1.3 The Woman In White: A Supernatural Fan Fiction

Chapter VI: The Wall

The rush of the water filled the night air. Sam was clinging to the edge of the bridge, his legs dangling below him. Grunting with effort, he gripped the cold metal as tightly as he could and swung his leg up to get a foothold. Heart beating fast, muscles protesting under the strain, Sam wriggled his way up onto a firm place before he looked down.

His brother hadn't been so lucky to grab the edge before he fell. Sam scanned the river with his eyes, panic making his chest tight. On the shore, Dean was lying still, soaked and filthy. He began arm-crawling his way through the mud.

"DEAN!" Sam shouted down. Dean stopped, leaning back on his elbow and grimacing up at the bridge.

"Hey, are you all right?" Sam asked sharply, his breath returning to his body.

Lying on the muck and rocks, Dean raised his hand. He touched together his first finger and thumb to make the A-OK gesture.

"I'm super." He puffed, letting his arm flop back down with a quiet squelch.

Sam laughed in relief, climbing back up onto the bridge and hauling himself over the railing. Dean didn't take long to slither up the embankment and back to the bridge. He checked briefly with Sam, then went onward to his car to make sure she was okay. He sloshed past his brother, a determined look on his face, and raised the hood.

Sam was quiet through the process, then once Dean had closed her up again, he tentatively asked, "Car all right?"

"Yeah, whatever she did to it, it seems all right now." Dean allowed, sighing. He sent one more glance over the car, then turned back to Sam. Then he looked away, as if expecting to see the Woman in White down by the road.

"That Constance chick," he yelled out, "what a BITCH!"

"Well, she doesn't want us digging around, that's for sure." Sam agreed. Dean sat down on the hood of the car. He'd clean the mud off later. He sighed, exhausted by the fall and the subsequent swim and climb. Sam stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets, settling down beside his brother.

"So, where's the trail go from here, genius?" he asked almost blatantly. Dean threw his hands helplessly up in the air, then flicked his fingers in annoyance when he realized he was flinging muddy water everywhere.

Sam sniffed, then grimaced. He swallowed, looking at his brother.

"You smell like a toilet." He told him. It took all of Dean's resolve not to punch him.

*

"One room please." Said Dean, throwing a credit card under the name Hector Aframian down on the check-in book at the counter of the only motel in town. The manager looked down at the card, then looked up at Dean, blinking. Sam was still trying not to laugh.

Plucking the card delicately from his book, the manager read the name. His face was lined with years, and confusion created more lines as his eyebrows pulled together. He glanced at Dean again.

"You guys having a reunion or something?" The manager asked.

"What do you mean?" Sam said. Dean's eyebrows lowered.

"That other guy, Bert Aframian." The manager responded, staring at Dean still. "He came in and bought out a room for the whole month."

Processing this information, Dean turned to Sam, and they shared a look. Dad.

Instead of getting their own room, they simply requested to go stay in his. Room 10. They found it quickly, and since the manager couldn't give them another key, Sam had to pick the lock. It was easy, and the door unlatched within moments.