Maimat the Rat

I`m on vacation and the hardest part of it is not having consitant access to the net.  Ugh.  Minor car accident today, no damage, YAY!!!!  and it happened becuase of bikini clad girls waving car wash signs.  the car in front of us breaked, we stopped in time, and the car behind us was too busy oogling girls to notice.  May that be the woars that happens on this trip. 

We saw fireworks, and the smoke from the fireworks obscured much of the show.  Bad lack of wind, oh well.  still it was good. 

i miss fandom, i miss the drama of it even, i miss fic, i miss writing, i miss chatting with Julie, i miss my laptop, i miss my time to play on my laptop.... I want to go home!!!!  I think we will skip the extended vacation thing and come home as soon as we are done visiting who and what we came to see.  So early august i hope to be home, and the first thing on the agenda is to pick up my laptop from the repair store.  poor thing is waiting for me still.  

The best thing about gong away is coming back home and being happy to be there.  Yep.  definately.  And there is probably a fic in there somewhere.  

ps, Julie, if you read this, I don`t have a chat at my current location, so maybe we can chat with live journal replies and things?

Title: Up Around The Bend
Length: 1540 words
Warnings: none
Spoilers: After AHBL2
Characters: Dean, Sam
Notes: Gen
Summary:  Early Season 3.  Dean’s has a year left to live, and Sam is making plans.

A/N:  jackfan2 thanks for all your help, for writing the letter from admissions, and for the awesome Beta!

 

 

Title: What Kind Of Name Is Mutt?
Rating: K
Length: 100 word Drabble
Warnings: none
Characters: Dean, Sam
Summary: Sometime in S3, While looking through John's storage locker they find...

 

 

Title: Lookin’ Out My Back Door
Author: Maimat the Rat
Rating: K
Length: 463 words
Warnings: none
Characters: Dean, Sam
Notes: Phantom Traveller tag
Summary: All those pictures on the wall... Tag to Phantom Traveller.

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Julie, Thank-you for the beta, you are an awesome friend

“Yes, I’m one of those people who are powerless over spoilers. My fandom has become unmanageable. I can’t stop peeking ahead, it ruins my fun, and I want help.”

So... after suffering and freaking and generally spazzing over the season finale of Supernatural, I am going on the wagon.  I'm done with spoilers, I'm done with it!!!! DONE!  I shall start season 4 with a fresh start! 

Is there a 12 step program for this sort of thing?

I didn't enjoy the episodes that I saw spoilers for as much as I enjoyed the ones where I went in blank.  So, for the sake of my fun... NO MORE NO MORE NO MORE NO MORE!

I just want to enjoy show.  Let other people go crazy with all the other shit.  I'm here for the fic, and I'm here for the fun of loving a show with a great fandom.  So, blinders, on!  If I don't like it, I will henceforth not see it.

Oh and for extra help in getting rid of spoiler demons....

in fandimo exeses es spoilerous daemonos exidos

Title: Still Waters Run Deep
Author: maimat
Rating: K
Length: 1377 words
Warnings: none
Spoilers: Set early season one,  just before the end of Dead in the Water
Characters: Dean, Sam
Notes: Gen, and some Wee!Chester flashback.                              

Summary:  Dean told Sammy to get lost.  He told Sammy to go play in traffic.  He told Sammy to take a long walk off a short pier.  Sammy wouldn’t leave him alone.

Special thanks for my wonderful beta, Jackfan2!

 

I watched Wendigo with jackfan2last night and she was kind enough to point this out for me... so I share. 

Happy Supernatural Day!!!!!  And to celebrate, I wrote a little fic set way back in early season one.  I just can't deal with the stress of the season finale today. 


Title: People Are Strange
Author: maimat
Rating: K
Length: 540 words
Warnings: none
Spoilers: None.  Set early season 1, shortly after Wendigo
Characters: Dean, Sam
Notes: Gen
Summary:  How do you not talk to your own brother for months or even years at a time?  

Special thanks for my wonderful beta, Jackfan2!

 

Wow, I got nominated for a Skiffy Award.




WOW.  I feel... I feel like someone other than my beta reader has read one of my stories!!!!!  Whooop, Dance for joy!!!! 

