Chapter 2: Motel Time

"Whoa!" Dean said before he could stop himself. He stumbled backwards, nearly ramming into Sam, who had been following him.

The person holding the shotgun was a woman. She was plump—but not in an unpleasant way, yet her round face was set in an ugly scowl. She raised the gun up to her shoulder and closed one eye as if she were aiming, although that was unnecessary seeing as how she was only five feet away from Sam and Dean. Her index finger was wrapped around the trigger and both boys noticed that the safety was definitely off. Her face was hard to read, but it was clear that she would pull the trigger if she felt that she needed to.

Sam and Dean instantly raised their hands, palm out, as to not provoke an itchy trigger finger.

"What are you doin' here?" She demanded sternly in an unusually deep voice.

Sam's brain went into overdrive, "We came to see Wayne."

When Sam spoke, the barrel of the shotgun swung to point at him instead of Dean. Dean instinctively shifted, readying his body to leap in front of Sam to block Sam from the shot or to take action against the woman if necessary. Sam gave Dean a warning look, and barely shook his head. He was almost certain he could talk his way out of this one if no one acted rashly.

Dean shot a glance sideways at his brother, catching the familiar 'I-got-this-don't-be-an-idiot' look', and decided to roll with whatever was going on in that freakish mind of his, although he was thoroughly uncomfortable with the fact that the gun was being aimed directly at Sam's head. Dean displayed his most innocent smile and said, "Is he home?"

The woman seemed perplexed at this as she opened her other eye, righted her head and squinted suspiciously at them. The barrel of the shotgun came down about a foot so that it was now aimed at Sam's chest and her finger still gripped the trigger as securely as ever, "What do you mean, 'Is he home?'"

"We've been in contact with Wayne over the internet," Sam rushed into his explanation as Dean tried not to appear clueless. Unlike Sam, he had no idea that Wayne had made a living off of selling things via the internet. Sam continued quickly, "We're into the internet business, too. We came to see about buying some DVDs in bulk."

The burly woman's eyebrows came down even more, but Sam could tell he had her. There was only one thing that probably didn't make sense to her, but if he was convinching enough, he could explain that away too if he had to, "You tellin' me you just walked in after no one answered the door?"

Damn! It was the question had hoped wouldn't cross her mind, but he had already prepared a lie in case she did, "Well, we had set a date to meet him here—for today—but he hasn't been online for about a week, so when he didn't answer the door, we thought something might be wrong."

The shotgun was still pointed at Sam's chest and Sam could feel the tenseness coming off of Dean in waves. If he didn't get that gun off of him, Dean was going to do something, which could be disastrous for everyone. He inwardly grimaced as he intentially tried to look as sincere as possible, knowing that he was giving the puppy dog look that was a constant source of teasing for Dean, "We came in to make sure he was okay. I swear."

Dean glanced at Sam, clearly concerned, and Sam feared that he would make a lunge for the gun. The woman didn't appear as if she was about to shoot, but Sam knew that it was almost more than Dean could stand to allow a gun to be aimed anywhere near his little brother.

Finally, the woman lowered the gun so that it now was pointed in the vicinity of Sam's knees and her index finger slide off of the trigger. Sam heard Dean let out some of the breath he must have been holding, but he was still visibly irked that the gun was still aimed in Sam's vicinity. She still held it ready enough to bring up in a flash, so Sam and Dean decided not to lower their hands just yet. She studied them for a moment, then finally spoke, "Well, boys, I hate to be the one to tell you this. Wayne's dead."

Sam did his best to gape at this information and was annoyed with himself for glancing down at the gun, "When?"

"'Bout a week ago—shot to death downtown," she gave the boys one last scrutinizing look and finally shifted the shotgun so that the barrel was pointing towards the ceiling. After another heavy moment, she set it just inside the doorway.

Dean and Sam lowered their hands slowly, both of them breathing a sigh of relief. They shared a relieved look and Sam realized that Dean must have been holding his breath the entire time because his face was pale and he had to take two deep breaths just to bring any color back. Sam hadn't felt as if the woman would have shot them but maybe Dean knew something he didn't.

"We're very sorry," Sam finally said to the woman, unsure of what she expected of them.

To his surprise, she laughed, "I'm just the landlady, sugar. Only time I saw him was the time I showed him the place. Since then, he's just been another check in the mail."

Sam and Dean exchanged an amused look. So much for compassion. Dean decided he rather liked the old, plump broad, even though she'd nearly killed his younger brother. He couldn't forgive her for that, but he found himself liking her for reasons unknown to him. She reminded him of someone.

