summary: late night lore is a live broadcast run by sam winchester as a means of making a little extra cash. it's for freaks & geeks alike to learn about the supernatural and tell their own stories. all is well until a mysterious caller becomes a late night regular.
word ct: 4.6k
content: sam & dean are hunters. oc? sam winchester falls for a monster (again). fun, silly, goofy. not to be taken seriously.
> START RECORDING… 00:00:01 <
“this is sam, and you’re listening to late night lore...”
the mic crackled, cutting in and out occasionally. duct tape covered the cord in various places as an attempt to mend the frayed wires.
twisting the cord between his fingers, sam continued.
“…your late night stop to hear all about some of the greatest paranormal legends in history. we also like to get personal around here, so if you got something real, don’t be afraid to call it in. if it’s fake, well, make it good.”
he leaned forward in the creaky motel chair, his back stiff from from what was supposed to be a simple salt and burn two states ago. his fingers slid around his track pad as he fixed the audio levels. the software he used was pirated and not without bugs, so it was important that he kept a close eye on it.
he used an old lavalier mic that he had bought for five bucks from a dingy wholesale store. the kind that sold books and decor that nobody wanted. it worked fine, though he had to hold the wire at an angle on occasion to keep it from turning off.
next to him was a coffee cup that had already gone cold. he kept his voice down, just above a whisper. dean, who had been driving all day, was face down, asleep on the bed just a few feet away.
late night lore was the name of his podcast. he broadcasted it live on some open forum paranormal website that he’d found called ghostfacers. the guys who ran it were crazy, fame hungry nerds, sam thought. but they took an interest in him. and, they were paying him.
it wasn’t much, but enough for gas or food here and there.
sam started his podcast when he was up late one night looking into a rugaru case. he stumbled upon the forum and noticed in bright blue letters, REAL ghost enthusiast needed for research. PAID POSITION!!!!! ONLY real business inquiries email here:
he didn’t know why he sent an email, but he did. turns out not only were the ghostfacers, as they called themselves, way in over their heads in a werewolf case, but they also thought sam to be an incredible teacher.
so, they offered him to take over their broadcast. so long as he gets a few listens, he makes money. easy enough.
most nights were slow, only receiving one or two calls within the hour time slot he allotted for this job. most were weirdos and skeptics—people who believed they were abducted by aliens.
on one particular night, he fought with a guy who claimed to see a chupacabra in minnesota. it got so heated that dean, who had been sitting across from sam, got himself involved. he called the man a slurry of insults before slamming sam’s computer closed. he promptly took away dean’s rights to giving his two cents.
“…so yeah. until then, why don’t i tell y’all a bit about vengeful spirits?”
sam enjoyed the quiet nights where he could spend the hour simply reading from a lore book. in his heart, he was a student. he loved to learn, and so when he left stanford, he became the brains of the duo. yeah, dean could hunt on his own, but this way, they weren’t bringing guns to a demon fight.
outside, the wind kicked. rain was battering the walls. he could see the sound being picked up on the mic, probably muffling his voice a bit, but there was nothing he could do about it.
he had two callers back to back at the half hour mark. one guy believed his dead grandma was changing the channel to little house on the prairie while he slept on the couch. another swore his fridge was speaking latin, trying to warn him of something grave. sam did his best to take the stories without judgement, though he did sometimes have to mute his mic to let out a stifled chuckle.
at a quarter to one, the line beeped again. another caller.
he tapped his tracked pad, the cursor already hovering over the answer button.
“you’re on late night lore, whatcha got?”
there was a pause, long enough to make him think he’d lost them. then came a girl’s voice. small and distant, like she wasn’t quite near the phone.
“hi, i’m red. location, new york.”
it was courtesy to share your name and location, giving sam a good place to start in the rare instance that there might actually be a case.
“alright, red. whatdya have?”
he hears her sigh. not dramatically, but like she had told this story many times and was growing tired of it.
“you ever heard something breathing under your floorboards?”
sam’s eyes brows furrowed and he slid his small leather journal in front of him.
“maybe once or twice. poltergeist in topeka liked to hear himself talk.” he spoke. it was easy to joke in this kind of work. everybody either believed anything or nothing at all. it was sort of unserious. nobody really knew these things were real.
“it knew my name.” red was much quieter now. sam thought he heard a waver in her voice.
he sat up straighter, holding his left headphone to his ear as he scribbled in his journal.
