The cell phone had been ringing all night long. Sam slept through the night in his stiff motel bed as if there wasn't that annoying buzzing. Dean, on the other hand, rolled around from side to side. He would grunt softly in order to not wake up his younger brother. He had tired everything to block noise of the cell phone. He placed his head under the pillow, tired sleeping under the covers, and even taking the pillow and blanket into the bath tub with him. This attempts all met with failure.
Dean had finally resorted to lying on the ground with his knees against his chest and his hands covering his ears. He let out a deep, back of the throat growl. He hated this. He was cold, tired and pissed as hell. All because some person was spamming his cell phone for hours. He closed his eyes tightly and rocked slightly, hoping to get at least one half hour of sleep.
"Why don't you just such the-" He stopped in mid murmur. He uncovered his ears and sat up. The ringing had finally stopped. Dean looked around at his surroundings. The small, cube shaped television was creating a soft blue light that gave the room a magical glow. The Sam shaped lump shifted a bit in the other bed.
Dean stood up slowly, his eyes darting about. He wondered if this was some dream or even worse, some strange demon activity. His eyes landed on the small grey phone that sat on top of a little circular table in between the two beds. He crept up to it slowly. He didn't understand what all the noise was about. It was his personal phone, normally any business means were contacted through their father's phone. He wondered who was calling him all through out the night.
He swiped it into his hand and pressed a button on the side to cause the small screen to light up.
"1:30 AM." he muttered under his breath. "What hell does this bitch want?" Suddenly a text box appeared stating he had received 66 text messages.
"What the hell?" he shouted in shock. What kind of asshole sends 66 text messages every second of the night?
"Dean!" Sam had been startled and sat up in his bed. His long hair had been tangled during his sleep. He looked around confused, his eyes still adjusting to the darkness. "Dean, what happened?" he asked, finally looking in in his brother's direction.
"Some punk sent me 66 text messages all night."
"What? Well, who is it?"
"I'm going to find out." He pressed a button and all the messages were displayed in front of him.
"It's only giving me a number." he said, as he started to flip through the messages. At this point, Sam had gotten out of his bed and was standing behind Dean, reading the messages over his shoulder.
"I have no time to introduce myself at the moment nor do you. -SH." Sam read out loud. "I believe that you two are most qualified for this job.-SH. This could be a matter of life and death. -SH."
Sam looked at his older brother while continued to flip through the messages. "Who is this SH person?" he asked.
"Like the hell I know." Dean replied, his eyes still glued on the small screen. "It seems like he has a job for us. He keeps telling to message him back and he'll get us plane tickets to...London?"