Lover's Lane
(Kimball, Tennessee. One week ago.)
The rain pelted heavily on the roof of the two year old Dodge Ram. It swirled and scattered as it dropped from the sky. It hadn't let up for several hours, and it showed little sign of stopping. Night had long since draped itself over these sullen woods, the trees stood tall, but they offered little shelter to the truck. Not that this bothered the two occupants. Charlie Stanton was a tall, handsome man. He spent most of his time chatting up the local girls, and with his shoulder length hair this never proved hard. His broad shoulders and powerful legs wooed all that looked at him, and tonight was not that different. He was wearing a light blue shirt, undone at the top two buttons to show his chiselled chest, and cargo shorts that presented his muscular legs, when he had met young Stacey at a small bar outside town. He noticed her the moment she walked in the bar. She was young, possibly a college student, but he didn't care. Her body curved at the hips with elegant strokes, supported by perfectly sculpted breasts. Her eye were bright blue, they shone with a radiating beauty. Her hair was a soft red, and it framed her face refining its angelic appearance. Of course, he didn't really care for her face, he hadn't taken his eyes of her body while he talked to her, scanning it for any blemishes, but found none. It was perfection. Her jeans hugged tight against her ass, and her top hugged against those breasts even tighter. It wasn't long before they had kissed; his dry lips were a large contrast to the pleasing feel of hers. He had taken her out in his car, and driven her to Lover's Lane. This little lane was a massive make out spot for teens and adults alike, famous for the stunning view through the trees. They had parked up, and immediately began kissing, his hand reaching around her clothes. Outside, the air had gotten cold; the rain began to slowly freeze on the car. At the entrance to the lane a tall, slim figure stood, and in his right hand, a butchers knife. As he approached the truck, Charlie noticed how cold it had become. He reached into the back seat to get the blanket, he was used to this. However, he was not used to what he saw next. Out his back window he saw it, and the blink of his eyes it was gone again. He dismissed it as the alcohol, and turned back to Stacey. Suddenly he saw the figure again, in the passenger window. He shifted immediately, Stacey's head turned and she screamed loudly. Charlie reached for the keys and turned the ignition. It groaned and whined before cutting out. Charlie cursed it, and as he did his door opened.
(Jasper, Tennessee. Present day.)
"Dean! Dean! Wake up man" Sam's voice called out, frustrated at his brother's sheer laziness. It was almost midday and Sam had been awake for several hours already. He had dressed in a grey shirt that he filled easily, dark blue jeans, and a brown coat. He had then been down the store and grabbed the local papers. He had called by the cafe and gotten Dean a bacon sandwich. It wasn't much, but Sam figured that they'd soon be eating lunch once he had woken up Dean. He had eaten himself, having a simple breakfast, and some black coffee. It had been a time since he felt like eating, but he forced himself for Dean. It had been nearly 10 months since the apocalypse, and 6 months since he had dragged Dean away from his new life. He didn't want it to happen, but the situation called for it. He shook this from his mind; it wasn't relevant for the now. They had come out here after hearing about a young man who was skinned outside his truck. It was the fourteenth skinning in the last 30 years, and the third in the last year. Each time it had been on Lover's Lane, a small make out point just outside the town of Kimball. Each time it had been a man, and each time the girl had been spared. Sam had noticed the pattern, and had wanted to check it out. He saw it as a distraction from the oncoming storm. It didn't take much to convince Dean to drive out here, and they were now about three and a half miles away. "Dean, wake up man" He shouted it this time, frustration kicking in fully.
