"Dean, Dean come on man, focus here." Sam waved his hand in front of his brother's glazed eyes. "Dean I need you man, I can't do this one on my own. Dude" Sam said finally losing his patience and smacking Dean upside the head.
As Dean felt the sudden flare of pain in his head, he finally managed to focus on his brother's angry features. "Sorry, Sammy I just kind of lost it for a second. What are we doing here again?" Dean asked trying his hardest to keep both his eyes and his thoughts focused on his brother.
Sam rolled his eyes yet again, this was the forth time he had explained to Dean what they were doing in the town of Somers Point. The weary hunters had arrived late last night, checked into the first motel they could find and had hit the sac. Dean had been fine yesterday, focused and excited about starting a new hunt. This morning though everything had changed. Dean was definitely losing it. Sam didn't know how much help he would actually be able to get from Dean this time.
Sam sighed grabbed his brother's arm and pulled him into the nearest storefront, once again explaining to his somewhat stunned brother what they were doing in this New Jersey seaside town. "I told you last night Dean, Jerry called me yesterday. Apparently a buddy of his moved from Kittanning, Pennsylvania to Somers's Point a couple of years ago. This guy Paul Michael opened an antiques shop here. He knew about the trouble Jerry had with that poltergeist, and feels something similar is destroying his shop. We're here to stop it. You remember right Dean destroying evil, the family business." At Dean's wandering gaze Sam whacked him up the back of the head again.
"Jesus, Sammy would you stop doing that. Alright, Alright, Dammit I can do this, I can do this." Dean actually closed his eyes and took a couple of deep breaths. Dean followed Sammy into the streaming sunshine once again. He stopped suddenly; he didn't know where to focus how to keep his wits about them. "Sammy man, please" Dean pleaded with his younger brother, nearly screaming in frustration.
Sam took a deep breath and looked at his brother. His eyes were glassy, his forehead shined with sweat and his eyes were moving so fast they actually looked blurry. "Fine, Dean just go on, I'll check out the shop and meet you at the hotel." Sam actually shouted this last part at his brother's retreating back.
Sam shook his head as he watched his brother move along the crowded sidewalk. As Sam watched he noted that the men Dean passed seemed to avoid coming close to the dangerous hunter. The woman though seemed to find reasons to brush against him. As his brother faded into the crowd Sam knew that he had done the right thing. There was no way Dean would have survived this job with out getting it out of his system. Sam shrugged and moved down the street looking for the address Jerry had given him.
Dean was overwhelmed; he just didn't know which way to turn first. It was like a buffet, blond, brunette, red head. Hair as dark as midnight, and every color in between, short hair, long hair, tall and thin, or short and curvy, every type of woman under the sun and each one seemed to be wearing a smaller bathing suit. Dean shuddered and finally stopped himself.
He should feel guilty about leaving Sam to do the leg work. He should but he didn't. Dean needed to find his center again. He needed to focus on the job at hand. Dean stopped walking, and closing his eyes, he turned once on the sidewalk, feeling the July sun seep into his bones.
He stopped, opened his eyes and bingo. Dean shot the girl he'd pinned with his green eyed gaze, a languid wink. He moved towards her slowly with his slightly bowlegged swagger, smile never faltering. He saw the moment she caved and he simply smiled more broadly, sending a silent prayer to Sam for letting him play hooky for a while.
Dean lay on the hotel bed, relaxed and at ease, hands behind his head. His headphones were in and he was listening to 'House of the Rising Sun' by the Animals. He let the music move through him. Yeah life definitely had its good points, he thought to himself.
Dean felt more than heard the slam of the hotel door, as Sam barreled into the room. Dean sat up and starred in surprise at his brother. Sam was standing head slightly down, jaw clenched. His sides were heaving and his breath was rasping in and out of his chest. Dean jumped up and quickly moved towards his brothers side "Dude, man you reek. What the hell's all over you?"
Sam simply shot Dean a terrifying look and stormed past him and into the bathroom. Dean listened as Sam quickly stripped and jumped under the shower spray. Dean moved towards the bathroom door and asked again. "Come on Sam spit it out what happened?"
Sam's soapy head shot out around the shower curtain and he snarled "I got slimed." Sam said as he pulled his head back inside the curtain and continued soaping his hair.
"Yeah, Sammy believe it or not I get that. But the question is what did you get slimed with?" Dean moved towards Sam's discarded clothes and lifted his shirt gingerly. Dean took a sniff trying to place the odor.
Dean heard the shower shut off and he quickly moved out of the bathroom to sit on the far bed. He had the feeling Sammy was better off with a little bit of breathing room right about now.
Sam wrapped a towel around himself and slammed out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. "I'll tell you Dean, I've never seen anything so vindictive and stupid." Sam said as he recalled how he had spent the past couple of hours.
Sam had watched as Dean faded into the crowd on the sidewalk. He had then turned and headed in the opposite direction looking for the building that housed the haunted antique store. He felt the heat seeping into his bones and he soaked it up gratefully. It seemed to Sam that he spent too much of his life in the darkness.
He was enjoying this time in the small Jersey town as much as Dean was. He just found that he was better able to control himself. Sam turned suddenly to watch a set of twins in matching leopard bikinis walk past him. As he turned he noted the matching tattoos on their lower backs, and groaned softly. Control, right Sam thought as he pulled his eyes away and resumed his journey. Sam nodded to himself, control, that's what Dean lacked.
Sam noted the shop number next to him; it matched the number that Jerry had given him. He noted the name of the shop and nodded to himself. He moved to enter the store only to notice that there was a closed sign and the blinds on the windows had been pulled shut.
