'Ride the pines on this one, junior junkie.'

Sam groused out his mocking of Bobby, ending in a yawn that cracked his jaw wide as he idly flipped through the channels. He didn't like it one friggin' bit when Dean made him stay back because of his problems with The Juice. He'd detoxed, he'd been clean ever since that run-in with the stupid cupid, and yet Big Brother and Bad-Ass Bobby were insisting this one he sit out.

'You two yahoos ain't gonna screw up this one, so I'm only taking the one yahoo,' Bobby had explained after reading the omens as a sign of demons trying to stir shit up somewhere in small town northern California. Sam had protested, loudly with many obscenities hurled at his surrogate father only to be met with the usual sombre Singer stare and a stonewall of 'nah, ain't gonna happen Sammy so shut yer yap 'n get to researching whatever you can find on these...things.'

Only problem there was that thanks to this particular part of California being as far away from Silicon Valley as was possible there were no motels in their budget range with wifi. How exactly was he supposed to get to researching without any information superhighway when a town supposedly crawling with demons?

The phone on the sturdy table between the twin beds jangled, knocking Sam's boredom to the side.

'Yeah, hi,' he rasped, voice rusty with ennui and disuse.

'It's Dean. Hope I didn't interrupt anything? Maybe a late night trip to the pay-by-use channels?'

'Mature, Dean. What have you guys found?'

'It's not demons, it's somethign else we're not sure what.'

'Tell me about the victims.' Sam looked around for a pen and a pad of paper, knocked over a bottle of Dean's fruit punch Gatorade in the process which set him to swearing. 'Jesus, fuck, oh this shit is everywhere now!'

'That's kinda what happens when you forget the tissues, hermano,' Dean quipped, knowing it would make Sam seethe.

'It's your damn sports drink, jerk. Tell me about the victims.'

'Okay, well definitely not demons but something's going down around here. The first victims were sisters, both looking like they'd spent about two weeks in a Scandinavian hot box and yet their friends and family say they were getting ready to leave for New Zealand tomorrow for a modeling gig because they'd won some under-twenty-five beauty contest thing.'

'Was some before and after thing?'

'It was a photo-shoot for CoCo Beach swimwear.'

'Wow, bikini models dead before they hit their prime, maybe I should be offering you some tissues Dean.'

'The other three are all in the morgue we're heading there now but the upshot is that the coroner says the bodies are stiff as hell, like were dipped in liquid nitro without the liquid nitro side effects like freezing solid and shattering to the touch. Got anything?'

'Uh no, because you put me on house arrest in this hell-hole from the dark ages with no internet.'

There was a scuffling noise and then Sam was rolling his eyes as Bobby's voice came through the connection.

'It's called a library, idiot, you know, places with paper copies of real books? Not to mention really old books that might have something we can use? Get off that goofball ass o' yers and lumber on down!'

'Right and where is the lib-'

'Main and Fourth, nice little corner building across from the gas station and a bar, the Acropolis. Yeh drove past it to get to the motel. Idiot,' Bobby added once more for good measure.

Sam nodded, the after hanging up sighed deeply. He may have found some square footage with Dean once more but Bobby still wanted his head on a pike; sometimes Sam wasn't always sure that was a simple metaphor.

Well at least if he struck out he'd be able to drown his sorrows.