Crossroads - Supernatural Rewrite

Hell House

The Impala cruised down the open highway a few hours from Richardson, the hum of the engine steady beneath the pounding beat of Blue Öyster Cult.

Kat lay slouched in the backseat, her head resting against the cool window. Each bump in the road sent a tremor through her skull, a dull echo of the chaos that had been churning inside her for days.

What had she done? The question, a relentless whisper, clawed at the edges of her sanity. It wasn't just the action itself, the raw, brutal thing that had occurred. It was the feeling that came with it—the intoxicating power that had surged through her. Every nerve ending had crackled with an energy she couldn't name, an electric hum that resonated in her bones. How did she do it? How did that light—or whatever it was—come from her?

Dean sat behind the wheel, drumming his fingers against it in time with the music. He glanced over at Sam, who was dead asleep in the passenger seat, mouth hanging open slightly.

Dean fumbled around in his cup holder until his fingers closed around a plastic spoon to which he carefully slid into Sam's mouth. He flipped open his phone next, snapping a picture.

Kat tilted her head slightly at the comedic display, a smile tugging at her lips. She was thankful for the distraction—for any distraction really.

Grinning, Dean cranked the music up and belted out.

Sam jolted awake, eyes wild as he flailed and spat the spoon onto the floor.

From the backseat, Kat huffed out a small laugh, shaking her head.

Sam wiped his mouth, glaring between the two of them as he turned the music down. "Ha ha, very funny," he muttered.

Kat sat up to face him better, "don't look at me like that, I'm just an innocent bystander."

Dean snickered. "Sorry, not a lot of scenery here in East Texas, kinda gotta make your own."

"We're not kids anymore, Dean," Sam grumbled. "We're not gonna start that prank stuff up again. It's stupid, and it always escalates."

Kat smirked, stretching her legs out across the seat. "Sam's right," she said, "Last time, I had to cut gum out of my hair."

Dean scoffed. "Oh, come on, that was years ago—and technically, that was Sam's fault."

Kat shot him a pointed look. "Uh-huh."

Sam rolled his eyes and turned his attention to the road. "Just remember, you started it."

Dean grinned. "Ah ha, bring it on."

Sam flipped through the folder in his lap, eyes scanning their notes. Dean shifted restlessly, asking for a recap.

The story was a familiar one—a group of teenagers exploring a local haunted house with a dark legend attached to it. This particular tale spoke of a spirit that targeted girls, stringing them up in the rafters. Inside, they claimed that they saw an actual body hanging in the cellar—but by the time the police arrived, the body had vanished. Officially, the story was dismissed as a prank.

Dean hummed in thought. "Maybe the cops are right."

"Maybe," Sam admitted, "but I read a couple of the kids' firsthand accounts. They seemed pretty sincere."

Kat leaned forward, resting an elbow on the seat between them. "Where'd you find those?"

Sam hesitated. "Uh...well, I knew we were gonna be passing through Texas, so last night I surfed some local...paranormal websites, and I found one."

Dean snorted. "And what's it called?"

Sam glanced away for a moment before he cleared his throat. "HellHoundsLair.com."