The story that got nominated is called Comparrisons, a SG-1 Daniel Jackson-Angst fic-episode tag to Ripple Effect that I wrote a while back.  It can be found on fanfiction.net here, and I'll also add it here.  

Title: Comparisons
Author: Maimat the Rat
Category: Episode tag
Pairing: none
Rating: G
Status: Complete
Length: 1050 words
Season/Spoilers: Season 9, Ripple Effect, and mentions of Meridian, Fallen
Synopsis: An alternate team has a chat with Daniel
Feedback: Welcome

That's it, no more spoilers for me. 
And if you want a really good meta on the episode, go here.

Title: Can’t Get It Out Of My Head

Author: maimat
Rating: T
Length: 2460
Warnings: Language
Spoilers: Up to and including BUABS
Characters: Dean, Sam.
Notes: Gen
Summary: Post BUABS.  Sam’s not okay, and Dean is doing the best he can, but sometimes everything needs to fall apart before it can be put back together again.

Thanks to my awesome beta, jackfan2!

A storm!  An honest to goodness real thunderstorm has descended on my home today, and it marks the first storm of spring.  It is so great to hear the rumbling again, it feels like an old friend finally coming back from vacation to say hello.   Here's to hoping for a spectacular and safe stormy summer!

Title: The Dare

Author: maimat
Rating: T
Length: 1761
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None, pre-series
Characters: Dean, Sam. Gen.
Notes: Weechester fic</span>

Summary: Basements and Brothers and Rats... OH MY!

Thanks to my awesome beta, jackfan2!

Title: End of Cares

Author: maimat

Rating: T

Spoilers: Up to Route 666

Characters: Dean, Sam. Gen.

Summary: Takes place right after Route 666, April 30^th ... six months after Jess died.  Post Route 666, An anonymous email lead Sam and Dean to a new hunt, where Dean gets abducted, abused, and generally mistreated.

1,2,3,4,5

Title: End of Cares 5/5  (1,2,3,4,5)
Rating: T
Length: 3327
Warnings: language
Spoilers: Up to Route 666
Characters: Dean, Sam. Gen

Summary: Takes place right after Route 666, April 30^th ... six months after Jess died. Post Route 666, an anonymous email lead Sam and Dean to a new hunt, where Dean gets abducted, abused, and generally mistreated.

Note: This story was pretty much co-written by my dear friend jackfan2.  Thanks for the beta work, you are awesome!!!

 

The end. 

 1,2,3,4,5

Thanks for reading, please leave a review, or just a brief hello. 

 

Title: End of Cares 4/5   (1,2,3,4,5)

Rating: T
Length: 3377
Warnings: None
Spoilers: Up to Route 666
Characters: Dean, Sam. Gen.
Notes: Takes place right after Route 666, April 30^th ... six months after Jess died.

Summary: Post Route 666, An anonymous email lead Sam and Dean to a new hunt, where Dean gets abducted, abused, and generally mistreated.

 

Title: End of Cares 3/5  (1,2,3,4,5)
Author: maimat

Rating: PG-13
Length: 2803
Warnings: None
Spoilers: Up to Route 666
Characters: Dean, Sam. Gen.
Notes: Takes place right after Route 666, April 30^th ... six months after Jess died.

Summary: Post Route 666, An anonymous email lead Sam and Dean to a new hunt, where Dean gets abducted, abused, and generally mistreated.

 

1,2,3,4,5

Title: End of Cares 2/5  (1,2,3,4,5)

Author: maimat

Rating: PG-13
Length: 1628
Warnings: None
Spoilers: Up to Route 666
Characters: Dean, Sam. Gen.
Notes: Takes place right after Route 666, April 30^th ... six months after Jess died.

Summary: Post Route 666, An anonymous email lead Sam and Dean to a new hunt, where Dean gets abducted, abused, and generally mistreated.

 

1,2,3,4,5

 

                                  

Dean felt drained.  He couldn’t tell Sam this, because Sam would get all worried and think it had to do with the heart condition and almost dying incident, which was so totally done and over.    Or worse yet, Sam might think it had to do with any number of other things that it wasn’t about, and start asking a bunch of idiotic questions and Dean would have to say something just to shut Sam up.

