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avandell2007-01-30 08:11 pm
theladyscribe) wrote in avandell2007-01-30 08:11 pm
Entry tags:
Fic: Trade Your Heroes For Ghosts
Title: Trade Your Heroes For Ghosts
Characters: Dean, Sam, various minor characters from the series (no pairing)
Genre: Gen, PG (same as show)
Word Count: 1216
Summary: They don’t know it, but they’ve left behind an army.
Notes: SPOILERS FOR EVERYTHING, INCLUDING NIGHTSHIFTER. Title shamelessly ripped from Pink Floyd’s “Wish You Were Here.” Inspired by Nightshifter and bymusesfool ’s awesome story, “Thou Unknown I Know.”
Trade Your Heroes For Ghosts
The aftermath of Milwaukee has them running for their lives, trying to escape the inevitable. But what they don’t know is that they’ve left behind an army, and when the word gets out that the Winchester brothers are wanted, the messages start pouring in.
Hailey from Colorado leaves a message on Dean’s cell asking for the coordinates to the wendigo’s lair. Dean isn’t sure what she’s talking about, and then it hits him: she wants to know where he is. He knows he can’t tell her their location (Sam would kill him even if it is not a trap), but he sends her a text that says, “Alive.”
The next call is to Sam’s cellphone – from a number neither of them recognize – and the geek actually answers it, ignoring Dean’s mutters of “It could be a trap.” After a quick greeting, Sam hands the phone to Dean. “It’s Charlie, from Toledo – Bloody Mary, remember? She wants to talk to you.”
Dean shoots his brother a glare, but takes the phone anyway. “Hello?”
“Dean? Thank god you’re alright. I saw the news about you guys – you were on CNN and everything – and I just knew it couldn’t have been true. It’s not, is it?”
“No, Charlie, it’s not.” He can practically hear the relief rushing through her. “What’s up, Charlie, why’re you calling us?”
“Listen, Dean, after you guys left, I started looking stuff up. I read up on… on what you guys do.” She laughs a little nervously. “Right now, I’m sitting in a motel in Twin Falls. I’ve been researching deaths around the falls. Dunno where you guys are, but I could use some help ‘cause whatever’s been killing people around here is a lot bigger than what I’ve dealt with before. Besides, it sounds like you could use a hideout for a while.”
“How do we know it’s not a trap?” The offer of a safehouse is tempting, but they haven’t spoken to Charlie since they drove out of Ohio almost two years ago.
Her voice is flat as she tells him, “Do some research. I left home a year ago and haven’t contacted anyone in the state of Ohio since.”
Dean takes a deep breath. He’s not going to get angry at her for abandoning her family, he’s not going to do it – she’s not Sam and her family isn’t his. “Listen, Charlie, it’s nice of you to offer, but right now, we can’t do it.” He waves off Sam’s raised eyebrow. “Besides, you don’t need us bringing trouble down on your head. If they caught us – you’d be going down right along with us.”
“I know,” she says quietly.
Dean sighs and then tells her, “Okay. Look, there’s this place in Iowa, near Sioux City. You got something you can write with?”
“Yeah.”
He gives her the directions and phone number to the Roadhouse, saying, “Ellen’ll be able to help you with the spirits at the falls. And, Charlie?”
“Yeah?”
“Let her know we’re alive, okay? We’ll be getting new phones tomorrow,” he lies, “so tell her not to try calling.”
“Okay.”
There’s a message from Jo on Dean’s phone the next night. He almost deletes it without even listening to it – just like the other four or five she’s left over the past couple of months. Tonight, though, something stops him, and he presses the button to listen to it.
“Hi, Dean, it’s Jo again,” she begins, her voice a little soft, a little nervous. “I um… You may not actually hear this – you’ll probably delete it like you’ve probably deleted my other messages – but anyway, I just wanna say it again. I’m sorry. For everything. For back in Pennsylvania and everything after that.” She trails off, and Dean thinks the message is finished, but then her voice picks up again. “And, Dean,” she says, her voice taking on an odd edge he can’t quite describe, “I saw you – on the news. I’m worried for you guys. I mean, I’m sure you guys’ll be alright, but… God, I feel, I don’t know, responsible or something. I mean, you took that job in Baltimore just after H. H. Holmes.” She laughs sardonically. “God, if I’d known what trouble that would have caused, I’d have left you alone. Anyway, if you call Mom, tell her I’m doing alright. I’m heading toward the South for a while. Heard some rumors about old ghosts around a Civil War battle site. Stay safe, Dean Winchester,” she says, and the message ends.