"Go back to sleep Sammy" Dean's voice was muffled by his pillow. He hadn't slept well recently, Sam knew this. Dean had been turning and tossing in his sleep, dreams or nightmares, Sam did not know, and Dean had not told him. Dean rolled onto his front, his hair misshapen, and clothes misaligned, he had slept in his black shirt and blue jeans, his amulet hung loose on his neck. He slowly propped himself up, sniffing the air. "Bacon?" His voice was more awake and definitely clearer now. "Give me" He reached his hands out towards the food bag on his bedside table; he snatched it up quickly, unwrapping the foil. He was now acting as if he had been awake for ages, body fully alert, and in full working mood. He took a huge bite of his sandwich, savouring the taste. "Aw I love you Sammy" Dean finished his sandwich in another bite. Sam looked at him in wonder and disgust; his brother had always amazed him with his living habits.
"Love you too Dean, you seem happy, ready to hit the road?" Sam asked his brother, knowing the response would be yes.
"Sure, Sammy. I'll just sort myself out. Any more info on what might be causing this?" Dean was already half way across the room when he finished. It was a standard motel room. Cheap, nasty and just how Dean liked it. It had two beds, Sam's was neatly made and Dean's was a scattered mess. It was familiar, and he loved it. His mind went back to his short time living with Lisa, and her son Ben. He had lived there as a promise to Sam, before he had taken the highway to hell. He pushed the thoughts back in his mind, and thought about the hunt. Sam had asked him if he wanted to hunt down a possible ghost, and Dean had jumped at the chance, their current hunts had hit a cold spot. It felt good to be chasing after something again, made him feel alive. He was sorting out his hair in the mirror when Sam replied to him.
Sam watched his brother move into the bathroom and clean his teeth, he recently felt himself watching Dean more than before. Maybe the events at Stull Cemetery had strengthened their bond. As Dean started to fix his hair, Sam answered his question. "Yes, I looked it up last night. I followed the stories back to the first incident; the details are scarce but I put some sources together and it seems that the victim was a man named Tom. He was skinned by a man called Davis Mill. Davis had followed Tom on a date with his wife. When they stopped at Lover's Lane Davis stabbed his wife and dragged Tom out into the road, and skinned him with a butcher's knife. He later handed himself in, and the police found Tom dead, but Mrs. Milton had survived. This Davis guy could be our spirit." By the time he had stopped talking Dean had fixed his clothing. He was now sitting on his unmade bed looking at the foil for his sandwich.
"Sounds like a plan Sam. But first, let's get some lunch." With this he leapt to his feet and made for the door. Sam grabbed the Impala keys, his coat and the papers, and then followed obediently. He threw the keys to Dean, who opened the boot and Sam chucked in his coat. It was good weather, the sun was out, and the sky was a clear blue. The odd wisps of white would be seen, vapour trails from passing planes. It was hot; the sun's rays bore down upon the brothers, like how a magnifying glass bears down upon an ant. They got in the Impala, and wound down the windows immediately. Inside it was undeniably like an oven, but no matter how hot it was they loved her anyway. Perhaps Dean loved her a bit too much. Dean started the engine, and drove off down the street. He pulled up on the corner at a quaint little cafe. It was the same cafe Sam had eaten in this morning, and the same cafe Dean had his sandwich from. He turned off the engine, and sat there quietly.
"Dean, are you ok?" Sam asked with a worried tone. Dean rarely hesitated about food.
"Yeah Sammy, just rough night that's all" Dean's voice did not convince Sam. They got out the car, and walked across the street. Dean was the first to the door, and walked in standing straight, with his shoulders posed in a manly way. Sam always laughed at this, Dean had always acted butch, and sometimes it just made him look a little gay. They walked up to the counter, read the menu board, and took seats in the corner by the window. A short waitress came over, she was mid 40's nothing special to look at, and therefore had nothing to worry about Dean for. She was wearing a green apron, and carried a black pot of coffee. She offered to fills the boys cups, which they happily accepted. She next asked if they wanted food, Sam asked for a chicken salad, and Dean asked for a double cheeseburger with extra cheese. They started to discuss their plan of attack for Kimball. "So Sammy, what's the deal?"
