Chapter Text
10 years ago
The mountain road is dark. The few scattered stars and silvered dying moon dance behind grey jagged clouds. There’s not a breath of air and the trees stand in solemn silence. There is a lingering disturbance in the air, like the unwelcome presence of an approaching storm and it’s combined with an acrid smell of burning fuel and rubber.
The reason for this peculiar feeling lies in the past. One hour ago to be exact. When this unremarkable stretch of road bore witness to an event that was heralded with a piercing shriek of tyres and the whine of a motor engine pushed to its furthest limits. It was a noise that raced and tore desperately along the narrow twists and turns. Pitching and rolling around the curves in reckless abandon. The roar built and built until the apex of a sharp turn where there was a sharp crack of metal. Like a bullet being fired from a shotgun, only louder. As the tyres fought to find traction and the smell of seared rubber was ingrained on the asphalt, the car spun sideways towards a frail wooden barrier, which stood as gatekeeper between the road and the steep cliffs below.
In elegant slow motion the car shattered through the defences and continued its waltzing, deathly glide over the edge. Plumes of dust and dirt ballooning as it fell. Tree limbs snapping and breaking as the car concertinaed to the bottom. When it hit the valley floor metal imploded into a brilliant fountain of golden fire.
No one else comes along that lonely stretch of road tonight. Not a single soul.
Tomorrow: there will be tears and grief aplenty as a new day dawns.
Present day
“Holy fuck, Chad what have you bought?” Jared’s standing on the sidewalk with his mouth open; catching flies isn’t a good look on him.
Chad rather smugly, for a reason known only to him, pats Jared on the back. “It’s good isn’t it?”
Jared looks at his best friend as if he’s grown three heads, and then back at the monstrosity of a house that Chad plans on calling home. “It’s different,” he ventures. Which isn’t as bad as saying the place is as ugly as fuck and falling down around his ears.
They stand there for awhile in admiring stupor until Mike, who got the short straw of driving the equally decrepit van that Chad’s hired to move his furniture, comes up and proceeds to give them both a hearty shove. “I’m not carrying all the boxes as well you know. I want a drink. God give me a drink. Beer. No, make that scotch…and oh, holy fuck…..” He spots Chad’s new acquisition. “Tell me you’re not moving into that?”
Jared tries hard not to laugh by biting on his bottom lip, but in the end he can’t. Doubling over in a fit of giggles he points at Mike’s flummoxed expression. “Dude,” he gasps. “You know it’s bad if Mike won’t even live in it!”
Mike does a double take, punching Jared on the arm. “I resent that. Are you going to rag me forever about moving in with Mandy?”
Jared shrugs. “Probably.”
Mandy is an ex. The ‘ex’ if Jared understands it right. She’s the woman who Mike will love forever. They were going to be married, or they were until Mike moved into her house, or rather into her parent’s house while said parents were still in residence. Needless to say one full month of Mike Rosenbaum and his little winsome ways proved to have a breaking point. Mike has bemoaned Mandy’s loss ever since. Cynically, Jared thinks its Mandy’s double D breasts that Mike has a lingering affection for. That and Mandy’s mothers home cooking.
“Can we focus, please?” Chad’s looking agitated. “I want to move in today, not next fucking week.”
“Chad, you can’t stay here, there’s a hole in the roof where the chimney stack was and the front door’s hanging by its hinges.” Jared points out the dilapidated buildings faults. “It looks like something out of a James Herbert novel!”
Chad’s not read James Herbert, and he’s certainly never heard of Crickley Hall. His hard earned cash has paid for this house, and he’s damn well not going to be budged by his less than enthusiastic friends.
“At least let’s go in and take a look.” Chad’s suggestion is met with pained expressions. “I’ll buy dinner and beer….” Okay, so maybe bribery will be what gets things moving, but honestly Chad doesn’t care. He’s excited. This is his home. His mess.
Jared sighs, and pulls Mike along the overgrown garden path. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”
As they head inside, stepping over the four missing floorboards just inside the door, Jared tries the light switch. It’s not a huge surprise as the lacklustre sizzle of electricity fails to illuminate the lone bulb hanging above their heads.
“Nice.” Mike intones. “Real classy. I hope you brought some candles?”
Brandishing candles, whipped from his back pocket, Chad flicks his lighter to ignite the wick. “I’m just the best boy scout,” he mocks.
Mike rolls his eyes, snatches a candle and heads off in the general direction of the kitchen, in the vain hope that the previous owner has left a stash of vintage wine.
“So, where do you want to start?” Jared asks, eyeing up the staircase in the corner of the vast hall. “I’m not sure we should go upstairs. It might not be safe.”
“You’re a girl Padalecki. No wonder Sandy ditched you.” Chad waves his candle in Jared’s face, narrowly missing scorching the ends of Jared’s hair.
Jared scowls, but his mind is instantly conjuring up the image of a long haired, petite brunette. Sandy, Jared reflects was a lifetime ago. At one time she had been his world; his high school sweetheart and later fiancé. They were once so close, peas in the proverbial pod, and it had killed him when he’d had to call their relationship off. But they’d grown apart. Jared had gone with Chad to college while Sandy had stayed in the tiny town where they’d grown up. Their love had simply drifted away. It had been like watching snow melt, the end of his first love dissipating into nothing. College had opened Jared’s eyes to the possibilities of life, and he had dreams and ambitions that didn’t fit with the life he’d had before. Sandy was Jared’s past, not his future. What lay ahead was still a mystery, and Jared liked not knowing what it would bring just fine.