“What’s up?” Sam asks after Dean takes the phone away from his ear.
“Wrong number,” Dean says even as he saves the message.
It’s maybe a week later when Sam’s surfing the internet (“Not for porn, you jerk,” he tells Dean) and he finds the website. “Dude, look at this.” He calls Dean over and turns the laptop to face him.
Dean blinks at the image in front of him. “SaveWinchester.com? What the hell, Sammy, are you trying to start pranks again? Because now is definitely not the time.”
“I was just googling our names, seeing what I could find, and this was the first thing that popped up. It’s a petition site, Dean. All these people – all 213,487 of them – don’t want us to get caught. Look! They’ve got anecdotes and everything – the people we’ve helped, they’re trying to help us.”
He leans back and allows Dean to scroll down the page. Stories from all over the country are posted – that family with the Native American burial ground thing, those kids in the asylum, that Sarah Blake chick who liked Sam, and others. There are hundreds of stories of “How those guys saved my life.” Some of them Dean can tell are fakes – those ones sound like teenage girls who saw their faces on the TV and made up something about a werewolf or a vampire attacking them – but most of them, most of them he remembers. He sits down heavily on the bed.
“Kinda makes it all worth it, doesn’t it?” Sam says quietly.
Dean’s throat is tight, and he doesn’t quite trust himself to speak, so he nods, coughs, and then says, “Yeah.” He clears his throat again and then asks, “Who set that thing up, anyway?”
Sam types away at the computer for a moment and then laughs a little. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Who is it?” Dean leans toward him.
“You remember those guys with that website, HellhoundsLair.com?”
Dean smirks. “How could I forget?”
Sam cracks his neck. “Well, apparently, they remembered us.” He turns the computer back toward Dean. “See?” He’s found the “About” page, and sure enough, there is a picture of the two guys smiling at the camera. “They sold their script, Dean,” Sam tells him with more than a little incredulity. “And they used part of the money to set this up. It says – and this is a direct quote – ‘When we heard about the plight of the Winchester brothers, we knew we had to do something. If it had not been for them, we never would have made it to Hollywood, and definitely never would have met Mr. Kripke. So, to return the favor, we decided to do our best to save the Winchesters. Bless them, may Yoda, Ed and Harry’.”
Characters: Dean, Sam, various minor characters from the series (no pairing)
Genre: Gen, PG (same as show)
Word Count: 1216
Summary: They don’t know it, but they’ve left behind an army.
Notes: SPOILERS FOR EVERYTHING, INCLUDING NIGHTSHIFTER. Title shamelessly ripped from Pink Floyd’s “Wish You Were Here.” Inspired by Nightshifter and by
musesfool ’s awesome story, “Thou Unknown I Know.” Trade Your Heroes For Ghosts
The aftermath of Milwaukee has them running for their lives, trying to escape the inevitable. But what they don’t know is that they’ve left behind an army, and when the word gets out that the Winchester brothers are wanted, the messages start pouring in.
Hailey from Colorado leaves a message on Dean’s cell asking for the coordinates to the wendigo’s lair. Dean isn’t sure what she’s talking about, and then it hits him: she wants to know where he is. He knows he can’t tell her their location (Sam would kill him even if it is not a trap), but he sends her a text that says, “Alive.”
The next call is to Sam’s cellphone – from a number neither of them recognize – and the geek actually answers it, ignoring Dean’s mutters of “It could be a trap.” After a quick greeting, Sam hands the phone to Dean. “It’s Charlie, from Toledo – Bloody Mary, remember? She wants to talk to you.”
Dean shoots his brother a glare, but takes the phone anyway. “Hello?”
“Dean? Thank god you’re alright. I saw the news about you guys – you were on CNN and everything – and I just knew it couldn’t have been true. It’s not, is it?”
“No, Charlie, it’s not.” He can practically hear the relief rushing through her. “What’s up, Charlie, why’re you calling us?”
“Listen, Dean, after you guys left, I started looking stuff up. I read up on… on what you guys do.” She laughs a little nervously. “Right now, I’m sitting in a motel in Twin Falls. I’ve been researching deaths around the falls. Dunno where you guys are, but I could use some help ‘cause whatever’s been killing people around here is a lot bigger than what I’ve dealt with before. Besides, it sounds like you could use a hideout for a while.”
