The diner was quiet, only a few chatters from a couple tables scattered throughout. The diner was a tad on the dark side; most of the blinds were drawn down to block out the sun in an attempt to keep the place cool. A couple fans twirled quietly from the ceilings.
Sam was clicking away at his laptop which was casting a slight blue luminosity onto his face. A small frown was fixed on his face as he tried to concentrate on the search. Dean, meanwhile, had a newspaper in front of him and a pen in hand. Originally, he was supposed to be checking the Omits for any possible strange deaths. Somehow, his attention was pulled away from the newspaper and was distracted by other people in the diner; tapping the pen onto the table subconsciously.
Sam glanced up at his brother several times before focusing on his laptop again, his frown deepening as he tried to concentrate. Sam's knee began to bounce, at first at random, but it then began to go along with the beat of Dean's pen. Sam finally sighed, stopping his work, and looked up at his brother.
"...Dean." He said, finally, when his brother didn't notice. Dean looked over, eyebrows slightly raised in question. Sam sighed in annoyance. "Have you found anything yet?" Dean glanced down at the nearly untouched newspaper.
"Uh, no, not really."
"Not really?" Sam asked, his eyebrows rising, his voice taking on a certain tone. "Or 'I'm too busy staring at the waitresses'?" Dean frowned at Sam's words. Sam knew how it came out but he was too tired to care at the moment. He didn't get much sleep last night, or even the nights before. The motel room didn't supply very soft beds but it wasn't that; Sam was used to hard motel beds. It was these dreams he was having, keep waking him up every 2 hours or so.
The dreams weren't nightmares, compared to the premonitions, nor did they really make any sense. But it's been the same thing, over and over, night after night. He dreamt that he was standing on a dark stage overlooking a large maze. He was calling out to Dean who was down in the maze, trying desperately to get his brother back to him. Dean, however, had a blindfold on and couldn't see anything and was relying solely on his brother's directions.
Sam hadn't told his brother about these dreams. His premonitions had stopped long ago after the yellow eyed demon was killed; so this couldn't be another premonition. It was probably just from all the stress of the past couple jobs getting to him.
"...Who peed in your cornflakes this morning?"
Sam looked up at Dean, an exasperated expression on his face. Dean gave a lopsided grin.
"You find anything?"
"Well," Sam began, scratching the back of his head. "There are a couple missing person cases, mutilated cows...oh, and there was someone who was found dead in their house after having digested more than 3 dozen thumbtacks." Sam looked up to catch Dean's expression. He smiled. "What's wrong?" Dean shot Sam a glare.
"That's not funny, Sam. I wish I could have bitch slapped that witch myself."
"Yeah, well, if Ruby hadn't showed up at the right time and-"
"Don't. I don't want to remember that...stuff...she forced down my throat." Dean shivered.
Sam smiled a little. Though it wasn't really funny, Dean almost died. If it wasn't for Ruby he wouldn't be there, sitting across the table from him. He would have been too late.
"So you think it may be a witch?" Sam asked. Dean nodded, pushing his lower lip up in thought.
"Yeah, sounds like it. Where is this?"
"Olympia."
"Sweet, let's go to Washington."
It was pouring and cold; expected weather for the time of year. Dean was lounged back in the leather seat of the impala, eyes closed, listening to the rain pound down around him. Sam was inside, getting more information on the victim, Thomas Ackerman. He's been in there for nearly an hour now but Dean didn't mind; allowed him to get a little shut eye.
Unfortunately that wasn't the case. His thoughts were on Sam. He hadn't said anything yet, but Dean isn't blind. He can tell his brother hasn't been getting much sleep, Dean can see his brother's eyes getting shallow, not to mention his attitude. Last time it was like this was after Jessica's death and Sam was haunted with nightmares of her death. But that was almost over 2 years ago. Dean is sure Sam is over the tragedy and has moved on; so what's bothering him now?
The passenger door of the impala opened and the car shook as Sam climbed in. Dean opened his eyes and sat up, looking over at Sam.
"Well, what's the news?"
"No record of any mental problems or anything of that sort so that rules out mad man. Also, there are no sign of injury or tissue tear in his throat and oesophagus; so they have no idea how the thumbtacks got into his stomach."
"Almost exactly like that witch situation a while back." Sam nodded in agreement with Dean. "Did I ever mention that I hate witches?"
