randomDean's supposed reality; a random stretch of road. Memories old and new

[random_xtras]

Dean hadn't been having a good day. First his car had broken down, and been towed away.

Then...then the cops had arrested him on some bogus charges that he was sure his Sam had brought up on him.

Now?

Now he was walking in the freezing rain, down a deserted highway, and trying to find an exit with a hotel.

It was such a lovely day.


A shotgun blast rang out faint but near, as though muffled by something. There was a moment's silence and then the sound rang out again much more clearly though its origin was still not apparent.


Dean started at the shotgun blast and reached out with his senses. The rain had gotten worse, and a slight fog had crept in, so the next blast reverberated through without disclosing where it came from.

He moved out towards where he sensed...something, but didn't make a sound.


And then a body flashed into sight, tucking and rolling over its shoulder as it flew backward.

The young man came up in a crouch and aimed a short shotgun back the way he'd come, then froze and looked around with startled dark eyes. He noticed Dean and those eyes narrowed slightly, then went wide. "Uncle Dean?"


Dean had his .45 out before the kid had even come out of the roll, but it was aimed in the direction of where the young man had come from. He didn't sense whatever the kid was fighting, but then again you probably wouldn't if you had a strange kid all of a sudden call you uncle.

He blinked at the kid, brow furrowed in confusion. "Uncle?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

Before he could ask anything else, he felt what seemed to be arms around his waist a moment before he was jerked off the side of the road. He flew about 30 feet before hitting the ground and rolling, gun skittering away from him.


The shotgun roared again behind him, and there was an inhuman wail of rage followed by a cry of pain from the stranger.

"Poltergiest!" he cried.


"Funny, they don't usually follow you from different areas." Dean frowned.


-Different areas?- The stranger didn't look away as the thing disapeared and started a whirlwind of roadside junk and rain. -Since when do YOU headtalk? Oh, crap. God, help us.-


-Different realities, kiddo.- he said. -And it's always kinda been there, but it more recently showed up this strong.- he added to explain the head talk. Then he coughed, covering his face as the whirlwind grew, and made his way over to the kid and grabbed him. "Come on!" he yelled over the noise. "We can't fight it like this!"


The kid nodded and followed, head down against the assault as he continued to pray. Dean could see that he was young, eighteen at the most; and feel that, despite anger and determination, that he was scared spitless.


He had his arm around the kid as he pulled him along, saying a silent prayer to himself. He could feel the emotions rolling of the kid, despite that anger and determination. He knew the kid was scared, it was a feeling he knew well, but he just chose to ignore it.


"I've never gone against one of these before." The young stranger's voice was gruff with unshed tears. Then he cried out as something struck him in the back, stumbling and falling to one knee with a shocked look in his eyes.


“Yeah, well they ain’t to be underestimated, is one thing you should know.” Said Dean, wishing he could calm the kid down, but that would have to wait till they were safe and not being attacked by a crazy poltergeist. Dean grabbed him as he fell and ended up going down himself, but the gun was out again and firing in the direction that he’d sensed something.

“BACK OFF!” he growled into the darkness.


There was a howl and a rain of junk and rocks, and then a sudden eerie silence broken only by the young man's ragged breathing.

"Gone..." he whispered, his voice bubbling slightly. -Uncle... I'm hurt.-


Dean threw himself over the kid as the junk and rocks fell, and didn’t move until he was sure it was gone. He stiffened when he heard that mental voice in his head, and felt a slight bit of pain radiating out to him.

He was certain it wasn’t as much as the boy was feeling, but he was worried.

“Where are you hurt?” he asked quickly, bringing the boy’s face up so he was looking at him.


Those dark eyes- Sam's eyes- were glazing with shock. -Can't breath....-

He coughed and a bubble of pink froth came to his lips.


Dean’s eyes were wide as saucers when he felt the warmth of blood on his hands. He looked down at the boy’s chest to find a stake through his side. –Dear God, please no. No no no…- he prayed.

