Authors note: This is the last extract for a while. I have another one half written but RL is taking over the writing at the moment. Hopefully in a few weeks I will get more time to finish. I do have another couple of stories already written and I will be posting those soon. :)

Excerpt from Dean Winchester's Diary

Extract 6

Thursday

I'm gonna kill him, I am. I don't care that he's younger than me or that Dad says I have to look after him. He's dead the next time he touches my stuff.

You know he didn't even look guilty when I asked just shrugged like it was nothing.

LIKE IT WAS NOTHING PULLING OUT SOME GIRLY PINK SHORTS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE LOCKER ROOM.

I was stood there like some retard when these frilly things with a tiny, 'My little Pony' logo embroidered onto the leg fell out of my stuff. Everyone was laughing and making kissing noises and obscene gestures at me.

What was he thinking I mean there are pranks and then there's humiliation. How could he put those things in my bag I am never, never gonna live this down. Thank god we'll be moving on in a couple of weeks 'cause I'm not going back to that school whatever Dad says.

Thursday night….

I suppose I should be relieved. It wasn't Sam's idea, the shorts that is. At first I thought it he'd done it and that kinda hurt 'cause although we do 'stuff' to each other we never do it in front of other people like that. Turns out it was one of his geeky friend's idea of a joke. Sam didn't know until it was too late and he was in class.

I'm still angry with him he could have made some kind of excuse to leave class and warn me or even use his new phone. That's part of what being brothers is about, he should have given me the heads up 'cause it's always been The Winchesters against everyone.

I have noticed that Sam's been spending a lot of time with his 'friends'. We don't usually make friends; we don't stay around long enough but he's been quite closed mouthed and I've not seen him at break time or lunch time for the last couple of weeks.

It's weird 'cause usually we rely on each other and Dad makes me give Sammy a lift to and from school most days if I've got the car and I'm happy to do it. Recently though Sam's done a lot of walking home. I haven't told Dad. I've tried to give Sam some space 'cause he's getting older and I know he can take care of himself but it doesn't feel right.

I tried talking to him but he gave me those puppy eyes and spoke perfect sense. He was thirteen and probably able to look after himself better than most boys his age. That it was about time that Dad and I trusted him and that I was jealous that he had friends other than me.

I couldn't fault him. His logic was impeccable and he was right. Sometimes I think Sammy is too clever for his own good.

Later he said he was sorry but it didn't stop him smearing mud in my bed.

I put jelly in his.

Saturday

Dad got really mad.

He found out that I hadn't gone to school Friday and then he found the dirty sheets where we'd stashed them. He yelled at us and told us we could wash them ourselves 'cause he wasn't forgoing the deposit. Then as well as washing the sheets he's put us both on laundry duty for the next month with extra training on top.

He said that if we'd got time to fool around then we obviously hadn't got enough to do so in addition I've gotta clean all the guns and Sammy has to sharpen the knives until further notice.

Sam is really pissed he hates anything to do with the weapons even though he is pretty good with a gun and even better with a knife. He glared at me all evening over the table; like it was my fault!

Sunday

Dad's gone off on a hunt. He was already up and packing when I got up this morning seems he got news of a black dog on the loose in Louisiana. I wanted to go with him but he said no and looked at me pointedly. I got the message. He's still pissed at me and Sammy.

Sunday later…

Sam's still acting all emo. Geeze he can out sulk a three year old.

Dad had gone by the time he surfaced so it was up to me to make him do the three mile run and the weight training. He never spoke to me all through and then announced at the end he was off out.

I asked where and got "Out." We never say just 'out'.

I tried to reason with him 'cause I know …well I know we can't keep him locked up for the rest of his life but he's got to realise there's got to be rules. He knows what's out there. It's for his own protection.

I didn't realise it until later but I sounded just like Dad. No wonder he went off like a firecracker yelling and swearing until he was nearly crying. Then he shut himself in our room.

It didn't feel good. I hate it when we argue but this was worse I felt like the biggest dick ever. It was always me and Sammy against the world but I couldn't let him go off without knowing where he was.

Thursday

Geeze I'm so banged up, again, that I can hardly write. Everything hurts and the things that don't hurt ache and the things that don't ache….you get the picture ….. AND it's all Sam's fault.

It isn't really, not entirely, it wasn't like he knew what was going on 'til later so I don't blame him but he feels real guilty right about now and I'm gonna milk for as long as I can to teach him a lesson.

He snuck out. Sunday afternoon, the stupid sonofabitch snuck out; went out of the window.