"I'm sorry for you boys, I guess," she went on, aware that the conversation was getting slightly awkward.

Sam shrugged and chuckled, "Hey, to us, he was just another username on a computer screen."

The three of them laugh together briefly before the awkwardness returned. She decided to pull it into the comfort zone with something that always seemed to work, "You boys wanna beer?"

Glancing towards Dean, Sam saw that he had already donned his goofy smile and was about to accept the invitation, "Actually, we were in a bit of a hurry to get back to town," Sam spoke over Dean's quieter, "That'd be awesome."

"Oh," the woman seemed rather let down, as she had perhaps hoped for some handsome company to pop a few tops with, "Alright."

Sam instantly felt guilty for refusing to stay and was avoiding Dean's disappointed glare, "Thanks anyway, and, er, you have yourself a nice night."

The woman slowly moved out of the doorway and let the brothers pass.

Dean turned towards Sam as they neared the impala, "Dude, one of the first lessons of actually being cool is 'Never turn down free beer.' No wonder you're such a geek.

Sam couldn't help letting a smile take over his features as he shrugged, "One of the first lessons of actually getting a job done is 'Don't get hammered'. No wonder you're no good at this hunting gig."

Dean stopped with his hand on the door handle of his baby and nearly gaped at Sam. Mocking was a constant between the brothers and one of the most insulting teasing had to do with the their abilities to do their job effectively. In fact, the only thing Dean considered worse was a diss on his mother and since both boys shared the same mother, jokes about Dean's hunting abilities was about as low as Sam could sink. There was nowhere to go from there. Dean continued to glare at Sam, who continued to stare back, expectedly.

"Got nothin'?" Sam mocked.

Dean finallys hook his head as he opened the door and lowered himself into the driver's seat. When Sam followed suit, Dean turned towards him and inquired, "What's a 'username'?"

o o o o o

"Shit," Dean sighed as they neared Jake Cord's Trucking, "Looks like we missed him."

The building was dark and obviously deserted for the night. Dean checked his watch to see that it was 6:10 p.m. They had been cutting it close before the gun-toting landlady had slowed them down. It was really no surprise that the business was shut down for the day.

"Yep," Sam glanced around the street, searching for any sign of life that could later serve as witnesses against them, "Should we check it out?"

Dean chuckled, "Since when are you so eager to break the law?"

Sam threw Dean a look before climbing out of the car and Dean followed the example. The boys walked casually through an alley south of the main entrance, searching for an inconspicuous way in. They found it in the form of a good-sized window about halfway towards the back of the building. Without speaking, Dean dug out his pocketknife and slipped it through the crack of the window, nudging the latch out of place and getting that slightly giddy feeling he always did when he triumphed over the window latch. Once the window was open, Sam helped Dean in first and followed stealthily.

There was absolutely nothing unusual about the place. As one would expect, there were three red trucks parked inside the main garage area, all with "Jake Cord's Trucking" painted largely on the sides. Sam and Dean strolled towards the front area of the business where there were likely offices and more useful information.

After skimming through several files and browsing around the offices, Dean was beyond bored and finally spoke, "Dude, this place is totally typical. We're not gonna find anything here. We need to talk to this Jake guy."

To Dean's great relief and surprise, Sam only hesitated for a moment before nodding in agreement, "Yeah, we should probably just come back tomorrow."

"Motel time?" Dean asked hopefully.

"Motel time." Sam confirmed.

They exited the way they had come in and were soon back in the car, searching for a motel.

"How 'bout that one," Dean nodded his head to a hotel that made Sam wrinkle his nose. It was a one level L-shaped motel that he could imagine he and his friends from Stanford referring to as "ghetto".

"That place might as well be advertising, 'Stay here and take home free bedbugs!'" Sam answered.

Dean didn't openly argue, but he sighed out a breath that sounded suspiciously like, "Pussy."

Sam ignored the insult as he looked back towards the motel, spotting something that surprised and excited him, "Wait! Pull in there."

"Why? You wanna pet bedbug?" Despite the fact that Dean had just made fun of his younger brother for not wanting to stay at the motel, he did have to admit it was a real shit hole, "Dude, I'll get you a fish or somethin'," he scoffed, but then he saw it. A large red truck with the words "Jake Cord's Trucking" on the side, "I'll be damned."

"If we stay here, we can keep tabs on him."

