Supernatural - Cry Baby Bridge

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, or the screenshots used to make this banner.

Fat Banner I made for a short Supernatural fanfiction one-shot I wrote. If you're interested in reading it, you can find it completed at fanfiction.net, here [link]

or on LiveJournal, here [link]

Summary: Cry Baby Bridges are a nationwide phenomenon, and usually no more than urban legend, but Sam and Dean get more than they bargained for when they investigate one in small town Mississippi. S7, between “The Mentalists” and “Time for a Wedding.” About 8200 words. Written for LJ's 50 States of Supernatural Challenge.

Rating: PG-13 or T

Excerpt from Part 1:

The cries remained.

He shouldn’t have been able to hear them beneath the water. Not so clearly. They should have been muted, if not distant. Distorted, at the very least. Instead, they echoed in his ears, deafening him to the sound of his own beating heart.

His fingers, numb, curled at his side, clutching something and nothing. He wanted to reach up, clasp his palms over his ears, hold back the noise, but there were already hands over his ears, slender, cold hands, pressed hard and digging their curled talons into his scalp. But even they didn’t hold back the baby’s high-pitched squalling.

Through the stir of silt clouding the water, through the glassy ripples, a yellow moon hung above claws made of empty branches. Those shadows hovered hungrily over the narrow creek, and, of course, He was there, too, leaning over the water, as if watching koi in a pond. The clay bank wasn’t close, but the skeletal bridge was nearby, and that’s where He stood, staring down.

Sam felt something wrap around his throat, tug him further below, deeper, but he paid it little mind. Instead, he kept his eyes to the sky and trained on the Day Star. Lucifer’s lips curled into a snide grin. It spoke, the gesture: “What are you doing down there, Sammy? Looks chilly…I thought you preferred the heat…”

The words shouldn’t have been clear, but they were, just like the baby’s cry.

The cry…

The fading cry…

It had lost its heat, its energy. Present, but slowed to a hesitant mewling. As if sated, for the moment. The hands released him, trailing fingertips through his hair as they slid away.

Peace. No crying. No tears.

Sam sucked in a gulp of foul water as relief settled over him. But there was something still wrong, he reminded himself. Something he should have been able to remember. Something about the fading cry and breathing and Dean. Dean… Sam tried to hold on to his brother’s name, but his attention was back on the form above, Lucifer and his smile. Lucifer and his words, spoken but not:

“Lose something, Sammy?”

Dean…

Dean was supposed to be on that bridge.