I called to him asking if he wanted anything to eat. There was no answer so I go in to see if he's asleep and he's gone, backpack and notebooks gone too. I tell you I was panicking until I found his clothes were still there.

I mean what the hell… If Dad comes back… Did Sam even think about that?

Checking under the window outside I found some sneaker footprints which had to be his but they led to the blacktop and I had no chance of finding which way he'd gone from there. I must have stood for a good few minutes gazing up and down the parking lot willing him to reappear but nadda.

I tried Sam's number….a lot…more than a lot, probably about a hundred times. Then I was gonna call his friends until I realised that I didn't know their numbers, or their last names or their addresses. You can't call the operator and ask for 'Dogger' or 'Shinty'.

The only thing I could do was go look for him. I left a note on the table in case he came home telling him to call me as soon as he got back. Then, 'cause of course Dad had the Impala, I bagged a car. Not from right outside the motel. I walked a couple of blocks and found a decent enough Ford. Not too showy but not one that was gonna break down in ten yards.

I drove to the school first. I did wonder if Sam'd got soccer practice or something. There were a few kids on the field but no one I knew and none were part of Sammy's geek squad. I described Sam and asked them if they'd seen him or knew any of his friends. I got diddlysquat. I was just about to go when the Coach came over. He knew me as Sam's brother 'cause I'd picked Sam up from practice more often than not. He gave me a name. Apparently 'Shinty' is Alphonso Buckley. Of course he is. Who the heck names their child Alohonso?

It didn't take me long to find the Buckley household. A woman, the kid's mom I supposed, answered the door. She was very vague and didn't seem to know where 'Alphonso' was or who he was with or even where he was likely to be - Some people. I explained to her that I thought he was with my kid brother and that I needed to find them 'cause Sam had an appointment but she just shrugged and shut the door in my face.

BEEP - 'I'm ok stp tryng to fd me.'

I stared at my phone's screen. How did he know? Could he see me? I looked up checking the street gazing at the blank looking houses willing myself to see his face. I dropped the phone twice and my fingers hit the wrong buttons.

'Sm? Where r u?'

I got nothing back so I called. He didn't pick up. Okay I thought so that's the way it's gonna be and texted him.

'Sm answr gdamned phne'

The seconds seemed to last forever.

BEEP - 'Go bck to mtel. M hlpng friends.'

Helping friends! He and his little gang are doing freakin' homework club while I'm going out of my mind.

'Home NOW!'

I was expecting something a brush off or an excuse. What I wasn't expecting was…

BEEP - 'Go to Hell'

That floored me I went hot and cold and I could hardly breathe. My brain must have stopped functioning for several minutes. I just kept reading the screen again and again.

'Go to Hell'

'Go to Hell'

I sat in the car reeling from the shock. I went to type 'Sam…' but then couldn't think of anything to say. Sam had never said anything like that to me before it was like he'd punched me. We had our arguments but usually we got on, after all really we only had each other and Dad.

What had made him so mad? Why was he acting so out of character? I racked my brains, going over and over anything and everything that Sam had said to me over the last few days to try and explain it but there was nothing. The only thing that would have given me a clue, his notebooks and he'd taken them with him. Mind you when I thought about it he had been writing in them more than usual. He only wrote like that when he was researching a hunt.

Then it hit me. The Bleaker House, he was at the Goddamned Bleaker House.

I remember him asking about the place. He said he was doing a project of some kind on Urban Legends. Apparently the house had been empty as long as anyone could remember and was supposed to be haunted. I gave him a 'Dad' lecture him telling him there was a difference between real Urban Legends and the stuff kids made up about spooky houses and that he should know that. I suppose I was a little harsh but Sam knew the score. He'd been on real hunts with me a dad. He said he didn't care and he was going to research it anyway. ….Come to think that's when all this started, when he began hanging around with the geeksquad.

I must have broken every speed limit and it still took me half an hour. I'd barely put the car in park before I was out and shouting his name. The house was old, possibly turn of the century. Whatever, it had seen better days. The shutters were hanging off, paint was cracking off the boards and most of the windows had been smashed.

I shouted his name again and put my weight against the front door shoving it back into the dark hallway. The place was a mess, dust and leaves flew up as I searched. Great clouds of it and I was coughing my guts up within minutes. It got everywhere in my throat, in my nose and my eyes. I couldn't see and I couldn't draw in enough breath to keep shouting.

Something brushed past me and if I hadn't instinctively jerked back it would have got me on that first pass. Instead I staggered back falling onto the stairs. I say onto more like into. They collapsed under me the wood shrieking and splintering the sharp shards punching their way under my skin.