"I don't know Dean, we should find out about the victims first. See if anything links them, then we need to talk to any survivors, get a description, see if this is really Davis were tackling, or something else." Sam stared into his coffee, thinking of anything else that could be done. "Also, we can check out the bar, see if anyone knows any local legends." Content that this was all they could do for now he drank deeply from his coffee. He looked over at Dean, who was reading the paper, then out the window.
"Hell, I like the sound of that bar Sammy, I'm in" Dean grinned widely. He was hungry, but otherwise content with things. He had his brother back, and he had his old life back. Happy days, he thought. The waitress came over, sporting their plates of food. Dean looked up, his eyes ravaging the cheeseburger. It was placed in front of him, and without a word of thanks, he tore off a quarter of its size, and grinned again. Sam was again amazed and disgusted at his brothers eating habits. Sam looked at his chicken salad, and took a fork full of salad, stuffing it into his mouth. It was dry, but at least it wasn't artery clogging.
"Doesn't that taste disgusting?" Sam said while distancing himself from the poison in Dean's hand. He could smell it and he was repulsed.
"Nope, it's pure beauty in between this bread Sam" Dean was still grinning, three bites later and his burger was gone entirely. Sam had barely touched his food; instead he had opted to read the papers he had brought earlier that morning. With Dean finished Sam put his paper down, shovelled some more food into his mouth, and then they asked for the bill. Dean paid for this with a credit card they had scammed off a bank, the name was Tony Rudd. Sam knew this a nod towards Tony Iommi and Phil Rudd, two metal legends. Dean had always loved his music, and usually went by alias that pointed to some band or another.
"Right, you ready Dean?" Sam queried after draining his coffee and folding the paper.
"Sure Sammy, let's get moving" Dean was moving out of his seat, when he put down his personal coffee cup, grimacing at its rancid taste. Just once he wished they could have a nice cup of coffee, and not some undrinkable swill. "Which direction we heading in Sam?"
"South onto Main Street, then about 3 miles down we should get into Kimball." Sam recited his route perfectly, having looked at it on the map in this morning. It was a nice town Kimball, 4 minutes away from the seat of Jasper, East Tennessee. They climbed back onto the Impala, and Dean started her up. He patter her dashboard, telling her how beautiful she was, and what a good girl she's been. Sam looked at him with mirth. Dean cleared his throat, and started down the street. The road into Kimball was beautiful, trees on both sides of the road, Kimball itself was rather forested. Dean had turned on some Grand Funk Railroad, Sam was getting used to this music, and in fact he was starting to enjoy it. He had found himself humming the tune of We're an American Band quietly. Dean was just entering into Kimball when the song ended, and Stop lookin' back came on. Sam stopped humming, and looked around. Their first stop would be the motel, setting up a base inside the town. Dean pulled into Super 8, just the other side of Kimball. They rented out a room again under the name of Tony Rudd. They entered their new room; it was colourful to say the least. Dean exclaimed that it was hippy central and Sam laughed, it was true he thought. The patchwork sheets on the beds were bright happy colours, the curtains were striped beige. It was quite roomy, with a desk opposite the beds, and a table at the end of the room. The furniture was varnished oak wood, and very tasteful Sam conceded. If it hadn't been for the tie dye appearance of the covers it would have been a lovely room. Dean collapsed on the bed on nearest the door; he always preferred the bed on the right hand side of a room. Sam sat down neatly at the table in the distance, and pulled out his paper. They both sat there for twenty minutes, getting used to the room. They talked about what was the first step, and agreed that seeing the bodies would let them get a good idea of what they were looking for. After they had both rested, and adjusted to their new piece of paradise, they -got up and grabbed their clothes out of the Impala. Dean had suggested state police as a disguise, but Sam insisted that they needed a higher level of authority, Homeland Security. They didn't argue over this point, instead they opted to play rock paper scissors. Sam won with rock beating scissors; he always could predict Dean's choice by the way Dean acted. They dressed in their homeland security uniforms; Dean had 'liberated' these from a couple of officers a few years ago. Sam had created their Ids, his alias was Robert Singer; Dean's was Jerry Wanek, it originally made him laugh. He had thought that Sam was being dirty minded, and meant believed that he had wanted to make it Wanke. Sam always denied this, but he had recently agreed calling Dean that wouldn't be too far of a stretch.
