His Name Was Death And Hell Followed With Him Chapter 2 I Hear The Voices
His Name Was Death And Hell Followed With Him
Chapter Two
I Hear The Voices
June 11 2008
Dean pushes his empty glass toward the bartender and taps the rim. “Fill it up barkeep.”
The bartender rolls her eyes but picks up the bottle of whiskey and pours out a fresh glass for him.
“Dean, would you please stop calling me barkeep, it’s annoying.”
Dean raises the glass. “Sure, whatever you say bar…”
She leans across the counter and places her hand over his. “Dean, I ain’t gonna tell you again, stop calling me that.”
“Yeah okay Ellen, sorry,” Dean replies. “Sometimes can’t help myself.”
“Well maybe you need to work on that,” Ellen tells him. She narrows her eyes at him and pours another glass. “You doing okay Dean?”
He downs the new glass of whiskey and then pushes the glass away, after a moment he shrugs his shoulders. “Doing as good as I can, I guess.”
“Wow, way to sound convincing,” Ellen says. “Wanna try that again?”
Dean rolls his eyes and twists the glass between his hands. “Not really no. I will have another drink though.”
Ellen shakes her head, she can’t help but feel bad for the kid, he’d had it rough and it didn’t look like things were getting any easier. “Dean, I don’t think so. You’ve had
enough already.”
“You know it doesn’t matter right, I’ll just go somewhere else.” Dean tells her.
“Don’t make me call John because you know that I will.”
Dean mutters under his breath and spins the chair around to face the main room.
When he came in earlier, there were only a small handful of people now though the place was starting to fill up and he hated it.
He produces a 20 from his pocket and slams it down onto the counter.
He was already a little unsteady on his feet and he couldn’t actually remember how much he had had to drink but he knew that Ellen was right, he’d had far too much but of
course he wasn’t going to admit that out loud.
Making his way to the door, he fumbles for the keys in his pocket and then shakes his head when he remembers that Ellen made him hand over the keys not long after he
got there.
So now it was call a cab or walk home.
He didn’t like the sound of either idea.
Pulling out his cell phone, he dials the number of a cab company and they gave him a 10 minute waiting time.
18 minutes later he was standing on the sidewalk outside of the Broken Creek Institution.
This wasn’t a first for him, every other month since that night he had found himself standing there just staring up at the building.
Most of the time he would just stand near the front entrance, hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket.
A few times the Security Guards had approached him and tell him to move on which he would do but there was part of him that would always been drawn to this place and
no one would be able to tell him to stop.
He pulls a small silver flash out of his pocket and pops the lid off.
There wasn’t much left but he downed the remainder of whiskey before placing the flash back into his pocket.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
Dean just about trips over his own feet when he turns around.
“How many times am I going to have to pick you up from here, it’s getting old dude.”
“Ash,” Dean groans. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to take your sorry drunken ass home.”
“No thanks.” Dean replies with a smirk.
Ash steps up beside him and grabs his arm. “I’m taking you home Dean, this is fucking crazy, you get that right?”
Dean glares back at him. “Let go of me and oh yeah, bite me.”
Ash rolls his eyes and grabs Dean’s arm a little too forcefully but mostly to keep him from falling over. “So you gonna come willingly or do I have to drag your ass to the car.”
“Yeah whatever, I’ll go,” Dean replies as he shakes Ash’s arm away. “Touch me again though and I’ll end you.”
Ash stares back at him and then laughs before realizing that Dean might actually try something. He holds his hands up and takes a step back.
“Yeah okay dude just get your ass to the car. I’m missing out on prime sleeping time here.”
Dean leans against the hood of the car while Ash unlocks the door but before Ash can get to him, Dean stumbles slightly and almost lands in the gutter.
“Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Ash asks. “Look at your sorry drunken ass.”
“Go to hell,” Dean responds. “Also, stop talking about my ass.”
Ash sticks his tongue out at him and then motions for Dean to get in.
When they’re finally in the car, Dean tries to grab the keys from him but Ash slaps his hand away causing Dean to unleash a long list of expletives.
“Shut your mouth.” Ash says as he slaps Dean’s hand away again.
Ash starts the engine and pulls the car away from the curb.
“So what particular sorrows are you drowning on this fine evening?” Ash asks him.
Dean glances over at him, displeasure filling his eyes.
“You don’t wanna chat?” Ash replies. “That’s cool, I can do all the talking if you like. Wanna know how I knew that your stupid ass was there again?”
