Dean and Sam Winchester sat in the diner by the window. The early afternoon sunshine streaming through the pane and making the newspaper Dean was looking through almost too bright to look at. Sam sat across from him with his lap top open. They were both hard at work looking for their next job.
"Alright, dude, not a decent lead in all of Nebraska. What do you got?" Dean said to his brother, closing the newspaper and picking up his still steaming cup of black coffee.
Sam took a deep breath before answering. Sounding just as frustrated as Dean felt.
"Well, I've been scanning Wyoming, Colorado, South Dakota. Here – a woman in Iowa fell 10,000 feet from an airplane and survived." Sam said with a glimmer of hope in his brown eyes.
Dean thought about it for a moment.
"That sounds more like 'That's Incredible' than 'Twilight Zone'" He said.
Sam's shoulders slouched with visible disappointment as he gave a half hearted "Yeah." before looking back to his computer screen and resuming typing.
Dean's heart went out to his little brother. He knew why Sam was so gloomy and it had nothing to do with having nothing to hunt. So even though Dean had promised himself he was going to go easy on Sam as far as females went, he took a chance and threw a branch out to see if Sam would bite.
"Hey, you know, we could just keep heading east. New York, upstate. Could stop by and see Sarah again, huh?"
Dean was speaking of an auctioneers daughter they had met and helped to save during a hunt about a month ago. Sam had taken a fancy to her and she to him. Dean hadn't seen Sam so content with a girl since the one and only time he had seen Sam with Jessica when he'd broken into their apartment to recruit Sam in the search for their father.
"She's a cool chick, man. Smokin'" Dean continued with a little whistle. He recalled Sarah's long dark hair and it reminded him of another girl with long dark hair. But before his mind could wander to her fully and take his concentration, he directed his thoughts to Sam again. "You two seem pretty friendly. What do you say?"
Sam didn't seem to be paying attention. He didn't even look at Dean but rather kept his eyes on the computer as he answered
"Yeah, I don't know. Maybe someday. But in the mean time, we got a lot of work to do, Dean. And you know that." Sam said. Completely flattening Dean's attempt to lure him to a better frame of mind.
Feeling bad for his brother, and now thinking of bright green eyes to go along with long dark hair, Dean allowed Sam to change the subject.
"Yeah, you're right. What else you got?"
"Uh, man in Colorado, local man by the name of Daniel Elkins, was found mauled in his home." Sam said.
Dean's mind buzzed at the mention of "Elkins." Taking his mind from Rachel altogether as he sought to place it.
"Elkins. I know that name." Dean said with a frown.
Sam shook his head and shrugged "Doesn''t ring a bell. Sounds like the police don't know what to think."
As Sam spoke, on a gut instinct, Dean reached into the pocket of his worn leather jacket, which hung from the back of his chair. He pulled out the leather bound journal that belonged to their father and started leafing through the pages till he found what he was looking for. Bingo. Dean thought.
"Here, check it out." Dean said, turning the book to face his brother and pointing to the entry on the top of the page which read "D. Elkins." Under which read a phone number.
Sam took the book and looked at the entry with a frown.
"You think it's the same Elkins?" He asked looking back up at Dean.
"It's a Colorado area code." Dean informed him.
The brothers looked at each other for a moment, then began to pack their things. Dean asked for the check and just as simply as that, with out words, they made the decision to head out to Colorado.
Colorado was just one state to the southwest so it would only take them a few hours to reach Elkin's cabin. Sam decided that a nap was in order about an hour into the journey so Dean was left to his own thoughts with just some music and the mostly deserted highway to keep him company.
He wasn't thinking about much until one song ended and another started. The song just happened to be "Mustang Sally." which sent his thoughts directly to Rachel.
Had it been just 5 weeks ago he would have fished his cell phone out of his pocket, dialed her number, waited for her to answer and just simply held the phone to the speaker so that she could hear the song that Dean teased her with all the time.
She would know it was him and after he was done letting her listen to the chorus of "Mustang Sally...gotta slow your Mustang down..." he would have hung up.
She most likely would have called him later that night to tell him off for interrupting her with such a stupid phone call when she was in the middle of pretending to be a FBI agent to get a lab report.
But he couldn't do that now. The last time they had met they had almost wound up making love. Almost.
She had left just before he could start taking her clothes off as if his touch was painful to her. He knew that it wasn't. He knew that she wanted him as bad as he wanted her but her self-imposed living death as punishment for failing to save her sister from drowning kept her from allowing herself what she wanted.
As a result, she called him less and tried to keep a wide berth to any area that Sam and Dean were in to avoid an accidental meet up. To say it plainly: she was avoiding him.
And Dean was ok with that...She was just a chick. What did he care?
Then why are you always thinking of her? He asked himself.
He wanted to believe it was because she was still a conquest he needed to complete. He'd never had a problem getting any girl he wanted for the most part so of course he would think about the one that kept getting away. Right?
Right. That was it. He just thought about her alot because he was yet to get her. No big deal.
