Roswell Fanatics

Title: Who's Afraid of the Big, Bad Dick?
Fandom: Supernatural
Coupling: None. Just the brothers being brothers.
Rating: Mature. Explicit languate and sexually suggestive scenes. Reader discretion is advised.
Disclaimer: Supernatural and it's characters are not mine. Dick's Grave is a real urban legend where I'm from. I have never been to the grave but have heard stories about it since I was in high school. This is my 'Supernatural' version of that story.
Author's Note: This is my first SN fanfic so I'm very nervous and jittery. Let me know what you think.


Prologue

A rusty Toyota drove down the dark road to the old cemetery. Loud hip-hop music could be heard thumping from inside the car. The vehicle’s five occupants were in high spirits just having passed their midterms and were looking to unwind.

“Are you sure it’s here?” one of the girls asked, taking a swig from a bottle of rum.

“My cousin told me that it’s around here somewhere,” her boyfriend answered, peering into the dark road.

“I think it’s great it’s right by the college. Maybe this is where they bury the students that fail their finals,” another guy joked causing all the others to laugh.

“I see it,” said the other girl pointing at an object to her right.

The car pulled off to the side of the road and all but one got out.

“Aren’t you coming?” The driver asked the girl in the backseat.

The girl shook her head. “No. I think it’s creepy.”

“Oooohhooohh,” one of the girls laughed, “You’re such a chicken shit, Beth,” she said before taking another swig from the bottle of rum.

“Suit yourself then,” the driver said, grabbing his girlfriend’s hand and pulling her along with him. The girlfriend laughed and waved mockingly at her friend in the car.

Beth watched the four of her friends loudly weave their way around the other tombstones that littered the cemetery grounds. She could hear them yelling and cackling obscenities into the cold air. As they got further and further away, their noises became a little more muffled until it became quiet, and she realized that she was alone.

Beth waited, shivering from the cold. She hoped that they would get this fascination with Dick’s grave out of their system so she could go home. Maybe her friend was right. Maybe she was a chicken, but she just couldn’t get the creep factor out of her mind.

She tried to take her mind off her fear by singing but she just couldn’t get the scary thoughts out of her head. It was like her brain decided to reminisce about all the horror movies she’d seen in the past.

“Stupid urban legend,” she grumbled huddling her arms against her body. She wished her friends would just come back already. She checked her watched and realized five minutes had passed since her friends left her in the car. She hated being a killjoy but she really wanted to go home.

Something rustled outside the car and Beth jumped. In a panic, she reached over and locked all the doors before seating herself in the middle of the back seat and closing her eyes. She kept her head down and covered her ears as she sang the Star Spangled Banner, hoping to distract herself.

When she finished the song, she tentatively removed her hands from her ears as she strained to hear any noise coming from outside the car.

A sense of relief flooded her when silence met her ears. She shook her head and chuckled to herself in embarrassment over her childish behaviour.

She could already hear her friend teasing her over her cowardly actions. Krista was always the braver one of the two of them. It had actually been her that dragged Beth out tonight saying that it would be fun to see if the urban legend was actually true.

Someone pounding on the car broke the silence and caused Beth to jump in fright.

“Haha! You should have seen your face!” Her friend Krista cackled, pointing at her.

Beth pushed the door open angrily. “Fuck you, Krista!” she spat.

Her friend laughed and got into the car. “I was just kidding. Jeez, take a pill.”

“I hope you guys got that out of your system,” Beth huffed, shoving herself into the corner of the car as the rest of her friends piled in.

She really had to find herself a new set of friends.


Chapter 1

Dean drove the Impala down the tree-covered suburban street. Beside him, Sam snored loudly, his chin resting lightly on his chest.

Dean glanced at his brother, a devious grin appearing on his lips as a plan formed in his head. Grabbing the ketchup packet from the dash, he ripped it open with his teeth before spreading a generous amount on Sam’s open palm.