Sheriff Matthews was at his desk reviewing the recent case of Mr. Stanton. The recent death of this young man had baffled him; with no leads they had determined that it could have been an animal attack. Except something just didn't add up; Miss Moore's statement says that she saw a man in tattered clothing attack Charlie. He had put her statement down as non trustworthy, and downright insane. The attacker was not just tattered, and dirty. She said he had appeared and disappeared out of thin air. His skin was apparently bloody, and torn. This obviously was a crazed delusion, but somehow it gave him a chill down his neck. His trail of thought was interrupted by two men entering his station. They were dressed as homeland security; one was fairly tall fellow, about six foot two if he had to guess, he was very broad shouldered and butch. His hair was a dusty brown, and his face made him look like he was in his thirties. The second man was taller, possibly six foot five, or taller. He was just as broad as the smaller man, but his hair was longer. He appeared smarter than his friend, much neater in appearance. Matthews got up from his desk, and exited his small office. "Good day to you gentlemen, my name is Sheriff Matthews. How may I help you?" his voice was inviting and warm; he needed something to lift his spirits.
"Hi my names Jerry Wanek, this here's my partner Robert Singer. We're from homeland security; we came here to investigate some recent deaths. Namely the several skinned victims over the past year. How is that investigation going?" Dean spoke with authority. Sam and Dean flashed their badges to the Sheriff, who nodded and beckoned them into his office. Sheriff nodded again at two seats in front of his desk, Dean sat down and Sam closed the door before taking the next seat over. The Sheriff sat behind the desk, and laced his fingers together before speaking.
"The most recent death of Charlie Stanton occurred about a week ago. He was found on Lover's Lane with his skin removed. An autopsy showed that this was indeed his cause of death, and that it appeared a knife was used to remove the flesh." The Sheriff talked as if he was a recording, automated and dull. Dean looked intently at him before leaning forward. Sam looked at Dean then to the Sheriff.
"You don't sound too convinced Sheriff" Deans voice was accusing, but fair; there was a hint of disbelief in the Sheriff's report.
"I'm not, there hasn't much to support this theory, and I believe that it was an animal attack." The Sheriff felt proud of his conclusion, and his voice was stronger, fuller than before. Now it was Sam's turn to talk, his voice was much softer and understanding of the Sheriff's position.
"I thought you said the autopsy showed that a knife was used to remove this man's skin. Surely no animal could have that level of precision. Were there any witnesses? What about this girl, a Miss Moore? What did she see?" Sam had always been good at drawing out information; his knack for asking the right questions was a huge help.
"Well, that's the thing; Miss Moore's statement is the babblings of a madman." The Sheriff's voice had deflated to the same dull drone as before.
"Even a madman can tell the truth Sheriff. What did she say?" Sam's voice was sterner. He didn't like it when people dodged his questions; he found it rude.
"She claims she saw a ghost. She says a man appeared out of thin air and skinned Charlie alive. Not only that but she claims that he disappeared after. It's the delusions of a scared girl." The Sheriff was now unimpressed with Sam and Dean's attitude towards his theory. Sam looked at Dean, and Dean shot a look at Sam. They nodded, and Dean turned back to the Sheriff.
"I think we need to talk to Miss Moore. You may be right and this could be an animal attack, but we'd just like to be sure. Additionally, can we have the addresses for Mrs. Gaiman, and Mrs. Richards?" Dean asked with a friendly smile on his face.