Dean shakes his head and slumps further down in the seat. “Don’t care Ash.”
“It was kinda weird if you ask me, see this guy who said that he had been at the bar same time as you, called me up and told me to come and get you,” Ash explains. “I
asked what his name was but he wouldn’t tell me, just said he was a concerned citizen that saw you leave.”
Dean glances over at him again. “What the hell are you going on about?”
Ash blows out a breath and shakes his head. “Never mind, maybe I’ll tell you again tomorrow when there’s a good chance that you’ll remember.”
“Why do you care?” Dean asks after a beat.
Ash raises an eyebrow. “Gonna have to be more specific there dude.”
“Why do you care about helping me? That guy that called you, why didn’t you ignore him?”
Ash nods to himself. “Okay I don’t really care all that much cos you’re kind of a dick but you are also Sam’s brother and I do sometimes… not care cos that would be weird
but whatever.”
Dean sits up and glares at Ash. “Don’t say his name okay, just don’t.”
“You do remember that next month, it will have been 10 years, right?”
Dean grinds his teeth before answering. “You think that I don’t fucking well know that? It’s all I think about every damn day of my life. I know exactly how long it’s been.”
“My bad.” Ash mutters under his breath.
A couple of minutes later, Ash pulls the car into the driveway and parks.
“If you want, I can pick you up tomorrow so you can get your car.”
Dean shakes his head. “Nah, don’t worry about it. John will do it.”
“Good, so you should sleep then or maybe shower first cos you’re starting to smell.”
Dean flips him off and Ash blows a kiss back in his direction.
Having left his keys at the bar with Ellen, he had to retrieve the spare key from under the door stupid frog statue half buried in the garden.
He fumbles to get the key into the lock.
June 12 2008
A little after four o’clock Dean woke up with a start and that’s when he remembered that he hadn’t even made it to the bedroom; instead he had crashed on the sofa.
Pulling himself to his feet he makes his way into the kitchen, leaning against the sink, he turns the faucet on and lets the water run for a few minutes before he scoops some into his hands and splashes it onto his face.
Closing his eyes he just stands there and lets the water drip down his face.
A moment later, he’s pulled from his thoughts when he hears a high pitched scraping sound.
Spinning on his heel, he faces the door but he can’t see anything so he takes a few tentative steps forward and rests his hand on the door frame he pokes his head out and
glances into the darkened hallway, still he sees nothing.
The sound echoes around him again and he drops his hands to his sides. “Hello, is there anyone there?”
Shaking his head, he feels foolish for calling out, the house was empty; he was the only one who lived there so of course no one would answer him.
Sucking in a sharp breath he shakes his head again and then turns back to the sink. The tap is still running and he quickly turns it off.
Glancing up, a reflection in the window catches his line of sight and he spins around again, just behind him a flash of something dark rushes past the door and he calls out
again but of course there is still no answer.
He steps out into the hall and running his had along the wall he fumbles for the light switch and a moment later it clicks on.
Bright yellow light filters over him and he bites the inside of his cheek as he walks down the hall toward the guest bedroom.
He can’t see or hear anything and he isn’t sure if that’s a good or a bad thing.
Kicking open the door with his foot he clicks the light on and glances around the room. It’s empty just like he knew it would be.
The screeching sound echoes behind him and he squeezes his eyes shut.
A moment later he steps across the hall and pushes open the other door, the small linen closet stood almost empty but tucked into the corner was his old baseball bat.
Picking it up, he grips it in his left hand, he quietly closes the door and turns around, focusing on the hallway.
He then spends the next 20 minutes checking out the house to make sure that every window and door were securely locked.
There had been no more sounds, no more flashes in his peripheral, there was nothing.
He sits down in his favorite chair in front of the television, the baseball bat resting against the arm.
Before long, he had fallen asleep again, but it wasn’t peaceful at all.
******
“Dean, are you home?”
Dean stirs and raises his hand to his eyes, he feels a painful kink in his neck and his back is aching from sleeping in the armchair.
He exhales sharply and pulls himself to his feet and stumbles toward the door.
Pulling it open, he can see his father on the front porch and he sighs heavily.
John shakes his head and pushes past Dean and makes his way toward the kitchen.
“You haven’t put fresh coffee on then, have you?” John snaps at him.
Dean narrows his eyes and follows his father into the other room. “No, turns out I’ve given up making coffee in my sleep.”
John glances over his shoulder and gives Dean ‘that look’. “Don’t be a smartass.”
