From Dusk 'Till Dawn

1. The Trials

"For those of you just tuning in, welcome to 105.1 sponsored by the Hell's Angels Gentlemen's Club! 'Are you looking to add some magic to your life-'"
Dean quickly turns the radio tuner, cutting off the advertisement to the sleazy local strip joint he's driven passed at least a hundred times. Groaning tiredly, he pulls out of Winchester Mechanics, turning on his headlights to follow the darkened road that lay between him and his much-deserved night of sleep. In need of a steaming hot shower as well, if the smell of oil and musk that clung to his well-worn t-shirt had anything to say about it.

He stretched his back against the leather seat, extending a single hand to the steering wheel as he gently weaved Baby through the familiar streets and alleys of Lawrence. His eyes squinting as he saw a faint orange glow radiating from the next street. Curious, he turns on Birch street only to come across well-defined and angry shades of red and orange bursting from the house at the end of the block; a house fire.

Coming to a screeching halt, he pulls over quickly to wrench his driver's side door open, not even giving a thought to cut the ignition. He stands straight, alert as he frantically searches for another person, another car even, wondering if anyone could be home. "Hello?! Anyone need help in there?!" he yells as he walks cautiously towards the house. He curses, knowing the battery on his phone is depleted due to his knack for blasting Metallica during his scheduled work hours. He hesitantly steps toward the blazing two story Colonial, feeling drawn to the fire inside. He runs the last steps to the house and opens the front door, quick to be greeted by flames from the kitchen. It had spread throughout much of the house, reaching the foyer at the front of the stairs. He looks over to the living room, shielding his eyes from the smoke to see a young girl folded into herself. She hadn't noticed Dean come inside. "Hey! What the hell are you doing?! Get out! Is anyone else in here?!" he yells, striding over to grip her by the arms.

"I-I was babysitting and the fire just...she's still upstairs! I-I don't know what to do!" she weeps hysterically, shaking and almost paralyzed in fear. He pulls her back to the front door, pushing her towards the yard, and yelling to her to contact a neighbor as he made his way back inside. This time with the purpose of heading up the stairs. Setting his foot upon the first step was followed by a cacophonous groan as a wooden beam came crashing from above, a line of fire suddenly obstructing his view.

He doesn't even think, just runs straight through it, feeling the heat and expecting to feel his skin blistering from the lick of the flames, but there's nothing, no harmful sensation--just warmth. Like standing in front of a fireplace. He doesn't slow down, pushing his way to the top with little thought as to how there is no burning protest from his lungs. He looks through the doors closest to him, yelling for any sign of life and looking for any hint of movement. He finally comes across a small yellow room, where a little girl rocked back and forth mimicking the position of the babysitter found moments earlier.

She's crying, sobbing for her mom and dad. "Hey, hey, shh, come on, you've gotta come with me," he crouched slightly, trying not to frighten her with the sudden appearance of his broad frame. "I'm going to get you out of here, you've just gotta hold on, sweetheart," he says calmly leaning down fully to grasp her from beneath to knees.

"A-Are you a fireman?" she asks through tears as he gently scoops her up to rest in his arms.

"Sure am, kid. I'm here to get you out," he says, running once again through the fire that they both now seem to be shielded from.

***

Dean didn't make it home until the sun was just starting to peak over the horizon. On the way to his next shift, he drove his usual route to work, making a slight detour to pass the neighborhood where the house had been. When he left, it was because he had was told by Amanda, the babysitter, that the fire department was on their way. He drives to the end of the block, curious to see how much damage was inflicted on the home.

But all he saw was grass, not even any space for a house, really.

Almost as if it had never been there at all.

He hits the breaks quickly, his tires screeching once again on the pavement at the end of Birch. He wasn't crazy, he knew the house was definitely on this street. He'd had things like this happening to him for weeks.

He walked into a store a few weeks ago and there was a robbery, the guy didn't want any witnesses. He pointed the gun at Dean and it was miraculously jammed. Then a fire at the shop, a car caught fire and he went to go get someone but he turned back to look at it and the fire was out. Shadows of figures tailing watching him but when he'd turn around no one was there. He's grown tired of this shit, he's not crazy.

He goes off to work as usual unable to shake the thought of the house just being gone. He goes inside to find his dad working on some paperwork at his desk.

"Mornin'," John mutters not looking up from his desk.

"Morning...hey, would you mind looking into this house on Birch Street, its uh- a client billing address." Dean mentions nonchalantly.

John turns to his computer and types for a moment then says, "House number?"

"One Fifty-six, I think."

He nods and looks back at the computer. "I don't know what to tell you, son. Looks like that street only goes to fifty-five."