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

“Lead the way,” Joe grinned, extending a hand to his own weary brother and hauling Frank to his feet. “I know I’d just about kill for a hot cup of steaming hot chocolate.”

“Coffee,” Frank added.

“Beer,” Dean put in and then grinned as Frank scowled.

They then looked at Sam. He blushed and mumbled something.

“What was that, little brother?” Dean teased, “We didn’t quite get it.”

“W-w-warm m-m-milk, okay,” Sam managed, through chattering teeth. “I s-s-said ‘w-w-w-arm m-m-milk’”

Even Frank was chuckling at that as the four drenched, cold, dirty, exhausted, smelly (in Frank’s case) and injured young men dragged their carcasses back through the wet woods and towards their vehicles.

It had been an incredibly long night.

Chapter 9

“Crap,” Frank hissed when the bedraggled little crew finally got back to the van. “I don’t believe this!”

Sam frowned and blinked to clear his vision as he forced his weary head up enough to see what was wrong. On either side of him, his supports – his brother and Joe – immediately recognized the problem, though Sam hadn’t quite figured it out yet. He was usually a lot sharper…

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Joe grumbled while Dean whistled in appreciation, shifting to take on more of Sam’s weight so Joe could move towards the van:

“Shit….Who’d you boys piss off?”

Sam finally saw what all the commotion was about and he winced in sympathy. Someone had slashed the tires on the Hardys’ van, all four of them, Frank confirmed a moment later after doing a quick check.

Joe crouched down and touched the damaged rubber. He sighed and ran a hand through his wet hair. “Wonderful.” He looked at his brother. “Absolutely wonderful.”

The younger Winchester hazarded a glance at his sibling as he wondered, fleetingly, if the wraith had somehow done that, but Dean – as if seeing the question on Sam’s face – just shrugged and raised an eyebrow. Apparently he had no idea either…

Standing, Joe glanced at his watch. It was almost midnight. He grimaced and looked at his brother. “Sooo…who’d you think’ll be least pissed off if we call for a ride at this hour of the night?”

Frank ran a hand through his dark wet hair in agitation. “Normally I’d say Dad, but—”

“He’s not home yet and Mom doesn’t have a car – its in the shop until Monday,” Joe finished for him as he started to search his pockets for his cell.

Sam felt his brother’s heavy sigh before he heard it. “Look. My car’s not far from here – we can give you a lift or something…” He fidgeted slightly. “Seeing that you found Sammy and all.”

“I-it’s S-S-Sam, j-j-jerk,” Sam tried to remind. It was a never ending battle between Sam and the older members of his family to drop the babyish ‘my’ from his name.

‘Sammy’ was a little kid, the baby of the family, not a struggling teenager trying to ante up with the rest of the men in his testosterone-driven family of demon hunters. Of course, it was pretty much a losing battle…but he was persistent if nothing else.

“Bitch is more like it,” Dean retorted, making both Joe and Frank look at him oddly. He raised his eyebrows and looked around innocently. “What?” After a moment, he added, “Well, you guys want a lift or what? ‘Cause as much as I love standing around here freezing my ass off, if I don’t get out of the cold soon, I’m going to be needing to do some serious spelunking if I ever hope to piss straight again.” He grinned at Frank’s horrified expression as Joe tried to keep the grin off his face. “Oh…and I need to put the kid, here, on defrost…blue is just not a great color on him.”

Frank immediately turned to Joe. “Call Biff. He owes us a favor or two—”

“Biff?” Dean cut in with a snort. “You actually know someone named ‘Biff’?” He started to laugh.

“D-Dean,” Sam’s weary voice interrupted whatever next he was going to say. “C-c-can we j-j-just g-g-go?” He wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to be able to stay conscious. He was just so cold and tired. His head still hurt and he suspected it had something to do with the wraith but right now, he was too exhausted to consider it any further than that. “P-p-please?”