Life with Dad was never this complicated.  They were a team; Dad knew more about hunting, and Dean was happy to follow.  Hunting with Dad was uncomplicated; they found a job, they did the job, they moved on.  There was no buying of costumes, no endless hours of research.  Dad never got on his back for using fake credit cards.  Dad never insisted that they eat at organic restaurants.  Dad never made Dean talk about things he didn’t want to talk about.  Dean missed his Dad, and wow did he ever feel like a pussy for admitting it like that. 

Truthfully, most of the time Dean was ecstatic to be working with Sam again, though he’d never tell him that. But, the waiting… oh my god, the waiting, the not doing anything, the boredom; it drove him nuts. There was never, ever anything to do while his little brother did research on the net, on Dean’s laptop.  Dean knew the whole you’re in my space and using my stuff thing was for teenagers, but he couldn’t shake it, and it made him feel like shit because Sam didn’t have anything that wasn’t Dean’s because all of Sam’s stuff got destroyed in the fire.    

All this emo-crap was stupid, but while on that lovely train of though, saying goodbye to Cassie, or more accurately, being rejected by Cassie all over again, left him feeling raw.  For the record, yes, he did notice that she said good-bye rather than see you later. 

The waitress walked past their table again, and Miss Can’t-remember-how-to-do-my-freaking-job kept forgetting to bring him his damn cup of coffee!  She greeted other customers in her weird-ass-yuppy-cafe way while Dean glared at her and he bit angrily into his sandwich, satisfied that at least she’d gotten that right.

Something wet and slimy oozed from the bread onto the bottom of his chin. Not thinking anything of it, Dean reached up to swipe it off, casually glancing at it. Just as he was about to flick it away, Dean did a double take and froze.

It didn’t look like any vegetable he’d ever seen (not that Dean was all that familiar with vegetables as a food group). It was stringy, pale, somewhat bloated, and had a bulbous green head at one end. The unswallowed bit rolled around in his mouth; Dean’s stomach suddenly lurched, his cheeks puffed, and grabbing a napkin he spat out the partially chewed food and grimaced.

Catastrophe averted, Dean drew back to glare at his sandwich. “What the…?” More of the wet, bloated, slimy wormlike weeds hung precariously over the sides of the bread.

Curiously, he lifted the top slice of bread and frowned; the inner workings of what should have been a BLT looked foreign and … ohmygowhatisthatthing? The lettuce and tomato were familiar, but the weedy, wormy stringy things… “Oh, you have got to be kidding me…”

The prospect of what he’d nearly digested made his stomach roll again, and muttering a colourful epithet, he buried his face in his hands. Just when he didn’t think this day could be worse. First, no coffee.   And now, the food; it sucked out loud!  The ‘B’ in a BLT was supposed to stand for bacon, how was Dean supposed to know here it meant bean sprouts?  

Dean glowered at the offending weeds, and noticed that none of his justified theatrics elicited a single comment or retort from Sam. Dammit, this was Sam’s choice of restaurant, and so it was only fair that he share Dean’s pain.

Sam continued staring at the screen and tapping on the keys, paying no attention whatsoever to his brother’s plight.  Look at me Sam! Dean’s internal mantra shouted, I’m pissed and it’s All. Your. Fault!

When that didn’t work, Dean shoved his plate aside, reached across the table and grabbed the laptop. “Give me that damn thing.”  And now it was Dean’s turn to be the ignore-er.  He locked his eyes on the screen; pointedly not looking at Sam, because he really didn’t want to see the baffled bitch face his brother was undoubtedly sending his way. 

The browser window was open to a site called hellhoundslair, which made Dean snort before closing it and checking his e-mail. 

Spam...Spam...

Some chick he met in Oregon who he barely remembered sending him a link to her myspace profile, whatever that was; probably some MLM thing. 

Spam... or wait.  The address he didn’t recognise, but the subject heading read, “Dean Winchester”, and wasn’t that damn interesting because Dean Winchester was officially dead, and in no way connected with this particular mail account.  More than a little curious he opened the document, half expecting to find another advertisement for male organ enhancement (maybe he could forward it to Sammy), or a plea to set up a money transfer for a rich king in Transylvania. 

No, the contents of the mystery email contained an address and four names.

