Chapter 1
Scottsbluff, Nebraska
Sam Winchester sits in a motel room, idly looking through news reports on his laptop, trying to find another case to take on. Most of the stuff he finds is junk and not worth his time, but sometimes something catches his eyes. He glances up as Dean, his brother, enters the room carrying a fast-food bag.
"What's up, Sammy?" Dean says nonchalantly.
Sam has been looking over an article for several minutes, thinking that maybe he's found a case. It's not much to go on, but he has a feeling that something's off. There's no such thing as a coincidence when it comes to hunting.
Dean tosses his jacket onto the bed and pulls out a burger from the bag and promptly unwraps it, taking a large bite. "So, you got anything?" Dean asks, his mouth full.
Sam looks at the computer screen. He did have something, and he had a bad feeling that something was off. But the problem was, the case itself sounded like a weird coincidence or just accidents. He knew that Dean wouldn't go for just anything, especially not just a gut feeling. He might think that Sam was getting visions again, and the narrator is pretty sure that we all know how that turned out.
Sam glances over at Dean, and then back to the computer screen. "Yeah, maybe."
"So let's hear it," Dean says, swallowing.
Trying to make it sound as interesting as possible, Sam rattles off the usual facts. "Georgetown, Colorado. Two people die in the same week from unknown causes. Both victims were related, and neither had previous diseases or conditions. Both just drop dead out of nowhere in the middle of the night in the night. No signs of a murder or suicide."
"Poison? Drugs?" Dean asks.
"It says that the surviving members of the family said that neither victims drank or took drugs."
Dean nods. "What were their names?"
"Mike and Thomas King. Father and son."
"You sure it's not just some coincidence or something?" Dean asks skeptically.
Sam shook his head. "I don't know man. But I think we should go."
Dean shrugs, figuring that Sam would pull the 'we've driven farther for less' card. "Well, if it turns out to be nothing, then you're paying for gas." If there was one thing that Dean knew about Sam, it was that he was stubborn as hell.
"Fair enough," Sam says, closing the laptop.
That night, they had packed up and were in the car. The drive wouldn't take too long; a couple hours, maybe a day at most. Sam and Dean had been to Colorado a few times, but the town Georgetown was unheard of to the Winchesters' ears. The town was, apparently, really small, and used to be a mining town back in the day. Dean had already come to the conclusion that it was either a family curse or a vengeful spirit, but Sam had other thoughts.
Whatever this was, Sam was sure that this was not any normal circumstances. Vengeful spirits usually handed out slow, painful deaths like they were dealing cards. This was too quiet for a vengeful spirit, and a curse seemed unlikely. Sam had done all the research he could on the Kings, and found little on the family.
The drive was normal and like any other, with Dean playing ACDC too loud and trying to sing, and Sam giving him strange looks. Sam fell asleep about halfway through. The closer they got to Colorado, the more difficult it got to breathe. The altitude of the town would make it slightly hard to breathe, but it was nothing that Sam and Dean couldn't handle.
When they rolled into town, a little after seven, Dean was surprised to see that most of the shops and restaurants were closed, despite the seemingly "early hour".
"Does this whole freaking town close at 6?" Dean says angrily. "What is this, the 1800's?"
Sam looked skeptically at Dean, internally questioning his mental health, but not saying anything out loud. For some reason, the small town made Sam nervous. He was questioning his intuition—why was he having such strong feelings about coming here? It has been years since Sam last had visions or his telekinetic abilities, or even since he exorcised demons with his mind. Ever since Lilith died, and ever since Ruby, Sam had been free from all of that.
"Not even the freaking bar is open!" Dean shouted.
"Dean, just calm down," Sam said. "Let's just… go to that hotel, and we'll check in and start this in the morning."
Dean scowled at the steering wheel. "Fine."
Dean made a U-turn, driving the Impala back to the other side of the small town.
"Whatcha got, Sammy?" Dean asked, a towel around his shoulders.
"Apparently, this place was an old mining town," Sam said, scrolling through a website on his laptop. "It's mostly just for tourists now. Some of the locals run their own businesses in town. I bet everyone's got to know about the murder."
Dean shrugged. "We'll go talk to the vics tomorrow." Dean pulls out a flask from his coat, which is draped around a chair. Dean lies down on the bed with a sigh. Sam can tell that Dean thinks they're wasting their time here, when a suddenly whoosh and a soft breeze wafts around the room.
Castiel stands in their doorway. "Hello, Dean. Sam."
Dean sits up from where he sits on the bed. "Cas? What are you doing here?"
Castiel walks in further, and suddenly Sam is aware of the cut just above his eyebrow, which is bleeding. Cas's walk is unstable, and Dean jumps up to help steady him.
"Whoa, take it easy there," Dean says. "You alright?"
Cas looks around. "Where are we?"
"Georgetown. Colorado. What happened? Are you alright?" Dean asks again.
"No," Cas says bluntly. "You are unsafe here. You should leave."
"What?" Dean replies. "How could we be unsafe here? The whole town closes at freaking 6 o' clock!"
"No. There is something very wrong here. We need to leave." Cas gathers himself and starts packing for the Winchesters.
"Hey, hey!" Sam says, standing up. "You want to tell us what's going on here?"
Cas looks up at Sam towering over him. "A Reaper has gone missing."