“Sam’s right. C’mon Frank. It’d be stupid to wake Biff—” he glanced at Dean, “and yes that is his name – when they can just drop us off at home,” Joe finished, putting his cell phone away.

Frank didn’t look as convinced but finally he nodded, seeing the logic in taking the Winchesters up on their offer. He looked down the dark road. “How far is your car?”

“I don’t know for sure,” Dean admitted. “But it shouldn’t be more than a mile from here.” He glanced down at Sam, his brow puckered in a frown.

Sam sighed and felt himself deflate. A mile…

“Look,” Frank suddenly spoke up, obviously sensing the dilemma, or maybe it was just the big brother in him speaking, “Why don’t you and Joe go get the car? I’ll stay with Sam and he can stretch out on the bench seat in the van.”

Dean seemed torn and Frank added, “The tires are flat but the engine still works. I’ll crank up the heat, and it’ll be faster this way.”

“Sammy?” Dean asked softly as he caught his brother’s gaze; his tone said what his words didn’t: Is that okay with you? Will you be all right? He wasn’t used to leaving the younger hunter with strangers – and he really didn’t know the Hardys very well.

The sixteen year old nodded slightly, his strength waning and the lure of lying down almost overpowering, but still his older brother seemed hesitant.

“I don’t know—”

“Dean,” Joe moved towards the Winchesters. “Frank’ll take good care of Sam…I promise.” He smiled, his blue eyes burning brightly as he added, “He’s got the big brother thing down pat.”

The older Winchester appraised Frank critically and then slowly nodded. “Okay. On one condition…”

Frank raised his eyebrow, questioningly and Dean continued. “You take Sammy’s gun—”

“No way,” Frank held up his hands. “I don’t need that.”

“I’m not asking you to sleep with the damn thing, just keep it close. Just in case…” Dean retorted.

“Just in case of what?” the older Hardy pressed warily, his dark eyes meeting and holding the young man’s.

“Geez. I don’t know,” the young hunter snorted sarcastically. “Maybe the yahoos who slashed your tires might come back—” He fumbled to liberate Sam’s gun from the small of his back, deftly adjusting his hold on his brother to keep from jostling Sam too much. “Humor me, okay?” He held the handgun out.

Frank looked at Joe.

“For cripes sake. It’s only loaded with rock-salt. It won’t kill anyone,” Dean huffed.

Joe shrugged. It was Frank’s call.

“Fine. Okay.” The older Hardy reached out and took the gun from Dean. He checked to make sure the safety was on and then shoved it into his coat pocket. “You happy now?”

Dean gave him a curious look and then smirked. “You’ve made my whole night.”

As Frank rolled his eyes, Joe opened the side door of the van and helped Dean get Sam settled on the bench seat. He pulled out an old blanket from the back and placed it over the shivering teenager.

“I’ll be right back,” Dean promised and then waited for the older Hardy to start the van and jack up the heat before giving his brother one last look. Sam managed a smile before closing his eyes and letting his head rest against the seat. He was too tired to say anything.

…

Dean slammed the door shut and turned to Frank. His voice dropped to a low growl, “If anything happens to him—”

Frank glanced at Joe and then back to Dean. He lifted his chin and met the hunter’s warning. “Ditto.”

Satisfied that they had an understanding, the two groups split up.

Dean and Joe hurried along the dark and wet road towards the Impala, while Frank and Sam stayed behind.

Opening the van door and sliding onto the driver’s seat, Frank glanced back at Sam. Satisfied that the kid seemed to be resting, he sighed and tried to swallow down the lump of unease that was growing in the back of his throat…

Although he had been the one to suggest they separate, a creeping feeling of foreboding unsettled Frank. He just couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something wrong. And about ten minutes later when the temperature suddenly dropped and frost slowly crept up the windows, Frank knew he was right...

And then he smelled the sulfur a moment before something slammed into the side of the van!

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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.