792 Hamilton Avenue
Muriel Thompson
Christopher Thompson
Doug Jackson
Spencer Layton

 

No state or city or anything more specific.  Dean copied the first name, googled, and waited.  He scrolled through the anniversary announcement, the awards recipient, and stopped on the Arkansas Free Press news bulletin.  It read…

Missing, August 4^th 2002.  Muriel Thompson and her son Christopher, disappeared under suspicious circumstances from their residence at 792 Hamilton Avenue, Little Rock, Arkansas.

Dean skimmed the rest of the article and found a similar result after searching the second name on the list.  This one reading…

Doug Jackson, Employee of Dirk’s Plumbing, Missing since October 15^th 2005, last seen at 792 Hamilton Avenue, Little Rock, Arkansas. 

And so too went the last name on the list…

Spencer Layton, missing since March 20^th from the house of his nephew in Little Rock, Arkansas. 

“Huh” Dean said thoughtfully. Mulling over what he’d read, his tongue played idly with one of the stringy, somewhat forgotten sprouts that had snagged between his molars.  With a little more digging Dean was sure he’d discover Spencer’s nephew lived at 792 Hamilton Avenue, Little Rock Arkansas.   

“Hey Sam, I think I found us a new job.”  Dean waited, but Sam didn’t ask.  Dean shrugged, and continued reading. 

Dean’s coffee never did arrive, but that was just as well.  He drank the remainder of Sam’s cup and it tasted like dirty water flavoured with hazelnut syrup.  Sam oddly enough, said nothing.  Just as he said nothing when Dean nearly spewed his lunch, and just as he said nothing when Dean stole the laptop.  Not a word.  Dean got up and walked out to the car, leaving Sam with the bill. 

A few minutes later, a still brooding Sam quietly slipped into the passenger seat of the Impala, folding up the receipt and stuffing it in his wallet.  Sam didn’t even look in Dean’s direction.

Dean shoved one finger into his mouth, digging for yet another bean sprout hanging on tenaciously between his teeth.

“Dean, what are you… Gross man, get a toothpick or something.”

“We’ve got to find a restaurant with decent food.  Dude, did you know they put friggin’ weeds on my sandwich? WEEDS!”

“Whatever.” 

“Whatever.”  Dean echoed around the still inserted finger. “Ah hah!” he roared in triumph and removed the digit. “Gotcha. See? A weed!”

“Ugh.” Sam turned his head away from Dean’s proffered hand, eyes slammed shut. “Dude, it’s a bean sprout, not a weed.”

“Unnatural is what it is. ‘Bout made me hurl.”

“Shut up.”

“You shut up.”

“You started it, you shut up.”

“Dude, you’re acting like a two year old.” Dean suddenly grinned. “Just go ahead and ask me what I found already.  I know you wanna.”

Sam cleared his throat, stared out the windshield a full two minutes, blatantly ignoring Dean’s stare.  He broke down eventually, just like Dean knew he would.  “What did you find?”  It sounded more like a forced statement than a question, but they both knew Dean won this round, and to Dean that was what mattered. 

“I found us a job.  Little Rock, Arkansas.  Four people missing over the past four years, all from one house.”  The Impala roared to life as Dean turned the key but he watched for Sam’s reaction, saw none and continued.  “Want to ask how I found it?”

“How did you find it?” Sam ground out robotically.

“Wow.” Dean responded with wide-eyed sarcasm. “Don’t trip on your enthusiasm or anything.  An email.  An anonymous email.”

“From who?”  Sam asked before he could stop himself. 

“Whom.” 

Sam’s face got all scrunchy looking and Dean smirked; some days pushing Sam’s buttons were just too easy, but that didn’t stop it from being fun.  Sam continued.  “What makes you think we should trust an anonymous email?  What was the address?  Why would someone be sending us information on a job by email anyway? Who has your email?  What did it say?”

“Right.  So, anyway, I didn’t recognise the address, don’t know who it is, and I don’t care.  Whoever it was knows who I am, and obviously knows what we do.  There were three names and an address, and if the information checks out, which it does by the way, what does it matter where it came from?”

“How do you know we can trust it?”

