Night 49: Homeworld - Gravesite (near Pontiac, Illinois)
[from here]
The first thing that registered was that it wasn't raining. Even though they were outside, the night was clear.
Sam shifted his weight to his other leg and turned around to where there should've been a door, but...wasn't.
Wait. That made no sense. How could they have gotten through with no door or anything? Yeah, the portal in the courtyard had been a wall, apparently, but it was still something. A division of some kind. What was behind him were simply trees and more trees. A thin narrow dirt road led out of the woods.
And that was when it struck him, a split second later than it should've: he knew exactly where they were. Beyond the road would be a station, he remembered, and it would look abandoned for the most part, except it wasn't. He'd passed by it on his way in and out. You couldn't park any closer than that without driving straight through the trees.
Yeah, he knew where this was.
He froze. "Son of a bitch." His grip tightened around his flashlight. "No way."
Seriously? Here? How the hell did they get here? This wasn't-how was this even possible? And why was another question because Sam hadn't ever made it this far, not the night he was taken. Not since the night he'd buried his brother and walked away. He'd made a very specific point of not coming back.
It was too dark to make out the marker, but ten steps in, and he knew the grave would be there. He'd even thought about leaving it unmarked once, but...he wasn't sure what had made him change his mind. Clarity hadn't been his strong point at the time.
For a good several minutes, he stayed where he was, torn between the urge to figure out what had just happened, how any of this was happening, and to get the hell out of here because the last thing he wanted to do was be near this place. He hadn't been here to visit Dean; the thought hadn't ever once crossed his mind. He'd laid flowers for Jess, but that was Jess and that was back then. This was Dean. It wasn't as if he could imagine his brother in a better place or whatever crap it was that people told themselves to feel better. He knew different. Flowers would be a mockery.
The first thing that registered was that it wasn't raining. Even though they were outside, the night was clear.
Sam shifted his weight to his other leg and turned around to where there should've been a door, but...wasn't.
Wait. That made no sense. How could they have gotten through with no door or anything? Yeah, the portal in the courtyard had been a wall, apparently, but it was still something. A division of some kind. What was behind him were simply trees and more trees. A thin narrow dirt road led out of the woods.
And that was when it struck him, a split second later than it should've: he knew exactly where they were. Beyond the road would be a station, he remembered, and it would look abandoned for the most part, except it wasn't. He'd passed by it on his way in and out. You couldn't park any closer than that without driving straight through the trees.
Yeah, he knew where this was.
He froze. "Son of a bitch." His grip tightened around his flashlight. "No way."
Seriously? Here? How the hell did they get here? This wasn't-how was this even possible? And why was another question because Sam hadn't ever made it this far, not the night he was taken. Not since the night he'd buried his brother and walked away. He'd made a very specific point of not coming back.
It was too dark to make out the marker, but ten steps in, and he knew the grave would be there. He'd even thought about leaving it unmarked once, but...he wasn't sure what had made him change his mind. Clarity hadn't been his strong point at the time.
For a good several minutes, he stayed where he was, torn between the urge to figure out what had just happened, how any of this was happening, and to get the hell out of here because the last thing he wanted to do was be near this place. He hadn't been here to visit Dean; the thought hadn't ever once crossed his mind. He'd laid flowers for Jess, but that was Jess and that was back then. This was Dean. It wasn't as if he could imagine his brother in a better place or whatever crap it was that people told themselves to feel better. He knew different. Flowers would be a mockery.