Winchester In Wonderland

Chapter 1

Dean glanced over at Sam and creaked his jaw in an enormous yawn.

"You're doing it again," Sam said without lifting his head from his book.

"Doing what?" Dean asked, blinking his bleary eyes.

"Look, Dean if you're tired take a nap, but all your yawning is distracting."

"Yeah yeah," Dean retorted, and he laid back against the motel bed with a sigh. They had been hunting a kitsune for two weeks straight and the thing seemed to always be a step ahead. Sam had suggested going back to the books, maybe finding something to help lure it out into the open, and while it seemed like a good idea at the time, Dean found research to be horribly dull. It was sucking the energy right out of him. Jabbing his elbow into his pillow a few times, Dean laid back and closed his eyes. He supposed a short nap could help recharge the old noggin.

Suddenly, he heard a soft rattle from outside the room and Dean's eyes flew open again.

"What was that?" He asked, but Sam only shook his head annoyed. Dean got to his feet and went to the motel window where he peeked out into the darkness beyond. Off in the distance, he caught a glimpse of white. "I'm going out there," Dean announced, and then slipped out the door before Sam could stop him or respond.

The chill of the night air caused Dean to pull his jacket tighter, and rain was falling steady against the pavement. He hurried past the parking lot of the motel and into the woods beyond. Just ahead of him, a woman dressed in white pajama pants and a camisole, was venturing deeper into the unknown.

"Hey!" Dean called out to her, and the woman turned to look at him. Dean took a step back. "Meg?" He called out the question. Instead of responding, Meg turned and disappeared over an edge in the terrain and Dean called out to her again.

"Hey! Damn it!" He broke into a run, skidded on the slick wet leaves, then regained his footing and ran again. "Meg!" He called out into the night. "Get back here, you're supposed to be dead!" He knew how silly that sounded but what else could he say?

Dean reached the ridge too quickly. He saw the way it dropped but was moving too fast and the ground was too slick from him to stop. Suddenly he was slipping, sliding, falling all through the trees and shrubs down a muddy slick path deeper into the woods. The incline gave way to a sudden drop, and Dean pitched forward, suddenly flying, and landed hard on the soggy earth.

The wind knocked out of him, and Dean grunted as he strained to sit up. Taking a moment to catch his breath, he surveyed his surroundings. The night was dark, and the overhead trees covered any moonlight Dean might have had. Stupidly, he forgot his flashlight at the hotel, but in the dim stillness of the night, he could just make out the shape of a large mass. Moving towards it, he placed cautious hands upon it, and realized it was some sort of building.

Dean got to his feet and let his hands guide him as he made his way down the long stretch of wall and around the corner to arrive at the entrance. There were no windows, not even in the door, so Dean could only imagine what lay beyond, but he thought he'd take the risk and go inside. After all, the alternative was to feel his way around the woods and continue to get wet. Trying the door, Dean found it unlocked. With one more glance over his shoulder, he slipped within.

The room inside was cool, and Dean shivered a little from the rain and mud that clung damp to his clothes. The entrance gave way to a vast cathedral that housed a few sparse scatters of furniture and small ornamental tables.

"Well this is...curious," Dean muttered, and took a step forward. His boot let out a squeak as it connected with water on the floor and Dean looked down to the glossy marble landscape. Trailing before him, was a set of wet footprints going deeper into the room.

"Meg," Dean whispered and cautiously edged deeper with newfound purpose.

The room housed only one door at the far end. Dean walked across marble and spreads of fine oriental rugs with barely a notice to the muddy mess he trailed behind. Upon reaching the door, he tried the handle. Locked, of course.

"Figures," Dean muttered and wished he had grabbed his lock picks in addition to his flashlight. Dean turned to scan the room behind him, looking for another door or a key perhaps, and his eyes fell on a bottle of liquid sitting on a small round table. Was that there before? Dean walked over to it and examined the amber liquid within the snifter. Next to it, laid two small tumbler glasses.

"Oh this is just screaming 'Drink me'," thought Dean, and he pulled the stopper from the bottle. He gave the liquid a quick sniff and the alcohol content threatened to burn his nose hairs. It was just how he liked it.

Pouring a generous amount into one of the tumblers, he tilted his head back and took the liquid down in one go. The drink seemed to rush to his senses, and Dean stumbled feeling suddenly woozy. He fell back and landed hard on his ass as he shook his head to clear the fireworks from his vision.

"Woo!" He shouted against the barren room and listened appreciatively to his echo. That was some good shit. He would have to get some more. Tilting his head back, Dean realized how far up the table was and let out a small whine. He did not feel like getting up again. At least not until the room stopped spinning.

Lowering his gaze, Dean glanced over at the locked door once more and saw that there was a vent along the base of the wall right beside it. The grate to the vent was removed and tilted casually against the wall on the other side.

"Well that's even more curious," Dean said to himself and he wondered if he could fit. Dean crawled across the room and examined the opening to the vent upon his approach. It appeared large enough to house him. Looking within, he could see the vent extended some distance to what appeared to be a sunlit garden on the other side. What the hell? Wasn't it night outside? Dean crawled closer and too late he noticed the softer tile in the marble floor that he rested his hand upon. A large clank on the wall behind him indicated a lever being thrown, and Dean fell back as a metal door slid down over the vent entrance sealing it shut with a loud clang. If his head had been there...Dean swore and looked up at the lever on the wall.

Carefully, he got to his feet again, and the dizzying effects of the alcohol he consumed subsided. Dean walked to the lever and examined it. It seemed a simple concept to throw the lever, and allow the metal door to lift, gaining him access to the garden once more. Was anything ever simple?

Before he could hesitate further, Dean reached up and threw the lever with a jarring screech. Suddenly water started to pour into the room and Dean looked up to see rows of open holes running along the tops of the walls which were now dumping water at a rapid pace.

"What the hell?" Dean said and thought it was high time to get the fuck out of there. He ran back to the entranceway, but the door he came in with wouldn't budge. He tried kicking it and throwing his shoulder into it but the door had no give. Dean knew a lost cause when he saw one.

Turning, he ran back into the main corridor and cursed under his breath when he saw that the water was collecting and had started to rise quite rapidly. Already it was halfway to his knees. What was up with this place?

Dean ran to the lever and threw it again but nothing happened. He tried a second time, and the thing snapped off the wall. Dean groaned, holding the useless thing in his hands. Then he looked up and saw that there was a second door along the side wall of the room. Now that definitely wasn't there before. What was up with this place?

Dean sloshed through knee deep water and made his way towards the door. He half expected it to be locked, but surprisingly it wasn't. He threw it open, and water rushed past him sucking him down with it.

Dean cried out as he was tossed through rushing water down a long corridor and towards a blinding bright light beyond.