“How do we know it’s not a trap?” The offer of a safehouse is tempting, but they haven’t spoken to Charlie since they drove out of Ohio almost two years ago.
Her voice is flat as she tells him, “Do some research. I left home a year ago and haven’t contacted anyone in the state of Ohio since.”
Dean takes a deep breath. He’s not going to get angry at her for abandoning her family, he’s not going to do it – she’s not Sam and her family isn’t his. “Listen, Charlie, it’s nice of you to offer, but right now, we can’t do it.” He waves off Sam’s raised eyebrow. “Besides, you don’t need us bringing trouble down on your head. If they caught us – you’d be going down right along with us.”
“I know,” she says quietly.
Dean sighs and then tells her, “Okay. Look, there’s this place in Iowa, near Sioux City. You got something you can write with?”
“Yeah.”
He gives her the directions and phone number to the Roadhouse, saying, “Ellen’ll be able to help you with the spirits at the falls. And, Charlie?”
“Yeah?”
“Let her know we’re alive, okay? We’ll be getting new phones tomorrow,” he lies, “so tell her not to try calling.”
“Okay.”
There’s a message from Jo on Dean’s phone the next night. He almost deletes it without even listening to it – just like the other four or five she’s left over the past couple of months. Tonight, though, something stops him, and he presses the button to listen to it.
“Hi, Dean, it’s Jo again,” she begins, her voice a little soft, a little nervous. “I um… You may not actually hear this – you’ll probably delete it like you’ve probably deleted my other messages – but anyway, I just wanna say it again. I’m sorry. For everything. For back in Pennsylvania and everything after that.” She trails off, and Dean thinks the message is finished, but then her voice picks up again. “And, Dean,” she says, her voice taking on an odd edge he can’t quite describe, “I saw you – on the news. I’m worried for you guys. I mean, I’m sure you guys’ll be alright, but… God, I feel, I don’t know, responsible or something. I mean, you took that job in Baltimore just after H. H. Holmes.” She laughs sardonically. “God, if I’d known what trouble that would have caused, I’d have left you alone. Anyway, if you call Mom, tell her I’m doing alright. I’m heading toward the South for a while. Heard some rumors about old ghosts around a Civil War battle site. Stay safe, Dean Winchester,” she says, and the message ends.
“What’s up?” Sam asks after Dean takes the phone away from his ear.
“Wrong number,” Dean says even as he saves the message.
It’s maybe a week later when Sam’s surfing the internet (“Not for porn, you jerk,” he tells Dean) and he finds the website. “Dude, look at this.” He calls Dean over and turns the laptop to face him.
Dean blinks at the image in front of him. “SaveWinchester.com? What the hell, Sammy, are you trying to start pranks again? Because now is definitely not the time.”
“I was just googling our names, seeing what I could find, and this was the first thing that popped up. It’s a petition site, Dean. All these people – all 213,487 of them – don’t want us to get caught. Look! They’ve got anecdotes and everything – the people we’ve helped, they’re trying to help us.”
He leans back and allows Dean to scroll down the page. Stories from all over the country are posted – that family with the Native American burial ground thing, those kids in the asylum, that Sarah Blake chick who liked Sam, and others. There are hundreds of stories of “How those guys saved my life.” Some of them Dean can tell are fakes – those ones sound like teenage girls who saw their faces on the TV and made up something about a werewolf or a vampire attacking them – but most of them, most of them he remembers. He sits down heavily on the bed.
“Kinda makes it all worth it, doesn’t it?” Sam says quietly.
Dean’s throat is tight, and he doesn’t quite trust himself to speak, so he nods, coughs, and then says, “Yeah.” He clears his throat again and then asks, “Who set that thing up, anyway?”
Sam types away at the computer for a moment and then laughs a little. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Who is it?” Dean leans toward him.
“You remember those guys with that website, HellhoundsLair.com?”
Dean smirks. “How could I forget?”
Sam cracks his neck. “Well, apparently, they remembered us.” He turns the computer back toward Dean. “See?” He’s found the “About” page, and sure enough, there is a picture of the two guys smiling at the camera. “They sold their script, Dean,” Sam tells him with more than a little incredulity. “And they used part of the money to set this up. It says – and this is a direct quote – ‘When we heard about the plight of the Winchester brothers, we knew we had to do something. If it had not been for them, we never would have made it to Hollywood, and definitely never would have met Mr. Kripke. So, to return the favor, we decided to do our best to save the Winchesters. Bless them, may Yoda, Ed and Harry’.”