“it mimicked my voice,” she went on. “it was perfect. screamed for help from under my bed. over and over. it wouldn’t stop. it—it even tricked my mom.”
a chill ran up his spine, and sam rubbed his forehead with his fingers. clicking his pen, he breathed out a heavy exhale.
“she came in and saw me on my bed completely fine. thought i was messing with her. she left before i could ask her to look beneath for monsters.”
a dry laugh escaped her lips, but she still sounded uneasy. sam, unsettled by the story, let his shoulders drop at the relief of nobody being hurt.
“we moved out soon after,” she said. “didn’t hear it for a while.”
sam thought for a moment.
there was shuffling on the other end of the line.
a silence washed over them. sam checked the listener count as it jumped from thirty five to forty one. not bad.
usually, calls were a bit more lighthearted, moreso him spitting off basic monster facts or lecturing a civilian on the dangers of exploring abandoned buildings with rich paranormal histories.
the fear in red’s voice though, felt all too real.
“what makes you think that?”
“i can feel it. it’s eyes watching me—whatever it is. but i’m alone now, so everything feels much darker than it is. so maybe it’s nothing.”
sam smiled apologetically despite knowing that she couldn’t see his expression. he understood. the late nights sitting on his bed, eyes staying fixed on the door handle. the way he gripped his dad’s pistol when he and dean left on a hunting trip. he knew the discomfort of understanding that something was always there even if he couldn’t see it.
“i get it,” he offered, “still in new york?”
“yeah, just a little more upstate.”
sam tapped the back of his pen on the table. he checked the time: 1:02am.
“well, good news—it doesn’t seem angry, or like it wants to hurt you. could be a ghost, any type really,” he sifted through files in his brain, looking for any information that could help.
“that’s comforting.” they both chuckled at that.
“do you have any old family heirlooms, or objects that were passed down? think, a necklace or watch that you might’ve brought with you.” sam asked.
a beat, “not that i know of…” red trailed off.
sam yawned, nails coming up to his lips as he thought. that likely rules out a haunted object.
he was silent for a moment. more shuffling came from her end of the line. like static.
“i’m not boring you, am i?” he could imagine the teasing smile on her lips.
he exhaled, his own smile forming. “you have me stumped, actually.”
“i’ll take that as a compliment, sam.”
his cheeks felt warm for a moment, but he collected himself, sitting upright.
“it’s just—if not a haunted object, its gotta be something else. doesn’t seem to fit the profile of a demon, or shifter, or—“
“it’s okay, really. just here to share my story, not solve it. besides, it hasn’t really bothered me since i let it in.”
“let it in? you let it into your house?”
with a click, the line went dead.
> END RECORDING… 01:08:34 <
he sat there for a long time, staring at his computer. the soft hum of the motel electricity blended with dean’s low snores. the silence was deafening now that he was left to his own thoughts.
he replayed the recording twice before he shut it off again, listening to her voice intensely. into me. what could she have possibly meant?
the following morning, dean was sprawled on the far bed, still snoring. sam sat at the table with his laptop open to the forum, typing furiously.
“dude, it’s like five am, why’re you up?” dean grumbled without opening his eyes.
“had a call last night,” sam said, scanning his analytics. “recording went viral. a few other forums picked it up.”
dean cracked his eyes open, they burned when the sun hit them. “possessed dog, scary grandpa?”
sam rolled his eyes. “no, it was different. real even.”
dean groaned again, rolling onto his back before sitting at the edge of the bed.
“everytime you say that, it ends up being a fake.”
he didn’t answer. the numbers were still climbing, and questions kept flying in. discussion posts were more active than he had ever seen them. the call had stirred something. people were obsessed.
who was red? was it actually a ghost? a new type of monster? what had she let in?
he scrolled through the comments. most were speculation, some crude jokes. but none were particularly onto something.
> she sounded terrified!
> some little bitch just messing with us. if you can’t take it seriously, don’t call at all!!!!!!!!!
[x] this comment has been deleted by the moderator.
> possibly a hallucination? can some monsters do that? djinn?
-> not how djinns work dumbass
just three nights later, red called again. same time, same quiet voice.
“hey, sam,” she said. “it’s red. i figured the freaks deserved a sequel to my ghost issue.”
he smiled, just a little. she had definitely seen the buzz around her story.
she made a sound of lighthearted disgust, “gross.”
propped up at the table of a new motel in a new state, sam sat quietly, humming to let her know he was ready. he pulled out his journal and pen. a quick glance at the listeners let him know that more people were listening in, intrigued by red.
she told a similar story. this time, she heard her floorboards creak despite living alone. her cabinets opened on their own. the same old ghost stories that everyone told. except for one detail.
