Chapter 2

Sam walked into the kitchen rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Dean was sitting on the couch watching TV in a black t-shirt and jeans. Sam thought Dean was mad at him. Last night Sam had cleaned all the weapons, which he had actually done a pretty good job on. But, when he tried to put them back together, things got a little tense. Dean was constantly telling Sam how to do it, and Sam could tell he was getting frustrated. He couldn't blame him. Honestly, Sam hadn't put a weapon together since the first time Dean had shown him how. He never needed to because Dean always did it.

Sam made himself some toast and sat at the table. He looked at the newspaper and saw that there had been a murder the previous night. Ethan Connors, 14, had been killed only two blocks away. His throat had been slashed open in an abandoned house.

"Dean, did you see this?"

"Yeah. Doesn't look like our kind of gig, though. Just a murder."

'Just a murder' Sam's mind echoed. You knew your life was screwed up when a murder became a casual thing that you didn't take notice of. He finished his toast then got dressed. When Dean saw that he was ready, he grabbed the keys and both of them headed out the front door. Ms. Torinski was already on the front lawn, like she was lying in wait for them.

Sam heard Dean groan when the old woman saw them. She waved and said, "Did you two hear about what happened to that poor boy last night?"

"Yes," Dean said as he walked around to the driver's side of the Impala. They both got in as Ms. Torinski kept talking, but they couldn't hear her anymore.

Dean drove to the same location they were at the day before. On the way there they passed by the abandoned house that kid had died at. The whole property was taped off, but no cops were there now.

In the forest Sam started shooting again, but he wasn't much better today than he was yesterday. Dean sat against the trunk of a tree and when Sam turned around to get another clip, he saw that Dean was asleep. That made Sam mad. Did Dean really have so little confidence in him that he didn't think there was anything worth staying awake for? Well, Sam would show him. He quickly grabbed another clip and started shooting again. He didn't care how long it took; he was going to get better.

2 Hours Later

Dean woke up when he heard a low growl. Then he realized that was his stomach. He saw that Sam was still shooting and, unfortunately, still missing. Dean shook his head and stood up. Sam heard him move and turned around. "Come on, Sam. I'm starving."

Sam picked up the expended clips and they both headed back to the car. When they pulled into the driveway and Dean cut the engine, Sam said, "I'm going to get better, Dean."

"Never said you wouldn't, Sammy."

"But you don't really think I will."

Dean opened his mouth, like he was going to say something, but he didn't. Sam climbed out of the car and went into the apartment. Dean wanted to think that Sam was going to improve, he really did. But he wasn't the most patient person in the world and if Sam hadn't improved by the time John got back, Dean was the one who was going to pay for it.

Dean got out of the car and heard a small voice say, "Did you read the newspaper today?"

Dean groaned. That senile, old, nosey… "Yes, Ms. Torinski."

He walked towards the door, but she kept talking. "It's a real shame what people will do to children. Why I remember when that Beekley boy died in that same house back in '83. Even died the same way, too. Quite the coincidence."

At that Dean turned on his heel and faced the old woman. This couldn't really be a hunt, could it? He put on his most charming smile and said, "Really?"

Her eyes lit up now that she had an audience. Then she talked. And talked, and talked, and talked. Dean filtered out most of it, but he caught enough to think that this week might not be so boring after all. "Well, Ms. Torinski, it's been nice talking to you. But, I got to go. See, my little brother got held back a year in school and he needs my help to make it up over the summer."

The landlady said, "Well, aren't you just the sweetest older brother?"

Dean walked back to the apartment and thought that Sam would shoot him if he ever found out that Dean had said that. Then he smiled because, in that situation, Sam might actually hit his mark. He opened the door to see Sam on the couch reading some geeky book or another.

"Let's go, Sam."

Sam looked puzzled. "We just got back. Besides, I thought you were hungry."

Dean grabbed a granola bar and shoved it in his mouth. "That murder last night? I think it might be our kind of thing after all. I was talking to the old lady, and she told me that a family used to live in that house in the eighties. Apparently one day the dad killed the mom and son. Slit both their throats from ear to ear."

"And now you think there's a vengeful spirit in the house?"

"I hope so."

Sam gave him a look. They walked through the front door and Ms. Torinski said, "Where you boys off to?"

Dean replied, "We're just going to the library."

"Oh, well, have fun."

They got in the car and Sam looked puzzled. "She's just going to let us leave? No one-sided conversation as we drive away?"

"I guess so."

Sam looked at Dean and said, "What did you say to her?"

Dean tried to put an innocent look on his face and said, "What makes you think I said anything to her?"

Sam turned in his seat and said, "Dean."

The corners of Dean's mouth twitched. "I told her you got held back a grade and that I was helping you catch up."

