Sitting alone in another run of the mill, greasy diner, Dean bit angrily into his burger. Nothing seemed to be able to calm him down right now. Not even his favourite food. He threw the food back on the plate, not even considering touching his French fries which sat abandoned with the ketchup beside them. Grunting dismally he lifted the sweet soda to his lips and downed it quickly, swallowing the bubbly torrent hard.
Lifting a hand he caught the pretty waitress's eye and asked for the bill so he could leave, the quicker he got back to his room the better. Maybe Sammy wasn't gone yet and they could talk it out, somehow make things better. Take back his words... oh god Dean thought. If only he could take back his words. In every way this hunt had gone horribly wrong.
Throwing the money on the table he didn't even acknowledge as the waitress tried to flirt with him, as he left he noted the napkin with a quick number and love heart scrawled across it. They hadn't even shared a whole conversation and she was still keen to throw in for a piece of him.
Sliding into the dusty black Impala he slipped a hand in his pocket and pulled out his mobile phone, there were no missed calls like he had hoped or even an angry message from Sam addressing his pig-headedness. Growling a little the phone got tossed on the empty passenger seat as the motor purred to life, the one thing in his life that Dean knew he could rely on. No matter what happened the Impala had always been there for him. Thick and thin, and he had also put her back together a few times.
As he drove, Dean reluctantly leaned over and picked his phone up. It was bad enough he was the one going back to make things better, like always. Sam never made the first move to apologise or make things better. It just showed how unstable and lonely Dean was right now. He couldn't bare the thought of being left alone again. Especially not since dad had died. They both needed each other; they just needed to get past their dispositions as different people.
The phone rang a few times before an angry what responded. 'Listen dude, I'm sorry I said those things. Can we just get past all this little bitch shit and just focus on the job?' Silence followed Dean's sad attempt at an apology, he started to wonder whether or not Sam had hung up on him. Removing the phone from his ear he saw they were still connected. 'Sammy?'
'Sammy is a fat kid.' Was the only reply he got before the connection went dead. Unsure of what this meant, Dean hoped they were okay and turned into the hotel car park. Slamming the door he grabbed his duffel from the back seat and made for their room, key swinging on his finger as he walked.
Opening the door, all the lights were off and one of the beds was made, a few notes on the pillow. The room was clean. Walking inside, Dean looked around the small area checking the bathroom and the toilet before sinking down to the unmade bed he had claimed three days ago. Lifting his phone to his ear again, this time Sam didn't answer.
Sighing, Dean laid back on the bed. Pulling his duffel towards him with one arm he pulled out the bottle if whiskey he had bought earlier that day and dads journal. He couldn't leave town without completing the job. Whether Sam was there to help him or not. It shouldn't have been to hard in the first place, but the two of them had been all over the place with arguments and disagreements about where to start.
Rolling over on to his stomach, Dean flipped the journal to their case. It looked like a recurring theme. Their dad had worked something similar in the town only five years ago. Dean had thought he had ganked the spirit, but after they arrived three days ago and compared their notes with the ones in the journal it showed their dad must have slipped up somewhere.
He doubled checked that his dad had gotten the coordinates for Naperville, Illinois right and that they were in the same place. They were. Running a hand through his hair and over his face, Dean gave a dejected sigh and sat up. Taking a large mouthful of the whiskey he looked down at the journal once more, trying to work out where to start. He settled on the latest victim's house. All he could think to do for now was check for Sulphur residue and look for any EMF in the house. He would check the body after that and research more based on his findings. It was either Poltergeist or Witch.
Arriving at the victim's house he was glad to find it empty and that there were no cops guarding the place. Easily picking the lock he let himself in and shone his torch around the furnished rooms. It was easy to pinpoint where the murder had taken place, the centre of the lounge room rug was soaked through with blood. Dean lifted the expensive carpet, checking to make sure there were no markings or messages under there. But there was only blood, and lots of it that had even soaked through the wooden floorboards, letting it fall back down again he looked around the rest of the room. It was equally blood spattered.
'Dammit Sammy,' He muttered. 'Why did you have to choose this case to buck up and leave on?' Passing the bloody walls he went in to the kitchen but there was nothing there, no Sulphur lingering in the air and no readings on his hand made EMF reader. Heading for the basement he held the machine in front of him, noting a small spike in the metre as he moved lower down in to the house.
A rustling met his ears as Dean reached the final three stairs. He stopped, balanced like a cat as he struggled to catch anymore noise before moving fully into the basement. Shining his torch around he looked for a light switch but there either wasn't one or not close enough that the small beam of his torch could reach it.
'Anybody there?' He called out, his father would have flogged him for risking it like that, but without Sammy there to watch his back if something did lurk in the dark corners, he wasn't really in a could care mood. Stepping down in to the basement fully the EMF suddenly spiked as his torch went out. Surrounded by complete darkness, Dean tried not to panic. He had been in worse positions before, this was nothing. Taking a deep breath he felt the goose-bumps rise over his skin, moving in waves across his body, causing him to shiver horribly.
Holding his hands out in front of him, Dean cursed himself. He couldn't tell left from right in the impending dark, he was stranded walking around until he found the stairs back to salvation. Bumping his feet against something he released a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding and placed his hands down to see if it were the stairs. But suddenly there was nothing there, only cold air and his ragged breath. He was starting to freak out a little now.
Dean almost jumped out of his skin when his phone started to ring, he couldn't believe he had been moving around in the dark for so long with a light in his back pocket. Pulling it out he saw Sammy's name under caller ID. Flipping open the phone to answer he used the glow to find his way back to the stairs.
'Dude what the hell, leaving me to deal with this shit on my own!' Dean cursed as he found the stairs.
'I know, I'm sorry Dean. It's just, you can be so much like dad some times and it does my head in. I acted without thinking, I'm on my way back to the hotel now. Are you still there?'
'Yes I'm still here. Wasn't going to skip town with a creepy unknown lurking around killing people, you should know me better then that.' Dean slowly made his way up the stairs.
'Well I'm half an hour out, I'll see you soon.'
'I'm not at the room, last victim's house. Think I found something so meet me her- Arghh...'
'Dean?' Sam's worried voice rang out from the phone before it flew from Dean's hands as he fell backwards in shock, crashing down the stairs noisily and painfully. 'Talk to me Dean!' All he could hear was his brother's voice, there was no light from the phone or anything else, just the darkness, shock and pain.
Gasping in pain he couldn't work out what had happened. One minute he was talking to Sam, then the next there was something in front of him. A man or a woman or something, they had a blade of some kind then the pain and shock made him fall... But what caused the pain before the fall? Grasping around for his phone, Dean shouted in pain when he tried to move one of his legs.
'Sammy...' He mumbled, feeling the effort leave his body as his head slumped back against the cold concrete, he felt something warm spread across his face, but he didn't have the strength to stay awake and work out what it was, and passed out.
