I looked at the year I joined this sight and had a Holy Crap, Batman! moment. Then I took stock of my life. I'm glad I've stayed here. This community, this world, I have grown with every story. Thank you.

This is my 300th story (again, holy crap) and I wanted it to be special. Enjoy.

Prompt from LeighAnnWallace

Oh, and do take care. Choose wisely.

The Riddle of the Spool

No matter the time of night, or corner of America you're in, a diner will always be open with a greasy burger on a not-so-clean plate waiting for you served with bitter black coffee. Just enough to keep you running and sometimes a chatty waitress to remind you of civilization before you hit the road again. Sometimes, the farther down the road they appeared, the stranger they got. Nothing noticeable except for a change in the neon color; a flickering of the sign and a few unnoticed cracks.

Daedalus Diner was one of those places; subtly different in an unassuming way with altogether sinister intentions. Dean pulled the Impala to a slow stop in front of the dinner. Sam had fallen asleep at least three hours ago. His head was tilted back and he had one hand resting on the flashlight he had used to read. The pattern they'd been researching was a mess of obituaries and news clippings behind them. Dean smiled as he saw that his little brother still drooled in his sleep. He got out of the Impala as quietly as he could and headed into the diner.

Inside the diner the chipped black and white tiles were stained. It was clear someone had tried to mop the floor but had simply given up. The barstools at the counter were different sizes. Dean ignored them and walked up to the counter. "Hello?" he called out.

A young teenager appeared. He was dressed in ripped blue jeans and a black tee shirt with a name tag that said Hi! My name is Ike. The back of his shirt had a stylized wing design. Ike was wiping a glass with a dirty rag when he walked through the double doors of the kitchen. "What can I help you with?"

Dean looked over the sleep deprived kid and wondered what it was about him that set off his spidey-sense. "I need two hamburgers. One with no lettuce, just cheese and ketchup. And a big cup of coffee as well as a coke. To go."

Ike nodded slowly. He set down the glass and took out a notepad. After jotting down the order, he looked up at Dean. His eyes had been sky blue once, but now they were empty and devoid of life. "It'll be done soon, sir."

Ike turned away from Dean and limped back to behind the double doors. Dean didn't see it, but he could hear the sound of a chain being dragged with Ike's footsteps. Dean leaned against the bar counter and waited patiently. Still perplexed, he didn't mind the wait. They only had a few more miles into Stone. The little town had a number of disappearances. Some of them were couples, which immediately set off bells signaling sacrifice. All Sam and Dean had to do was figure out was why they were being sacrificed and case solved. Then they could go back to dealing with the fact that Dean had traded his life for Sam's. Or they could just go find another case. Dean infinitely preferred the later.

There was a clattering in the kitchen that caught Dean's attention. There were yelling voices and thrown pans. Before he could react though, Ike came stumbling out. "There's been a slight delay, sir. Your order will be done soon. Please feel free to play anything on the jukebox." He said the lines like a puppet to terrified to say anything other than what the ventriloquist ordered.

Dean looked over at the Jukebox. It was half-heartedly glowing colorfully. There was a dent in its side. Dean looked back at Ike and raised one eyebrow. "Right. Are you sure everything back there is all right?"

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Sam sat bolt upright. In the car she sat beside him in a tight red shirt with blue jeans.

"I'm so tired of running." She slouched a little in the driver's seat. Her red shirt was ripped, and her skin was a mixture of bruises.

Sam pressed one hand against his head. This was all wrong. He didn't know this woman, and still she was sitting there. Her hair was greasy and tangled. A fine layer of dirt was over her skin, smudged by claw marks. "He won't let me go. Not until I bring in someone new."

Sam felt a flash in his memory. She was on the missing papers. "I'm sorry… my brother and I will be there soon to save you…"

She let out a hollow little laugh. "Sam," she said quietly, "will you come help me?"

"I am coming." He reassured twisting his body to look at her better. No matter which way he turned look though she seemed to be fading into the fabric of the seat.

"Will you trade places with me?" She looked at him pleadingly. Before Sam had even noticed it she had taken his hand in hers. "Take this. It will help."

A small spool was pushed into his hands. Sam looked down at the golden thread. "Where can I find you?"

"Just promise, please… I am so tired of running."

"You've got to tell me where you are." Sam reached out to touch her but she shied away from his touch.

"He will come for you. I'm sorry."

A sudden rush of pain overcame Sam and he shut his eyes instantly as the blinding white light obscured his vision. It didn't help though, because he could still See.

