She Drove a Cadillac - A Supernatural Fanfiction

Three - Arrival

"Things are not always always what they seem; the first appearance deceives many; the intelligence of the few perceives what has been carefully hidden... "
~ Anonymous

Chancelorville was, for a lack of a better word, odd. But it was not the appearance of the town—for although there were a few scattered dilapidated houses around, they could easily be disregarded by passersby, who would take one look at the quaint, fairytale-style cottages that were nestled against each other and immediately disregard the rest—it was the people who put Sam and Dean Winchester on edge as the Impala coasted through the town square.

Sam stared out the window of the passenger seat, reluctantly returning the gazes of the citizens on the sidewalk. He had already become accustomed to the stares and sideways glances they received as they would arrive into a town for a job, because who wouldn't notice a shiny black 1967 Chevy Impala in pristine condition? But there was something different this time about each stare. Each seemed more eerie than the next, giving the impression that there was something hidden in this place, something that made the people dislike tourism.

It had already grown dark by the time they reached the inn on the south side of town.

"Well this isn't creepy," Dean said as he pulled up to another cottage-like building with arched roofs and a brick entry way. Weathered paint and moss growing around the "rustic" stone steps led to the front entrance. Sam peered out the windshield at the building, speculating its history. It was set deep in the heart of a dense forest that grew around the town. It was old, surely, and unsettlingly secluded.

"Certainly has a special ambience to it," Sam agreed sarcastically, "you sure there isn't anywhere else we can stay?"

"You think if there was, we would be here? Anyway, where's your sense of adventure, Sammy?" Dean chuckled, punching him lightly on the shoulder. "And," Dean continued, opening the car door, with Sam following suit, "doesn't this inn look like it could be...haunted?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows at his brother.

"Yeah, well the adventure loses its appeal when that kind of thing is every place we drive to," Sam deadpanned.

"What's the matter with you, girl didn't return your calls or something?" Dean teased, trying to ignore the feeling he had that something was bothering Sam. He didn't want to jump to conclusions, especially if Sammy was 'in a mood'.

"Haha very funny," Sam said flatly. "Nothing's wrong," he answered, shrugging at Dean as he moved to the trunk to grab their bags. Dean watched his Sam skeptically for a moment, but he decided to let it go for now since he knew Sam had no problems sharing his feelings. That was one attribute that had alway kept the bond between them so strong. If there was anything bothering Sam, and Dean was pretty sure there was, then he would get him to open up about it eventually.

Dean joined his brother at the tail end of the Impala, searching through the secret compartment where they stored their weapons for anything that would universally come in handy, since they were still a tad unclear on what they were hunting.

They filled the bag with their toys and headed up the mossy steps, both of them taking a turn slipping and almost falling on their faces. "Sonofabitch!" Dean had yelled in alarm as his boots lost their traction. They eventually made it to the top in one piece, looking down the steps in silent triumph before entering the front hallway to get checked in.

The hall was dark and dingy, with the exception of what little moonlight waning through the overhanging trees outside would allow to stream through the windows. At the end of the hall stood a desk with keys on pegs mounted behind it. The desk was a dark old wood with a fading glossy top that stuck to your skin and smelled like old sap. The rest of the hall consisted of a matching wood coffee table with three armchairs around it, facing a small fireplace that dimly glowed along the adjacent wall. Dean rested his elbows on the counter, watching the dust particles float in and out of the waning beams of light.