Major Tags and Warnings: Non-Con, Minor Character Death, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Dissociation/Derealization, PTSD, Smoking, Unhappy Ending, Mental Health Issues, Hallucinations, Missing/Dead Children, Dead Dogs, Explicit Sexual Content, Cults, Possession, Monsterfucking
Dean's still getting used to the ache of loss and grief burning a hole into his chest. Still not used to the empty space where his brothers used to be.
His life is a day to day drudgery, the eternal crawl, and since Cas broke up with him, he's not quite sure what he's got left to stick around for.
When Jack and Claire go missing, well, he can't just sit back and watch.
Digging deeper, Dean finds himself caught in the middle of a complicated web he can't hope to begin to untangle. Missing Kids, Doomsday Cults, and the sudden return of Castiel in his life have Dean spiraling, even with his trusted Service Dog, Miracle, by his side.
But the one question remains, above all others-
Who were the Men of Letters, and what were they doing in Lawrence?
Dean doesn't think he's going to like the answer.
The first place he goes….
The house is simple, one story, whitewash. He waits on the stoop for a minute, listening for the sounds of shuffling footsteps before the door opens.
“Hi.” He grins, and the woman at the door doesn’t crack a smile back, barely holding back tears. Dean figures she must've wiped away the tracks before answering.
“Do, uh, Max and Alicia Banes live here?”
Something in her eyes sparks to life, and she leans forward, “Have you seen them?”
She falls back into the door, the ember of life he’d seen snuffed out just as quick, “No. They’re not here.”
“Okay, uh,” he flounders, pulling out his card, “my name is Dean Winchester. I'm a friend of Jimmy Novak, who's…”
The woman shuts the door in his face, the sound of muffled sobbing echoing in the house.
Every house after that...they’re the same.
Quiet sorrow, hope, desolation.
He hits the mall, the school, clubs.
Last...and the one he wishes he didn’t have to try-
He shakes his head, forcing himself out of the car and up the driveway. Lisa’s car is in the front, but the front door unlocked. Dean lets himself and Miracle in, taking in the familiar entry. Lisa’s shoe stand. Ben’s sneakers tossed haphazardly on the floor. Family photos hung with pride along the hallway. Dean recognizes his face in some.
A voice catches his ear, tinny and low, and he follows it into the den; but it’s just the TV. A pastor preaching to his mega-church, decked in white and arms thrown wide. Dean snorts, shutting off the program with the remote he remembers Miracle chewed on years ago-her puppy teeth leaving marks on the upper right corner. The sudden silence drowns the room. No broody teenager playing video-games. The sounds of clattering bowls and dinner gone.
Room to room. Kitchen, bathrooms. Bedroom’s; Lisa’s–then Ben’s.
Standing over Ben’s desk, he scans the mess of papers and old take-out containers. There’s not a lot, but a single image catches his eyes, and he reaches out, fingers wrapping around thin, worn paper.
A booklet with The Men of Letters emblazoned across its title.
The inside cover, Dean finds, has one words. Repeated over and over, till Ben’s handwriting goes sloppy.
He blinks, staring down at the page before tucking the booklet in his pocket and moving on.
The backyard, on the other hand…
Miracle whines, tucking herself behind Dean at the smell, and Dean can’t blame her. Ben’s two Labradors lay limp in the grass; covered in blood, throats slit and drained into their own dog bowls. Their collars are gone; Dean can’t tell Colonel from Missy, and a sick, twisting feeling in his gut tells him exactly where the blood on the mirror came from.
They’ve been dead a while, surrounded by flies and insects, and Dean beats a hasty retreat, knuckle white grip on Miracle’s collar as they escape.
Wherever Ben was… it wasn’t here.
Coming this October to @deancashorrorfest