“You’re gonna be fine.” He said, lifting the boy up in his arms and trying to make him comfortable. “I’m gonna get you help, you’re going to be just fine.” He said, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

He ran as fast as he could back to the highway, fervently praying that someone would be coming down the road and would help them.


The road was deserted save for the rain and the fog, which seemed to shut them into a box that muffled all sound and thought.

"Rob," came the faint whisper from his arms as the young man's eyes fell closed. -I'm...Rob.... Cold.-


Dean muttered a curse under his breath. He hadn’t heard what the kid had told him until he was using the mental voice. “Okay, Rob…well you know me, but how bout you tell me about yourself,” he started, then stiffened hearing him say he was cold. He rubbed his arms as well as he could.

“Come on, you gotta keep your eyes open.”


-Tired,- came the chillingly faint reply.


Dean knelt down on the edge of the highway, still holding Rob in his arms. He felt the branch and took a firm grip on it, then smoothed the kid’s hair back. –This is gonna hurt like hell, but I have to…- he whispered through to him. Without another warning, he pulled it out and immediately placed pressure on the wound, front and back.

“God please…” he whispered, feeling warmth seep through his fingers. “I don’t really know how I’m supposed to do this, but please…please heal him.”

He held Rob a little closer. “…please…”


Rob choked as the stake came out, then felt himself spiral down into blackness. His body became deadweight as his heart stopped, the shotgun just then falling from his hand and hitting the ashphalt with a clatter.

But Dean could feel that wind again, gently pushing against his soul even as the boy in his arms stopped living.


“No…nonono…” he whispered, pulling the kid closer and rocking slightly. “…please God no…don’t let him die…” he begged, suddenly feeling tears sting his eyes.

He felt blood, now growing cold, seeping into his shirt, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t care, he just didn’t want this boy to die.


That wind grew stronger, rocking him as it pushed against his soul.

-Do you believe I can do this?- a Voice seemed to ask, not in his mind, but in his heart.


Dean looked around wildly, almost expecting to see someone else there. It sure felt as though someone were there, but…

“Do I believe You can…?” he breathed. “…what..I… I do believe, I know You can do this, I…” he swallowed, taking a breath.

“I believe You can, because You saved me…please…”


-Call him.-


Dean looked around confused, but did as He said. “R..Rob?” he whispered, still holding the boy. “Rob…please, talk to me…say anything…”


There was no reply, no sign of life yet, but under his hand the deadly wound suddenly disapeared.

-Call him. In My Name.-


Dean watched the wound disappear, but… “What? What do you mean, I don’t un..understand what You want from me…” he said aloud.


Unbidden came the memory of a story his mother had read to him when he was a little boy. A story of a man saying to one who was crippled, "In the name of Jesus, I say to you, get up and walk."


The memory flashed through his mind, and he held the kid in his arms a little tighter. He looked down at Rob, and felt something else wash over him, a sense of certainty in what he was being told. That it wasn’t some kind of joke. That it was the real deal.

Dean swallowed, licking his lips, and took a breath. "In the name of Jesus, I say to you, get up and walk."


Rob stiffened suddenly with a groan, his face screwing up in pain. Then his eyes opened and stared up at his alternate uncle disorentedly for a moment before he tried to push away. "My gun...."


And Dean? Dean didn't care that the kid was trying to pull away. He suddenly pulled him into a gentle hug.

"You're alive." he whispered. "Thank God you're alive."


"What?" Rob's voice was confused and a little shakey, but he hugged back uncertainly. "What happened?"


Dean still hadn't let the poor kid go from the hug. "You...you had gone..." he whispered hoarsely.


"Gone...." Then what his uncle had said earlier sank in and he jerked away to put a hand to his chest, eyes gone wide. "What??"


Dean watched the kid, still in shock himself at what had happened. "Yeah...gone..." was all he could really say to him.


Rob started shaking, his eyes wide and young. "I was... I was dead?"


Dean swallowed hard, only nodding his head at the question. He brushed the kid's hair out of his face. "It's okay now though....you're back."


