Supernatural – I don't own them and it makes me very sad : (
Title – from the song "Rat Trap" by the Boomtown Rats
WARNING : Rated "T" for persistent swearing and animal deaths
A.N. It is with great embarrassment that I have to confess that the trigger for this story and much content of the second chapter was a real life event involving myself and my colleague (who is also my so called "friend").
The real thing took place in an open plan "L" shaped office and involved HUGE bloody big spiders who seemed determined to get me. My "friend" was useless, laughing at my panic so hard they had to go pee! I can honestly say that jumping onto a swivel chair without falling straight off again is not easy!
One day I might speak to my friend again, but not yet. Lol.
Also, just to clarify, in real life I cannot tolerate any kind of animal abuse and have no problem with rats.
IT'S A RAT TRAP, AND YOU'VE BEEN….CAUGHT!
Everyone is afraid of something, no matter how daft that fear may seem to others.
"Why do they do it?"
"Why does which who do what Dean?"
"High school idiots. Why do they all get the urge to go full steam ahead into the nearest deserted building, most often in the middle of the night?"
"To make out? A dare? To act like a brave and fearless warrior for their girlfriends? Because, until they come to places like this, they all think they are pretty much immortal? Because the press tells them a place might be haunted? Because they think bad things only happen to other people? I really don't know Dean, but I guess they will always do it.
"Maybe it's a teenage hormone thing? You and me, we were generally in these places 'cos Dad took us. We always ended up in deserted buildings somewhere because there was a job that needed doing."
"Yeah, but we also had the benefit of knowing that scary shit and the monsters in your nightmares actually existed."
"These kids know that as well….at least they do now anyways. Or rather, they did, briefly. Trouble is, when you're dead 'cos your dumb enough voluntarily go places you should be avoiding, it's kinda tricky to pass the "don't go there" message on to your friends. Places like this should really be made to put big signs outside that say things like Here There be Werewolves and all Teenagers Taste Good. Health and Safety, you know?"
Sam's torch picked out the door which the building plan had shown as being the door leading to the basement of the deserted office block where the brothers were currently sneaking around,
"I'm not so sure signs like that would help. They'd probably take it as a challenge. Anyway, it would have to be a pretty long warning sign for this place. What is it so far? Five deaths, five different causes of death recorded?"
"Yup. Snake bite, spider venom, wild dog attack, bee stings…What was the other one?"
"Drowning, when the basement somehow flooded. The door's ahead. You ready?"
"Always Sammy. Always."
Not sure what they might be facing, the brothers armed themselves with a standard range of options. Dean choosing a pistol and silver bullets, Sam grabbing the shot gun loaded with rock salt. Both carried metal hip flasks filled with holy water. Sam stared into his duffle bag,
"I've got a spell book, chalk and a flask of oil in here. Got your lighter on you?"
Dean patted the pockets of his leather jacket, pulling his lighter out of his chest pocket and flicking it to make sure it was working,
"Present and working. We good to go?"
Sam nodded and opened the door, a short square concrete landing lead onto a flight of stairs which ran down into the darkness. As Sam moved forward, Dean grabbed his arm and firmly pulled him back,
"Hey. I'm going first."
"For goodness sake Dean!"
"I said, I'm going first."
Sam sighed and stepped back, waving his brother ahead. Dean paused on the landing, brushing his hand over the wall to his left until he felt a light switch. Flicking it, the dim glow of one electric bulb buzzed and popped on at the bottom of the stairs, spiders disturbed by the light scurried back into their webs.
As Dean descended he began to see the layout and contents of the basement. It looked to be one large "L" shaped area. Some old broken metal filing cabinets stood against one wall, most of them covered in graffiti, including the usual (insert name) woz 'ere. Two old wooden office desks took up the central space in the basement, shoved together to face each other. The top of the desks held two old beer glasses, both brimming over with cigarette ends, along with various discarded candy wrappings. A number of tattered swivel chairs were positioned around the desks. Other old desks, chairs and miscellaneous bits of discarded and broken office equipment were scattered randomly around the area. One particular area had obviously been designated the trash dump, primarily consisting of empty coke cans, empty cider bottles, and McDonalds packaging.
The brothers slowly walked further into the basement, Dean nudged Sam, a nod of his head directing Sam's gaze to the back of the smaller off shot area of the "L" shaped space where a single mattress lay on the floor. Sam grimaced as he looked at the dirt, discarded syringes and the suspect patches of staining ingrained in the whole mattress,
"Jeeze. That's just gross."
Dean had already moved on, his focus on three full looking plastic rubbish sacks shoved under a desk which was positioned against a wall. He dragged the first two bags out from under the desk and bent down to reach for the third, giving it a tug he began to pull this one out into the open,
"Arrrrgh! Fuck! Fuck! Shit!"