Sam moved forward and tried knocking anyway. He was about to call Jerry, when a door to the left of the shop suddenly opened and a short round man exited. He moved slowly towards Sam, using a handkerchief to blot the sweat that beaded his forehead.
"Hi, you must be Sam, I'm Paul Michaels. This is my store; Jerry told me that you'd be here today." Paul reached out offering his hand to Sam. "Why don't you come on upstairs into the air and we'll talk. I really don't know how you're going to be able to help, but at this point I'm ready to try just about anything."
Sam readily followed the heavyset man up the stairs and into a small apartment that was situated over the shop. Sam felt the cooling air conditioning and felt a moment's gratitude, he really wasn't used to this kind of heat.
As Sam moved into the apartment he noticed that the room had been decorated with delicate furniture and antiques. Sam moved gingerly across the room trying to find a seat that would support his tall frame.
"Now, Mr. Michaels can you tell me why you think you need our help?" Sam asked taking a seat on an ornate victorian chair. Sam felt awkward to say the least, and was half afraid that his bulk would cause the chair to break.
Paul Michaels took a seat across from the tall young man and explained "about a month ago I took in a shipment of antiques and furniture from an estate auction in upstate Massachusetts. Everything was fine until I took delivery. It took about two weeks to unpack and price the items, I never noticed a problem." At this point Paul paused he still wasn't sure that this young man was going to believe him.
Sam focused on Paul nodding to him, urging him to continue with his story. Sam had learned long ago how to make a reluctant person, spill their story.
"Well, dear Mrs. Shaffer had stopped in and was interested in one of the antique teapots that I had. As she stood examining the pot, a jet of water flew out of the spout. It sprayed the poor woman right in the face. She was most upset and accused me of playing a nasty practical trick. To say that I was embarrassed is an understatement." Paul took a deep breath trying to calm himself. "After Mrs. Shaffer left I examined that pot, young man and I found no sign of any water, not a drop. Not in the pot and not on the floor."
"Unable to come up with any sort of explanation I worked to put it out of my mind. Until two days later another longtime customer came in with an interest in a chaise lounge. As Mr. Walker sat upon the lounge testing it out the seat actually" here Paul took a deep breath before continuing. "The seat managed to buck him off, really just knocked him onto the floor. The poor man was quite shaken. I apologized of course but again there was no explanation available. A couple of days, later I was hosting an auction for several important customers. I was offering them a chance to bid on the items I had recently acquired. Everything was going fine, no problems whatsoever until the auction began. At this point the place just went crazy."
"Crazy, what happened?" Sam asked finding himself drawn into the story.
"Water began spouting from the kitchenette that is in the back of the store. The food began flying in all directions. The lights were flickering and their seemed to be some sort of wailing noise. Well, needless to say my customers and employees took off in a hurry. As soon as everyone left the building everything calmed again. At that point I cleaned up what I could and locked the store up tight." Here Paul once again, mopped at his still sweating brow. "That's when I remembered Jerry's situation. I called and he suggested asking you and your brother to take a look."
Here Paul leaned his not inconsiderabl bulk forward and intense expression on his face. "I'm not making this up Mr. Winchester, as it stands now I have lost a considerable amount of money, in both sales and ruined items. I need help; I'm at a loss how to continue."
Sam sat back carefully in his chair. He nodded and then smiled to the agitated man. "You're in luck Paul, my brother and I am well equipped to deal with whatever spirit has chosen to take up residence in your shop." Here Sam stood and moved towards the front door. "It sounds as if one of the items you recently purchased is either cursed or harbors a malevolent spirit. I'll just take a look around the shop, and you're going to need to get me a manifest listing you're most recent purchases and any history you have on the items.
Sam led the way towards the shop's front door, nodding at Paul to let him enter the building. As Sam entered the building he pulled out the EMF meter he had been keeping in his jacket pocket. The meter was quiet, Sam moved about the room noting the destruction. As he continued towards the back of the shop, moving towards the kitchen that stood there he turned once he had reached the sink and put the meter back in his jacket.
Sam smiled confidently at the small man who had followed him into the store. "If you could just grab the paperwork for me, we'll get this settled in no time." Sam watched Paul nod and move towards a work area near the front of the store. Sam turned slowly and leaned his hands against the sink absently thinking that this hunt would be a piece of cake compared to some.
Suddenly the lights dimmed and a jet of blackish water shot out of the sink in front of Sam. Sam taking a direct hit turned and made towards the front door. As he moved through the shop, he had to dodge figurines and lamps as they flew through the air.
Sam watched in astonishment as Paul hauled ass out of the store, actually reaching the sidewalk before Sam. As soon as they exited the building the noise abated and items dropped where they were. Sam stood water running down his back, a bruise forming on his forehead where a shepardess had clocked him. He simply held out his hand to accept the folder that Paul was holding. "Stay out of the shop. I'll call you as soon as we know anything." With that Sam turned, and began the walk back to the hotel.
Dean was doing his dead level best not to laugh at the picture Sam was painting with his words. He was actually biting down on his lip in order to keep a straight face. "It sprayed you, with water and threw figurines at you?" Dean asked smothering a sudden snort of laughter.
Sam turned and quickly strode over to where Dean stood. Standing at his tallest he glared at his older brother. "Yes, is there any other question you wanted to ask me?"
Dean simply stared up at Sam, practically convulsing at the image of Sam getting his ass kicked by an antique wielding spirit. "Nope" Dean said shaking his head "I'm good."
"Good" Sam said as he quickly gathered up clean clothing and headed back into the bathroom.