Dean pulled up to the front office, noting the room that Jake's truck was parked in front of: 127.

The desk clerk was an attractive woman in her early thirties with dirty blond hair and no distinguishing features. Her face was set into a look of concentration as she worked on the computer. She was not stikingly beautiful, but pretty and very friendly looking. They approached the clerk, who's nametag revealed that she was Sandy. As Sandy looked up from the computer, having heard the boys approach, her face instantly changed into a look of surprise and pleasure before transforming into a 100 watt smile, which immediately made her ten times more attractive. She eyed the boys in an almost hungry way, making Sam feel decidedly uncomfortable, "How can I help you fine gentlemen?" Her grin intensified as she emphasized the word 'fine.'

"Just need a room for the night," Dean stepped in front of Sam, clearly enjoying the fact that she was obviously attracted to him.

Sandy gave Dean a close mouthed smile and put on a pouty expression, "Just one night?"

Dean raised his eyebrows and flashed his crooked smirk, "Ya' never know. Might depend on the rates."

At this, Sandy seemed pleased, "Oh, our rates are very low," her eyes traveled down Dean's body and back up.

"How low can you go?"

Sam could take no more and stepped forward, "Miss?"

Annoyed, Dean gave Sam a glare, but allowed him to step closer to the desk as Sam continued, "We'd like a room near 127. Our friend is staying there."

Sandy had difficulty pulling her eyes away from Dean as she finally looked at Sam with the same sort of glare Dean had given him, only less intense, "Let's see," Sandy flipped open a three ring binder with rather more force than was necessary and ran her finger down the page until she got to room 127, "Those rooms are available, but they're all single queen size beds.

Dean grimaced as Sam answered quickly, "That's fine."

Sandy's expression was visibly disappointed, "Oh," she said as if she'd just understood something, "Okay."

Dean opened his mouth to defend himself, but caught Sam's sharp look. Dean shook his head and rolled his eyes, but remained silent.

Sandy took her time finding the key as Dean admired her tight ass. She finally turned away from the key rack and back towards Dean, whose head snapped up to try to hide what he'd just been doing. She handed the key to Dean, again wearing her sexy smile.

"Thanks," Sam mumbled as he turned and headed for the door.

When he became aware that Dean was not following him, he turned to see Dean writing on a piece of paper. He then slid it across the counter and winked at Sandy before turning to catch up with Sam.

As the exited the office, Sam grumbled, "Tool."

Dean instantly came back with, "Cockblock."

After wordlessly climbing back intothe impala and rounding the corner to their room, Sam groaned, "Damn!"

"What?"

"He's gone."

Sam was right. The red truck was nowhere in sight.

Dean and Sam glanced around hastily, trying to catch a glimpse of the truck, but street that the exit from the motel led onto was the main road in town. If he'd left even a minute before, they'd have no chance of seeing where he had gone.

"If you hadn't spent so much damn time flirting with that chic--"

"Hey, it's not my fault she thought I was hotter," Dean shrugged and smirked again, "We'll have to wait here."

"What if he's out there hurting someone, Dean? We have no idea how he's connected to this!" Sam felt anger and desperation rising in his chest. Lately he had felt as if they weren't doing their jobs because people were still getting hurt and killed.

Dean instantly recognized the look on Sam's face and said calmly, "There's nothin' we can do. He's gone."

Sam was tempted to begin an arguement about trying to find Jake or merely waiting for him to come back, but as he looked into Dean's calm eyes, he was able to get ahold of his emotions and settle himself, at least partially. Dean was right. Even if Jake did intend to hurt someone tonight, there was no way of telling where to find him or what they were up against. They were too unprepared to be able to find a lead and follow it in time to find Jake and even if they did, they weren't entirely sure how he was connected to the case or how to stop Seville's spirit. Sam finally nodded, "Okay, let's just get our crap in there and get some rest."

o o o o o

Sam awoke with a start and glared wildly around the room, searching for the source of the noise that had awoken him. A light flashed across the window, making shadows dance around the room ominously.

"Augh," Dean's muffled voice came from somewhere underneath the covers from the small couch in the room. He had offered to sleep on the couch, as there is no such things as 'couchbugs'. Sam had begun to object, but was unsure as to whether or not Dean was joking and decided it was better left alone.

"Dean!" Sam whispered as loud as he dared.

The lump on the couch suddenly seemed to spasm to life, "M'up! Wha'samatter?" it grumbled as it hastily tried to free itself of the comforter. Sam caught a brief glance of Dean's 'Oh shit' face as he fell off the couch, then all that was left to see of Dean was his bare feet.