Even as he deduced this all in his head, a part of him knew he was bullshitting himself. At least to some extent. He was sure that his explanation was part of it but then why did he think about her laugh more then the way her jeans hugged the curves of her hips? Why did he think about the color of her eyes more then how hot she looked in a tight sweater? Why did he think about just running his fingers through her long black hair more then tugging on it as he kissed her roughly?
Not wanting to think about it anymore he turned off the radio and focused on Sam's deep breathing and occasional light snore. He would not admit it at the time, but deep down he knew that he had turned off the radio more because it made him miss her more then he cared to admit.
Night had fallen by the time they pulled up to the snow covered cabin that Daniel Elkins had died in. Police tape covered the door frame, but Sam pulled it off before Dean jimmied his lock pick into the key hole.
The door swung open. The Winchester brothers turned on their flashlights and headed inside.
The cabin was rustic with dark wood and natural prints every where. It would have been a nice place had it not been for the over turned furniture, broken lamps and various other debris strewn every where.
"The place is a mess." Sam said, noticing something by the door and bending to investigate. Dean Headed further in and turned into the first door way he came to.
Looked like the remnants of was could have been a very nice den at one point. He swung his flashlight to the left and the right, revealing more broken furniture.
"Looks like the maid didn't come today." He said to himself.
There was a table laden with papers immediately on his right. He noticed a leather bound book that looked alot like his fathers journal. He reached for it as Sam spoke from the foyer.
"Hey, there's salt over here. Right inside the door."
Dean heard what his brother had said but his thoughts were becoming more engrossed in what he had just found.
"You mean like protection-against-demon salt, or, uh, 'oops, I spilled the popcorn' salt?" Dean asked his brother.
"It's clearly a ring. You think this guy Elkins was a player?" Sam asked.
Dean flipped a few pages into the book and was shocked at what he'd found.
"Definitely." He answered.
Sam came over and peered over Dean's shoulder to see the book. Dean flipped a few more pages and revealed things like the instruction for a Devil's Trap, a diagram of where to place the items of a certain kind of Gris-Gris bag and 4 entire pages of hand written exorcism rites.
"That looks a hell of a lot like Dad's." Sam said.
"Except this dates back to the 60's." Dean said.
They skimmed through a few more pages. But were startled by a loud "HEY!" that came from the foyer.
Sam and Dean looked down the hall toward the sound and where met with a flashlight shining into their eyes, which they both squinted against.
The bearer of the flashlight also held a gun that was pointed right at them. Both the brothers threw up their hands.
"Who are you? What are you doing here?" The voice asked angrily.
The sound was very familiar to Dean. He knew that voice.
"Please. Don't shoot." Sam said.
"Sam?" The voice said.
Shocked into silence, neither Sam nor Dean said a word as the person with the gun lowered it and reached for the light switch on the wall. They flicked it up and the track lighting along the walls lit up the hall way.
Dean's heart beat a little quicker at the sight the light revealed. Standing there in a brown leather jacket, jeans and a black sweater was Rachel staring at them in shock.
"Rachel?" Sam asked.
She caught Dean's eye and held it for a moment. He could almost see her breath being held at the sight of him. Probably the last person she wanted to see was standing right in front of her.
Dean couldn't help but think about the last time he'd looked into those eyes. It was just before he had kissed her hard and pinned her body against a wall with his own while she dug her nails into his shoulder.
He noticed the little head shake she gave just before taking her eyes from him and the slight stumble in her words when she spoke. Had she been thinking about the same thing just now?
"Wh-what the Hell are you guys doing here?" She asked.
"We found Elkin's obit and story." Dean explained. "We think he may have known our dad so we came to check it out."
She moved closed the distance between them and had a slight frown on her face as she processed the information.
"Your dad? You think they knew each other?" She asked.
"Yeah, maybe. What are you doing here, Rach?" Sam asked.
She didn't answer his question. She was looking at the floor with her brow furrowed as if trying to remember something.
"No. It can't be. I would have known that." She said.
Sam and Dean looked at one another, puzzled.
"What are you talking about?" Dean asked her.
"I'm saying that I don't think he knew your dad. I never heard him mention him. Not once. He talked about a lot of hunters but your father was definitely NOT one of them. I'm sure of it." She said.
"Wait...You knew Elkins?" Sam asked.
She straightened her shoulders a bit and looked Sam directly in the eye. As if proud of the answer to his question.
"You can say that." She said.
"So that's why your here? Because you knew Daniel Elkins?" Dean asked.
"I've been here for the last few days trying to get in here. The police just finished with the place and they wouldn't let me in until they were done." She said.
Now it was Dean's turn to frown.
"So why didn't you just break in like on any other hunt? Why wait for the police to give you the OK?"
"Because I had to. I couldn't do things like I would usually do them here. I'll take that by the way." She said. Indicating the journal that Dean held in his hand. "That rightfully belongs to me now. I was hoping the police wouldn't touch it."
Dean handed it to her, still as confused as ever. She took it gently, as if she cherished it.
"What do you mean it belongs to you now?" Sam asked.
Rachel slipped the journal into her pocket and looked at the taller Winchester.
"I mean that it get's passed on to me now as the only hunter left in his family." Rachel explained. "Daniel Elkins was my Grandfather."