"I... I... I... wow." He blinked rapidly, then let his head drop and quietly broke down as the heavens opened and doused them with sheets of rain.


Dean didn't know what else to do, so he just held the kid a little closer, rocking slightly as the rain soaked them both.


The cold water hammered down on them relentlessly, then suddenly stopped as though shut off with a switch, the sun shining down on them in benediction as a perfect double rainbow formed.


Dean looked up, blinking in amazement at it, a bright smile coming to his lips. “Would you look at that?”


"Do you think it's a promise?" Rob's voice was hushed, his dark eyes wide as he looked at the show.


“I don’t know…” he whispered. “I’m new at this type of thing.” He said, looking down at him, smile still firmly in place.


"You're new?" Rob blinked. "But... you're doing stuff like the guys in the Bible."


Dean raised an eyebrow at that. “I am? I didn’t know that, I just did what He told me to do.”


"What He...." Rob's eyes went round, then blinked as a midnight purple rig stopped next to them.


Dean’s other eyebrow joined the first, then he turned to look and blinked at the rig as well. “Huh…” he muttered.

An older, white haired lady opened up the door. “Ya’ll boys picked a heck of a place to camp out, didn’t ya?” she called to them.

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and his eyes twinkled with mirth.

“I guess miracles come in pairs.” He whispered with awe.


"Ya'll wanna ride?" the lady continued as a white cat peered down at them. "Me 'n Hitchiker're headed t' _____."


Rob just gaped speechlessly, then looked down to see that the rain had washed away every trace of blood from his clothes.


Dean couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up after that, and he got to his feet, gently pulling Rob up with him. “Yes, ma’am we sure could use one if it isn’t any trouble.” he said, brushing himself off, and then Rob, which the kid prolly hated. “We’ll be glad to get anywhere as long as it’s got food, and a warm bed.”

He didn’t get any strange vibes off of her, and no little warning in the back of his mind, so he figured she was alright.


Rob was still a little too shellshocked by everything to notice. He climbed up into the truck and tucked himself back into the sleeper with the friendly little cat, noticing the plastic canvas cross hanging from the rearview mirror.


"My name's Angel," said the woman, fastening her seatbelt. "The cat's Hitchhiker."


Dean climbed up after, sitting into the passenger seat, and watching Rob with the cat. He smiled, seeing the cross. “Nice to meet you, Angel and Hitchhiker.” He started, smiling at the woman, and scratching the cat behind the ears.

“I’m Dean, this is Rob.” He said, a slight bit of pain clouding his vision as a headache started to pound, but it passed with his stony resolve as he determined to keep from succumbing to his weakness again.


"Ya related?" Angel looked back and forth between them, then put the truck in gear and started down the highway, which still glistened from the rain.

Dean looked back at Rob with a smile. “Yeah, we are.” He said, still smiling.


She nodded, grinning. "Got lost huntin'?"


Rob choked, then started laughing silently but hilariously, laying back on the bunk and wheezing to himself softly.


Dean couldn’t help the laugh that came from himself. “You could say that, ma’am.” He said, still chuckling.


"Best be careful doin' that in these parts. They tell stories 'bout this stretch'a road," she said quietly, her eyes serious.


-I didn't sense anything about it....- Rob lifted his head and looked into the cab.


-Funny, neither did I.- he said back. "Is that so?" asked Dean, rather innocently. "What do they tell?"


"Mostly hoohaw. But I've seen things along here on foggy're rainy days that I can't explain."


Dean nodded. "You know...I really like ghost stories. Do they have any bout this bit of road here?" he asked, still just sounding mildly curious.


"You wanna hear the hoohaw? Or what I've actually seen?" She gave him a shrewed look.


"I like to hear what people have seen." he answered honestly, looking out the truck window. Then he winced, a hand coming to his head as he fumbled in his jacket pocket for the medicine he kept there for the headaches.


