HDA - Living in Darkness Trilogy - Pt 2 - The Search

The look Sam shot him told the blond sleuth, the kid wasn’t buying it but before he could offer anything else, a peculiar smell made him wrinkle up his nose. Sulfur?

Beside him, the younger boy tensed and the next thing Joe knew he was being slammed into the side of the rocky slope, his head hitting hard.

“JOE!”

He heard Sam yell his name…

Then a shot!

Chapter 6

Dean was worried.

He hated being worried. He didn’t do ‘worried’ good at all – Sam did ‘worried’ good.

In fact, Sam was the better worrier all the way around, because an anxious Sam was a rambling Sam; an anxious Dean was a killer…spirit, siren, werewolf, he wasn’t particular about his prey, but usually the nastier the thing was to begin with, the better off he felt afterwards.

Yup, nothing like shooting a pesky ghostie-poo right in its hiney-poo to make the twenty year old happy…. Unfortunately right now though, he had nothing to shoot, and no little brother to annoy.

And he’d have even bigger problems if Dean didn’t find Sam and if his brother wasn’t all right. The ‘bigger problem’ was just over six feet tall, hated to eat anything that didn’t used to have a face, and went by the name John Winchester, AKA ‘Daddy’. (Though not technically, since Dean was eight years old and two older boys had ‘informed him’ that only girls called their fathers ‘Daddy’…. So right after Dean sent the mini-thugs home crying for their mommies, he dropped the ‘dy’ and John became ‘Dad’.)

Oh, yeah. Their father and demon hunting legend was going to be pissed, and with good reason. Dean had lost his brother.

Wiping the rain off his face and wincing as his hand brushed over the still-throbbing gash on his forehead, the young hunter sighed as his hazel eyes kept a sharp lookout for the younger teen. Frank said he understood about him and Sam but Dean knew there was no way he possibly could. No one could.

The bond he and Sam shared might have been born by blood, but it was forged in the fire of their mother’s death.

John Winchester grabbed the crying infant from its crib, hurrying out of the nursery door before four-year-old Dean would see…

Thrusting Sammy into Dean’s arms he yelled, “Take your brother and get out! Now Dean, go!” While in the room behind him his beautiful wife, her blond hair splayed out around her face, looked down from the ceiling as she burned – an angel on fire….

Dean held the baby as he ran. He felt the infant slipping and tightened his grip as he hurried down the stairs and towards the front door of the house. He would not let his Sammy fall…

Outside he paused to catch his breath and tried to console his upset brother; gasping out loud when his father swooped him and Sammy up into his strong arms and ran—

And then there were only three.

Mommy was gone…

But not Sam.

He had to find his brother.

Periodically Dean would yell Sam’s name – and even once or twice Joe’s – but mostly he moved almost silently through the miserable woods, cursing just about every twig, leaf and root he came across – he had to find his brother.

God, he hated Mother Nature, and entertained himself with the idea of blasting her with rock-salt if she ever crossed his path. And why not? If the Boogey monster was real, why the heck not her…?

“Dean?” Frank’s hushed voice interrupted his unconstructive musing. “I think I heard something.”

Instantly the young hunter stopped, his hand tensing on the gun as he cocked his head to the side, trying to drown out the sound of fat rain drops slapping the trees—

“JOE!”

And then he was running – Dean Winchester would recognize that voice anywhere. It was Sam.

ooooooOOOOOOoooooo

Unable to stand on his own, Sam crumbled to his knees as soon as Joe went down, catching himself on his hands before he completely sprawled.

“JOE!” he yelled as he fumbled for the small revolver neatly tucked into the back of his jeans, adrenaline pressing him past the pain.

Blinking to try and clear his vision, Sam focused on the wraith hovering over Joe and fired, crying out in pain when the recoil flashed pain up his arm.

He dropped the gun and cradled his wrist. Shit. That had hurt!

The wraith shrieked as it was hit by rock salt and quickly disappeared, but the sixteen year old knew it would be back soon. Depending on the strength of the spirit, the shot might have only bought them a few minutes, at best.

Struggling towards Joe, Sam heaved a sigh of relief when he found a steady pulse thrumming beneath his shaking fingertips. Joe was alive and didn’t seem to be hurt too badly, but he was out cold.

Shivering as he glanced up at the rocky slope, the younger teen let out a weary sigh. It was only fifteen feet, but with the way he was feeling right now, it might as well have been one hundred and fifteen. There was no way he’d be able to drag or carry Joe up. He strongly doubted he’d be able to get himself to the top.

Sam needed to rouse Joe.

As the younger boy placed his hand on the blond’s shoulder to give him a gentle shake, Sam felt a familiar prickly sensation and slowly turned, already knowing the wraith would be behind them.

Damn.

Carefully he moved to position himself between it and the unconscious sleuth, his movements increasingly hampered as he kept visual contact with the spirit.

The gun was in reach—

Sam prepared himself to make the move. To grab the gun and fire...but he never got the chance.

“Yo, bitch,” a familiar voice shouted from above him. Sam couldn’t help but smile. “Keep your hands off my Cocoa Puffs!”

Dean was here.

A second later Dean fired and then he and Frank were sliding down the slope towards their brothers.

Sam sagged back in relief as the wraith, once again, was gone. He looked up as his brother crouched down in front of him and gave a weary lop-sided smile, trying to relieve the anxiety he saw on his older brother’s face. “A-a-about t-t-t-time,” he shivered.

Dean smirked, clearly pleased that Sam had the strength to bitch. “Don’t blame me,” he retorted and then indicated Frank who was similarly crouched down assessing his own brother. Joe groaned slightly as his sternum was rubbed. “But Frankie there had to get his hair done first.”

Frank just shook his head.

Sam had something smart to say in the dark-haired Hardy’s defense, but before he could get a single word out, his eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out.

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Disclaimer

The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The authors have just borrowed them for an adventure or two. The authors promise to put the boys back when they are done with them. The authors do claim copyright to the original characters in this story. Please do not borrow original characters without express permission of the authors.