Dean stifled the girlish giggle that bubbled out of his mouth as he threw the empty packet to the floor. He slowly reached over and with his forefinger, lightly stroked the tip of his brother’s nose. He pulled his hand away quickly as Sam stirred in his sleep.

He frowned in disappointment when Sam’s hand failed to move from his lap. However, Dean was nothing if not determined when it came to annoying his brother.

Once again he reached over and lightly stroked Sam’s nose. This time Sam shifted and his hand came up to bat away what he thought was a fly but instead something wet and gooey landed on his face.

“What the hell?” Sam mumbled his eyes popping open.

Unable to hold it in any longer, Dean burst out laughing, holding his stomach in between guffaws.

“Dean!” Sam yelled staring at his ketchup covered hand.

“Oh man. That was good,” Dean said, wiping the tears of mirth from his eyes.

“Haha,” Sam mocked. “Very mature, Dean.”

“Aww, Sammy. It was just a joke. I’m sowwy I hurt your feewings,” Dean cajoled, handing his brother a handful of napkins.

“Asshole,” Sam growled snatching the napkins from his brother’s hand.

“Where are we anyways?” He asked, wiping the ketchup from his face.

“Somewhere in suburban Oregon,” Dean replied, slowing the car as he approached an intersection.

“Oregon? What are we doing here?” Sam asked, looking out the window.

“Did you forget about that article we saw about the four teens that died within months of each other?” Dean asked looking over at his brother.

“The coroner said they died of natural causes, Dean,” Sam explained, not understanding Dean’s fascination with the story. “Don’t tell me you’re still stuck on the urban legend they included in the article?”

Dean looked over at his brother and scowled. “Dick’s grave is not an urban legend. It’s been happening for years. Remember that bedtime story that dad used to tell us when we were kids?”

“You can’t be serious,” Sam scoffed. “What makes you think that story is real?”

Dean looked at his brother pointedly. “Sam, I doubt that four healthy twenty one year olds would just up and die of a heart attack. Besides don’t you find it strange that they all died on the same day, one month after another.”

Sam sighed, “Fine, we’ll go check it out.” He hated to admit it but Dean was right. All of their dad’s ‘bedtime stories’ were always based on a real life event. John Winchester was never one for fairy tales.

Dean found a parking spot and pulled off to the side of the road.

“Where are we going now?” Sam asked following his brother out of the car.

“To get something to eat, nimrod,” Dean said, buttoning up his coat.

Sam ran to catch up to his brother. “But we spent our last twenty putting gas in the car.”

Dean stopped in his tracks and turned to face his brother. “Are you blaming my baby for us being broke?”

Sam almost laughed at his brother’s serious expression. He had forgotten about Dean’s strange relationship with the Impala. It was almost sexual in a bizarre sort of way.

“Uh no,” Sam stuttered. “Just saying.”

“Good,” Dean said resuming his brisk walk. “And don’t worry about the money. I’ve got it covered.”

Sam saw where his brother was headed and stopped. “Dean!” He whispered harshly. “Come back here.”

“Don’t worry, Sammy,” Dean looked back and flashed him a confident smile.

Sam followed his brother into a smoky pool hall. Everywhere he looked he saw groups of people about his age drinking and playing pool. For a moment, he felt a pang of envy at all of these people. He too had once had that life. Not having worry about much of anything but turning in your next assignment and passing your midterm. However, that wasn’t his life anymore. Not since Jess died.

He sat back and watched as Dean approached two young men, no doubt fooling them into thinking that he was a sucker. He had no doubt that Dean would earn their dinner tonight. Sam had watched his brother do this before. Often times they walked away unscathed but there were instances when Dean managed to piss off the wrong people, and well, he hoped that didn’t happen tonight.

An hour later, Dean approached Sam with a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. He waved the handful of bills he held in his hand. He motioned for Sam to follow him.

“I told you I’d take care of it,” he said walking past Sam and heading towards the diner across the street.

Sam looked back into the hall and saw the guys that Dean had just hustled looking mighty pissed off.

