Ashes in the Wind

Chapter Three: Bad Dreams

        It was past midnight when Dean returned home. His clothes were soaked from the heavy rain and his shoes squeaked with each step he took. He kicked off his wet shoes and shook out his hair. The house was silent and the lights were all out, so he guessed that his brother was already asleep. He could hear a light snoring coming from his brother’s room, and sure enough, when he opened the old creaky door, he saw his brother curled up fast asleep in his bed with a book in his hand. Sammy was always reading. When Dean had money to spare, he and Sam would walk to the used bookstore to buy some books. Sam usually bought two or three, and was almost always done with all of them within a week. They went so often that the owner of the shop, Bobby Singer, had become a good friend of theirs. He began giving Sam books for free whenever he could, and he always had a few set out for him for the next time he happened to stop by. They would always talk with him for a few hours, and as Dean got to know him better, he learned that Bobby had lost his family in the same outbreak that had killed his parents. Bobby treated them like the children he never had, and made sure to check up on them every once in a while. Recently, only a few months ago, Bobby went missing. The police refused to search for some odd reason, despite all of Sam’s begging. Bobby was presumed dead, but Dean knew that couldn’t be right. He looked everywhere twice over, but he never found anything. He knew something was off about the whole situation, but nobody would listen to him. He eventually gave up trying.       

Sam’s room looked old. The wallpaper was beginning to peel off the walls and the flooring was scratched and rough. His bedspread was heavily worn and poorly patched up. Dean was never the best at sewing, but he tried his best. It had been like this even when his parents were still around. He would have expected the house to feel older and bigger after they were gone, but it actually felt smaller. In his memories as a child, everything seemed so big and important to him, everything seemed okay, but those were just childhood illusions. It was always the same little old house.

There was an empty space next to Sam’s bed where dean’s bed used to be. They shared the same room as children, but after their parents died, Dean ended up having to sell it to pay for food. He now sleeps in his parents’ bedroom. They never really had much, especially after their parents died. The only valuables that Sam owned were his books, but he never complained. He always seemed happy and content, but as he grew up, Dean began to notice how sad he was deep down. Dean knew that all Sam wanted was a normal family with a mom and a dad, but he got stuck with Dean. He wanted a normal life, but he knew there was no chance of that anymore. And that was Dean’s fault.

Dean turned away and slowly closed the door, careful not to make too much noise. He quietly walked back to his room at the other end of the hallway and set his bag on the floor. He was cold and wet and exhausted. He changed into some dry clothes and threw his wet ones in a pile in front of his bedroom door. I’ll just get those tomorrow…

The rain outside Dean’s window began to slow down, but it did not stop altogether. He took a big sigh and flopped on to his soft, warm bed. He switched off the lamp beside his bed and pulled the sheets up to his chin, so he was in a cocoon of warmth, but he could not fall asleep. There were too many thoughts and questions going through his mind; primarily about Pamela’s warning and the strange boy he saw in the woods. At first, he thought Pamela was definitely just joking, but the more he thought about it,  the more he began to believe it. The eerie sternness and grimness of her voice made him slightly uneasy. And about the boy… he had no idea what to think about him. He had no idea who he was, where he came from, where he disappeared to, and he even began to wonder if he was even real. Nobody ever saw him but me… Maybe I’m just crazy.