“i saw him. i tried to record him, but it’s just me in the video. nobody else. every night he stands there, watching.”
sam swallowed, furrowing his eyebrows.
"why're you still there?"
"same reason you still run this show." her voice was rough, like the answer had been obvious.
he sat for a moment, confused by what she meant. but she continued before he could ask.
"maybe i'm waiting for something..." red trailed off. she sounded somber now, a little disappointed maybe.
"for what?" sam was hesitant to ask, having no idea what she would say.
she was silent. no sound aside from the crackle of his mic and movement on her end. he looked down at his notes, unprepared for how to lead this conversation. he was sure now, that her ghost problem wasn't like his usual calls.
either she was a damn good actress, or something was actually messing with her. he leaned in close to the mic.
sure, he didn't have much valuable information to go off of, but he and dean had hunted on less.
sam shook his head slightly, taken aback by her question. he blinked.
"sorry?" he continued, "what do you mean?"
she had started as background noise. red's voice and her stories. they were curious, compelling, but nothing too sinister or crazy. same old, same old.
she'd talk about seeing the ghost again. how it never tried to hurt her, but it watched her. sam tried his best to get more information out of her. what did it look like? could you see its eyes? are you sure you're not accidentally carrying a haunted object on you? an old flask? a damn strand of hair in a locket?
nothing. she could never make out any details. it was getting frustrating, not being able to read her, or help her for that matter. yet, in each state that he and dean crossed into, deep down, he hoped he'd stumble upon her case.
he began to listen back to the recordings after each broadcast, listening for anything in the background. but his microphone was shitty and picked up every noise no matter how minuscule.
the ghostfacers forum had blown up. the analytics for late night lore nearly quadrupled in two weeks. comments were flooding in every hour and he was drowning in emails.
> WHEN’S SHE CALLING BACK???
> do y’all think the chick's like possessed? haha
> bro this shit's wild
a subforum had even opened up on the website and listeners used it as a place to decode her story. many tried looking into her identity, claiming they wanted to be the first to solve her strange case.
a handful however, didn't believe her. they pointed out inconsistencies in her claims, tearing apart her words until there was nothing more to destroy.
RED FILE #006: potential mimic?
“you ever get the feeling something is learning you?” she asked one night. at a quarter to one on the dot, she called. sam began to expect her calls every other night. looking forward to them.
“learning you?” he echoed.
“like...studying. picking up on your habits."
he paused. “is he...copying you?”
“maybe. he used to be a shadow." sam blinked, sitting up a bit straighter now.
"he. so he's a he?" he was getting somewhere. if this thing had a face, maybe he could figure out what it was that he was after.
"used to be. now i see me."
“not me me. something’s off. a little too tall. arms too long. more... evil looking. little things."
sam made a note in his journal. “shifter maybe. strange that it's just hanging around though. that's not typical of 'em." his leg bounced beneath the table. this could be bad.
red sighed. “whatever it is, i don't like it. it's like... it's showing me the worst parts of myself."
sam dropped his head, sympathizing with her. he knew what it was like to having some thing show you the evil that sat inside you, waiting to be dug up.
"it's—“ she started, but a muffled noise cut her off. sam groaned, taking the cord of his headphones and folding it over itself. he forced it into different angles, believing it to be a problem on his end.
after a beat, she was back.
"yeah, uh. i was just saying, it's kind of...alluring. in a strange, fucked up paranormal way." she breathed. her voice was low and quiet.
"you're fascinating. your story, i mean." sam brushed his hand over the back of his neck.
sam let out a breathy chuckle as he checked the time on his laptop. 1:35AM. way over time.
the messages kept coming.
> BRO I THINK I SAW RED IN MY BASEMENT.
-> you dont even know her...
> my mom says her voice makes her skin crawl. i think it's real. my mom knows best. trust
> red if ur reading this... marry me.
dean had finally caught up on the red lore.
“didn't take you for the anonymous type. you are a mystery, sammy.” he joked, "tell me you're not falling for this shifter crap."
dean raised an eyebrow. “you sure?”
“no. but i think there's something else going on here.”
dean leaned back against the window of the impala. "you don't know her man, maybe she's a fraud. like those friggin' ghostfacers." he was never totally into the idea of sam working for them. they were no more reliable than the boy who cried wolf.
sam shook his head and brought his thumb to his lips, nibbling at his nail. “there's more to it. i know it. she's scared, i can tell. if i could just— figure out what the hell it is. but she's not telling me everything."
dean muttered, “you were always too kind for your own good."
