The farther the old couple read into the letter, the more confused they became. Nothing that was mentioned made logical sense. Things like demons and vampires didn't exist.
Trying their hardest to ignore the bizarre content of the note, they searched over me over again for an address or a phone number.
The only thing they knew about this man was that he had a connection with someone named Sammy.
The old woman read the letter over and over, becoming continually more perplexed. She was absorbed by its contents and was slightly surprised when her husband laid a hand on her shoulder.
"Ruth, we should probably just call the police." The old man pulled out his phone and was about to dial 911 when a man came jogging over and stopped in front of the bench.
"No, it's okay, I'll take care of him," he mumbled. The old couple wanted to argue and insist that they call 911, but he simply picked up the other man bridal style and carried him off to the black car that had been waiting there since 5 o'clock last night.
Ruth got a sudden wind of curiosity and called out down the street "What's your name." The young man hesitated before calling back "Sam" and then climbing in the car.
The Impala seemed oddly empty even with Dean lying right next to him in the passenger seat.
Sam had tied a rag around Dean's bloody arm and wiped the vomit from his mouth. When Dean started driving the Impala again, he wouldn't appreciate all those stains, even if they we're is own doing.
Dakota was a small town and the nearest hospital was ten miles away. The silence that filled the car was almost deafening and Sam couldn't stand it.
"Listen Dean, I know you're alive. Why don't you just wake up, you're really scaring me. Please, it's your little brother Sammy." Tears started sliding down Sam's face. He angrily swiped them away and let out a grim laugh.
"Look at me, turning this into a chick flick moment. You would've been so angry if you were alive... Awake. So come on, just please wake up."
"Dean, I promise I'll never eat the last of the Lucky Charms ever again and I'll always listen to what you say and I won't get in the way anymore, just please Dean, please."
But the man in the seat beside him did not stir. He just lay there, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling. Blood had begun seeping through the white rag, but he was not alive.
Even though he had the faintest of pulses, he was not alive anymore.