“Uh, Dean,” Sam hedged. “Those guys don’t look too happy.”

“Eh, they’ll get over it,” Dean dismissed. “Besides I’m sure that Mommy and Daddy will send them some money if they asked.”

Sam shook his head. He would never admit it but sometimes his brother’s grifting skills impressed him.

They walked into the diner and headed towards an empty booth in the back.

“Who exactly is Dick?” Sam asked, reaching for a menu.

“No clue but I’m sure it’ll be easy to find out,” Dean shrugged and smiled as their waitress approached.

Sam waited until the waitress was out of ear shot before posing his next question, “How do you plan on doing that?” However, Dean was too busy eye-fucking the waitress to respond.

“Ow!” Dean exclaimed clutching his shin. “Why the fuck did you kick me for?”

Sam shook his head. “Man, you’re unbelievable. Maybe when you’re done ogling our server you can answer my question.”

“I don’t know, Sam,” Dean snapped. “We ask.”

Dean’s scowl suddenly turned into a smile and Sam looked up to see that their server had returned with their coffees.

“You’re food will be another couple of minutes,” she said pouring each of them a cup of coffee. “The kitchen’s really busy tonight.”

“That’s not a problem,” Dean said flashing his most charming smile.

“What is with you, Dean?” Sam asked irritably.

“What?” Dean looked at him in confusion.

Sam shook his head. “You’re worse than a dog in heat.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Sensitive,” Dean bit out sarcastically. “It’s been a while okay. A man has needs. I’m getting tired of cleaning my own pipes, okay?” He raised his cup to the waitress in thanks causing her to blush.

Sam rolled his eyes. “You are such a man-slut.”

“A man-slut who’ll be getting some tonight,” Dean smiled wolfishly.

A moment later, their server came back with their dinner.

“Here you go,” she said placing the hot plates of food on the table. “If you need anything, just let me know. My name’s Donna,” she said looking directly at Dean.

Dean smiled at her in return. “Thanks, Donna. We will.”

Sam just shook his head at his brother. Dean would never change.

Reaching over, he grabbed the bottle of ketchup on the table and began dousing his fries.

He needed to look through his father’s journal to see if he could find more information about Dick’s Grave. He knew how small towns were when it came to gossip – they thrived on it. He had no doubt that this town wouldn’t be any different from the rest.

“You done, Sam?” Dean asked, raising his arm to flag the waitress down.

“Yeah,” Sam mumbled, finishing his burger.

“How was your dinner?” The waitress asked.

“Good and the service was excellent,” Dean complimented, his lips curling into a smirk.

“I’m glad,” the waitress said, placing their bill face down on the table.

“Listen, Donna,” Dean leaned forward, tipping his head to the side. “My brother and I are here checking out the college and we came across this rumor of these kids that died.”

“Are you talking about the Dick’s grave deaths?” She asked, stuffing her order pad into her apron.

Dean looked at his brother feigning confusion. “Dick’s grave? What’s that?”

The waitress laughed and rolled her eyes. “Oh there’s this story about this grave up near the college,” she began, “legend has it that if you step on the grave, either you or someone close to you dies.”

“Really,” Dean said, giving his brother an I-told-you-so look.

“Have you ever been up there?” Sam asked.

“Me,” the waitress pointed to herself. “Uh uh, no. I know better than to screw around with stuff like that.”

“Well thank you, Donna,” Dean said placing a couple of bills on the table. “You’ve been very informative.”

“No problem. Anytime,” she said seductively before walking away.

The two brothers made their way out of the diner and into the cold, dark November night.

“Why didn’t you ask her more about the grave?” Sam asked, trotting along his brother.

“I didn’t want her to think I was a freak, okay,” Dean said, smiling at a girl that passed by.

They made their way to their car, stopping to let a car pass through. However, instead of driving away, the car slowed down and the occupants lifted up their shirts, flashing Sam and Dean.