[saved draft] RED FILE #009
“this time, i woke up with dirt under my nails.” red continued, “but i don’t remember digging.”
“do you know why you might've?”
“no. but i woke up crying.”
he swallowed. “are you safe, red?”
a long pause. muffled silence, like she was moving around.
> END RECORDING… 01:56:21 <
sam didn't upload that night's broadcast. she ended the call immediately.
on the forum, conspiracies popped up each minute. fan messages clogged his email. some claiming to be red. none were her.
he spent that night trying to track her call, but it was no use. she called from a private line.
> did some digging. if you count the seconds she went silent, it adds to 16 seconds. this mean anything??
-> 16 is the number of lucifer.
-> source?
-> guy tarade
-> some rando french guy????????
> is this an arg or real life i am shaking please
on the car ride to a werewolf case in new york just two nights later, sam swept through his emails. mostly spam or uninteresting in general, he deleted them. until one caught his eye:
SUBJECT: 12257 North Rd New York
hey sam. i know you're a hunter. as much i hoped you were just another lore nerd, i could really use some help.
red xx
sam swallowed, glancing towards dean. they were already headed that way. was it worth it?
"she needs help." he kept his voice low and steady. that was the best way to get through to him.
“let me guess,” he said, not looking up from the dark road. “she finally told you where she is. and when we get there, it'll be a bust. a wild goose chase.”
sam kept his eyes forward, not entertaining his brother. "she knows i'm a hunter." this was serious.
dean's eyes flickered on him and down to his laptop. the message still glowed on the screen.
dean narrowed his eyes. “you sure about this?”
sam hesitated. “if anything, i'll get answers. you owe me this."
“i'm sorry, i owe you this?” dean raised his eyebrows. he thought for a moment, lips pulling to one side. sam exhaled a laugh, eyes catching dean's. a look of embarrassed realization. “yeah. maybe i owe you this.”
they drove north into wet pines. the roads turned to gravel. the address led them to a clearing tucked into overgrown forest, where a barn stood rotting in the moonlight.
it seemed abandoned, but the winchesters knew better.
sam stepped out of the impala first, flashlight in one hand, while the other stayed close to his blade. dean held a pistol tight in his right hand. blade in his back pocket. he grimaced.
“i’ve got a real bad feeling, sammy.”
sam said nothing. he could feel it too. in the way the large barn door was open just a crack, and how there seemed to be a mess of an indistinguishable amount of footprints leading up to it.
they stepped further into the clearing toward the barn. as they got closer, they noticed a faint light flickering inside. dean raised a hand to the door, tilting his head to signal his brother to get back.
before he could pull the door open, a dark shape ran from the side of the barn. sam spun, blade raised high. but he hesitated.
in front of him stood a girl. barefoot and breathless. her eyes were wide with panic.
“you need to leave,” her voice shook, “right now.”
her eyes flicked to his. they were apologetic and pierced his skin. she nodded.
“you aren’t supposed to be here, i—“
dean raised his gun, stepping forward. before he could say anything, a mob of dark figures emerged from the barn.
sam barely had time to draw his blade before one of them tackled him. dean grabbed the blade from his pocket and swung as hard as he could, lodging it into a man’s neck.
they were up against a vampire nest.
sam hit the dirt hard, his weapon skidding across the mud. he struggled beneath the weight of a vamp, desperately trying to push him off.
“glad you got my message.” it growled, “she did good didn’t she?”
he shifted his gaze towards red. she stood stiff among the chaos, just staring.
she didn’t know what to do. this was what she wanted. this was her job. but now all she could feel was regret. guilt laid heavy on her chest.
she grabbed the vamp by his shirt, pulling it off of sam. her strength was unnatural. sam could see the hunger in her eyes. her fangs peaked through her lips.
sam managed to get to his feet, stumbling backwards. he turned to run back to the car—to grab a machete. but a hit to the back of his head sent him to the ground.
red trembled in the grip of a vamp. he wrapped an arm around her, hard enough to leave bruises. they were in the barn now. only lit by a single flickering light. tied to a beam that ran from the ceiling to the floor, was sam, unconscious. dean, among the chaos, had managed to get away.
red was smart enough to know that he’d be back soon. she hoped he’d be fast. she didn’t want this—never did. not really.
she grew up in this life. taught to charm. to lure. but it wasn’t until sam that she truly rejected it. the sincerity and care in his voice flipped a switch in her. she was hopeful now, that she could be different.
but rules are rules. she had to follow the lead of her nest.
sam stirred and his head pounded in his skull. he groaned, pulling at the rope that bound his wrists. he didn’t open his eyes. instead, he listened to the conversation that echoed off the walls.
