A/N: I'm sorry the update took a little longer than usual. *hangs head in shame* I have two little boys and they aren't always cooperative. Plus, I've been pretty busy with other things lately. My apologies. Hope ya'll enjoy!
"I can't believe you made me stand in the fucking corner," whined Dean, lips turned up in his new signature pout.
"You're damn lucky that's all I decided to do," barked Sam as he slammed the door shut to the impala.
"I don't know what you're bitching about…that girl was all over you because of what I did," Dean grinned. "You should be kissing my ass!" Sam rolled his eyes, slipping the car into drive.
"Well, with zero help from you…as usual…I think I got a lead on our case," Sam chimed in, voice perking up from excitement. Dean raised his eyebrows in question as he waited for his brother to explain. "Some woman lived in that apartment for years…her name's Anne Moyer. She moved out a month before the first suicide."
"And?" asked Dean. "What does she have to do with anything? Is she dead?"
"She's on life-support…has been for over a year now. She was in a car accident a little over a year ago and went into a coma. I found out about her from our landlord but I came to the library to look through articles and find out exactly what happened." Sam explained.
"I'm still not quite following," chirped Dean, looking rather confused.
"Do you remember fairy-tale girl?" asked Sam sharply, baffled by his brother's cluelessness. Dean's eyes lit up when it finally donned on him…
"The woman's spirit is probably top-side and either angry or trying to send a message…maybe both." He mentally pieced it together.
"Where's the woman at now and why'd they move her to begin with?" Dean asked, eyes busy with thought.
"Well, the landlord said that her husband couldn't afford the in-home care on top of rent so he moved her to a hospice and downsized." Sam kept his eyes fixed on the road. "I've just gotta go change and then we can go pay her husband a visit."
Sam walked down the steps of the old brick building, looking rather out of place in his suit. Sweat beaded on his forehead, the humidity from the day making his button-up shirt stick uncomfortably to the small of his back as he walked leisurely back to the impala. He quickened his pace when an older woman caught his attention. She was standing next to the car, cell phone in hand, peeking in the passenger side window and tapping the glass, concern wavering on her face.
"Ma'am, can I help you?" Sam attempted to sound as nice as possible, already knowing why she was there.
"Is this your child?" she asked irately, gesturing to the small boy sitting in the passenger seat.
"I already told you to mind your own business lady! You shoulda just kept on walkin'," squeaked Dean through the barely cracked window, sticking his tongue out when he was through.
"Yes, he's mine," Sam finally added.
"I have your license plate number and I'm going to call the police. You can't just leave your child by himself in the car on a hot day like today. What if someone tried to take him or he got heat-stroke and died?" preached the woman, the hatred in her eyes burning a hole right through poor Sam.
"I had the damn windows down till you decided to come and bother me!" Dean barked. The woman should have looked shocked at the child's outburst but evidently he had said much worse to her while Sam was inside. "I had to lock the doors because her crazy ass was trying to get me out of the car," he added, looking at Sam.
"I assure you he would have been fine Ma'am. Thank you for your concern," Sam added as he hurried into the driver's seat, revving the engine. "I'm an FBI agent," he said, holding up his badge, as much authority in his tone as he could muster. "This boy is in my custody and there's no need to involve the police. You need to be careful, had you removed the child from the car then I'd have had no choice but to arrest you." The woman was speechless as Sam slipped the car into gear and sped off.
"Crazy bitch," mumbled Dean, watching the woman as she disappeared in the side mirror.
"I can't do anything with you like this…I swear," sighed Sam. "We'd be fucked if she had called the cops." Sam ran a hand through his sweat-soaked hair. "I can't trust you enough to leave you alone or with Cas and I can't even leave you in the damn car while I get the information we need."
"That wasn't my fault," Dean whined, a feeble attempt to defend himself.
"I know…I'm just frustrated. Sorry," Sam apologized with a half-hearted grin.
"You didn't stay in there too long…what'd you find out?" He quickly changed the subject.
"Squat…he wasn't home," Sam scowled again. "We'll figure everything out tomorrow. My nerves have been plucked enough for one day and I'm sweating my ass off in this freakin' suit." He looked more than irritated, his knuckles turning white from gripping the wheel just a little too hard.
Dean was bored out of his mind. Sam had been in the shower for what felt like forever. He'd already finished eating and there was absolutely nothing for him to do. He had started to get cabin fever a few weeks back, having been stuck in the car and random motel rooms with no means of escape. He couldn't drive, couldn't go anywhere alone, couldn't go to a bar and drink away his stress…couldn't do anything. It sucked being four years old. He was on the verge of screaming when he spotted his brother's laptop on the coffee table.
"As long as I don't break it then I don't think he'll care," thought Dean as he opened it. "Hmmmm…what should I do? Play a game? No, if it pisses me off then I might throw Sam's computer across the room." He paused to think again. "I could look at stupid videos on Youtube. Nah, I'm bored just thinking out doing that." He thought harder. "I know…porn! Can't go wrong with porn." A smile stretched across his lips as he eagerly typed away. "BustyAsianBeauties…perfect." He giggled out loud when the website loaded, freckles standing out on his rosy cheeks as he blushed at the sound despite being alone. His sparkling eyes scanned the page in search of the perfect beauty to make his evening and he was just about to click on her link…
"Dean!" Sam screamed from the bathroom. Dean sprung into action, instincts taking over as he grabbed the sawed-off loaded with salt rounds that was perched on the edge of the coffee table. There was no time to think, adrenaline kicking in as he sprinted to the bathroom, hand on the doorknob, ready to take down whatever sorry son-of-a-bitch was after Sammy.
