch in a choke-hold, lifting her up a foot in the air. She gasped for air, and I could feel the demonic blood pumping in my ears.
"That's right," I said softly in a demonic growl. "Die."
The witch, for her part, had the presence of mind to kick me in the groin, and the pain of my squished doo-daads loosened my grip enough for her to escape, and she ran to the door. Dispite the soul agonizing pain of my nether regions, I had the presence of mind flex my power with one hand, moving several bits of furniture in her way, so she couldn't escape, using my other hand to cradle my squished bits..
"What the fuck are you?" she screamed at me after she made a futile attempt to move the furniture out of the way.
The question gave me pause, and I turned to regard the mirror, my hand still clutching my nether bits, and I realized that my eyes were as black as night.
Eventually, the creek trail itself veered off the creek itself, turning onto a mountain pass. Instead of continuing to follow the trail, I continued down the creek itself, until eventually I came across a massive grotto, a grotto that the water of the creek fell down into. Peering over the edge of the grotto, I noticed that there seemed to be an entrance below that the water flowed out of, but otherwise the rest of the grotto was covered in darkness.
I had seen this grotto somewhere before, but where? Shrugging, I turned back, and when I got to the trail again, I walked along the mountain pass, following it as it trailed over the side of the mountain, before following it down to where it seemed like two canyons met to form one, the water of two creeks forming into a river.
Shrugging, I turned to follow the right-most creek back to the grotto, intending to check it out. By the time I had got there, the sun had set, and every thing was wreathed in moonlight. Looking through the bottom entrance to the grotto, I got the feeling that there was something very important here, something that I could use.
However, before I could set one more foot inside the grotto, what looked like three pairs of glowing red eyes opened, blinking in the moonlight, and a moment later, I heard a terrible growling sound.
There emerged a terribly massive three-headed dog, black as night, wreathed in shadow. It was so large it towered over me, and I was frozen on the spot in fear. However, before either of us could make a move, ice cold water splashed over me, and I awoke with a start.
After spluttering for a few moments, and blinking the water out of my eyes, I came to in what seemed to be an attic. I was tied tight to a plush chair with cord rope, my hands tied behind me. The attic had all the usual stuff in it, old furniture, suitcases, dust everywhere, and a massive white vanity with a huge fucking mirror on it. It had a few candles, what looked like 5 remarkably lifelike wax dolls, and various fabrics and pin cushions, and my gun on it. The mirror seemed to have a few veve carved into it, but I didn't recognize them.
Standing in front of the vanity was Bennett, who seemed to be working on another wax doll, only this one was a lot cruder. In the mirror, I saw a huge dark-skinned man standing behind me, a blank expression on his face. He was holding the bucket that apparently had been holding the water that was used to wake me up.
"That'd be all, Carl," Bennett said eventually, looking up from her work to stare at me in the mirror.
The dark skinned man, whom I assumed to be Carl, turned and left, closing the door behind him.
"So..." Bennett turned around to look at me, picking up my gun. She had a wary expression on her face. "What's a pretty boy like you doing running around with a pretty gun like this in your pocket?"
She indicated the gun in question.
I gave my best impression of a Dean-smirk. "What's a pretty witch like you doing running around seducing pretty men like that and enslaving them?"
I glanced at the door that Carl had just left out of, before giving her a once over with my eyes, and then did a sharp whistle. "I mean, I've met quite a few witches in my day, and none of them were near as pretty as you."
Actually I didn't really find her to be pretty at all, she wore a lot of jewelry(which I found gaudy), had clearly had a face-lift at some point, and now seeing her up close and personal, I realized that her hair was an ugly bleached color, instead of natural blonde. Also, I wasn't attracted to women, men were more my speed.
Still, I had told her that to A, put her off guard and B, give her the impression that I was just like any other guy, so she would underestimate me.
"Ugh, men," she scoffed, mostly to herself. "Ok, A, ew, and B, I'm pagan, not a witch."
"Yeah, I kind of figured after seeing the veve on your mirror," I replied. "Still, enslaving people against their will would class you as a witch in most hunter's books."
"I didn't know they started training hunters so young," She said while walking up to me. "So whats your name, hunter?"
"Ben Tyson," I replied with a straight face. "What's yours?"
"Hmm, try again," She said, walking around me. I stopped moving my arms, as I had slowly been loosening the ropes.
"What do you mean? My name really is Ben Tyson," I replied in a faux-confused voice.
She slapped me across the face. "Don't lie to me, little boy."
Holding up the doll she had been working on earlier, she pressed her thumb to the doll's chest, and I felt pressure on mine.
It was a Voodoo doll, I realized. "I'm not lying."
She pressed harder, and it soon became hard for me to draw in a breath, my ribs feeling like they could buckle under the strain.
"Tell me your name," The witch hissed.
While it didn't come up often in the TV show, in the supernatural universe, names had power. After all, you needed a being's name if you were going to summon them, and it was easier for witches to cast a spell on someone if they had their name. I assumed she wanted my name to make it easier to enslave me.
"Kind of… hard to.. say anything… if I… can't breathe," I gasped out.
She removed her thumb from the doll's chest, and I choked in a breath.
"Tell me your name, or I'll start breaking arms," the witch replied, holding up one of the arms of the doll.
"Go ahead," I growled out. I think one of my ribs had actually cracked. "It's not like I haven't had a broken arm before. I'd rather be dead than enslaved."
The witch regarded me for a moment. "Is that so?"
I glared up at her defiantly.
"Hmm, well that's too bad," the witch said a few moments later. "It would have been nice to have a younger companion for once. I guess I'll just have to wait for your brother to arrive."
I looked up at her in surprise. How did she know about Dean? I was about to ask, but she already had the head of the doll in her grip, and I felt the pressure on my head.
She really was going to kill me, I realized. And Dean… Dean was walking into a trap.
I closed my eyes, flipped a switch, then opened them again.
The witch had been slowly twisting the head of the doll around, probably intending to twist my head off with it. But when I opened my eyes, something in them caused her to flinch violently, and doll dropped from her boneless fingers. I caught it easily with my power, and now that she didn't have any control over it, I melted it so she couldn't use it again.
The next instant, I used my power to undo the ropes binding me to the chair. The instant after that, I stood up, grabbing the witch in a choke-hold, lifting her up a foot in the air. She gasped for air, and I could feel the demonic blood pumping in my ears.
"That's right," I said softly in a demonic growl. "Die."
The witch, for her part, had the presence of mind to kick me in the groin, and the pain of my squished doo-daads loosened my grip enough for her to escape, and she ran to the door. Dispite the soul agonizing pain of my nether regions, I had the presence of mind flex my power with one hand, moving several bits of furniture in her way, so she couldn't escape, using my other hand to cradle my squished bits..
"What the fuck are you?" she screamed at me after she made a futile attempt to move the furniture out of the way.
The question gave me pause, and I turned to regard the mirror, my hand still clutching my nether bits, and I realized that my eyes were as black as night.