“Upstairs, okay I can do that.” Jared states flatly, stalking forward to lead the way. Chad laughs and the sound echoes madly through the empty rooms.
Trying to hold a candle steady while creeping up the edges of a rotting staircase aren’t a lot of fun. Hot wax has a habit of dripping without warning and Jared’s got stinging tiny splashes on his hands, shoes and shirt. It doesn’t help that the staircase spirals and split banister rails are slicing into his fingers. But eventually, Jared makes it to the landing.
The house goes on forever. One dark shadowed room after another. It’s not a friendly place, but Jared supposes with a bit of tender loving care it could be transformed into something liveable. Inching forwards he peers into the first room. It’s quite small. Probably a child’s, and as Jared holds the candle towards the window, he can see a strip of peeling wallpaper with teddy bears and flowers.
“Interesting décor,” Jared grimaces, as he brushes up against the open door, and curses knowing that a black streak of dust has just ruined one of his best shirts.
Chad hums quietly and shrugs moving off into the next room. It’s more of the same only slightly larger, and instead of teddy bears there are puppies and clowns.
“Again, interesting décor,” Jared repeats, ineffectively wiping at his jeans the latest victim of his candles ire.
They investigate four other rooms, with Chad humming a different nursery rhyme in each. It’s an eerie sound that gives Jared chills, but instead of complaining he remains heroically silent, knowing Murray will only use it as ammunition later. Carefully, as the floorboards are no better than the ones inside the hallway, they make their way to the doorway at the far end of the landing; Chad struggling as he finds it difficult to turn the knob. The wood has warped and it rattles in its frame, groaning as Murray put his weight against it. Shards of peeling paint fluttering onto a threadbare carpet in a blizzard of minute flakes. With a loud heaving sigh they fall into the room as the door, suddenly, gives way and they stumble like two naughty school boys caught with their ears against the wall. The room smells musty and Jared suspects that the distinctly slimy gunk growing around the window frame is mould. But it’s a large room and with some restoration it would look quite nice. There’s an old fireplace that looks well used, crumbling ash still present in the grate and an ornate, if dirty, ceiling rose that in its time would have been impressive. Bravely, giving no mind to the cobwebs, Jared cautiously draws back the tattered curtains, allowing the faint pale sunshine of the autumn afternoon inside. His breath catching as he sees that the room has a south facing aspect, allowing for a stunning view of the mountains in the distance.
“Told you it was great, didn’t I?” Chad crows, and for once Jared can’t find the words to argue. The place might be a ruin but it’s large and in a good location.
“Hmm, lets hold off on the celebrating until you know how much it’s gonna cost you to fix it up.” Jared may be a dreamer but when it comes to money he can’t help being practical.
Chad huffs and flounces out, heading for the next unopened door. From there it’s a succession of rooms with a similar theme. One has a large bed. No mattress, just the wrought iron rails. It looks disturbing in the gloom. The ghost of double beds, Jared wildly thinks. No doubt it could tell some stories. The room on the opposite side of the corridor reveals a rocking chair listing idly to one side. Another broken remnant of a life long past.
“Dude, this is depressing.” Jared moans. “I have a spare bed at my house you know.”
Chad, for the first time, looks thoughtful. He’d been wearing his rose coloured glasses when he’d first viewed the house. This time around with the damp squibs of Jared and Mike, he’s beginning to understand their point. There is going to be quite a bit of work to be done before he can move in.
“I guess.” Chad heads back to the first bedroom refusing to let Jared complete his victory gloat.
“Hey, come on.” Jared follows. “It’s not that bad. Give it a couple of months and this place will be fantastic. I’ll be here every day. You name what you want fixed.” Jared feels a bit bad and the words are out his mouth before he can stop them.
“Done.”
Now, that was easy. Too easy. Jared’s starting to feel that he might just have been had. Chad, the little shit, had no intention of moving in here. He just wanted free accommodation until this place was fixed. It was a neat little trap. And Jared had walked right into it.
“CHAD!”
But Chad’s gone, his feet dancing over the damaged floor with skilful ease. Jared’s left snatching at dusty air, cursing as he can’t believe Murray had the brain cells to come up with such a clever ruse. And it’s while Jared’s exploring all the expletives in his extensive vocabulary, he spots the trunk. Its one of those large metal things with big padlocks and its strange but he never noticed it before.
Juggling his candle carefully, Jared gives the lock a tug and twist. It’s rusted shut. Probably not been opened in years, he muses his foot lashing out to give the box a swift kick. It gives a dull thud. Interesting, there’s something inside.
“Murray, did you get the key to this thing?” Jared bellows at the top of his lungs.
Chad doesn’t reply. Instead its Mike’s dulcet tones that sing back up the stairs. “Get your ass down here Padalecki, I want beer and Chad’s buying.”
With a forlorn look at the battered trunk, Jared frowns and heads back down the stairs. He can always break it open tomorrow, he thinks.
The trunk in silent splendour sits and waits.