Despite the urgency of the situation, Sam allowed himself a bemused chuckle.

Again, Dean's voice came through the fabric with a muffled, "Shuddup!"

With renewed energy Dean struggled out of the blanket and shot a brief glare at Sam, who was on his feet, gun in hand. Dean bent to his bag and retrieved his gun as well.

Both brothers were suddenly all business as they slinked to the window and peered through the curtains.

The large red truck had pulled up two spaces down from the impala. A good-sized man—most likely Jake—exited the truck, pulling a duffle bag with him as he did so. He was probably a little shorter than Sam and was very broad shouldered. His clothes were so cliché for a trucker, it was almost comical, from the flannel shirt, to the worn jeans to the flat-topped ball cap—he was the epitome of an American trucker. It was difficult to see his face as his head was slightly tipped down in a way that was certainly intentional. As he shut the truck door and started for the room, he stopped in mid step as his beady eyes fell on the impala, clearly appreciating her beauty.

Sam felt Dean tense like a boyfriend ready to pounce on a guy for eyeing his girlfriend at the bar.

It was still nearly impossible to make out his features, but Sam could tell that his jaw was broad and his eyes seemed slightly too small and too close together.

Jake took a step towards the Impala and Dean's hand tightened on his gun, "In your dreams, asshole."

Sam allowed himself a small smile.

Jake finally turned as if he'd suddenly remembered he'd been in a hurry and fumbled his room key into the lock of the door. After he had entered his room, both brothers relaxed slightly and took a deep breath.

Dean floated back towards the couch, muttering something that sounded like, "Sleep is good."

"You think that's our guy?" Sam asked as he glanced at the clock to see that it was 1:30 a.m.

Dean sunk into a sitting position on the couch and seemed thoughtful for a moment, "I dunno, man. He doesn't seem like the type that would be summoning a merciless assassin spirit."

Sam was thoughtful for a moment before nodding, "We've seen stranger things happen."

Dean recognized that Sam was about to rationalize why Jake would do something like this and wearily glanced at the alarm clock, "I know." Better to agree for now and get some more sleep.

Sam approached the small desk in the corner of the room and hit the shift key to wake his laptop out of standby. The web page he'd last been reading popped up automatically—a picture of Seville accompanied by the full article of her death. The article claimed that she was credited with over 100 kills, ranging from international political icons to harmless celebrities.

"Someone's pulling her strings. The lore says that she only kills in order to gain something," now Sam was just thinking out loud and Dean was starting to lean towards the couch, "but what could a ghost possibly want from humans?"

This sparked Dean's curiosity and he offered, "Has it ever happened before?"

Sam snapped out of his thoughts, "No. It's not in any records."

"How do we know it's her?"

"It's the only thing that makes sense according to the witness account," Sam answered, still a little distracted, "Alright, tomorrow, we'll go talk to the witness and see how genuine his account really is."

Dean pointedly glanced at the alarm clock, "Okay, Watson, could we get some sleep now? You don't get my kinda good looks from staying up all night."

Sam closed the laptop and muttered, "I'm not Watson—you're the sidekick. . ." he trailed off as he lowered his long body back into bed.

Dean chuckled as he once again lost himself in his covers. Sam's breathing soon became deep and steady, indicating that he'd already fallen asleep. Dean lay awake for a while, but sleep found him soon enough and before long they were peaceful in the only way their lives allowed them to be—asleep.

o o o o o

Jake pulled up to the motel and parked in front of his room. He was overly alert and glancing in every direction as he quickly unloaded his duffel bag and exited the truck. As he stepped around his door and slammed it shut, his eyes fell on the nearest car. 'Car' was actually almost an insult—she wasn't just a car, she was a machine—a purring beauty of a 1967 Impala; jet black. But her beauty wasn't the only thing that had caused his reaction. He had seen this very beauty parked outside his business just after he'd left from work earlier that day.

Jake suddenly felt as if he were being watched, so he snapped back into hustle mode and unlocked his door as quickly as he could manage. He knew there was a chance that he was being paranoid, but he couldn't afford to take that chance. Something very strange was going on and it was too dangerous to blame coincidence for any of it. He'd have to get to the bottom of this mystery as soon as possible.

Thinking that he may have awakened the owner of the beautiful car, Jake waited in his room, sitting at the foot of his bed in silence. After 30 minutes, he stood, walked stealthily to the door and exited the room.