I was ready to kill the damn spirit. I had been ready to kill it since I had found out that it wasn't just hurting adults or teenagers, it was hurting children too. Anyone that visited any graveyard in the small town of Johnson City, Texas was in danger. But tonight, all of that would change. I slammed the door of my "well-worn" truck. When I say well-worn, I mean the thing was about to fall apart. Literally. It didn't matter at the moment, though. All that mattered tonight was doing my job.

I threw off the blanket from the truck bed that nobody ever seemed to question and began gathering everything I would need. Shovel to dig the grave. Lighter fluid and a match to torch the bones. Salt to repel it and a gun loaded with rock salt in case it decided to show up. I hoped to God that the spirit had chosen another graveyard, at least for the one night that I needed to really work.

I locked the car, stowing the keys safely in my pocket, and right at that moment, I thought of Jeremy. It was so hard without him. I needed him. I missed him so much. I would avenge his death, but now was definitely not the time to be worrying about that. I needed to get the job done before Kristoferson struck again. That son of a bitch, hurting anyone who entered a graveyard. Just because he had a terrible life and a terrible afterlife didn't mean that he had the right to hurt anybody.

I had been easily able to locate his grave during the day when it was light out, so I made a beeline for it, flinching slightly at every odd noise. I knew I shouldn't be nervous, but Kristoferson was a scary one, and he frightened me more than a little. I made it to the site of his grave and was relieved to have made it there with no sign of him.

I began to work quickly and efficiently. It wasn't that easy to dig all the way to a grave with no help, but I knew I had no choice. It had to be done. I knew I had to get the job done. There were always more.

I climbed out of the dirt-less grave after I had reached the coffin. I poured lighter fluid all over the damn thing, trying to make sure that I got every last inch of it. Nothing could be left of him. I quietly muttered, "You son of a bitch, you won't hurt anyone again." I struck a match and threw it in the grave, happy to rid the world of another evil spirit.

I gathered my things quickly and back in the truck bed they went. I climbed into the driver's seat. It still didn't feel familiar. Jeremy was usually the one driving. I would drive occasionally, but I was almost always in the passenger seat, looking up information online or reading him some newspaper, trying to decide where we would go next. I revved up the engine and said to myself, "Time to find another one straight from the pits of hell." I took a sharp turn out of the graveyard, the flash and crackle of the flames in my rearview mirror as I drove off.

I slipped the key into the lock and opened the door of my hotel room. Although it was late at night, I knew that I had to leave. I couldn't stay in one place for too long, or I would surely get caught doing something. I hated moving around so much, but it was part of the job. I glanced sadly around the small room. It had been home, for at least awhile. I didn't have a home, at least not after what that demon did to my big brother. I shook the thought out of my head. I just needed to leave, without thinking about Jeremy. It was still too painful.

I began gathering my things. It was a long, tedious process. I had newspaper clippings, pages from books and magazines, pages printed off the Internet, all kinds of different information about nearly every demon or spirit you could think of. I had Jeremy's old journal that I kept with me. It was the last thing that I had of him, and it definitely aided me in defeating some of the more stubborn spirits.

I continued packing. My computer went back in my bag, along with my clothes and other personal items. I made sure I had my cell phone and my credit card with all of my money on it. If I lost that credit card, I had nothing. It was pretty much my life.

I threw everything in the backseat of the truck. I hated it. I had never wanted to tell Jeremy because he cherished the damn thing so much, but I absolutely despised that truck. It was beat-up and old. The only thing that could cover all our weapons hiding in the bed of the truck was an old blanket and a few long pieces of tarp. I hated the thing with a passion, but it was the safest way of transportation, and even with all my money, I really didn't have the time or resources to buy a new, or even a used car.

I checked out of the hotel quickly. I didn't want to stay, lest I get too sentimental towards the small town. Texas people were way too polite, and I liked it a little bit too much there. I needed to move on. As much as I didn't want to, I knew I had to.

I climbed back in the car and turned on the radio, trying anything to get Jeremy out of my head. I tried staying positive. I tried so hard, but it was like hell with him not there with me. It still killed me that I couldn't have done anything about it.

I shook my head vigorously. I couldn't afford to think like that, especially not when I was driving. I began heading north. I knew exactly where I was going. There had been a mysterious string of deaths, and it couldn't afford to go unnoticed. I began singing along a bit to the radio as I headed to Sontenna, Iowa.

"Dean, honestly, why are we going there? All those people died of heart attacks. Heart attacks, that's it!" Sam Winchester complained.

Dean took a second from looking at the road to glance at his younger brother. "Sam, those heart attacks all happened in one week. One week, seven so-called heart attacks. One a day, each one at exactly 7:30 p.m. Now, tell me that doesn't sound fishy to you."

Sam rolled his eyes. "You're right. Let's just go, alright?"

"Wait, sorry, I didn't hear you the first time, what was that you said?" Dean teased his brother, his teeth flashing as he grinned.

"You're right, Dean, now stop being a smart ass and just drive."

Dean turned towards the road and he said quietly, "I don't know, Sammy. It's like something's calling me to that town. Like something big is gonna go down there."

Sam sat up. "You mean you're having visions now?"

"No, no, not visions. Just this feeling. Just trust me on this one, okay?"

Sam lay down again. "You know I trust you on everything, Dean," he said before he slipped into a deep sleep.

Dean sighed. "It's alright, baby," he gently patted the dashboard of his 1967 Chevy Impala. "It's just you and me now." He slowly pressed his foot down on the accelerator and they sped up just a bit more, on their way to Sontenna, Iowa.