"Sure I'll get one of the officers to write them down for you boys." The Sheriff jumped at a chance to get rid of them. He picked up his phone, dialled an extension and spoke to a lady called Alison. He put down the phone a short while later and spoke to the boys again. "If you just go outside my officer Alison will provide you with all that you need. Sam and Dean got up simultaneously and straighten their shirts ad trousers. Sam reached the door first opening it for Dean. He thanked the Sheriff, who waved him off, and shut the door behind him. Dean was already talking to Alison, and took a piece of paper off her. Somehow Sam doubted that it was the addresses. Alison was mid 20's and very attractive. Her uniform didn't do her justice; her eyes were shining bright, so much so they could light a fire in your heart. Her blonde hair was neatly kept and in a ponytail, this allowed you to see how neat her face was kept. She had fair soft skin, with a few freckles on her nose. Her lips were solid pink, and shone with wetness. How much Sam would give to have kissed her, but unfortunately Dean had once again got to her first. Her body was not entirely visible due to her uniform, but Sam was sure it would be as stunning as the rest of her. She then gave Dean a print off, confirming Sam's suspicions. He sighed and shook his head with a smile, good old Dean he thought. They walked out the station and Dean turned to Sam with Alison's number on show.
"You're such a whore Dean" He chuckled lightly.
"Hey, least I get laid Sammy, something you should do more often." Dean had a serious tone on, but burst out laughing when Sam looked at him. "Anyway, back to business, let's check out this Stacey chick first" They soon reached the Impala, and we're just getting in when Alison caught up with them. She had run out the station after them, she grabbed Dean's collar and pulled him into embrace. Sam's eyes widened in surprise; sure Dean was good with women, but this was unusual. She stopped kissing him, and left Dean reeling. He turned winked at Sam and got in the car. Sam sat down next to him, still looking at Dean.
"What? You never saw me kiss a girl before." Dean said sarcastically.
"It's not that Dean, she just met you." Dean thought Sam sounded almost as bad as mom used to. He started the car and started off down the road to where Stacey lived. On the way Dean thought about Alison and how passionate she would be in bed. Sam had to shake him to get him out the trance, and back into the real road. Dean coughed slightly, and looking embarrassed he wiped his lip of drool. They were outside Stacy's home. It was a quaint little house; it was painted brown on the outside. The porch was brown too, and the support beams were a faded white. The door, which had a cat flap in it, was a fresher white than the surrounding porch. It didn't really match the decor, which suggested it was going renovation recently. They rang the door bell and it sounded loudly around them, and startled Dean. A man eventually opened the door; he was about the same height as Dean. His face was unshaven and he reeked of alcohol. The smell didn't come from just him, but the halls and furniture behind him. He was in a clean blue shirt, and was wearing black jeans. Sam thought he must have had one hell of a night. Eventually the man slurred out a sentence.
"Wha' you want offisars?" He spoke unclearly. Dean got the scent of the man's breath and wafted his hand in front of his face to feign disgust.
"Sir, does a Miss Stacey Moore live here?" Sam asked politely. This man smelled worse than some of Dean's food options, and that was saying something. In the background a young lady popped her head around the corner of the door. "Miss Moore?" Sam directed his question at her. She had a sullen look on her face. Her body seemed weak, she obviously hadn't been eating - either that or something bad was going on here. "We would like to ask a few questions regarding your statement last week."
"I already talked to the police." Her voice quivered, she was about to cry; both Sam and Dean could tell.
"We know Miss, but we're with homeland security." Dean spoke with more authority than Sam; he didn't want to give a false impression. The girl looked at the man, who was swinging on his feet; any drunker he may have fell over. The girl looked back at Sam with pleading eyes. Dean picked up on this and spoke again, this time with a softer tone. "We're sorry, but we have to. If you would like to come with us we could talk in the car?"
"No, here will do fine. I just don't like to dwell on it." She turned back to the man and kissed his cheek. "I'll be done soon baby, go back to bed and rest."
"A'rite hun" He slurred, and stumbled up the stairs carefully. Stacey beckoned the boys on through to her lounge. Sam looked through to the kitchen; empty bottles littered the work tops. He moved on into the lounge, and took a seat with his back to the window. Dean was standing by the mantelpiece examining the couple's photos. He asked without turning around.
