Damn, when can I ever just get some rest. Thought Sam to himself, his frame leaning towards his computer.
It was one of those days again where he wouldn't get any rest, and his brother was off to do some investigating… and what ever else he did. They've been on this case for weeks now. Some mysterious disappearances of a couple of town's folk. No signs have been left behind, which is why every corner they turned led to a dead end. So far no connections have been found between each person except for their ages. Which was nothing to go on, really.
They were somewhere in the middle of suburban Idaho. Dean somehow found an article in some gas station newspaper, explaining how some teens never returned to their homes, and now adults were disappearing too. Sam seemed suspicious at first, thinking it was just your average vampire deal, but it turned out that no bodies showed up anywhere in town. Maybe Dean saw something that Sam didn't.
Sam leaned back and stretch out, releasing a groan.
Dean's been out of it, Sam thought. With Bobby's death the only thing keeping Dean here was these pointless cases which never really helped anyone. Well, except for the victims who survived the vampires, wendigos, or what have you attacks.
Dean was growing persistently distant of Sam, refusing to indulge in small talk sometimes, only stopping to discuss the current situation on the case; plus with Lucifer under control for now, Sam's nerves were always on edge. The only things Dean usually went on about is how sick he already was of this town and it's people.
"Why do people even want to know why the feds are involved?" Dean had asked once. "It's not like they even care about the victims. Heck, I think it's the only excitement this town's ever had."
Sam would notice how he would always change subjects once he inquired about Dean's well-being.
"Listen Dean, I think this is too much stress for the both of us. Maybe we should just-"
"We're helping people here, Sam. This is our responsibility. If we don't do this, who will? The cops? What do they know about demons, ghosts and the rest of those monsters we hunt?" Dean brushed a hand through his hair and leaned back against the headboard of the bed.
"I talked to the girl's co-workers earlier today." Dean picked again at his half-eaten pie, remembering his investigation of the last girl to go missing. "They said she wasn't looking so good, calling in sick on most days, and when she would come in they said she'd looked like she hadn't slept in weeks. This is all before we got here, but from the looks of it she was really out of it. Kept dozing off at work and refusing to carry out her tasks. I mean, working as a cashier isn't all that hard work is it?"
"What's her name?", Sam asked out of sheer curiosity.
Dean kept his gaze on his plate, a distant look on his face. "Lisa", he answered, "Lisa Hendrickson."
With a frustrated sigh, Sam shut his laptop and stood.
The motel they were staying in was old, smelling like books that haven't been opened in a long time. The musty smell was constantly filling his nostrils. The only modern thing in the room was the TV in the middle of the room between the two beds so that both could get a view of it. And the sheets. Oh, were those sheets wonderfully soft, Sam thought to himself.
Craving that linen soft touch of the cloth, Sam headed towards the bed and picked up the remote. Once sprawled comfortably over the comforting mattress, he turned on the TV.
Flipping through the 11 or so channels the hotel offered, he settled on the news broadcast. He released a long yawn, feeling his eyes begin to close on their own accord.
The sounds of the television filled his ears as he slowly drifted to sleep. This was the first time he'd rested in days. If not for the fact that he was already in bed, he would have collapsed from sheer exhaustion on top of his computer.
Sleep welcomed him with open arms.
Though his dreams were a completely different story.
—
He shifted, feeling the cool breeze against his skin. Light sensations prickled at his face and body. He took hold of his surroundings. White. An expanse of white and cold. He shuddered. Feeling his legs about to collapse, he looked down to his bare feet, scarred with frostbite. He tried to scream but all that came out was a misty fog from his own mouth.
A rustling of wind and an un-earthly cold feeling tickled at his side, forcing him to turn around.
He gasped.
He stared in sheer horror at the sight before him.
Bright emerald eyes stared straight at him, pinning him down with such intensity, it forced him to stand still in place. All he could do was stare back at those green eyes.
Those eyes. Those blinding bright green eyes stared at him. And for a moment, Sam's vision was surrounded by those two infinite gems. Staring right at him.