Please be forewarned - I have watched every single episode of Season 3. This will take place after Jus in Bello (the most recent episode) and will contain spoilers.

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Speak is a storyline set to occur as a single, self-enclosed episode - meaning if someone put it into the show, it would encompass a single episode and would likely not influence the rest of the season, if it were canon. At least, this is how I have planned it.

Official description; Sam and Dean are drawn to Villisca, Iowa, after a series of brutal murders takes place in the already well-known Villisca Axe Murder House, where a total of six people were axed to death in 1912. The only link between the victims - and possible eyewitness - is an extremely distant young woman who appears to be incapable of vocal communication.

Set; After Jus In Bello of season 3.

Genre; uh... little to no romance, mostly action/horror. And some funnies.

Disclaimer; Sam and Dean and their main storyline do not belong to me, but damn, I wish they did. The location of Villisca, Iowa, is real - the Axe murder house is real, you can visit practically any time you like - the citizens (except the ones mentioned when Sam and Dean do some research to the first murder that happened in the house) are all fictional and property of myself.

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Listing of chapters;

1. In The Shadows

Chapter One; In The Shadows



"They got between us," he whispered into her ear, his breath hot and uncomfortable.

She flinched away.

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Villisca, Iowa

The citizens of small-town Villisca usually enjoyed the early spring weather with romps and walks and trips to the park, visits with neighbors and lunches in the local bar. The school children were often known to roam the streets of the small town, chasing soccer balls and kites and stray animals. Others would be manicuring their lawns and housefronts after the worst winter the midwest had seen, and a select few would be grouped together in the town hall, discussing the inevitable turn of June 10th.

Today, there was no such activity.

The few citizens of Villisca had locked themselves into their homes as dark clouds began to block out the land surrounding the town. They crept into their basements as rain and hail pounded against the walls and wind rattled the windowpanes. Surely, April was too early for tornado weather, they whispered amongst themselves, but that did not stop the wind from howling.

No one heard the screaming coming from the old Moore house, on the outskirt of the town. Perhaps those who resided in the nearby apartments did, but quickly dismissed them as the wind racing through the trees. The two-storey white house creaked with the wind; the door flapped in a watery vortex as rain drenched the front porch. The large white sign hanging off the roof swung dangerously.

In the shadows of the kitchen, briefly illuminated as a flash of lightning touches down not far from the town, a small woman curled herself into the corner between the old-fashioned stove and the entrance to the pantry. Her dark hair and clothes were soaking, plastered to her shivering limbs. Frozen with panic, she stared in terror as a shadow stretched her way.

"Hush now," he told her, voice strong over the thunder and howling wind. The he practically towered over her, and even in the darkness it was clear he was built like a warrior - broad shoulders, defined chest, hands the size of dinner plates - clutching a silvery blade nearly a foot long. Crimson liquid mixed with rain water and dripped to the floor. When she made no move to answer him, he knelt, the sopping fabric of his cargo pants quiet against the floor. He set the knife down to draw her face gently, lovingly, into his cupped hands.

Silently, she begged herself to pull away, to get out of the house and run until she had lost him forever, but he seemed to sense her tensing and pulled her closer into a wet embrace. He rested his chin on her shoulder, patted her head, seemingly unaware that the winds had begun to die down.

"They got between us," he whispered into her ear, his breath hot and uncomfortable on the nape of her neck. She felt his eyes travel down to the front and his desire nearly swamped her, then and there.

Then she felt control of her body for the first time that evening. She flinched away from him.

He hissed - "Bitch!" - and laced his fingers hurredly through her hair and grabbed a thick chunk of it. Lightning flashed, brighter than she had ever seen, and she squeezed her eyes shut in pain as a rampant thunder followed, loud enough that the entire block shook. He, however, did not flinch, as he stood and dragged her along the floor.

"Look at them!" he commanded her, pulling her up by the length of her hair. She squealed and kicked but he pressed her closer to his chest and wrapped his arm around her neck, forcing her to look into the small parlour. Lightning flared once more, distantly, but enough to brighten the space and the three mutilated corpses. She screamed at once and didn't stop. He flexed his arm muscle and, with practiced precision, began to strangle her.

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"Yeah, Bobby, I'll keep that in mind. Thanks," came Sam Winchester's voice. He pressed a button on his cellular phone and set it on the table before taking a swig from the steaming cardboard cup. He cast a glance over his shoulder to where his roommate and brother had rolled over in his bed, with a pillow clutched over his ears.

"It's too early!" came Dean's muffled voice, as if he could feel Sam's eyes boring holes in his backside. The ceiling fan tickled the thin bed sheet, threatening to expose his boxered behind and thighs. Dean peaked out from under the pillow. "Will you knock that off?"

Sam snorted into his coffee. "Not doing anything," he said with a grin, and ran his thumb over the scrolling pad of his laptop.

"Except playing around with your computer." Dean hurled the pillow at the back of his brother's head. The pillow flopped to the ground a mere foot short.

"Dean! Knock it off!" The younger Winchester whipped around and nearly spilled coffee all over himself. He threw the pillow back at his brother, who was attempting to roll out of bed because his legs didn't appear to work.

"Geez, and I thought I was the grumpy morning person," Dean muttered under his breath. He grabbed a set of clothes from his duffel bag and ducked into the bathroom.

Sam, on the other hand, had been up for nearly an hour already, and looked it - his hair had been combed, he was wearing semi-clean clothes, had brushed his teeth and snagged breakfast (a couple of doughnuts and some of last night's leftover chinese) and even made his bed.

Dean swaggered out of the bathroom a good half hour later, a bit red in the face from the heat of the shower but more or less awake.

"I'm starving," he said. He dangled the keys to the Impala in front of Sam, who made a frustrated noise and pushed his brother's arm out of the way before hunkering back down to stare at the computer screen. Curious as to what could possibly be strong enough to withstand his teasing, Dean leaned over Sam's shoulder to watch the computer screen.

"Murder in an old murder house?" he asked.

"It's... freaky," Sam said in reply. "Apparently the police found no murder weapon and no prints. Locals say the place has been haunted since some guy bought the place and rebuilt everything to turn it into a museum. Could be a vengeful spirit." He flipped through an atlas on the table. "It's only a few hours away. Four, tops, if the traffic's bad."

Dean shrugged as his stomach made a pained noise. He cast his eyes about the motel room, staring down old wrappers and bottles of beer. "Don't we have something better to be doing?"

Sam turned back towards his computer and his coffee.

"Because we should be looking for Bela. And figuring out who this Lilith is." Dean opened the refrigerator and leafed around. There was a coke, a bottle of beer, and a half eaten chunk of greasy cheeseburger from Arby's. Dean grabbed the burger.

"Bobby thinks he's got a lead," Sam said. He powered down the laptop and slid it into his bag, and began collecting his things around the room.

Dean stuffed the burger into his mouth, waiting for anything important. Sam took his time, putting books and an atlas into his bag before he looked over to his brother, questioning look in his eyes.

"You gonna tell me or what?" Dean snapped, sending bits of cheeseburger flying.

Sam grimmaced. "Yeah. He thinks Lilith is looking for us. So, whatever we do, we have to move."

Dean spat out whatever he'd been eating and tossed the lot into the trash bin. "Nasty," he commented, wiping his hands on his shirt. "Well, then, let's... go to the corn state.

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so what d'you guys think? :) It'll pick up sommore in the next installment, promise!
-alex.

:P Great start. Sounds interesting. Can't wait to read more. Yea, I'm the first to review!!!!!!

Cindy.