Baby Winchester

Born Under a Bad Sign

Under an Underpass, a while after the incident with Gordon, Dean is on his cell phone, leaning against the car. He was fidgeting and clearly upset, not too much unlike myself. Sam had been missing for a while and we were panicking and terrified. "Ellen, it's me again. Any chance you've heard from him?             I swear, it's like looking for our dad all over again. We're losing our minds here.          No, we've called him a thousand time, there's nothing but voice mail. Kaylee's even tried her mind-tracking thing, but nothing. We don't know where he went, or why. Sam's just gone." My phone went off and I picked it up. "Hello?" "Kay?" Recognizing the voice, I slapped Dean's shoulder and showed him the phone. He grabbed it and talked to Sam. "Sammy? Where the hell are you? Are you okay?               Hey, hey, hey! Calm down. Where are you? All right, don't move, we're on our way."

We drove so fast, we might as well be flying. I looked out the window after a while and saw a sign that said 'TWIN LAKES'. We arrived at the motel and parked, almost running to Sam's room. We reached room 109 and knocked. "Sam, it's us. Sam!" Dean said. I tried the door and it's unlocked. Sam is sitting numbly on one bed."Sam? Hey." Dean said as we walked over to him. "Hey, Dean, Kay." Dean kneeled next to him and I sat next to him. "Are you bleeding?" I asked. "I tried to wash it off." Sam said and I noticed Sam's shirt, which was covered in blood. Dean groped at Sam's shirt, looking for a wound. "Oh my god."

"I don't think it's my blood." "Whose is it?" I asked, my hand on his shoulder. "I don't know." "Sam, what the hell happened?" Dean asked and Sam finally looked up at us, terror in his eyes. "Guys, I don't remember anything."

Dean went to to find out anything about Sam and get food, while Sam changed and I tried to find out either on the computer or in his mind, neither of which worked. Dean walked back in, carrying a grocery bag. "What'd you find out?" Sam asked, looking a little less out of it. "You checked in two days ago under the name Richard Sambora. Of course, I think the scariest part about this whole thing is the fact that you're a Bon Jovi fan." Dean replied. "Dean." Sam and I said.

"Your room's been quiet, nobody's noticed anything unusual." "You mean no one saw me walking around covered in blood?" "Yeah. That's what I mean." "Then how the hell did I get here, Dean? What happened to me?" "I don't know." "But you're, you're okay, and that's what matters. Everything else we can deal with." I said. "Oh really? 'Cause what if I hurt someone? Or worse?" Sam asked. "Sam..."

"What if this is what Dad warned you about?" Sam asked. "Hey, whoa, whoa, come on man, let's not jump the gun here. We don't know what happened. We've just got to treat this like, like any other job. What's the last thing you remember?" Sam sat down and responded, "Just the three of us, just, in that motel room in West Texas, going out to grab some burgers, and..." "West Texas? That was, that was over a week ago." I said. "That's it. Next thing I knew I was sitting here. Bloody. Felt like I'd been asleep for a month."

We walked outside and looked around. "Recognize anything?" Dean asked Sam. "Not really......wait." He continued as we headed towards a parking garage out back. "What?" Dean and I asked. "I think I was here." Sam said as we walked closer. "You remember?" I asked. "Not really, it just....feels familiar, you know? Try that one, yeah." Sam said, pointing to the second garage. Dean tugged on the padlock. "Okay." "Wait." Sam said, digging into his pocket, frowning. He pulled out a key and gave Dean and I a look. Dean opened the padlock with the key and opened the door, revealing a filthy, beat-up VW Beetle.

"Oh, please tell me you didn't steal this." Dean said and Sam fidgeted. We walked in and they both opened doors of the car, Sam on the driver's side. He touched the wheel and showed Dean and I his stained finger. "More blood." I noticed something and pointed. "Back seat." Sam reached down and picked up a blood-stained knife the sticks to the floor, staring at it.