“Well honestly that thought didn’t occur to me.”  Dean said sarcastically, rolled his eyes and sighed.  “What is there to trust?  We’re the ones doing the research.  There is a house in Arkansas eating people.  Eating.  People.”

“And we’re going.” Sam already knew the answer.

Smiling his smuggest smile, Dean nodded as he turned out of the parking lot, “We’re going.”

 

-0-0-0-0-0-

 

From Cape Girardeau, Missouri to Little Rock, Arkansas, a two hundred and ninety mile trip that took the boys about a four hours. After a stop along the way to grab some real food, they arrived at their destination around six pm, which left plenty of time to eat supper and for Dean to find a bar and do what needed to be done. 

And then at seven am...

Dean pulled the covers over his head to hide from a very awake and perky Sam.

“You know, Dean, if you didn’t stay out all night at the bar, it wouldn’t be so hard getting up in the morning.” 

“If it were actually morning and not the freaking crack of dawn, it wouldn’t be so hard to wake up.” 

“Shut up, and listen.”  Sam opened the laptop and connected to the net through an unsecured wireless connection.  “The anonymous email you got, I looked up the profile.  Apparently your tip came from a two hundred eighty-seven year old zombie monk who lives in the Himalayas, and likes to eat cheetos.”

“I don’t know anyone in the Himalayas.”  Dean deadpanned.  “And what are you doing reading my emails?”

“Dean, this is important.  It could be anyone.  It could be a joke.”

“The people who are missing are real, and we might be the only ones capable of finding them.” Was that coffee Dean smelt?  He peeked out from under the covers and saw two cups of gas station coffee sitting invitingly on the table next to the laptop.  Dean rolled over and stuck an arm out, waving his fingers in a not so subtle pass it here kind of way.  The plea was ignored, forcing Dean to roll out of bed to pick it up on his own. 

“I did some research last night.  There’s still some stuff we need to find, but the library doesn’t open till one.”  He turned to look at his brother and frowned.  “Nice shiner, you okay?”

“Peachy.”  Dean groaned and probed the swollen area around his eye.  His knuckles weren’t in much better condition.  “We’re up three hundred dollars.”

“You’re sure you’re okay?”

Dean ignored that and stared dumbfounded at the clock on the nightstand. “Sam.”  Did that sound like a whine?  Dean cleared his throat and tried again.  “Sam.  If we don’t have to be anywhere by one, why are you waking me up at seven?” 

“Church starts at nine.  The Layton’s are a pastoral couple; this is their week to lead worship.”  Sam briefly turned the laptop for Dean to see some kind of evidence of this, which he didn’t because Sam turned it back just as Dean’s eyes focused on the screen.  “The house will be empty for at least three hours.”

“What did you find last night?” And it had better be good, because Dean did not do early unless there was a damn good reason.

“Muriel and her son Christopher disappeared in 2002.  There was a lengthy investigation but no charges were laid.  They’re still missing, but the police are treating it as a homicide.  Apparently there was evidence of a struggle, and enough blood to launch a murder investigation.  Uhm, the other two are just gone, vanished into thin air.  The first guy was a plumber, and he left his truck behind.  The second guy, the uncle, was apparently visiting and having a beer.  He went to the bathroom and never came back.  Not your typical abduction scenario.”

“So you agree with me now?  This is something for us to check out.”

“I didn’t disagree.  It’s just the source that’s bugging me, you know?”

“No I don’t.”  Dean finished the coffee and got up.  “How about the house?  Any history on that?”

“No.  It was built in 1986, nothing happened there until 2001.  I don’t think it’s the house Dean.  They never found what took the Thompsons.”

“Then whatever it is, I’m just looking forward to killing it.  Give me ten minutes and we’ll go get breakfast.”

Less than an hour later, the Impala rumbled through the community, and pulled up to 792 Hamilton Avenue and rolled to a stop.

The house was nothing unusual; two stories, nicely maintained, and painted a cheerful yellow colour, complete with a wrap around porch and kids toys in the yard.  Dean sat in the Impala for a moment, simply looking at it. 

“Doesn’t look like the typical people-eating-evil-house, does it?”

“At the risk of sounding like a broken record; I don’t think it’s the house.”

Dean smirked.  “No, but it might be fun if it was...”

 

Chapter Two

1,2,3,4,5