Dean, Maria, and Sam have been in the car all night. Dean is driving, Sam is in the front passenger seat, and Maria sits in the middle of the backseat, right between her brothers. She didn't complain when Sammy called shotgun; she's used to sitting in the back. That's how it always was when her whole family went hunting: Dad driving, Dean in the front seat beside him, Maria and Sam in the backseat.
Maria is a creature of comfort. That's why she wears the clothes she does: low-cut dusky colored t-shirts underneath one of Dean's plaid button downs, her own ripped jeans, and motorcycle boots. Sometimes she'll wear an old army jacket. Her long dark hair is almost always in a ponytail when they're on a job. Having her hair out of her face helps her focus, and focusing is key in their line of work.
It's pretty early in the morning when they make it about 15 miles outside of Jericho, stopping to get some fuel for the Impala and for themselves. Maria is lounging in the backseat with the back passenger side window open, twisting an open pocketknife in her hands while Sam sits in the front seat with the door open, looking through a box of cassette tapes. Dean comes out of the convenience store carrying a bunch of junk food.
"Hey!" Dean calls to his siblings. Sam leans out the open door and looks at him while Maria sits up and leans out the open window. "You want breakfast?"
"Brother, dearest, you know I do," Maria says happily, grabbing the fruit pie her brother offers to her.
"No, thanks," Sam says, a little disgusted at the thought of junk food for breakfast. "So how'd you pay for that stuff? You and Dad still running credit card scams?"
"Yeah, well, hunting ain't exactly a pro ball career," Dean says as he finishes pumping gas.
"Besides, all we do is apply. It's not our fault they send us the cards," Maria reasons.
"Yeah? And what names did you write on the application this time?" Sam asks, leaning back into the car and closing the door.
"Uh, Burt Aframian," Dean says, getting into the driver seat and putting down his breakfast before closing the door. "And his son Hector and daughter Elizabeth. Scored three cards out of the deal."
"That sounds about right," Sam says. "I swear, you guys, you've gotta update your cassette tape collection."
"Why?" Maria asks, her mouth full of sweet cherry pie.
"Well, for one, they're cassette tapes. And two," Sam says, holding up a tape for every band he names. "Black Sabbath? Motorhead? Metallica? It's the greatest hits of mullet rock."
"Well, house rules, Sammy," Dean says, taking the Metallica tape from Sam and popping it into the tape player. "Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole."
Maria laughs approvingly as Dean drops the Metallica box back into the collection of tapes and starts the engine.
"You know, Sammy is a chubby twelve-year-old," Sam says, just for clarification. "It's Sam, okay?"
"Sorry, we can't hear you, the music's too loud," Maria says as Dean turns up the volume and drives out of the gas station.
Jericho – 7 miles
"Thank you," Sam says into his cell phone, before hanging up. "All right, so there's no one matching Dad at the hospital or morgue. So that's something, I guess."
Dean and Maria glance at Sam, and then back to the road. There are two police cars and several officers at the bridge ahead of them.
"Check it out," Dean says. Sam and Maria lean forward to get a closer look. Dean pulls over and they all take a good look before he turns off the engine. Dean opens the glove compartment and pulls out a box filled with ID cards with his, Maria's and John's faces. He pulls out two, one each for him and Maria, and grins at Sam, who just stares at his brother.
"Let's go," Maria says, grinning at her brothers. She, Dean, and Sam get out of the car.
"No sign of a struggle, no footprints, no fingerprints. Spotless. It's almost too clean," a deputy says. Dean, Maria, and Sam walk into the crime scene like they belong there.
"So, this kid Troy. He's dating your daughter, isn't he?" another deputy asks the first.
"Yeah."
"How's Amy doing?"
"She's putting up missing posters downtown."
"You fellas had another one like this just last month, didn't you?" Maria asks. The second deputy looks up.
"And who are you?" he asks. Dean and Maria flash their badges.
"Federal marshals," Dean replies easily.
"You three are a little young for marshals, aren't you?" the deputy asks.
"Thanks, that's awfully kind of you," Maria says, letting out a small laugh and smiling dangerously. She and Dean walk over to the car.
"You did have another one just like this, correct?" Dean asks, inspecting the car.
"Yeah, that's right. About a mile up the road. There've been others before that," the deputy replied.
"So, this victim, you knew him?" Sam asked.
"Town like this, everybody knows everybody," the deputy nods. Dean and Maria circle the car, looking around.
"Any connection between the victims, besides that they're all men?" Maria asks seriously.
"No. not so far as we can tell," the deputy tells them honestly.
"So what's the theory?" Sam asks, walking over to Dean and Maria.
"Honestly, we don't know. Serial murder? Kidnapping ring?"
"Well, that is exactly the kind of crack police work I'd expect out of you guys," Dean says condescendingly. Sam stomps on Dean's foot.
"Thank you for your time," Sam says, walking away. Dean and Maria follow. "Gentlemen."
The deputy watches the three of them walk away. Dean smacks Sam on the back of the head.
"Ow! What was that for?" Sam exclaimed.
"Why'd you have to step on my foot?"
"Why do you have to talk to the police like that?" Sam asks as Dean looks at him and he moves in front of him and Maria, forcing them to stop walking.
"Come on. They don't really know what's going on. We're all alone on this. I mean, if we're going to find Dad, we've got to get to the bottom of this thing ourselves," Dean explains.
"Um, guys," Maria clears her throat. She's looking at something over Dean's shoulder. Dean turns and sees the Sheriff and two FBI agents.
"Can I help you three?" the Sheriff asks Sam, Dean, and Maria.
"No, sir, we were just leaving," Maria replied, giving him a charming smile.
"Agent Mulder. Agent Scully," Dean says, nodding to each of the passing FBI agents. Dean, Maria, and Sam head back to the car, past the Sheriff, who turns to watch them go.