"You gotta love these small town obits. I got everything here but their shoe size."

Dean discovered that the city clerk once worked for the tax office and the accountant retired from the bank that financed the sale of the property.

Sam asked about the waiter. Dean admitted that his bio was a little lacking. He had yet to find any connection and without that, they were concerned that the theory could be wrong. Sam offered to help realizing that this might be the final piece of the puzzle.

He asked for the waiter's name again. "Burroughs" Dean said.

Sam laughed. In his research, he found that the quarry was once owned by a family named Burroughs and it struck him funny.

"Sam, you're a genius. But, why do you think there's no mention of it? That should be common knowledge around here."

Sam furrowed his brow as he had been thinking the same thing. However, he quickly relaxed as an answered occurred to him. "It's a pretty sad story. Maybe they just don't like to talk about it."

Dean kept this thought to himself, 'Since when is the answer that simple?' To acknowledge his brother's answer, he shrugged.

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The research on the family exposed more details. The waiter was actually the son of the man who lost the business. However, Information was sketchy on these events beyond the mention of a few accidents at the quarry.

Dean told Sam about seeing the large construction site near the highway exit on their way into town. They decided that a trip to the site was the next step. But , nothing could be accomplished until morning. It was time to call it a night.

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Dean was probably asleep before his head hit the pillow. Sam was physically just as tired but, stared at the ceiling as his mind worked overtime.

Dean was asleep. His brain worked in a way that should be studied by science, Sam thought. Whatever Dean needed to do came to the forefront and everything else, regardless of import or urgency, went to the back. These other thoughts continued to be worked and refined. And when they were needed again, they could take their place at the front of the line. Right now, the number one spot belonged to sleep.

Sam had always been impressed by his brother's ability to separate his thoughts. He seemed to be able to call on them, at will, like changing channels on a tv. He had realized, long ago, that regardless of appearances, Dean was always thinking.

He knew if he woke Dean from this sleep and asked him anything, especially about the case, how it would go. He may take a few seconds to come to consciousness, but once there, he would open the necessary door and answer the question. Moreover, the answer might differ from earlier, if he had needed to think about it.

Sam couldn't push the park deaths out of his consciousness. They still didn't know what it was and could only imagine the danger.