"…thanks again, we'll keep that in mind. Later Bobby."
"What was that all about?" Dean asked as Sam clicked shut his cell phone.
"It was just Bobby. He caught word of a string of decapitations over in Illinois. Looks like someone has been taking out vampires and based on the method of elimination he was planning on checking to make sure…"
"Gordon. It's him, isn't it? He's out and hunting again. Goddamnit, that slimy sonuva-"
"If you would let me finish a complete sentence for a change Dean, actually that was what Bobby was calling about. He was on his way to make sure Gordon was still in jail like he is supposed to be. Bobby was just calling to let us know to keep our heads low in case Gordon was actually out and looking to settle the score with us. He figured we might want to look into a couple of possible Gremlins over in Colorado, Bobby thought it would be…"
"Far away with a safe little milk job so we wouldn't run into our dear old friend Gordie huh?" Sam nodded his head with a slight grin.
"Well fat chance about that and Bobby should'a known better than to seriously think we would go along with his little plan to keep us little kids safe. And Gremlins? C'mon. Seriously if he was gonna make up a job he could've at least tired to make it a little more tempting and exciting than gremlins to actually make us pass up something like catching up on the good old times with our pal Gordie."
"Dean, why don't we just look into this thing in Colorado. It probably isn't Gordon anyways, they sent him to a high security prison that should keep even him busy trying to get out for a long time. Even if it is him what is the point in hunting him down? So you and he can go at it in some big manly macho showdown, fighting with all kinds of things sharp and deadly?" Sam argued.
"Because," Dean said as he slipped the keys into the ignition, "If we don't track him down first then you know he will be hunting us down and I would rather have this 'Big Macho Manly Showdown' as you call, it on our terms rather than his. Plus," Dean added as the Impala roared to life, "You're not gonna let him get away with calling you Sammy for the rest of his life are you?" Dean grinned. Sam rolled his eyes as he reluctantly agreed with his brother's twisted, but surprisingly accurate, reasoning.
"So where in Illinois is our good ol' pal Gordie hanging out? Some cozy little run-down farm town picking off the blood suckers?"
"Not quite," Sam smirked, "Downtown Chicago."
"Well," Dean shrugged with a bit of a glint in his eye, "Guess that means I'll have better selection to choose from in the bars than I would in a run-down hick town tavern."
"You are talking about alcohol right?" Sam questioned, although he was confident drinks was not the type of selection his brother had in mind, at least not unless it was held in the hand of a rather attractive woman.
"Yeah, I guess that too." Dean smiled as they turned onto the interstate while Sam was already regretting answering his cell in the first place.