“he’s a hunter. he needs to be killed.” one vamp said.
“and let the other get away? no, he’ll be back. let’s wait it out, then drain them both.”
red struggled against the vamp that held her.
“uh uh uh.” he warned, snarling.
“he’s mine.” she lowered her voice. she wore a stern expression, the best she could muster up. she cringed internally. the others seemed shocked, but didn't question her. she was the nest's favorite after all, the one who caught their food. the one who kept them in the dark, safe from hunters.
she nodded her head towards the barn door, signaling for the vamps to leave her be. they followed orders, mumbling to each other as they passed. agitated.
sam squinted his eyes open. his head hung low towards his chest. it felt hazy, pressure weighing heavily over his eyes.
red kneeled down in front of him, hand coming up to brush his jaw. he flinched away.
"i'm sorry," she whispered, using his blade to cut through the thick ropes that held him down. he didn't look at her. his chest rose and fell quickly. blood stained his shirt. he wasn't sure if it was his own.
"i'm not like them. i don't want to be like them. not anymore."
his wrists were red and bruised. he sat up straighter, finally taking her in. her eyes shined in the flicker of the light. her lips were a maroon color that complimented her pale skin. her fangs sill poked through her lips, thirsty.
she hesitated, "because when we spoke, you reminded me that i was human once. you cared for me."
she was earnest, but sam shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. she was a monster, no?
"i didn't know you were a vamp."
"now you do. do you still care?"
sam widened his eyes, taken aback by the question. he thought for a moment. he did still care. she may not be in the sort of trouble he originally thought, but maybe he can still help her.
"have you fed?" he asked wearily.
red stuttered, "of course i have. i, i've been like this for years. i had to survive."
sam shook his head with a sigh.
"but i can change! anything, i'll try anything else. please, i can't keep getting people killed." her eyes glassed over, tears threatening to fall. she spoke quickly, eyes darting to the barn door. sam searched them for a glint of deceit, but he saw nothing. just guilt. he's let monsters go before.
footsteps, heavy and fast, approached the door.
"listen to me. dean is gonna run through that door and he's gonna kill you. you gotta run." he spoke fast, rushing to his feet.
red turned on her heels, ready to run to the back door, but a voice yelled out.
"sam! sam, you good?" dean wielded a machete that glimmered in the dim light. sam positioned himself between red and his brother.
"dean, put it down." he breathed.
"sam, what the hell're you doing?" he put his hands up in defense, machete straight out in front of him.
"dean, she didn't want this. she can change—“
"that's what they all say when their only other option is death. sam, you know this!" disappointment dripped from dean's lips. he continued, "she lured us here. is this what we do? give monsters a get outta jail free card?"
sam swallowed. dean was right. but, "she saved me."
"she tried to kill you first." the older boy stepped forward. threatening.
red spoke, panic laced in her voice.
"i'm not asking for mercy. just a head start."
a deafening silence took over. old pipes dripped faintly, and the rain had finally begun to fall. dean's eyes shifted to sam's, reading them. they were sincere, almost begging. please don't do it.
dean sighed, lowering his weapon slowly, arm trembling from adrenaline. he thought back to the innocent people he’d met before. those who had been turned, or rejected the evil in their veins. most who he’d never seen again, or who had at the very least, stayed low on the radar.
he thought about his brother. who had practically drowned himself in demon blood not too long ago. he changed.
with a groan, dean spoke.
"go. you run, we never see you again." he took another step forward, "we catch wind of you, so help me god, you're dead."
red nodded frantically. she stepped behind sam and made her way towards the back door. she met his kind eyes one last time.
"thank you," she whispered. and then she was gone, running off into the woods.
both boys took a breath. dean smacked sam on the back of his head, gritting his teeth.
"you're gonna get us killed. quit falling for damn monsters."
notes: a little alex action tehee (love her) this was supposed to be an entirely different story, but i got carried away. this was just a simple & fun fic to cleanse my mind after preacher's daughter. hope you enjoy!
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taglist: @ambiguous-avery . @iamaslytherin0 . @zenoxl . @hollyfranklin . @thelastwayward