"So, why don't you tell us what happened Miss Moore?" His voice was calm; it needed to be in a situation like this. Sam looked over to Stacey while removing a notepad from his jacket. Stacey wiped her tears on her arm, and gathered her strength to speak.
"I met Charlie in a bar outside of town. Jim and I had been fighting and I wanted to escape, that's when I saw him. He was charming and we ended up going off in his truck. We turned into Lover's Lane, but that is when I saw HIM." Stacey stopped for a breather; she may have started again if not for Dean's quick response.
"Saw who Miss Moore?" Sam looked over; Dean was now facing Stacey giving her his full attention.
"Charlie's killer, I saw him standing there, but within a blink of an eye he was gone. We parked halfway down the path, and started to cuddle. I had put down what I saw as my imagination, but when Charlie went to get a blanket from the back seat. When he turned back we saw the man through the passenger window. Charlie jumped into the driving seat and tried to start the engine, but it was so cold it wouldn't turn over" Sam and Dean looked at each other with a mutual understanding; this definitely sounded like a spirit. "The figure walked around the front of the car, Charlie locked the doors but..." So thick were her tears she was now choking on them.
"Can you tell us what the man looked like?" Sam had asked the question this time, sympathy flooded into his eyes as Stacey looked at him with simple fear.
"He was a tall man. He barely filled the torn clothes and his face..." She winced at the thought. "...It was like it wasn't really there, or at least the skin wasn't." Stacey looked up; she was expecting to have her theory shot down as the Sheriff had. Instead she was greeted by Sam's sympathy, and it filled her with warmth, but it was short lived. Dean had a much sterner look. He was used to acting unimpressed when he heard these stories; the less people that new these things existed the better. An apple pie life Sam had once called it.
"Miss Moore, thank you for your time, I think we have heard everything we needed to." Dean's voice was as cold as his expression. Stacey deflated. She was hoping someone would believe her. Sam stood up, and patted her on the back. Dean walked by and gave her a short smile. "The statement you gave us may have been the creation of an over active imagination, and a bad situation. It is more likely that there is a human killer on the loose, or that Charlie was killed in a freak animal attack. I would not dwell on the concepts of ghosts anymore than you have too." Sam and Dean headed for the door. Sam was seething at time as they did. When they had left the premises and gotten back to the car Sam started to talk.
"Don't you think you could have been a little less harsh Dean, think about what that poor girl had been through!" Sam was pissed with Dean, even though he knew why Dean had acted like he did. Dean looked down at the steering wheel, then out the wind screen.
"I am thinking about her Sam. How would you like it if you were in her state, and I told you that spirits existed, and so do demons, werewolves and god knows what else! She doesn't need that Sammy... None of us do." Dean continued to look out the windscreen. He refused to make contact with Sam in case Sam noticed he was on the verge of tears. "You know I understand why you wanted to get away from this as a kid, I really do. So why make someone else suffer?" With that he started the engine, and drove off.
"I know Dean, it's just she didn't need the second degree asshole either." Sam was looking at Dean, who was heading in the wrong direction for the next house. "Dean, where we going? Mrs Richards is in the other direction."
"Back to the motel, I think I know who we could be dealing with here." Sam's laughed with an astonished tone. It wasn't normal for Dean to come up with the solution, but since Sam had come back from hell nothing had been truly normal.
"Then pray do tell me" Sam said, they were a good 4 minutes away from Super 8; enough time Sam thought to here the wise masters opinion.
"I'm not entirely sure, but I know it's not Davis. What was the name of the first victim?" Dean looked across at Sam; he had controlled the tears and was back in work mode. Sam rustled some papers in the glove compartment and pulled out some printed news readings. One of them was dated 1981; the year of the first murder. The headline read 'Tragedy for Tom on Lover's Lane'. The article was quite short for such big news; instead the county fair had taken the front page with 'Record breaking Carrot.' Sam scanned the page for the victim's surname. Booth, there it was.