-Uncle Dean?- Rob sent a forceful rush of happy feel good feelings.


"Well, I got this." Angel reached under her seat and handed him a foolscap sized hardbound log book. "That's what I've seen."


He felt a bit better hearing Rob's voice, and feeling the rush of happiness, but the headache was steadily getting worse. He went to grab the logbook from her, but paled suddenly.

"Alright, ..okay.." he rasped. "..could you pull over please.." he practically begged, looking more than a little sickly now.


She did so as quickly as she could with the unwieldiness of the rig, then watched in concern as Rob sat up and reached between the seat and the door to throw it open.


As soon as the door opened, Dean stumbled out, and off the side of the road, chest heaving as he got sick. He coughed, headache now nearly unbearable, but he couldn't do anything about it till his stomach settled. After a few minutes, and him getting rid of the past day's meals, he stepped back a few steps before collapsing in a shivering heap.


Hands gently lifted him and pulled his arm up over a set of shoulders that were higher than his own as Rob once more gently sent him happy feelings. The younger man managed to get him up into the cab with the help of Angel and a discrete telekenetic boost, then lay him in the sleeper and pulled off his shoes. "You'd better get some rest, Uncle Dean."


Dean tried to be a little more useful than a dead weight, but he was unable to do much more than will himself to stay conscious till they reached the truck. He was paler and still shivering, and despite the happy feelings being sent through, pain clouded his green eyes darkly. Once he was in the sleeper cabin, his eyes closed involuntarily as his body and mind slipped into unconsciousness. "...Rob?" was the last thing he whispered, before the darkness took him under.


(time pass)


The groaning of the truck breaks interrupted his slumber some hours later. Rob looked around from where he'd been intently pouring over the log book to quirk him a grin. "How're you feeling?"


That groaning was matched by a groan of his own, and he weakly opened his eyes. Despite feeling badly, he gave an attempt at a smile. “Better…” he rasped. “Thank you.”


"We'd best get ya'll inside," said Angel somberly, looking at him with concern. "Ya'll got enough for a room?"


Dean nodded, sitting up as fast as he dared. "Yeah, we have enough." he said, thanking her for the lift. "Come on, kid. Let's go get a room for the night, and something to eat already."


Rob thanked Angel and handed her book back, then opened the door and jumped down before turning and watching to see if his uncle needed help.


And if he did he didn't let it show as he climbed out of the cab of the rig. "Thanks again, ma'am. You keep safe." he said, leading the way to the office of the motel.


Rob followed in near-silence, though Dean heard him sigh.


He turned. "You okay?" he asked gently.


"Yes, sir. But I lost the gun." The teen's eyes were lowered in shame as he unconciously stood to attention.


"Lost the-" he stopped, mid sentence. "I could care less about a gun, I was more worried about you. The gun doesn't matter."


Obviously. "Well, come on. We should go ahead and get settled for the night."


The kid nodded and fell into step with him, accomidating his longer stride to Dean's. Now that they were actually standing side to side it was plain that Rob was a little taller than Sam.


"What is it with everyone having height over me?"


Rob looked at him questioningly, holding the office door open.


"Nevermind me." he said quickly, heading inside. "Thanks."


"Height does increase with every generation," came the quiet comment as Rob hung back slightly, automatically watching his back.


"Yeah..." he said, quietly. "You're a lot like your dad."


"He was my grandpa."


"Okay...you're alot like your...grandpa then." Weird much talking about his own brother being a...grandad.


-Thanks,- came the emotional thought as Rob cocked his head to watch someone walk past. Dean could feel the weight of the kid's sorrow and mourning.


Dean put a comforting hand on his shoulder, not saying anything, but his green eyes conveyed that he knew how the kid felt.


"Can I help you?" asked a female voice behind them as a girl with spiked green hair leaned on the counter and stared at Rob's butt.


Dean put a hand over his mouth to supress a chuckle. "Nice hair." he said, trying not to sound too sarcastic.


"I like it," she said, regarding him narrowly. "You 'n your boyfriend wanna room?"