I landed on my butt flailing around like some helpless dork. The dust rose thicker and my lungs were screaming for oxygen, wheezing, struggling to pull in even the tiniest molecule of clean air. Everything was telescoping away when the smell hit me. It was gross, foul and fetid it caught in my throat and again I was hacking, choking with tears running down my face. Some instinct made me raise my arms. If I hadn't I'd have been a gonna.

The pain was incredible and I've had some experience in the pain department. I think the first blow must have jarred some nerve receptors or something and the pain ricochet right up my arm and through my body. Another blow came and another and another. Some kind of self-preservation must have kicked 'cause I lashed out with my foot connected with something solid and shoved. I was dimly aware of a thump and a crack and then I was falling again until the ground smacked into me hard knocking what little breath I had from my body.

This time I knew I'd broken something 'cause I heard the crack but the racking pain in my chest was overtaken by the white hot searing agony in my thigh.

I came too coughing and retching and that set off a whole new round of torment in my chest and leg. Waves of pain just kept coming and coming every time I took a breath or even tried shifting. I could feel the uneven surface of the floor digging into my back and side but however awkwardly I lay moving was not an option not if I wanted to remain conscious anyway.

Eventually I opened my eyes and lost it big time, hyperventilating, tears – the lot. I couldn't see; just blinking hurt like crazy like I had sharp grit scratching my eyeballs. The tears must have helped because the stinging sensation lessened and I was able to at least raise my eyelids without too much pain but I couldn't see everything was black. Then I realised after a while that I could make out dim shapes in the darkness. I couldn't see, not 'cause I couldn't see but 'cause it was dark.

My relief was short-lived.

Above the boards thumped, dust and dirt sifted down onto my skin. I could hear the particles pittering around me as I lay hyper-alert. Whatever it was that had attacked me was still up there. The boards shifted again and the thumping evolved into shuffling footsteps.

Geeze I remember thinking like I was in the middle of the 'Night of the living Dead'.

Fumbling around in my pocket I found two things. The first, my phone, I could feel that it was smashed even before tried the buttons. Dad is gonna be so pissed. We had a full thirty minutes on how he'd got us the latest mobiles and they were for emergencies only; not for call our friends; like as if we had any. He'd told us no end of time how much the things had cost him and that we had to be careful with them; my life isn't gonna be worth living when he finds out. The second item was my lighter. I flicked it a few times until the flame steadied, despite my shaking hands, enabling me to look around. I was in a cellar. It was empty except for a couple of half empty sacks next to me and few boxes in the far corner under the open tread wooden staircase leading up to the cellar door. There was no other entrance, no steps, no double storm door and no windows; hence the darkness.

Directly above me the hole that my body must have made when I fell through the rotten boards was plugged with debris from the collapsed stairs. I was partly grateful for that because at least whatever it was up there couldn't get down that way.

I let the small flame go out listening to the shuffling from above. I had to conserve the fuel however much I wanted light but immediately I relit it. There had to be a light switch 'cause even though I hadn't consciously registered it the image of a light bulb hanging from the ceiling was searing itself into my brain.

I don't know how long it took me to get across the floor to the switch. I must have passed out a couple of times but I made it, bit my lip against the pain, reached up and rocked down the lever. The thin light barely made the corners of the room but I can tell you any light, is a ton better than no light at all. That was when I got a look, a real look at my leg.

First thing, I was bleeding; second thing I was bleeding because there was nine inch spike right through the thigh muscle. Fuck. Three inches higher, a little to the right and it would have hit the artery. I sat there staring at the pointed end sticking up through the rip in my jeans. The blood on the tip had dried but that didn't stop the ooze of fresh scarlet or the tearing pain when I tried to move.

The Bang was loud and almost above my head. More dust and bits of plaster reigned down, rattling and bouncing on the wooden treads of the stairs. Crap the thing above had found the cellar door.

At the next bang I could see the door visibly bowing inward; it wasn't going to last long. I cast around for a weapon, a tool, a stick something to defend myself with. I didn't know what was going to come down the stairs but hell it obviously didn't want to read me a bedtime story.

The only thing I could see was a broken garden fork. It didn't occur to me until later was that it was broken because I had fallen on it and had the missing spike sticking out of my leg.

The pain was so bad that I nearly threw up as I manoeuvred myself back across the floor. Each drag across the ground threatened to send me spiralling down into the black but every thud from above spurred me on until I had the shaft of the fork in my hand and my back wedged between the sacks and the wall. A further thud followed by a crash told me all I needed to know. I remember being so tense, my knuckles white, heart thumping as the thing descended the stairs.