"Tom Booth, why do you think it could have been him?" Sam was intrigued to know Dean's logic.
"Think about it Sam. Stacey says the spirits face was bare, as if it had no skin. Also, Charlie was just like Tom, and getting with someone else's girl. It just fits the bill." Dean liked it when he got to outsmart Sam; it didn't happen as much as it should.
"What about motivation Dean?" Sam thought he had pinned Dean's train of thought with that. He was wrong. Dean just turned to him and said "That's why I need you to look something up for me Sammy." He then winked and shifted in his seat. They pulled into the motel shortly after and quickly entered into their room. Sam pulled his laptop out and turned it on. A page popped up saying 'Asian girl goes wild, scroll down for more!' Sam quickly exited the page and threw Dean a look of contempt. Dean shrugged at him with a grin.
"I need you to look up the female witnesses, and tell me how many of them were previously engaged at the time of the murder." He looked at Sam, who was still staring at him with pure loathing. Dean smiled again, and said "Please?"
Sam did as he was told, and looked at the old reports. They all had various headings like 'Freak animal attack on Lover's Lane' or 'Sick murderer on the loose'. Dean's favourite had been 'You better not go in the woods today...' he thought it was more imaginative than the rest. Sam searched for the witness names, all bout 4 had indeed been a married woman. Sam was amazed he hadn't noticed it, but tried to swing another hit at Dean's theory. "What about those 4 women then Dean? They don't fit into your grand pattern."
"Sure they do Sam, look at the names again; I bet Stacey is one of them." Sam didn't need to check them; he knew she was one of the four. "And I doubt it would be too much to say that the other 3 were likewise entwined in a relationship." Sam already had his next question ready. Dean was now lying on his bed eating the pillow sweets.
"So why does this Tom fellow attack them, your cheating lovers theory fits Davis' M.O more than anything else."
"Maybe Tom was more like Charlie than just how they operated. What if Mrs Milton never told old Tommy boy that she was married? Like how Stacey didn't mention her boyfriend to Charlie. What if Tom feels like he was wronged in all this? He then seeks revenge on the women who do what Mrs Milton did to him. Killing the men and therefore exposing their dirty deeds." Dean was talking with a mouth full of peppermint chocolates. Sam didn't care, Dean had noticed the pattern before him, and he wasn't upset about it.
"That's a lot of if's Dean, but it makes sense. So you want to go burn some bones?" Sam was smiling and nodded his head backwards towards the door. Dean looked up with surprise; surely Sam had noticed that Tom had been cremated? Sam picked up on this look of surprise, and turned back to the paper. Sure enough at the bottom of the report it said 'Tom's body is due for cremation in the fore coming week.' He let out a deflated sigh; he had just got on board with Dean's theory as well.
"I think you mean let's go burn some road Sammy. If Tom here was skinned alive, I doubt that everything was cleaned up." Dean was making hand gestures to simulate torching a grave. Sam found it comical. Dean had really thought this out. It somewhat soothed Sam's worries that he had uprooted his brother when he had taken him from Lisa. "Right let's get too it, you got the time Dean?"
Dean flicked his wristwatch over and read its face "coming up to 3 Sammy." Dean said it with surprise, was it that late already? Then like a speeding bullet it hit him, they had a late start. Well, he had a late start, and with lunch and everything else the time wasn't that shocking. Sam had obviously had the same trail of thoughts as he had been in a dazed expression when Dean looked back up. "So where you wanna eat? I'm bloody starving"
"You hungry now? God Dean where to you put it all. Anyway, let's head back to that cafe in Jasper, I liked their coffee" He was in disbelief that his brother hadn't died yet, through natural causes he added to himself. Dean's face had cringed at the thought of that crap they called coffee, but if Sam liked it he would give it another try. Better than no food he was thinking. He stood up, wiped the crumbles off his shirt, and grabbed the keys.