Rob choked, projecting his horror.


Dean smiled and wrapped his arm around Rob's shoulder. "He's a cute one, but I don't 'do' family. He's all yours, sweetheart," he teased, slapping a credit card on the counter with his free hand.


Mortifacation boiled at him from the boy at his side as the girl blinked and turned red, clearly having lost the snark war.


Dean only grinned and ruffled his hair, taking the reciept and signing it before pocketing it and the card.


"That wasn't funny," said Rob quietly as they entered the worn-looking room with the twin beds under red throws.


"Oh you're right..." he said, turning and tossing his jacket onto the bed. A wide grin spread over his face. "It was hilarious! You should've seen your face!"


Rob looked at him, then turned and went into the bathroom, closing the door quietly behind him.


Dean sighed, rolling his eyes. He hadn't meant to hurt the kid or anything. He went over to the door, and knocked softly. "Hey...you ok?"


"Yeah," said a gruff voice that sounded just like Sam's, accompanied by images of an elderly Sam and of a smirking blond girl child with laughing green eyes as Rob's feelings roiled close to the surface. There was no anger directed toward Dean, only toward the poltergeist who had killed them.


Dean put a hand to his head, the images causing the headache to return, but he ignored it. "You can't keep it bottled up like that." he said. "It'll kill you."


The feelings seemed to shut off abruptly as Rob sealed his sheilds. There was the sound of the sink running and then he came out with concern written on his face. "What's wrong?"


He gave him a wierd look. "Nothing's wrong."


"You hurt so bad you puked out there, and now it's starting again," said the kid quietly. -I just put my uncle in the ground, don't freaking tell me I'm here to do it again.-


"It comes and goes." he said, and it wasn't a lie... It just wasn't the whole truth.


Those dark eyes bored into him, holding a trace of the same knowing look that girlSam's eyes held, mixed with last traces of a child's fear of being left alone. "What is it?"


He gave a slight sigh. -I'm really tired of telling this story...- he thought to himself, so instead he just sent images, and previous conversations to convey the situation he was in.


Rob was silent as he absorbed it all, though he started when he realised that the girl in some of the images was another version of his grandfather. When it was done he stood there for a moment in thought before grabbing Dean in a rough hug.


Dean blinked, quite startled by the hug, but returned it. After a few seconds he patted him on the back. "Okay okay, no more chick flick moments, I'm sick already."


Rob chuckled and socked him on the shoulder like he would have done with his uncle, then blinked and looked at him to see if it was okay.


"I'm not made of glass, kiddo." he said, shoving him lightly. "What do you say we go raid the truck stop's cafe for a bit?"


"Sure," Rob responded with the typical 'I can eat in the middle of the end of the world' enthusiasm of guys his age, then paused to look down at the hole in his shirt. "Um. Woah! I still have a scar." He studied it for a moment, then went into the bathroom and came back out with the hole in his white T-shirt masked with toilet paper. "Okay. Let's go."


Dean raised an eyebrow. "First order of business is to get you a new shirt."


"Before we eat?" He paused with a hand on the doorknob.


Dean laughed again, grabbing his jacket off the bed and tossing it to him. "There you go. We'll get it after."


Rob grinned, an expression that called Sam to mind, though it had a shy quality that his honorary younger brother's didn't.


"Come on kiddo, if you're anything like your grandad, you're a black hole when it comes to food." he said, heading out the door, smiling.


"I smell burgers." The dark head turned toward the resteraunt like radar, and the long legs followed.


Dean shook his head, smiling. "Just like him." he said, walking inside after him. "He could smell food a mile away."


"Dad and Uncle John are like that too. So are most of my guy cousins." Rob dropped into the nearest booth and grinned appealingly at the grey-haired, harried-looking waitress, who paused to grin back and give him the menus she'd just taken from another table.


"Sounds about right..." he said, trailing off as his eyes caught a 50 cent crane machine filled with stuffed animals. Dean got up and headed over towards it, stopping to stare at the smallish toys inside.