I don't know what I was expecting but despite my thoughts earlier it wasn't Zombie Wars; God I would have given anything for a Photon Cannon at that moment. The thing was human-ish, two legs, two arms, a head but it looked like it had been in the ground forever; very little hair, flesh hanging off in bloody hunks so you could see bone and dead, dead eyes.

Crap, suddenly I knew what it was; a Revenant. I'd only read about them, Dad had tackled one years ago he told us but it was weird 'cause Revenants are usually reanimated by someone, directed against an enemy for revenge and stuff. Who the hell had directed this against me? It suddenly struck me that Sam would know how….but I couldn't …no he wouldn't, not even if he was mad at me. I dismissed the thought as soon as I'd had it.

All this was going on in my mind as it dragged itself down the stairs and across the floor. Then I managed to pull myself together and began desperately racking my brain trying to remember how to kill the damned thing.

I watched it getting nearer and near the smell almost unbearable and I was scared. It's one thing going after a 'monster' if you're prepared it's quite another have one coming at you and all you've got is a broken garden implement. I remember thinking I'm gonna die.

A Revenant is a ghost of sorts and it wasn't going to stop even if I could've stuck the fork in it. Really the only thing I could think of that would work would be a salt and burn. Like that was gonna happen.

I tried to stand. I felt in some strange panicked logic that if I could stand and face it things would be better. Of course all I got was pain, nausea and the room swooping in and out. I put my hand on the sacks beside me to steady myself and gripped. The stuff in the bag was loose and my fingers dug in. I grabbed a handful and in a desperate act flung the substance at the revenant.

It was salt, the stuff in the sack was rock salt. I grabbed more, lobbing it at the figure even as it let out a rending scream. I couldn't work fast enough, handful after handful I spread over the floor, making a ring around myself first and then filling in before covering myself. I wasn't taking any chances.

The sonofabitch recovered quickly and came back shuffling faster than before. I pressed back into the wall here was nothing else I could do. If the salt line didn't work I was dead. My blood was rushing in my ears and the damp wall stuck the shirt to my back. It was agony watching the thing advance, waiting and waiting my eyes fixed on its feet as it shuffled nearer and nearer.

The line held, the revenant couldn't cross but instead it scraped, scuffed and limped the perimeter; back and forth, back and forth all the time staring at me. I gripped the shaft of the fork harder I couldn't relax, no one knew where I was and I had no way of communicating with the outside world. I was alone in a basement with a revenant.

I sat for hours but it never faltered and never took its eyes off me; a deadly stalemate. I remember thinking that if the Revenant didn't get me I'd bleed out before help came. Several times everything around me receded and my vision blurred. I remember forcing myself back by shifting my injured leg the pain spiking sharply giving me something to focus on but as time went on I found it harder and harder to keep my eyes open.

xxxxx

This next part is a little difficult to write 'cause it's all mixed up in my head. All I've got is bits and pieces and weird vibes.

To start with it felt like I was floating. I couldn't feel anything, physically. It wasn't like I was numb it was more like… just aware of being without the hassle of a body. See what I mean about weird vibes.

Gradually though the outside started to impinge; I could feel my body, my arms, my legs, my head. The trouble was that my body got heavier and heavier as sensation return and with the weight came the pain; a deep pain, a tense pain that wrapped itself so tightly around me so I couldn't feel anything else.

Someone was saying my name. I could hear them. "Dean, Dean, Please Dean." It sounded familiar but there were other voices mixed in that I didn't know. They came and went. I couldn't keep track and it hurt to try but that one voice, the one calling my name was always there.

In the end it was something new that forced me to open my eyes. There was a pressure on my hand. I remember puzzling over it trying to get my brain to analyse the sensation until 'Yatzee' I worked it out… someone was holding my hand and holding tight.

As soon as I cracked my eyelids open and saw the mop of brown hair I knew it was Sammy.

XXX

I don't remember much before the hospital; the medics, the ambulance, ER nothing.

Sam had found me at the house and called 911 he told me he'd been so scared. He thought I was dead there was blood everywhere and I wasn't moving but then I'd groaned.

It didn't occur to me at first that he hadn't mentioned the Revenant but when it did and I asked him he began looked guilty.

Sam said he'd been really pissed at me about the going out thing. No really? I'd never have guessed! He told me that he'd promised his geek friends they'd go look at the Bleaker House, take photos; apparently it was part of a project for school that he and Shinty/Alphonso and the others were working on. He'd called Al and told him I was being a dick and not letting him out.

Then Sammy looked really guilty, again, then started apologising, saying he didn't know that Alphonso would do that, that it was all his fault and he shouldn't have bitched about me to him. It was at that point that I made Sam back up. He'd been bitching about me? Sam looked even more guilty if that was possible.