“Damn! I love college towns,” Dean said excitedly, looping his arm over his brother’s shoulders.

Chapter 2

Dean stared out the motel window as the fog rolled in. Behind him, Sam was sitting on the bed looking through their father’s journal for any information on the case that they were working on.

“Any luck yet?” Dean asked his eyes transfixed on the parking lot outside.

“The only thing I’ve been able to find is some cases about some teenagers dying from their sleep back in the late sixties and seventies,” Sam replied. “It looks like either all activities stopped for the past twenty years or Dad stopped tracking this case.”

Dean grunted in response and sank down on the ratty, striped armchair by the wall.

“Don’t you find it strange that for something paranormal, nothing’s been happening for the past two decades?” Sam closed the journal and picked up his laptop. “Maybe I can find something on the net.”

Dean steepled his fingers and tapped them against his lips in thought. His mind flashed to when he was ten years old and Sam had been five. It was one of the rare times that their father had been home longer than a couple of days. His father was putting Sammy to bed and Dean was standing watching at the doorway. Being the eldest, he knew that his father’s stories weren’t fiction. In fact, he was the only 10 year old boy that he knew that knew that Boogiemen and witches actually existed.

“Dean?” Sam snapped his fingers in front of Dean’s face, trying to gain his attention.

Dean looked up startled, dropping his hands to his lap. “Did you find anything?”

“That’s what I was trying to tell you,” Sam explained. “There’s not a lot I could find on the Internet. The only thing I ran across was a message board but there wasn’t a lot there; just a bunch of people shooting the shit.”

“So what now,” Dean asked.

Sam closed his laptop and placed it in the backpack on the floor. “Tomorrow we go check out the library. See if they have anything there.”

Dean nodded absentmindedly, his eyes rooted to the floor.

“Dude! Seriously! What’s up with this brooding shit,” Sam spread his arms, glaring at his brother in exasperation.

“Nothing,” Dean dismissed, getting up from the couch to strip his jeans off. “I’m just bored. Stupid college town full of chicks and I’m stuck here with my gay brother,” he mumbled. He pulled his shirt off and left his clothing on a pile on the rusty colored carpeted floor before crawling into bed.

Sam rolled his eyes as he pulled the blankets over him to settle in for the night. “Shut up and go to sleep.” He reached for the lamp beside him and switched off the light. Maybe he’ll have better luck with their research tomorrow.


The following morning, Dean leaned against the Impala waiting for his brother to come out of their room. They needed to get a head start on their investigation before another person was killed.

“About time,” Dean rolled his eyes and pushed away from the car. “You sure took your sweetass time.”

“Don’t start with me, Dean,” Sam warned, opening the passenger door. “I’m getting headaches again.”

Dean turned to his brother, a concerned frown wrinkling his brow. “Was it a vision?”

Sam shook his head. “No. I didn’t see anything…or anything I can remember at least,” he added as an afterthought.

“Dude, maybe it’s PMS,” Dean said seriously. “You’re not getting any cramping too are you?”

Sam pivoted in his seat to glare at his brother. “Shut up, Dean.”

Dean just smiled and turned the volume up on the radio, blaring the guitar riff from an old AC/DC song.

Ten minutes later, the brothers found themselves pulling onto a small roadway in front of the college’s main library. It was the middle of November and the college was bustling with students. Sam stepped out of the car and watched with longing as students scurried to their classes.

“Hey, you okay?” Dean asked, noticing his brother’s forlorn expression. He gently shut the door to the Chevy before taking his place beside Sam.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Sam dismissed. He didn’t want his older brother to feel any guiltier about their situation than Sam knew he already did. After all, it had been Sam’s choice to drop out of college to join his brother.

He hiked up his backpack on his shoulders and made his way towards the library doors. They had a job to do and wondering about what if’s was not part of the deal.

Dean lagged behind him, checking out the building’s façade. “Is it just me or does this building look a little odd for a library?” Dean asked.

