Legendary ➹ Supernatural

Eight: Start Me Up

Wizard of Oz was Warren's favorite book growing up. My mom would read it to us on nights that she wasn't working. Thinking back on it, it probably wasn't a great idea to read that book to kids. I had nightmares about witches for months afterwards, but Warren seemed to sure love it. Maybe that was what made him so twisted. He continued reading books like that as we grew up, but I much preferred drawing in my sketchbook to pass the time. I got pretty good at it, too. 

I still did it. To pass the hours at the bunker, if I wasn't researching a case or reading through lore, my hand was holding a pencil and my nose was in that beaten up notebook. 

I had created a little cave for myself in my room by draping some extra blankets between my bed and the dresser. I was hiding in there when I heard someone open the door. I didn't get a chance to yell at them to leave before my blanket ceiling was snatched away. 

Dean looked confused, one hand holding a wrench and the other still gripping my blanket. "What are you doing?"

"You ruined my fort," I said, rising to my feet as I slapped my notebook shut. "I was drawing. Peacefully, I might add. What are you doing?"

"Sam found this huge old computer thing and we wanted you to see it," Dean said, eyeing me as I threw my notebook onto my bed. "What's that?"

"My sketchbook," I said. "Let's not do that thing where you want to see them and I say no and you snatch it from my bed and look at it yourself. They're just doodles."

Dean grumbled as he reached out and grabbed the notebook from the bed, completely ignoring my previous statement. In an effort to stop him, I tried to yank it back, but Dean just simply shoved my hand away. 

"Don't make me deck you," he waggled a finger at me before flipping the notebook open. He looked back up at me in shock. "Is this me and Sam? Wow, you even got my freckles. You're pretty good."

"I know," I said and pushed the man. He tripped over my foot and toppled onto my bed, the notebook still clutched in his fingers. "Drop it. Show me this stupid computer."

Dean listened to me, surprisingly. Leaving the notebook on the covers of my bed, he pushed himself back up and we walked out my bedroom door. The halls were empty, but I could hear Sam tinkering away in a room around the corner. 

Inside, an incredible machine practically lined the walls. It had cobwebs and was covered with dust. In the center of the room, there was a counter lined with dust-covered buttons and thingie-majiggers. Sam sat next to one of the panels, inspecting it intently. He didn't even notice us walk in. 

"Wow, you think that this is some sort of computer?" I asked, scouring the room with my eyes.

Sam's head tilted towards us at the door. "Yeah, I think so. At least, I think it was back when it was installed in 1951."

"What is it powered by?" I asked, stepping further into the room.

"That's the crazy thing," Sam said, "it's not plugged into anything. I have absolutely no idea how this thing works."

"So... It's magic?" I drawled out, reaching out sliding my hand over the cold, dusty surface. When I lifted my finger, it was completely covered in the gray powder. 

"No idea. There has to be some type of power source, but I certainly can't rule magic out after everything we've gone through," Sam chuckled shyly. 

Suddenly, I felt a warm patch on the machine, and I stopped, taking my hand off and brushing the dust off. "It's warm right here."

At the sound of this, both brothers scurried over to my side. They peered closely at the spot that my hand had been resting on. 

"There could be a power source inside," Sam said.