The first hint that Alphonso had done something to me was when, having taken their photos and the others had taken off, they were sat having a soda and Sam had said he had to get back 'cause I'd be worried. The kid had let slip that I wouldn't be a problem that I'd more than enough trouble to keep me off Sam's back.

Sam said that he'd got a real creepy feeling looking at Alphonso's face. Something bad was going on. Al seemed to have changed from being 'Shinty' a thirteen year old boy to something else, something far older and malignant.

I didn't get any more out of Sam then 'cause he broke down and started to cry, asking me to forgive him that he hadn't known and he would never… he clutched at my arm and looked more miserable than I'd ever seen him.

It took me a while to convince Sammy that I was on the mend and that it was okay now and he was still my brother. He looked so grateful that I nearly laughed at him but I stopped myself whatever he had done I could see he was truly sorry.

I didn't get the rest of Sam's story until I'd got myself checked out of the hospital. Sam had done the right thing in calling the paramedics there was no way he could have dealt with the spike in my leg but that didn't mean I wanted to spend the next few days in lock-down as an inmate. The Docs tried to persuade me that it was in my best interest to stay put but they hadn't met Dad. I needed to be home by the time he came back. He was gonna be pissed because there was no way I could hide my injury from him and I'd already decided that I was gonna take the flack and not mention that Sammy had anything to do with it. Better Dad thought I'd been a clumsy dick than let him loose on Sam.

Sam fussed around me until I told him to back off. I'd opted for the bed to rest up on 'cause the sofa wasn't long enough to stretch my leg full length but he seemed to think that meant I was ill. True my leg hurt like crazy and I was pretty high on the pain meds but his constant hovering just made me want to shout at him. I didn't but I came close.

Once I was settled back on all the pillows in the place and with Sam sat next to me I had to ask him. How had he got rid of the Revenant? He said he hadn't but then I couldn't figure why I was still around to…. Sam jumped in to explain that there had never been a Revenant that it was all in my head. I just stared at him then and pointed out more than a little sarcastically that he'd not been there and that I'd got a very real spike in my leg because of that Revenant.

He shook his head saying he'd figured out what Al was. I raised my eyebrows in a silent Oh? Apparently the kid/creature kept on boasting to Sam how he'd conjured up something to keep me off Sammy's back and that with any luck it'd be a permanent arrangement. Sam told me that he'd been horrified, panicking inside but that he'd played along fishing for more information.

I knew that Sam was a clever kid, a lot cleverer than me but what he did, sitting chatting with a monster as if nothing was wrong took a lot of nerve. The more Al talked the more Sam had become convinced that it was a kind of Djinn possibly a Shaitan (How did he even know that) One that was not immediately dangerous to humans. In fact it was probably trying to be nice to Sam, give him his wish only according to the Djinn Sam's wish was to be rid of me.

I was kind of hurt about that but Sam said I was being stupid. Thanks Sammy! He didn't deny that he'd thought it though. His guilty face came back in full force followed by one of remorse and panic as he assured me that he'd only thought it in a fleeting moment when he was angry at me for not letting him out.

The thing had taken it upon itself to 'help' Sammy and had lured me to the Bleaker House. It was then it dawned on me that Sam hadn't sent those texts that, just like the Revenant, the Djinn had made me see them; relying on the fact that being an overprotective carer I wouldn't let it lie.

To me that still didn't explain how Sam found me and why I wasn't lying dead having bled out in the basement of that house. Sam smirked and I nearly cuffed him one for being so smug as he announced that he'd thrown his cup of water at it and it had screamed in agony and left Alphonso's body. I must have looked incredulous 'cause his smile widened to a full dimple. Apparently this type of Djinn did possession and had an aversion to water. What the hell would he have done if it hadn't been this 'particular' type? Sam just shrugged as if that had never occurred to him.

Wednesday

Dad got back yesterday.

I was up and about. Sam stole some crutches for me. I didn't ask from where but they at least allowed me to, go to the bathroom without his help.

Predictably Dad blew up. He spent at least an hour yelling at me, calming down to a loud voice for another hour, before descending into the disappointed silence which always gets to me more than the shouting.

I never let on about Sam and that earned me a smuggled bottle of beer and a big hug from my still feeling a ton of guilt brother.

I don't blame Sam. I can't count the number of times I've wished Dad gone and I'll probably wish it again before my leg is better. I never meant it then or now and that's how I know that Sammy never meant it but that doesn't stop me guilting him into doing my chores.