Team Dean Fic: "Urban Legend"

Aug 06, 2012 18:28

Just a bit of silliness to support Team Dean since I've been slack over the past week and Sammy's sneaking up. RL blows :P

Title: Urban Legend
Summary: 17-year-old Dean takes a date to a "haunted" tunnel.
Rating: PG-13 for language
Characters: Sam, Dean, John, OFC
Genre: humor, pre-series
Wordcount: ~1500



A/N:  When I was a teenager, my friends and I used to go and intentionally scare the living crap out of ourselves at a ‘haunted’ site known as Sensabaugh Tunnel in East TN.  It’s a rundown concrete tunnel with a narrow one-lane road going through it and an unused railroad track overhead.  There are various versions of the story, but the one I grew up with is that it’s haunted by the ghost of the evil Old Man Sensabaugh who murdered his wife and baby with an axe and threw their bodies into a creek that used to run through the tunnel.  Lately I’ve been teasing my niece about it, telling her I’m taking her there instead of to the mall (I’m evil like that).  Anyway, that’s where this little story came from.

“Really, Dean?” Sam screeched, his voice breaking in the way only a thirteen-year-old boy’s can.  “You’re actually going to a haunted tunnel… on a date.  You’re such an idiot sometimes.”

Dean shrugged and gave his little brother a cocky grin. “Yeah, so?” he remarked nonchalantly.  “I ain’t afraid of no ghosts.”

It was fun to mess with Sammy.  Dude was way too easy of a mark, especially when he whipped out the old movie quotes.  He was already so bent out of shape he looked constipated, and Dean had barely made an effort.  It was just too funny.

“I can’t believe you!” Sam raged.  “I know you’re like terminally horny or something, but I thought even you knew better than to do a stupid thing like that.  Dad will kill you when he finds out!”

Dean squared his shoulders and loomed over Sam threateningly.

“Dad’s not gonna find out,” he stated flatly.  “Not unless you tell him.  But if you do, you won’t be around to enjoy it… because I’ll kill your little narc ass first. You got that?”

“Dean!”

Shit.  There it was.  That stupid whine and those puppy dog eyes.  Jeez.  Did he have to be so dramatic?

“Sammy, chill out.  Damn, dude!  Give me a little credit for once.  Do you think I’d actually take a chick to a real haunting?  It’s not real. It’s just a stupid made-up ghost story.”

“How do you know?” Sam countered in a voice dripping with skepticism.

Deep sigh time.  Why the hell was Sammy so suspicious all the time?  Was it a side-effect of being thirteen or was he just a natural pain in the ass?  He suspected it was mostly just Sam being Sam, because he sure as hell didn’t remember ever acting this way.  With strangers maybe, but not with family.  If Dad or Sam told him something he was usually inclined to believe it unless proved otherwise.  Sam, on the other hand, was the complete opposite, especially when it came to anything he or Dad had to say.

“Because I researched it,” Dean announced with a smirk.  “You’re not the only one who can read, you know.   Trust me.  There’s nothing to it.  People have been going to that tunnel and parking since the fifties, and nobody’s been hurt yet.  Not a single record, dude.  Nobody’s gone missing from there or anything.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, man.  I’m sure.  The supposed killer-ghost never killed anybody when he was alive and he’s never killed anybody since.  He died an old man. It’s just a story. That’s all.”

XXXXXXXXXX

Just a story, Dean reminded himself.  Just a stupid story.

Truth was, he was a little nervous now that he was here.  He’d never admit it to Sam, but it was kind of dumb to take a chick to the site of a rumored haunting.  This was the sort of crap that got civilians in trouble and made a hunter’s life harder than it needed to be. Then there was also the fact that this was a classic horror movie setup.  Man, he’d never live it down if this ended up being the real deal.  Never. Ever.  He would be royally screwed.

But if any girl was worth taking that chance over, it was Kelly Calhoun.  Damn! She was fine.  So fine, in fact, that Dean had actually been attending third period English - every single day.   Yeah, she was that fine.

So, here they were, sitting parked in her lame-ass powder blue, 1989 Honda Civic inside of a concrete tunnel that was decorated in layer upon layer of graffiti.

“You ready?” she asked, shooting him a dazzling, white smile and twirling her long, auburn hair around one finger.

Dean wanted to drool mindlessly, but he knew this kind of chick liked it when a guy played it cool.

“I’m always ready, sugar,” he replied with a smirk.  What the hell was she talking about?  Ready for what?  Oh please let it be second base.

“Ready to summon the ghost,” she said with a giggle.