"Let's roll then" Cheerfully he walked out the door. He was in a hurry to get some more grub.
Sam took his time packing away the laptop after making sure he knew the way to Lover's Lane. He grabbed the chocolate off his pillow, and walked out the door. He could hear Ac/Dc already, and sighed. The driver's window was open, and Sam had a clear shot at Dean. He whipped the chocolate swiftly at Dean's forehead, and caught his nose. Dean swore loudly mid lyric. He turned to Sam and raised a middle finger at him. Then he proceeded to eat the chocolate. Sam jumped in the car and skipped past Dog Eat Dog, and onto Let There Be Rock. Dean punched Sam in the arm. "Don't touch the Ac/Dc" and laughed.
"You know I hate that song Dean"
"Exactly" Dean and Sam laughed together for a little, and they listened to the stereo up the cafe. On the way Sam kept his eye out for Lover's Lane, and anything that may have been unusual. As they went by Sam heard a distant scream.
"Dean turn right now! Someone's in trouble!" Sam was shouting over the music. Dean drifted into the next turning and past an old sign that said 'Lover's Lane' two thirds down the lane Sam could see a cloaked man ripping the door off a small Toyota. "Look Dean, you think that's Tom" But Dean was ahead of him, he had already grabbed the rock salted shells and was loading his shotgun. He gave Sam a knowing look, and Sam jumped out and opened the boot. He looked under the carpet and found the salt. He kept rummaging for the gasoline. He found it and gave it a little shake; it had enough he thought, or at least, he hoped. Dean had already shot at the figure, which had vanished. Definitely a spirit then Sam thought. Dean was now yelling for the couple to drive, which they didn't take long to oblige too. The air was getting colder, and Sam was looking for a spot that he recognised from the paper report. He was about half way down the lane when something grabbed him from behind; Dean shot another round his way. Obviously the ghost was a bit annoyed, and was looking for a kill. Sam was about to start spreading out the gasoline when Dean got knocked over while reloading. The gun skidded under a nearby fence. Sam rushed to grab it dropping the salt as he did. He trailed the gasoline as he moved; he had recognised a break in the fence. Someone should have fixed that by now he thought, and then he thanked God they hadn't done so. He put down the can and reached for the gun. It was at the tips of his fingers when he heard a gasp of pain. He turned, the ghost had Dean. Of course it had Dean. Dean was a whore Sam thought as his fingers clasped on the guns stock. He pulled it towards him, and grabbed at the rounds littered around him. He loaded in two and shot at the spirit. It disappeared, leaving Dean on the ground with a badly cut cheek. Sam reloaded another shot and chucked it back to Dean. He grabbed the gasoline and started spreading it a bit wider; he made sure to cover everything he could, even the fence. He ran back to the salt and started tracing the gasoline. Dean had already grabbed a lighter and was trying to light it. There was a scream from down the lane again. Shit! Sam thought, the spirit must have caught up with the other couple before they got away. Dean chucked the lighter down and sprinted back down the lane towards the Impala and the little Toyota. The spirit had opened the car and was in the same position he had been with Dean when he started to burn. It started with the knife, and quickly moved up his arm. After less than ten seconds it engulfed Tom's body, and he vanished. Sam and Dean were panting; they were a little out of shape to be running like this. The couple were now cuddling on the ground, looking up and the brothers with fear.
Thirty minutes later the boys were in the cafe in Jasper eating. Dean had a massive steak, and an extra side of onion rings. Sam was not looking forward to smelling that later. Sam was eating stuffed peppers, and looking at his laptop. He had managed to hack the Wi-Fi and was looking for the next hunt, no rest for the wicked he thought. They had calmed down the couple back on Lover's Lane; it didn't take much to convince them they were seeing things, and that it was an animal attack. Sam thought that would confirm it for the Sheriff and shut down the investigations. It was a good hunt, and Dean had a nice souvenir from it. With that thought he picked up his fork, and ate his dinner.