Chapter 10

"Sorry sir, but I haven't seen anyone that fits that description in the last twenty-four hours." The desk clerk was wearing a pasty blue button-down shirt, with a pasty yellow tie that looked awful against his pasty white skin.

Bobby was already sick of the guy. 'No, duh…idjit.'

"Well, what about in the last forty-eight hours?" He asked, trying his best to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. The desk clerk huffed in obvious irritation at the inconvenience, but turned, nonetheless, to click away at the keyboard on his desk.

It had been nearly nine hours since Sam's strange phone call. The ride into town had been rather…stressful, and Sam's phone was still giving him the silent treatment. He was in no mood to mess with Mr. Pasty Face. The young clerk turned to his tired charge and opened his mouth to speak. Poor kid never saw it coming.

"I'm sorry sir, but there is no rec-"

Bobby cut him off short, "Now look here kid, I don't give a rat's hind parts what your records do or do not show."

Now, there were a few things poor pasty dude should probably have known before returning to his irritated customer with such news. Hunters, such as Bobby and the Winchesters, usually came into contact with their fair share of livid individuals. Just comes with the job. But when it came to being on the receiving end, there was no beating a livid Bobby Singer.

Bobby had always had a pretty short fuse, and when it got lit, there were three distinct ways that Sam and Dean in particular had found to determine exactly how angry Bobby was.

Narrowed eyes and sarcastic tone: Slightly ticked, may continue annoying behavior.

Red face, wide eyes, and loud tone: Very ticked, should probably discontinue annoying behavior.

Red face, narrow eyes, and unusually quiet tone: War Path, get the heck out of dodge.

It was quite normal for both boys to be on the receiving end of option A. Dean was rather accustomed to option B, and Sam had seen it once or twice. But it was a rare occasion indeed when either boy encountered option C. In fact, it was a rare occasion that anyone encountered option C.

And 'Pasty Face' found himself on the receiving end of one such rare occasion.

Bobby stared at the guy, eyes narrowed to little more than slits, face as red as a boiled lobster. He stated, in a perfectly even, unusually quiet voice, "You had better give me more than 'I'm sorry' or so help me God, I'll find something for you to really be sorry for." Pasty turned a disturbing shade of pea green. Bobby continued, "I want to know where those boys are, and I know they were here less than two days ago. Now you'd best think real hard before you answer me again, boy."

The room was dead silent. The clerk stood stock still, and for a moment Bobby thought he had literally scared the kid to death. Then, the silence was broken as the shocked receptionist began to babble uncontrollably. It was rather pathetic, really.

Poor guy was blubbering all over himself, so much so that Bobby actually stood back, just in case the guy exploded. The only things Bobby managed to catch amidst the blabbering were the words "here" and "left". He also managed to catch the phrase "Please don't kill me." in there somewhere as well. He sighed.

"Okay, okay, OKAY! Jeez kid, calm down before you give yourself a heart attack!" He held out his hands in a placating gesture. The information was useless to Bobby if he couldn't understand it. "Look, I'm not gonna kill ya', alright? Just calm down, and tell me that again slowly."

The boy took a moment to gather what dignity he had left. "Uh-umm…I d-did see a tall guy, about my age…last night. He got a room for two, number 154, and then left again an hour later, muttering something about stupid egos and older brothers." The clerk had been gradually taking small steps backwards during his speech, and with a desperate lunge into the side office, Bobby heard the last phrase, "I-I swear, that's all I know!"

"Great." Bobby muttered as he headed down the hall to room number 154. "That tells me exactly nothing." He hoped that with an examination of the room Sam had rented, he might be able to get an idea about where he had gone.

Bobby had no trouble at all getting the door open. He stepped over the salt line that lay perfectly unbroken on the floor, and flipped the light switch. He gasped.

Broken shards of glass from shattered lamps lay strewn about the small room. Chairs and a small table were splintered, the bedclothes shredded. 'This was no ordinary ransack.' Bobby thought as he surveyed the mayhem. The television and stereo system were still in the room, albeit trashed. The boys' duffel bags were still in the room as well, also trashed.

Bobby looked carefully about the room, his pistol securely in hand. He noticed several things all at once. There were no marks on the door and the salt line had been unbroken, meaning the trouble-makers didn't come through the front door. Nothing had been taken as far as he could tell, meaning the trouble-makers either weren't looking for anything in particular, or they were, but just hadn't found it. And last, Bobby noted with a sick feeling rising in the pit of his stomach, that the beds had not only been torn to shreds, but there were bullet holes in the pillow. This meant two things: A) The trouble-makers were most likely of the human variety, and B) either they were frustrated at not finding the boys and took it out on the room…or the trouble-makers had discovered that the boys were not in their beds after their bullets had left their guns, and had then decided to trash the room.

Bobby pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed once more…because that meant that now Bobby had more than just the Winchesters to find.

Shane Barklay was a big guy. He'd been a big guy his whole life. He'd been a head taller than everyone else, even in pre-school, and when he'd hit twelve years old his father couldn't get the recruiters from the local football teams to stop calling their phone. Shane had hated it, but he'd learned to live with it. He'd learned to find the bright side of it. Like, for instance, how no one messed with Shane Barklay…out of sheer common sense.

Unfortunately, no one had bothered to mention that to the ancient evil being, which was now busy making Shane's life a living nightmare.

"I'm beginning to think this idea of yours was a bad one!" He shouted across the room, as he dodged a copy of 'Computers for Dummies' that was aimed at his head. He held a chair in his right hand, legs pointed in front of him, like a lion tamer would. Except in Shane's case, it was a thousand-year old, power-wielding, invisible, highly agitated lion.

Go figure.

"Oh, don't be such a big ba- ouch!" Andrea's retort was cut short as a hardback copy of 'Chicken Soup for the Lover's Soul' glanced off of her shoulder, followed closely by the 'A-F' section of the magazine rack. "Yeah, okay…maybe you're right!"

Shane almost dropped his chair….had Andrea Willis just admitted that she might have been wrong about something? No…no, that would never happen…he must have misunderstood that…

"Look, can we just get out of here?" Shane stumbled towards the exit door on the side of the building, tripping over strewn literature and furniture alike.

Andrea turned to follow her companion, and gasped, ducking just in time to avoid getting smacked in the noggin with a computer monitor. "Agreed!" She yelled, as she heard it shatter on impact with the wall behind her.

The two made their way to the exit, ducking, dodging, and avoiding the various flying objects that were whirling about the room. Shane, head down, was the first to hit the door. Locked or not, it wouldn't have stood a chance, but luckily it flung open easily. Both disconcerted parties dashed through to the other side.

Shane slammed the door closed behind Andrea, and both turned and leaned against it...only to stand bolt upright once more at the sight that greeted them.

They looked at each other, mouths hanging open in speechless shock.

"Dorothy…I have a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore." Shane managed finally. Had Andrea not been in total mental shock, she would have retorted with some snide comment comparing her large companion to Toto, of all things. However, she was in total mental shock, and therefore, could only stare at the gruesome scene before her.

Flowers…lots and lots of flowers. Pink flowers, nonetheless, as far as the eye could see.

"What have I ever done to deserve this?" Andrea stated, in utter horror. Shane could only shake his head…'Oh, let me count the ways.'