"Yeah, you made it obvious before." Sam said, looking out the window in thought. Dean studied his brother for a moment. His eyes were shallow, slightly bloodshot, skin pale, though no one would be able to notice except Dean.
"You alright, Sammy?" Dean asked, not taking his eyes off Sam. Sam glanced over at Dean.
"Fine. Why?"
"I dunno, you just seem tired." Dean said, looking away to turn the car and bring the impala to life.
"I'm fine." Sam answered.
Sure you are.
"Where we headed?" Dean asked.
"I guess we should drop by some of the neighbours. It's a closed in community so I'm sure they have something to tell."
Dean groaned. "Great, this ought to be fun." Sam smiled. "Why don't you try and get some shut eye, you're starting to look like Edward Scissorhands."
"Thanks Dean."
"Who are you two?" The woman looked from Dean to Sam from the doorway of her home.
"Hello Mrs.Handsid, I'm agent Ford, this is agent Hamel, and we're from Homeland Security."
The woman at the door looked at Sam and then back to Dean again.
"We'd just like to ask you a couple questions." Sam reassured.
"About what?"
"About your neighbour, Mr.Ackerman." Dean said. The frown on the her face deepened.
"What does Homeland Security have anything to do with him?"
"Well," Sam said, frowning slightly. "It's about his death..."
"But it was a suicide."
"Was it?" Dean asked. "Mrs. Handsid, did Mr.Ackerman appear to be the type that would commit suicide?"
"Well, no...not really..." She said, thoughtful. "But maybe...I guess it's possible."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Well, he just went through a divorce with his wife. But...you two must have already known about that."
"Right," Dean swallowed. "The divorce...because..there were...problems..."
"Well, yeah, he caught her cheating on him...with another woman!"
Dean swallowed and nodded slowly. "Right, of course." He said.
"Where is she now?" Sam asked.
"Well, you two should already know that, shouldn't you?"
"Well, we haven't looked into it, and it'd be a lot faster if you just told us." Sam said, smiling a little.
"Well, she moved in with her new girlfriend. Um, Aspen Road, the house with the red Volkswagen; just a couple blocks from here."
"Thanks a lot." Dean said, smiling at her, and the two turned and made their way down the steps towards Dean's car.
"Well, what do you think?" Sam asked.
"I dunno, witch-lesbians?" Dean pulled his keys out and unlocked the car. Sam sighed.
"I don't know..." Sam looked around at the community. It was all wealthy houses, manicured lawns, and expensive cars; almost exactly like the last witch hunt.
"We'll have to go pay them a visit." Dean jumped into the car and Sam followed.
They didn't drive long until they found the house. Dean brought the car to a stop on the side of the road and turned it off. Both brothers got out.
The house was the largest of them all. It was a crisp white colour with black lining on the door and windows. A small garden lined the front of the house and a shiny red Volkswagen sat in the driveway. Dean looked at the car and whistled as they passed by it. Sam's eyes widened and he looked at Dean.
"Are you cheating on your impala?"
"What? No! I was just thinking how expensive this car must be." Dean said, frowning at Sam before turning away and walking to the front door. Sam smirked slightly behind.
Dean pressed the doorbell and waited, listening for sounds from inside. Nothing happened so Dean rang again.
Still silence. Dean looked back at Sam who glanced around.
"Must not be home." Sam said. Dean sighed before knocking loudly on the door.
"Hello! Homeland Security, open up!" He called.
Still silence. Dean sighed and looked around. "Alright, we'll check back later." Sam nodded and turned, heading down the steps.
When Dean reached the bottom of the steps, his eyes caught onto a rock in the garden. The rock was tucked under one of the rose bushes and would not have been seen except from a certain angle. Dean stepped over and crouched down, reaching under the bush to pull out the rock. Sam came up behind Dean when he noticed Dean wasn't following.
"What is it?" Sam asked, looking over Dean's shoulder at the rock.
The rock was a flat one with a graved in hexagram; home made by the looks of it.
"Star of David?" Dean asked, standing up and turning to face Sam. Sam frowned, taking the rock from Dean and shook his head.
"No, it has a circle around the hexagram, it's a wiccan symbol, not a Star of David." Sam said. Dean raised his eyebrows.
"Hmm, well, let's see, a home made scratched in Wiccan symbol hidden under a bush in front of the house. That could only mean one thing. I think our little witch hunt has come to an end."