Dean laughed.  “Why not?”  Damn this was stupid.  Unconsciously, he patted his right jean pocket to ensure the small container of salt was still where he’d left it.  You couldn’t be too careful.

She giggled again and pulled the keys from the ignition and held them up. “You ain’t nervous, are you?”

“Course not,” he snorted, squaring his shoulders.  “There’s no such thing as ghosts.”  God, he hoped those weren’t his famous last words.

“Okay then, here we go.”

She reached down and placed the keys underneath the driver’s seat and rolled down her window. “Roll down your window too, and be really quiet,” she whispered.  “I’m gonna cut the lights.”

There was a nervous excitement in her voice and Dean immediately relaxed.  This wasn’t exactly a classic summoning ritual.  This was just typical urban legend crap.  He’d lay money on her freaking out and jumping into his arms within the next sixty seconds.

They were now in the pitch black dark, with only a little light visible up ahead at the mouth of the tunnel.  He began cranking down the window, but paused and leaned over close to Kelly’s ear. “You sure you want me to do this?” he said really low, doing his best to ramp up the spooky atmosphere.

“Yes, do it!” she whispered excitedly and gripped him by the arm.  Thirty more seconds and she’d be in his lap. No doubt about it.

Dean finished cranking the window and then leaned in to nuzzle her neck.  Damn, she smelled good.  Chicks always smelled so good!  How the hell did that work?

“So... what’s supposed to happen, sweetheart,” he asked, putting on his best seductive voice.

“We’ll hear a baby cry and then when I reach back under the seat to get my keys… Old Man Sensabaugh will try and grab my hand… or maybe the car won’t start and he’ll come try and kill us with his axe.”

Dean rolled his eyes, knowing she couldn’t see him in the dark.  Seriously?  This was just ridiculous… and completely awesome.  He was so getting to second base tonight, maybe even third.   Yep, definitely third - now she was in his lap after hearing some mysterious sound that had to have been her imagination.  Dean didn’t hear a damn thing.

Then he saw it, up ahead in the light at the mouth of the tunnel.  The silhouette of a man - a big man - and he was holding an axe. Holy shit! This bitch really was haunted, and he had one little container of salt.  They needed to get the hell out of here.

Dean shoved Kelly off of him, scooted over into the driver’s seat, and reached for the keys.  He’d never admit it, but he was actually afraid something was going to grab his hand.  And thank god it didn’t, because he would have shit himself right then and there.  Kelly would not have been impressed.

She sure as hell should have been impressed by the way he managed to back her piece of crap car out of the narrow tunnel and onto the main road in two seconds flat.  That was no easy feat when you had a hysterical chick snatching and pulling at your arms and legs.  She’d seen the ghost too and she was freaking the hell out ....and not in the fun 'I'm scared hold me' kind of way, either.

Dammit!  This sucked out loud!

Now he was going to have to take the super hot girl home so he could come back and hunt that bastard down.  Why did it have to be a real ghost?

XXXXXXXXXX

“Son,” his dad said casually, barely looking up as Dean walked through the door.  He was sitting at the kitchen table cleaning his pistol while Sam sat across from him with his nose buried in a stupid school book.

The brat looked up and started to say something, but Dean gave him a warning glare.

Son of a bitch.  He was hoping Dad would be out.  He wasn’t great at lying to the man and he sure as hell didn’t want to have to fess up about taking a girl to a haunting.  The thought of getting his ass kicked just didn’t appeal to him for some reason.

How was he supposed to gather supplies and get back out there without Dad knowing?

Maybe he could make something up? Convince Dad this was a hunt he'd stumbled on deliberately.

Yeah, that was probably the safest avenue.  That way he’d have backup and he wouldn’t have to boost a car.  All he had to do was play it cool.

“Whatcha been up to, Dean?” his dad asked mildly.  “Sammy said you had a hot date.”

“Nah,” he shrugged. “I was just hangin’ out.  Doin’ a little research in town.”  Casual Dean, act casual.

“Research, huh?”

“Yeah… think I found us a job.”

“Sure you did, Dean,” Sam giggled and Dean started to sock him in the arm really hard, but then Dad reached down and everything came to a halt.  His old man had produced an axe from underneath the table and was holding it up with a smirk.  He thought that damn silhouette had looked awfully familiar.

Holy shit!  Why couldn't it have been a real, psychotic axe-murdering ghost?

One thing was sure.  If he survived this, Sammy was dead meat.

sam winchester, dean winchester, supernatural, fanfiction, humor

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