Dean’s lips curl into a smirk. “But it just looks so good on me.”
John ignores him and puts on a pot of coffee. Several minutes later he pours out two cups and places them on the table and motions for Dean to sit.
“So, why exactly did you want to meet here for breakfast?” Dean asks him and John says nothing. “Great, thanks for the enlightenment.”
“Ash called me last night or this morning whichever way you want to look at it. Doesn’t really matter the time now does it?”
Dean sighs again and drops his head to the table. “I knew that I hated that guy, telling on me to my Daddy.”
John leans over and slaps Dean across the back of the head and Dean sits up. “Grow up,” John tells his son. “You’re 29 years old, it’s about time you start acting like it.”
Dean scrunches up his nose. “So fucking what, I’m a grown ass man and if want to have a few drinks, then I damn well will.”
They sit in silence, occasionally sharing a heated glare while they drink their coffee.
After a while Dean shifts in his seat. “Dad, can I ask you something?”
“I encourage you to ask many things, mostly it seems to go in one ear and out the other with you though.”
Dean rolls his eyes and bites his tongue to keep from spitting out the response he very desperately wants to spit out.
“Fine,” John says with a wave of his hand. “What did you want to ask?”
“Have you ever…” Dean starts to say but he isn’t really sure how to word it. “Has anything ever happened to you? I mean since Sam disappeared.”
John narrows his eyes at his son. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”
Dean takes another mouthful of coffee before he continues, he feels foolish for asking about this because he isn’t sure that he even believes it.
“A few times over the years, a couple of things have happened to me. Strange noises and flashes of god only knows what.”
John pushes his chair back and gets up to refill his mug, Dean stares at his back and feels awkward for talking about this, sure over the years they had talked about Sam but
it had always been too painful to go into too much detail.
They had never gotten any answers and that still broke Dean’s heart.
John takes his seat again but still doesn’t give Dean an answer.
“Dad? Has anything like that ever happened to you?”
John draws in a long deep breath and contemplates Dean’s questions, Dean waits patiently for some sort of answer.
“I’m not sure how to answer you Dean,” John replies. “I understand what you’re talking about but it’s also very… unexplainable.”
Dean sighs again and slumps down in the chair. “Right, well whatever, don’t worry about it. It’s clear you’re not gonna talk.”
“I do worry about it son, what happened to make you ask me that?” John replies.
Dean shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter, forget I said anything.”
“No,” John retorts. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“It’s just… I’ve seen things and heard things that I can’t explain what they are. I hear… voices. I guess it’s not really that big a deal, over active imagination is all.” Dean
explains.
“What sort of things?”
Dean shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know, just odd shadows and strange noises and there is never anything there and it’s kinda starting to drive me crazy.”
“And part of you is hoping that it could be him,” John replies. “That maybe one day he’ll just show up like nothing ever happened because damn it Dean, I wish for that every
single day. I wish that Sam would just show up and we could be a normal family again.”
“Whatever normal is.” Dean mutters under his breath.
“And who knows, maybe one day it will happen. Maybe he will just walk in the door and everything will be okay again.”
Dean glances up at him and narrows his eyes. “You don’t actually believe that, do you?”
John draws in a deep breath and lifts the coffee cup to his lips.
“Dad, you don’t believe that he’s just going to walk in the front door one day?” Dean asks. “Do you?”
John shakes his head. “No, I guess that I don’t actually believe that. Maybe a few years ago I could have but, not anymore.”
He finishes his coffee and then gets up and puts the mug into the sink.
“We better go, don’t want to be late.”
Dean grabs his keys and work bag from the living room and then follows his father out of the house and quickly locks the door.
Out of the corner of his eye, a flash of something catches his attention in the glass of the door, he spins around hoping to see it again but there is nothing there.
There is never anything there and he isn’t quite sure how he feels about that.
If he was honest with himself, it would probably terrify him if one time he turned around and there was something there, if Sam was there.
“Dean, you coming?”
Pulled from his thoughts, he glances at his father who is still waiting at the car for him.
“Dean, let’s go,” John urges him. “We’re gonna be late.”
Dean nods back even though his father didn’t see him and he tucked the keys into his pocket and makes his way down the walk and across the yard to where John was
parked.
******
As Dean was locking up the garage, he noticed a car parked at the curb.
He hadn’t been expecting another customer so he was surprised to see it just sitting there.
Looking around, he can’t see anyone in the vehicle and there was no one around waiting for him.
