Dark Windows by KC

Summary: (sequel to Clogged Drain) After the haunting of their home, the four head out to the farm to rest and recouperate, but there are no city lights here, and the forest is deep and dark. Ghosts are not all that may lurk in the darkness, watching them through the thin glass.

Disclaimer: I do not own the turtles nor do I make any money off of this.

Rating: R for violence, creepy

Other Info: Inspired by tons of creepypasta.

The only one still awake, Raphael checked the speedometer and glanced back at the highway. Thirty-five miles an hour, but he didn't dare drive faster. The van's headlights gave him a small circle of light, and most of what he could see was snow falling in deep drifts against the blur of trees. Even with the high beams on, the rest of the road was dark.

A soft rustle to the right came as the map slid off of Donatello's legs, dislodged as he turned in his sleep, and Raphael glanced up at the rear view mirror briefly to see if it had woken up his siblings. Leonardo and Michelangelo had fallen against each other, eyes closed, matching the other's regular, deep breaths. Looking like one amorphous shape under the same blanket, they seemed to share one dream, shifting together and twitching at the same time.

He set the radio down a little lower, not wanting to wake any of them. The classic rock station gave him a little comfort as he drove alone, but he couldn't afford to be distracted while they slept. It was a vulnerability they trusted him with, completely dropping their guard even as they left the security of their home.

Shrugging at the seatbelt across his shoulder, he checked the side mirrors again, then readjusted the center rear view for a better look at the road behind them. As if the lair was secure—none of them had looked back as they left. They hadn't said anything about how long they would be away, and for all their joking that of course the ghosts had to be gone, that the haunting was over...

Michelangelo murmured in his sleep and turned fitfully, curling closer to Leonardo who responded in kind. Both of them shivered, burrowing a little deeper into the blanket so that only their scrunched eyes showed over the top. Raphael turned up the heater, then gently put his hand on Donatello's arm.

"Hey, wake up a sec," he said softly. "Donny."

With a short, quick breath, Donatello tensed, staring ahead at the road for a moment. His hands gripped the edge of the seat, digging into the fabric, then slowly releasing as he remembered where he was. Groaning as he sat straight, his voice cracking with exhaustion, he fumbled for the map, his hand reaching farther and farther until he finally looked down and sighed again when he saw it on the floor.

"How long've I been out?" Donatello asked, bending uncomfortably to pick up the map and then unfolding several panels.

"'Bout an hour," Raphael said. "I think we're getting close, but I can't really see the turn-offs all that clear."

"Yeah, no kidding. It's darker than underground." He looked down at the map, straining to make out details in the gloom.

"'Least it means we're the only ones out driving," Raphael said, reaching over to turn on the rear-view lamp on Donatello's side. From outside, anyone would have seen the two turtles clearly illuminated behind the windshield. "Ain't seen a car for hours. I say we can risk a little light."

Even the yellow glow was too bright at first, making them both wince. Donatello blinked several times, peering at the line of the interstate and the numbers along each road branching off from it. The farm lay circled in red ink with an arrow along the right off-ramp. He looked back at the road, finally spotting a mile marker.

"Two more exits," Donatello said. "Colson road. Then up to Dayten lane."

"And three houses down," Raphael finished with a nod. "Farm houses."

Their shoulders drooped. Three farm houses meant an extra half hour crammed in the van. Donatello leaned back and turned off the lamp, leaving the van in shadows again. The road darkened, and Raphael slowed down so that they were rolling gently over black ice that cracked under their tires.

Donatello looked over his shoulder. Neither of his brothers had moved, so fast asleep that they didn't notice the changes in pitch on the road or the jostling of the exit ramp as Raphael finally brought them off the highway. A few streetlamps lit the access road, sending dim waves of grey light over them in a soothing rhythm.

Behind them in the rear compartment, the few possessions they had brought stood securely stacked. Their bedrolls and pillows, extra blankets, his laptop and the video games, a few books and the old Trivial Pursuit boardgame... Comforts, all meant to wrap them up in a feeling of safety.

More than just safety. A dozen paper bags lay stuffed with supplies pulled from the refrigerator and pantry, enough to last for a little while, and they'd grabbed a few spare weapons in addition to their own. They weren't just running to the farm for relief. They were running, plain and simple.

"Have they slept the whole way?" Donatello whispered.

"Yeah," Raphael said. "They move a little sometimes, get closer. They look exhausted."

"They do," Donatello agreed, turning to the front again. "I'm glad we're out here."

"Yeah."

Raphael turned onto the next road, taking them down a hard-packed dirt road with no lights and post fences to guide them. The stones and gravel under the van droned loudly, finally rousing Michelangelo enough that he opened his eyes, peering over the edge of his blanket.

"Are we there yet?" he asked.

Rolling his eyes, Raphael half-smiled as he drove. "Almost, little bro'. How you doing?"

"Still tired." With a wiggle, he burrowed back under the cover and pushed his face against Leonardo's shoulder. "Lousy dreams."

"Ghosts?" Donatello asked, then grimaced at his own question.

"Nah." Michelangelo's voice came muffled under the thick fleece. "Training in the snow. You just know Leo's gonna try to make us do it eventually."

"Not if he knows what's good for him," Raphael grumbled.

"I don't think he will," Donatello said, meeting his look in the rear-view. "We're all too tired, him included. It'll just be a long, restful vacation."

No one replied. A vacation from what went unsaid.

TBC...