Chapter one: Mashed Potato Art

Reader Pov

You live in a small town. Small enough to notice when someone new arrives. Small enough to know when something isn't right.

You lay back in your bed with a thud, a deep breath escaping your lungs. Confusion and pain swirl through your mind as you try to sleep. Sure, it's midday on a saturday, but all you want to do is take a break from the way you feel. Your best friend, Vicky, had done something horrible the night before. Inexcusable.

You sat in a diner next to Vicky, who was irritated; very unlike her. She wasn't eating either, and she had ordered a lobster roll. You knew it was her favorite.

"Is everything okay, Vicky?" You had asked, raising a spoon of mashed potatoes to your mouth.

For a minute, Vicky looked as if she didn't know where she was. Suddenly, she turned to you and shoved a bowl into your lap.

"Vicky!?" You shout, frozen. The mashed potatoes sink into your pants. Vicky says nothing, but stands with a smirk and starts to walk toward the exit.

You wipe the potatoes from your pants and run after her. You hope no one noticed the stain that makes you look like you peed yourself.

Vicky throws the door open, making the alarm go off. It was an emergency exit. You chase after her, following her into the parking lot.

"Vicky! Wait!" You shout. She stops in her tracks, slowly turning around, almost amused that you followed her. "What is your problem?"

Vicky laughs and shakes her head. "Vicky never liked you, sweetie."

You freeze. Why had Vicky spoken in third person?

She slowly walks toward you. "You know, if I had taken you, Vicky wouldn't think twice about following me. But you... You have to go and try to fix things."

"Vicky, you're not making sense," you stutter.

Vicky smirks. "You'll stay away from me if you really care about her."

Before you can ask what the heck she means, she is getting into her car and driving away, leaving you in the parking lot without a ride home.

You don't know what to think. Vicky had embarrassed you, hurt you, and most of all, scared you. You were worried about her, but you couldn't confront her. It hurt too much.

You sit up in bed and look out the window of your house. Vicky's house is across the street. You always wondered why you didn't just share a house and the rent, but Vicky did like her privacy. The situation helped you to appreciate living alone.

Vicky's car was in the driveway and you didn't see movement inside. You had been checking on her to see if she would go somewhere, but nothing had happened, and you were starting you worry; more than you already were.

You hear a noise from outside that sounds like an old, very loud, muffler. You move closer to the window to see what it is. An old black car speeds by, and you roll your eyes. Drifters. This town seemed to be a magnet for them.

You lay down in your bed, close your eyes, and find yourself able to fall asleep.

Dean pov

"Stop here," Sam says, pointing to a diner on the right.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say." They had never gone to a diner to talk to locals, but maybe Sam was right. They wanted to get the feel for the town.

Dean took his keys out of the ignition and sat back in his seat. "Why are we even here, Sammy?"

Sam, who had his hand on the handle, sighed and sat back too. "You know why, Dean. We're here to see if our source is good."

Dean shook his head. "I still don't know why we have to look into this. It's probably just a demon. Are we just going to shut up and do his dirty work?"

"Dean, you know that's not why," Sam huffs. "If this turns out to be a real case, then we know that our source is reliable."

Dean wanted to protest, but Sam was right. If this demon they had captured was reliable, then they could use him to their advantage. "I hate demons," Dean finally said, getting out of the car. Sam chuckled and followed him into the diner.

The diner was like the thousand other ones that he and Sam frequented. Small, smelling of stale french fries and grease. Dean had come to love it.

He and Sam sat at the bar, ordered, and took a look around. There were a lot of people here for such a small town. Sam was right, this would be the place to get information.

Sam tapped Dean's shoulder and pointed to a man sitting alone in a booth. Dean nodded, and Sam left to go talk to him. Dean smirked. Of course Sam left him to flirt with the waitress.

"Anything else you need?" She asked, wiping her hands on a towel.

Dean flashed a smile. "Yeah, actually. I don't look it, but i'm actually a fed."

The waitress looked surprised. "You definitely don't look it." She paused. "How can I be of help?"

"Well, I don't mean to alarm you, but my partner and I are looking into a case, and we think we might have tracked the suspect here."

She bit her lip. "I don't know how I could help you with that, sir..."

Dean set down his fork. "I guess, if you notice something out of the ordinary, just give me a call." He slid his number across the table and smiled again. "Anything out of the ordinary."

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned to see Sam.

"You ready to go?"

Dean nodded, turning back to waitress. "Thank you." He set a twenty dollar bill on the table and followed Sam out the door.

"Got anything?" Sam asked as they got in the car.

"Jack," Dean responded, starting Baby up. "You?"

"Turns out, that guy was the deputy," Sam explained. "He says that someone killed a dog last week, but they have kept it under wraps so far, and that's the only strange thing that has happened in the past three months."

Dean smiled. "Looks like we'll have to stake it out and see if something else comes up." He cranked up the music. "Motel it is!"