The Beldam (A Supernatural Fan fiction)

THE NEXT MORNING

Sam woke up the next morning in the same sleeping bag he fell asleep in the night before. It was still raining outside and the ceiling of the bedroom was still leaky. His bags still remained unpacked and scattered around the room. Nothing was warm and inviting like how it was the night before. He couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed.

When he turned to look at the door to the room he saw the creepy doll that looked like him sitting on the nightstand next to the cot. His heart nearly jumped out of his chest. Sam sat up quickly and grabbed the doll. Before he could do anything with it, he noticed that the eyes on the doll were button eyes like the "other parents" from the night before.

He assumed it might have just been a dream if the doll had been sitting there all night while he fell asleep. He didn't even bother to consider how the doll even got there in the first place and looking like him? Probably a coincidence. He tossed the doll aside and went to scratch at his itchy palms again. As he did, he saw that the rash from the poison oak was gone.

"It's gone!" he said out loud to himself. "My poison oak. It's gone." Relieved, but also suspicious, Sam climbed out of bed and went back downstairs to check the small door in the living room. Maybe last night wasn't a dream. If those creatures were real, he had to tell Dad and Dean about them.

He opened the tiny door and was met with confusion. It was bricked up just the same as it was yesterday when Dad opened it for him. Sam touched the bricks and pressed against them. Maybe they were actually a secret door or an optical illusion. Nothing moved or looked out of place. They seemed to really be real bricks. At the breakfast table, Sam tried to convince John of what he saw.

"It was real Dad," Sam went on. "Only you weren't really you, you were my 'other father'."

"Buttons for eyes?"John tried to process. He was so exhausted though, he couldn't take the word of his twelve year old son. As he poured himself some more coffee, he quickly came up with an excuse to keep Sam out of anything have to do with the supernatural while they were staying here. "Sam, you only dreamed you ate all that chicken. Take your multi-vitamin at least."

Dean walked in carrying a bowl of cereal, eating as he tried to speed read through some of the local papers for any hints at the current case John was working on. Some clippings fell out onto the floor. He had been partially listening in on Sam's story.

"Hey, was I in the dream too?" he asked, feeling a little left out.

"No actually," Sam replied. "But if you were, you probably wouldn't have like your other self because it would have been the complete opposite of you. Like dad had wild pajamas and orange monkey slippers."

"Orange? We all know that dad's monkey slippers are blue," Dean joked. "Hey, listen. Can you get me some of that magic mud you were talking about? Because I have a terrible case of hunters rash on my-"

"Dean!" John scolded before he could get any further. "If the real Dean Winchester wants to get out of the Pink Palace, he'll get to work on those local newspapers I gave him." Dean picked up the newspaper clippings he had dropped on the floor and left the room.

"Sam, why don't you go visit downstairs?" John suggested. He thought of the two old ladies that lived in the basement apartment. He had met them briefly on move-in day and they seemed harmless enough. He was sure Sam would find them interesting and if they could keep him entertained with stories of the old days or whatever, then at least Sam would be safe with them while he took Dean out on a hunt. "I'm sure those actresses would love to hear about your dream."

"Ms. Spink and Forcible? But you said they're dingbats," Sam reminded him.

"No! That was me!" Dean corrected from down the hall. John huffed and rolled his eyes.

"Just stay out of trouble," he told Sam. He took his coffee and left the kitchen.