Sam's mouth dropped and his eyes widened. He punched Dean as hard as he could in the arm and Dean started laughing. Sam crossed his arms and stared out the window.

Dean looked at Sam. "Sam loves old ladies."

Sam didn't even flinch. He just kept staring out the window. Dean ruffled Sam's short hair, but even that didn't get a reaction. Dean thought that this wouldn't have normally pissed Sam off that much, but combined with everything else it must have really got to him. Dean decided it was time to pull out all the stops and said, "Bitch."

Dean waited. A minute passed, then two. Sam didn't say anything, didn't even move. Come on, say it! Dean thought. Dean pulled into the parking lot of the library and opened his door. Then he heard a very small, "Jerk," come out of Sam. Dean laughed and got out of the car. It worked every time.

The boys entered the building and went over to the computers. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me," Dean said. The computers were all out of order. Dean asked a librarian when they would be working again and learned it would be a few hours.

"Let's just come back then," Sam said.

"Or we could do it the old fashioned way," Dean said, looking at the microfilm section.

"You're not serious?"

Sam groaned as Dean started walking over to the information desk. There was a girl working there who was probably a little younger than Dean. She was talking on the phone with her back to them. They walked. Over Dean cleared his throat to try to get her attention, but she kept ignoring them. Dean said, "Hey, sweetheart?"

She sighed in an annoyed way and said into the phone, "Hold on a sec." She turned around, looking like she was going to throw them out, them she saw Dean. "I'll call you back," she said, then hung up.

She smiled at Dean and Sam rolled his eyes. "How can I help you?"

Dean smiled back and said, "I'm looking for information on the Beekley family. They lived in the town in about '83."

She spun around and went up and down the rows until she had retrieved all the microfilm that had newspaper articles from that year. Sam looked at all the film and said, "We're going to go through all of this?"

"Yeah."

"This could take hours, Dean."

"That's the nature of the job, Sammy. It's not like we're going to find everything we need in the first ten minutes."

Sam grabbed a roll of film and turned on the reader. Two hours and a whole lot of frustration later they were done. Dean faced Sam and said, "Did you find anything?"

"No. Dean, I really don't think there's a hunt here."

"Well, maybe Ms. Torinski just got the wrong year."

"Or the wrong family, or the wrong house, or the wrong state. Dean, you said it yourself. She's a lonely, senile old woman."

"What's gotten into you? Research is usually the only part of the job you enjoy."

"I just think we could be doing more constructive things with our time."

Dean scoffed, "Like what, standing in the woods for a couple of hours while you shoot at cans?"

Sam didn't answer; he just gathered up the microfilm and headed for the desk. Dean got up behind him carrying the rest of the film. They girl must have been on break because there was now a middle-aged woman at the desk. She smiled at them, "Did you find what you needed?"

"No," Dean said.

"Well, what were you looking for?"

"Information on the Beekley family. They were murdered over on Clarks Street."

The librarian looked like she was trying to remember something. "Beekley, Beekley. Do you mean Beckley?"

Sam and Dean both jerked their heads up. Dean said, "Maybe. The dad murdered the family?"

"No, from what I remember, the dad left the family. Then the mom killed her son. Slit his throat, I think. That must have been, let me think. Yeah, it was back in '82."

Dean looked down at Sam and smirked. Sam said, "That still doesn't mean you're right."

"The Internet's back up now, if you…"

They both took off towards the computers before she could finish her sentence. Dean dropped down in a chair and typed in the name Beckley. He clicked on the first article. "Well, Sammy, according to this Thomas Beckley ran out on his wife Maria and their son Michael. Two weeks later, she kills her son, claiming that he was going to run away too. Still think I'm wrong?"

"Just because there was a murder doesn't mean there's a vengeful spirit in town."

Dean searched the database for murders that happened on Clarks Street. "Look at this. December '83, Frank O'Connor, age 15 is found in that same house with his throat slashed. There was another one in '86, '89, '94, and now this one. All were teenage guys."

"You were right," Sam said in awe.

"It does occasionally happen, Sam."

"How did Dad miss this?"

"He only checks recent activity when we move. The last one before this Ethan kid was two years ago. He didn't see it."

"We should call Dad."

"Why?"

Sam was shocked. "You want to go after this thing, don't you?"

"Damn straight."

"And you don't think we should tell him what we're doing first?"

"This ain't exactly rocket science, Sam. We find out where Maria's buried, we dig her up, we salt and burn her. Simple."

Dean got up and headed for the exit, wondering if it really would be simple. There was no reason it shouldn't be and it wasn't as though this would be the first spirit he'd offed. He was sure they could do it. Just a simple salt and burn.