Sam shrugged in response. He really needed to find the periodicals section and his brother was slowing him down.

“Why don’t you look around and meet me in the periodicals in…,” Sam glanced down at his watch, “half an hour?”

Dean nodded and watched his brother go. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and shuffled his way across the library’s main hall. Looking around, he found the library’s high ceilings and stone floor a little intimidating. Having never been an academic himself, he wasn’t used to all the books that surrounded him. Growing up, he’d never had a chance to explore his education – in fact, he’d barely finished high school – not when he had to watch over Sam while their father went on his hunts.

Dean could admit that he didn’t have much of a childhood. Too much of it was spent looking after his little brother. He was always afraid that their father wouldn’t return and he and Sam would be left to fend for their own when they were barely old enough to stay home alone.

There had been many times when he’d wished that he’d had a different life. Ever since his mother died nothing had ever been the same. Their dad had barely been home – he was consumed by the hunt for the demon that killed their mother. By the time Sam graduated high school, Dean was more than ready to go off on his own.

As he passed by a hallway, he noticed some framed black and white photographs hanging on the walls. Curious, he stepped closer and recognized the building in the pictures as the library that he was currently standing in. Each picture showed the history of the campus from its construction in the late 1950’s to its current state.

Frowning, Dean walked back to the original picture staring closely at the library’s façade. It looked as if it was older than the actual campus, as if they’ve built the college around the library.

He hoped that Sam had better luck than him with the library’s archives.

Spotting the stairs, he made his way down to the basement and found Sam sitting in front of a microfiche reader.

“Any luck?” Dean asked pulling up a chair and straddling it backwards. He rested his arms on the back of the chair and leaned forward, watching the microfiche articles zoom by on the screen.

“Did you know that this library used to be an asylum?” Sam asked, his face a myriad of shadows as he flipped through the articles on screen.

“Hunh,” Dean grunted.

“Dude, go back!” Dean pointed to an article that caught his eye. It was about a patient who died from electroconvulsive shock therapy sometime in the late 1940’s.

“This guy, Samuel Beckett was transferred from the State prison and served the rest of his sentence here when the prison closed,” Dean read. “It says that he went insane. Kept on insisting that he was innocent. Ended up attacking his lawyer.”

“Dude, all criminals say they’re innocent,” Sam rolled his eyes. He looked over at his brother and frowned in confusion. “How can this be the guy whose grave we’re looking for? His name’s not even Dick or Richard.”

“I don’t know. Gut feeling I guess,” Dean shrugged. “Look up his name. Maybe it’ll turn up something.”

Sam nodded and grabbed his coat off the back of the chair.

“Hey, where are you going?” Dean asked looking up at his brother.

“I’m going to look through the library’s computer to see if Samuel Beckett will turn up anything,” Sam explained already halfway to the stairs.

Another half an hour later, Sam leaned back in his chair and stretched causing his spine to make crackling and popping sounds from being in one position for so long.

“Dude, your back sounds like a fucking cereal,” Dean grimaced.

Sam shot his brother a look, “You try being hunched forward for half an hour and we’ll see how your back is. Maybe you should do the research next time instead of just sitting there and making fart sounds.”

“So, what did you find?” Dean asked, effectively changing the subject.

Sam sighed and turned back to the computer screen. He clicked on a few keys on the keyboard, bringing up all the relevant articles. “Well, it says here that Beckett was convicted of a double murder six years prior to his death. He was sentenced to life in prison, but it was later found that it had been his neighbour who committed the crimes. The problem was by that time, he had already been dead for a decade,” Sam swivelled to face his brother.

“So we’re looking for a really pissed off ghost,” Dean deduced. “A vengeful spirit.”

“You betcha,” Sam nodded. “So we just find the grave and salt and burn the bones.”

Dean poked his lip out and nodded his head. “Okay but we better find some record of where they buried this guy because I ain’t freezing my nuts off looking for his grave all night.”

Sam shook his head, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his lip. His brother would never change.