Shaking his head he tucked the keys into his pocket and heads to his own car which was parked at the back of the shop.
Unlocking the door he tosses his bag onto the passenger seat and was about to climb in when he feels a hand land on his shoulder.
He was mortified at himself when a girlish scream almost escapes his lips, he spins on his heel and comes face to face with the man from the diner.
“Come on man, you scared the hell out of me.” Dean tells him.
“I apologize for that.” He replies.
“Uh yeah, no problem,” Dean says. “What can I do for you?”
“I don’t need anything,” the man replies. “I was just walking past and saw you and thought that I would say hello. I recognize you from the bar and the diner.”
Dean nods back at him. “Sure, that sounds about right.”
The man just stands there. “Well it was nice to see you again, I should be going now.”
Dean nods again, he’s confused over this… interesting conversation.
He sits in the car and watches as the man walks down the street.
The whole thing was just odd, he had seen the guy around several times now but he still didn’t know his name.
Starting up the car, Dean decides to drive around for a while and nearly an hour later after having let go of some of his anger and frustrations he heads home.
Several minutes later he pulls the car into the drive but it’s another 15 minutes before he actually climbs out of the car and heads inside.
He goes straight to the kitchen and starts up a pot of coffee.
While he waits for it he stomps his way through the house to his bedroom where he strips off his work clothes and dumps them on the floor.
Making his way into the bathroom he turns the shower on and is confused as to why the room instantly fogs up, he steps up to the sink and runs his hand across the mirror
but the fog returns before he drops his hand to his side.
“What the fuck?” He says.
Grabbing the towel from the rack, he wipes at the mirror and just like before, it fogs up again before he’s even finished.
Moving back to the shower, he turns it off but it doesn’t really make any change to the room.
A flash of shadow caught his attention and he spins to face the mirror again and his eyes grow wide when he can see the shadowy outline of a person.
Stumbling backward, he almost trips over a pile of clothes and reaching for the door handle, he wrenches it open and falls into the other room.
Collapsing on the end of the bed he stares at the bathroom door, a strange rolling mist sweeps through the door and starts to fill his bedroom.
Hauling himself to his feet he bolts to the bedroom door and steps out into the hallway, he closes it behind him and then rests his back against the wall.
He couldn’t even begin to understand what was happening, of all the weird and strange unexplainable things that had happened to him over the years, it was nothing
compared to what was happening now.
Sucking in a deep breath, he squeezes his eyes shut and tries to think of what to do next.
He has no idea, how can you solve something that makes no sense at all.
Glancing down to the floor, his eyes grow wide once again when he can see the fog or mist or whatever the hell it was, was now starting to seep under the door and fill the
hallway.
Pushing himself away from the door, he backs up until he finds himself standing in the kitchen doorway.
His eyes dart around the room, he isn’t sure what he should do and he can’t remember for the life of him where he put his keys.
The mist curls down the hallway, tendrils of it shake out and reach for him and he backs up as far as he can but there is nowhere left for him to turn.
Squeezing his eyes shut again he finds himself assaulted with the loudest ear piercing scream that he has ever heard and he clamps his hands over his ears.
What was happening to him? Why was this happening?
Just when he thinks that he can’t stand anymore, the noise stops and his knees give way and he crumples to the floor, hands on his knees as he tries to catch his breath.
It won’t come to him, it feels as though something is caught in his throat and his body is overcome with a wracking cough.
Before he realizes what is happening, the edge of his vision start fading to black, the dark spots growing wider and wider until he’s lost to the darkness.
The last thing he can recall, is the strong sensation of falling and then everything is gone.
Opening his eyes, he’s met with a blinding golden light.
He stretches his legs out trying to loosen his muscles which ache with every breath.
It takes him several minutes to fully comprehend the fact that he’s lying on the sofa and glancing around the room, he suddenly remembers the events of the previous night
and feels an icy chill run down his spine.
Jumping to his feet, he ignores the aches and pains and very cautiously makes his way through the house toward the bedroom.
He hesitates for a moment before he opens the door.
There’s no sign that the fog was ever there and kicking open the bathroom door with the toe of his boot, he finds the bathroom in the same condition.
Narrowing his eyes he struggles to make sense of what happened.
Shaking his head, he makes his way back to the living room and that’s when he notices that one of the picture frames had fallen of the mantel.
Stepping around the armchair, he leans down and picks it up, the glass had shattered and as he turns the frame over and sees the picture another chill courses through him
and he drops the picture again, the remaining glass falling to the floor.