Moss covered stone walls premating the air with cold dampness
Breath like rot following behind running footsteps
A trip around the corner, seeing a place to hide for just for a moment

When the vision ended, Sam was gasping for breath. Usually he would see a face in his visions but this time he had seen no one, only felt an intense suffocating atmosphere. Sam looked around the car. She was gone.

Sam looked up at the diner entrance and felt his heart beat slow down. Dean had found a place to get food. They must be close to Stone. He reached behind to the back seat and grabbed the missing person reports searching for the girl's face.

Irene Ruth. Disappeared one month ago.

He shook his head sadly and then looked back up at the diner. He wondered what was taking Dean so long. In his hand he realized he was still holding the spool of thread. While he was still staring at the mysterious object he did not see the shadow that fell across his car.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Ike remained absolutely frozen in place. His eyes moved from side to side, then he glanced down. His eyes nearly bored a hole into the floor. Dean looked down too but he could not understand what Ike was trying to imply. Ike looked back at him, clearly disheartened.

"No, sir, everything is fine here."

"Ike get your lazy ass in here and give the goddamn customer the food!" came the roar from the kitchen. "And YOU , old man, get back to cooking."

Ike retreated obediently to the kitchen and came back out. He took Dean's credit card and swiped it slowly. Satisfied with the confirmed charge he handed the food to Dean with shaking hands.

Halfway to the door, Ike called out to Dean. "You forgot your napkins!"

Dean turned around and took them from Ike. "Thanks." He noticed, but did not comment, on the handwriting he saw on the napkins.

"Drive safely." Ike waved him goodbye.

Dean walked out and of the restaurant, eager to be out of sight so he could open up the napkins. When Dean opened the restaurant door he froze. He dropped the balanced mess of takeout bags and drinks as he pitched forward to the car. He accessed the damage to Impala; a dented hood, and a smashed window. Sam was no longer snoring in the front seat. There was a musky smell of dirt, fur, and rot hanging in the air. At 11pm at night there wasn't a soul surrounding the diner at all. Dean glanced over his shoulder at the diner. For one second the lights flickered so only D-E-A-D was illuminated.

Dean felt like he was in a movie theatre. It was like there was an old film reel stuck on repeat in the change room and the scene being projected was replaying itself over and over and then once more. It was tiring to watch it happen so often, to come close to that ending but never reach it. Sam was gone from him, stolen away, again. If it wasn't Sam taken, it would have been Dean. The situation was repeated all to often. What Dean hated most of all was that he wasting precious moments of his last year lookingfor his brother instead of being with him.

Dean cursed and went to pick up the bag of take out. He ripped the bag open and pulled out the napkins. Black sharpie was on all of them, faded and blurred. The top one had the actual message: The Maze is beneath.

Dean stalked around to his car and heaved a sigh. There was a lot of work to be done. He opened the door and slid inside. Pieces of Sam's sweatshirt was on the seat along with torn research. Dean flipped through it looking for any hints.

There was nothing but a coat of fine golden dust. Dean checked that his gun was loaded with silver bullets. He put a second gun into his ankle holster, for good measure. He grabbed the flashlight and got out of the car.

The Maze is beneath.

Dean wasn't sure what to believe, and he never did have much time for faith. He scouted the edges of the diner looking for anything that could be mistaken for a maze. Or his brother. As Dean followed the side of the building he saw huge hooved tracks.

Dean frowned. The job description never did say it was easy.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Sam landed on his hands and knees. Behind him (or around him- he couldn't tell) there was something like laughter. It could have been laughter or it could have been cries. Misery had a way of tangling itself around humor all too often. The noise was bloodcurdlingly loud and yet so far away.

He put his hand on the wall next to his head to steady himself. He recoiled as he felt the sticky wetness covering rough stone. Sam turned his head to look at what cold thing he had just put his hand in. The stone wall stretched up before him, covered in moss and vines. Over the stones and moss was something else- blood. It was sticky, but not entirely fresh. The writing was indicative of madness. No sane person would drag their fingers like in such a shaky curvature with dedication to continue message. It must have been agony to rake blood stained hands over the sharp stone.

You'll never get out ha ha

The end of the message was cut off abruptly. Sam took in a deep breath and looked around at his surroundings. Water had dripped down from the ceiling and created mud puddles in various places on the dirt floor. There were options in front of him different corridors to take.

In the distance he could hear the laughter restart.

Sam noticed that he was still holding the thread. He sighed and took off running.

To go to the left, go to chapter two. To go to the right, go to chapter three.