Hell House.

Writing two chapters at the same time hurts my head.

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Emmy felt the quiet hum of the Impala below her. She watched the blur of green trees streak past her window as Dean picked up the acceleration, grinning as his baby purred. Emmy's head began to throb, the beams of direct sunlight had imprinted themselves in her vision. She turned slowly, Lauren’s face distorted by a strange haze of yellow. It faded within seconds.

Lauren’s hands were playing with Sam’s hair, it took Emmy a while before she realised he was sleeping. She counted at least three plaits in the dark scruffy mass; a smile came to Emmy’s face. Some of the strands were so small they would fall out almost immediately, but there were still those one or two resilient braids that would no doubt cause a few stares in whatever town they turned up at next. Emmy dared not even attempt to plait Dean’s hair. First, he would probably throw her out of the car and run her over. Second, his hair was too short for plaiting. Emmy let out a bored, frustrated sigh, Sam’s head too far away for her to join in the plaiting. Boredom had well and truly set in. She pouted.

Dean shuffled in his seat, grabbing something from the glove compartment with a quiet chuckle.

Her interest peaked. Emmy leant forward in her seat, the old leather announcing her slight movement with a loud screech. “What are you doing?” She asked loudly.

Dean’s eyes flickered between the road, Sam and her. “Shh.” He gestured with a nod of his head towards Sam, who slept blissfully unaware.

“What’s that?” She questioned, eyes focused on something small and white in the palm of Dean’s hand.

Sam shifted his position as he slept, Dean freezing in his seat. He finally shook his head in relief, glad his brother hadn’t awoken. He waved a small plastic spoon in front of her face.

Emmy leant back in her chair, the previous object of her attention becoming merely as interesting as a ball of wool for a dog.

Lauren’s eyebrows had hitched, not really sure what silly plan Dean had concocted, but slightly interested nonetheless.

Dean outstretched an arm, slipping the spoon gently in Sam’s mouth. Dean let out a muffled snigger.

Lauren snorted, “That’s ingenuity right there.”

Dean ignored her remark, holding his phone up to his brother, not dropping his arm until the phone made a short click.

“You’re mean.” Emmy stated simply.

Suddenly the car was filled with pounding music. Lauren held her hands to her ears, dropping the latest plait she had bestowed upon Sam. Emmy half expected the speakers to explode.

“A fire of unknown origin,” Dean sang at the top of his lungs, “Took my baby away!” The spoon from Sam’s mouth went flying as he jerked awake in his seat. His arms flailed for a second before dropping in relief to his legs. Dean pounded the steering wheel in time with the drums, letting out a husky chuckle at his brother’s bemused expression. Dean returned the volume to its previous state.

“Haha.” He mocked, “Very funny.” The younger brother’s hands flew to the back of his head, his fingers tracing over the tiny tendrils that hadn’t been there before. “…The hell? Dean, did you plait my hair?”