Rob looked up from the menue. "What is it?"


Dean didn't answer, he just stood there looking at the machine. In particular at a fluffyish yellow looking plushie cat. He didn't know exactly why he was staring at the thing like he was, but suddenly a memory flashed through his mind.

"Sammy! It's time to eat, I told you 5 minutes ago!" he called from the kitchen, still hearing the sounds of his kid sister playing in the bedroom of the hotel suite they were staying at. He heard her voice and smiled, seeing her walk in, dragging her plushie behind her.

"Come on, Pete!" she said, climbing into the seat. "Mommy says it's time to eat, cause Dean is makin' spaghetti Os."

Dean laughed slightly, and set the bowl down in front of her. "Okay, Pete's momma, time for dinner."

And then it was over, and he was blinking, still staring at the plushies.


"Uncle Dean?" Rob sounded worried now as he closed the menu and frowned.


Dean still didn't answer as he fumbled in his pockets for the few stray dollars he kept there. After a few moments, he managed to get a coin out and into the machine. He was after the plushie, the one Sammy had lost when she was six.


"Hey." Rob got up and walked over, only to blink as he was handed an adorable little sleeping lamb.


The lamb may have been adorable, but it wasn't the cat. Not the cat, so it didnt' matter. A moment later a cute little dog was shoved into his arms as well, and Dean fumbled for another dollar.


"What are you doing?" He frowned, then looked down as a tiny girl glomped onto his leg and grinned up at him with three teeth and big brown eyes. "Oh boy...."


"Gotta get the cat. Yellow cat for Sammy." he said, almost oblivious to anything else until the toddler had latched onto Rob's leg. Then he took the stuffed toys from the teen and handed them down to the cute little girl. "Here you go, sweetheart." he said with a smile.


"Baba!" she squealed joyfully, plopping down on her butt to cuddle them. "Fank ou!"

"Uncle Dean, what are you... doing? Why would Grandpa want a stuffed cat?"


"You're welcome, hun." said Dean, smiling and then returning to the task at hand. "Not that Sam, another Sam, a girl Sam." he said, words rushing together, as he got closer to getting the cat.


"The one you showed me." Rob looked at the scowling visage of the Wrestling star Dean handed him and quirked an eyebrow before offering it to a nine year old kid who was walking past with his parents.


"Yes, the one I showed you," he said, the claw grabbing the cat, and lifting it. He held his breath, face nearly pressed against the glass, but the claw's grip slipped and the cat fell.

"No!" he exclaimed, putting more money in to try again.


"Alright, but why does she need a stuffed cat?" Rob absently grinned at the little girl's dad as he came to pick her up.


"Because she lost it when she was six, when she got...hurt." he said, still trying to get the cat.


"Hurt?" Rob's expression of concern changed slightly. "Where is she? Isn't this the time when you two are supposed to be road tripping after great-grandpa died?"


It takes him a second, but...oh...that...sucks. "Uh...he's not dead...at least not in our reality. And she's usually at this...cafe place with Dad."


"So you're not hunting... it?" Rob's forehead furrowed as he unconciously held his breath at sight of the cat nearing the chute.


He stiffened slightly at that. "The thing from their reality is gone...or my reali-whatever," he muttered. "The thing I know is...still ...I'm going to kill it."


Rob stiffened just slightly too. "After we get the cat you'd better get some sleep." Because you're not making a lot of sense and it's scaring the heck outta me, he didn't add.


He got the cat and snatched it, cradling it in the crook of his arm like something very valuable. "I'm...making perfect sense...you just don't know all...all of the story."


Rob just looked at him with compassion and a little bit of that child's fear. "What do you want to eat? I'll grab our stuff, you go back to our room."


"Okay...." He got a plastic bag to put the plushie into. "Uh...just get me a burger and fries. I'm not picky." he said, starting to head out.


Rob nodded and went to get it, not noticing when his new uncle disapeared as he went through the door.