He stares at it as though it had burned him, a photograph that had sat on his mantel since he had moved into this house, one that he had seen every day but not really paid
that much attention to, it was just another picture amongst the dozen or so that he had displayed.
But for whatever reason, he knew that this particular frame falling off the mantel, had meaning.
It was the only picture of Sam that he could bring himself to look at.
June 13 2008
Dean paces back and forth in front of the open bedroom door.
This wasn’t the first time that he had done this, it wasn’t the first time he had been back in that room.
Over the past 10 years he had spent many hours sitting there feeling guilty and wondering about all of the ways he could have done something to help his brother.
Then he would think about all the things they had done when they were kids, of all the things they wouldn’t get to do now.
When they were kids they would takes Sam’s toy trucks out into the back yard, they would create whole worlds in the long grass, building tracks and houses for his army
men.
When they were older and Dean was into riding his dirt bike in the woods behind the house, Sam wanted to be just like his big brother so Dean taught him how to ride and
how to make all the jumps.
When they were in high school, Dean as a senior and Sam as a freshman. Sam’s first crush on a girl turned out to be one of his best friends, Jessica Moore.
Dean had told him what he needed to do, all the right things to say.
Clearly it hadn’t worked out that way and he had landed in the friend zone but Sam hadn’t cared, just loved being around Jess and said that was enough.
Then the following year when Sam had turned 15 and gotten his driver’s permit, Dean had taught him to drive after Sam claimed that he couldn’t handle Dad’s insane instruction.
That was when Sam’s interest in ghost hunting started up. He had told Dean several times that he didn’t actually believe it, it was just something ‘fun’ to do with his friends.
But if only he had listened to Dean because a few short months later, Sam was gone.
And Dean was alone.
Stopping in the doorway, he glanced around the room, it hadn’t changed in 10 years.
None of them had wanted it to, they had never let Sam go, they would never let his things go.
At least not without getting some real answers.
Dean walks into the room and picks up the game boy from Sam’s desk and then he sits down on the end of the bed.
The game was so old now and it hadn’t been working for the better part of a decade, he turns it over in his hands.
The corner of the screen had a slight crack in it and Dean ran his thumb across it.
“Dean, what are you doing?”
Dean almost drops the game onto the carpet when he glances up and sees his mother standing in the doorway.
He shrugs his shoulders and places the game onto the bed. “I’m not really doing anything, I was just thinking.”
Mary draws in a deep breath and walks into the room and sits down on the bed next to Dean. “What is going on with you?”
Dean shrugs his shoulders again. “Not a hell of a lot but I’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure?” she asks him. “Dean, talk to me.”
“What makes you ask if I’m sure?”
“There’s no specific reason honey, I’m just concerned about you,” Mary tells him. “I spoke with Ash earlier and he told me that you’re drinking again.”
Dean can’t help but scoff at that. “Again? Never really stopped.”
“Dean.” Mary says with a sigh.
“It’s okay Mom.” Dean replies.
Mary reaches out and places her hand on Dean’s. “I just want you to be okay, to be happy again.”
Dean glances up at her and smiles sadly. “Yeah well who knows, maybe it will happen one day.”
They sit in silence for a while, it was a strange silence as well and Dean wanted to say something else but he wasn’t entirely sure what.
There was something that he had wanted to ask for a long time now but he had always been afraid of the answer.
“Mom, it’s been 10 years now.”
“I know Dean.” She says, barely above a whisper.
“A few years ago, I remember that lawyer, whatever his name was, asked you about whether or not you had thought about declaring Sam… that maybe it was time to have
him declared dead.”
He instantly swallowed the lump in this throat and he was afraid to look at his mother.
“We talked about it but we never could actually bring ourselves to go through with it,” Mary explains. “We just both felt like it was wrong, that maybe one day Sam would just
walk in the door and everything would be okay again.”
“Mom,” Dean says. “You know that isn’t going to happen, right?”
She looks up at him, a tear rolling down her cheek. “I know but it’s nice to hold onto that hope.”
She leans over and kisses him on the cheek and then gets up and walks over to the door.
“You should probably get some sleep, maybe you’ll feel better in the morning.” She tells him.
Dean nods back at her and then watches as she disappears out of sight.
He places the game back onto the desk and then pulls his keys from his pocket.
Sleep would be nice but he knew that he wouldn’t be getting much of it, he never really did these days.
Chapter Three