Disclaimer: I own nothing, am making no money from this and am doing it purely for enjoyment.
Chapter Seven
"So, uh," Sam swallowed heavily as he looked away from Dean, this really wasn't a conversation he wanted to have. "We should go back to St. Louis."
Pulling himself to his feet, he avoided his brothers gaze - instead moving behind the Impala and snagging Dean's phone before shutting the trunk. When he realized Dean was still seated on the ground, he glanced down to see him staring at him, his face clearly asking "what the hell?".
"Go back? Dude, that's like two hours behind us. You wanna have care and share time in a tea shop or something?"
"No… Well…the thing is... I think I saw Buffy about 24 hours ago," Sam blurted, not wanting to look at his brother but not able to tear his eyes away. His bewilderment was slowly melting into shock and Sam knew it wouldn't be long before realization came, followed by anger. "She's probably not there anymore, but maybe we can find her trail-"
"Wait, wait," Dean said, shaking his head as he stood. "What do you mean you think you saw Buffy?"
"I mean that I saw a short blond girl with a big red axe thing chopping off monster heads in the sewer."
"In the sewer, what were you doing-" There it was, the dawning comprehension. "It was a hunt. You stupid sonofabitch…"
Dean took two furious steps toward him and Sam braced himself for the punch, but just when Dean looked like he was going snap and lay Sam out, he turned and started pacing.
"Tell me everything," he said, then paused. "And get in the damn car, we're going back."
Dean yanked the driver's side door open with more force than necessary and slid in, Sam rushing after him as the Impala roared to life. He'd barley gotten the door closed when Dean floored it, sending gravel and dust flying as he whipped the car around and aimed it back the way they'd just come from.
"Talk," Dean said flatly after a moment of silence.
"Well, like I told you, I didn't think Zach could do something like kill his girlfriend, so I started digging around. Becky had a tape from a security camera that supposedly showed Zach going into his house just before the murder, but Becky swore he was with her. There was something weird with his eyes on the tape, like this shine when the light hit him. Then, yesterday morning, almost the exact same thing happened. Another woman saying her boyfriend attacked her when he claimed he'd been somewhere else."
"Shape shifter," Dean growled out. "Goddammit, Sam. Why the fuck didn't you call me?"
"I wasn't sure, I didn't have any proof, and it seemed like you had… other things to take care of," Sam said, truthfully and maybe with a dash of manipulativeness to keep his brother from exploding and beating him senseless.
Dean shook his head angrily but just said, "Then what happened?"
"I found a trail leading out the back of both the houses the attacks happened in. The cops never noticed-"
"Because they didn't think the killer left," Dean finished. Sam nodded with a small smile - Dean was far more perceptive than most people gave him credit for, he really was an amazing hunter. He wouldn't have sat on the ground wondering if shape shifters could fly, Sam thought with an internal grimace of embarrassment, deciding to definitely leave out that part of the story.
"And you followed it. Jesus Christ, you're an idiot," Dean growled under his breath, erasing Sam's burst of brotherly affection. Dean's hands flexed on the steering wheel like he was trying to refrain from hitting him. Apparently his self control was on the low side at the moment because his arm shot out suddenly and punched Sam in the arm. Then he waved his hand and looked annoyed, "Well, get on with it. Story time's not finished yet."
Sam rubbed his now numb and tingly arm as he gave Dean a wounded look. "I just wanted to see if I could pick up the trail down there. If I found its lair, I was gonna call you," he said, trying to sound reasonable but coming across as petulant instead.
Dean shot him a look that clearly said Really, Sammy? Really? and Sam just looked away, not really wanting to get into whether he really would have called his brother or not. Realizing this conversation was actually going better than he'd hoped (if he got out of this with only a bruise on his arm, he'd be lucky) and wanting to keep it that way, Sam decided just to sort of… skim the next events.
"I, uh, kinda got caught off guard. The shape shifter came up behind me…" He saw Dean shoot him an alarmed and angry look and went on quickly. "But this girl showed up outta nowhere, dropped out of the freakin' ceiling and just chopped its head off ."
Sam felt a little guilty blatantly skipping part of the story like that, but, hey, self preservation.
"Describe her," Dean said, his brows furrowed as he glared through the windshield like he could set the pavement on fire with his eyes.
"Small, about 5'3", 5'4", long blond hair, green eyes, giant red axe," Sam rattled off, relaxing into the seat a little more now that he'd gotten past the "I got caught" part of his story.
"How'd she look?"
Dean's voice was soft and his attention was still on the road. Sam turned his palms up at him, "Dude, I just-"
"No, Sam. How'd she look?"
"Oh," Sam said, realizing his brother wanted more than a physical description. He hesitated, unsure if he should really give Dean his honest opinion. But he'd see for himself if they caught up to her, so Sam went with the truth (the unedited version this time). "Well, she looked tired. And maybe a little to thin. Actually, man… she kinda freaked me out."
Dean had tensed at the "tired and thin" part, shoulder muscles tightening and bunching as he gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. But when Sam said that she freaked him out, Dean blinked and looked over at him in confusion.
"Freaked you out? Because of the decapitating? Dude, she saved your ass," he said with an underlying hint of defensiveness.
"Not from the decapitation, it was just… her eyes," Sam said reluctantly. It sounded over dramatic even in his own head, he didn't really want to throw it out there for Dean to pick at. But he sighed, looked out the windshield, braced himself and said it anyway, "They looked empty."
When no mocking came from the driver side, Sam glanced back at over at his brother to see that he regained his intense starting at the road and his stiff posture.
"She say anything?"
"She bitched about her clothes getting dirty," Sam said, feeling a bit of relief as a smile flashed across Dean's face.
"Anything else?"
"Uh, yeah, she asked if I was the only hunter in town and then started to ask if I knew a certain hunter, but she stopped like she heard something before she finished. Now that I think about it, could've started with a 'W'."
"Like Winchester."
"Could be. Maybe she was looking for you?"
"Nah, Buffy knows my number as well as I know hers. She could've called me at anytime," Dean said, voice and face remaining annoyingly blank. "That it?"
Sam opened his mouth to point out that since she wasn't looking for Dean, it stood to reason she really was looking for John, but luckily he caught himself before the words came out. Dean would already know that and obviously didn't want to discuss it further.
"Yeah, that's it. She ran off down a side tunnel and I went after her but when I got there she was gone…" Suddenly the memory of those moments standing there trying to figure out which way she went slammed back in place and his face paled. He looked over at Dean to find him watching him closely.
"What, Sam?"
"I just - I remember I thought I heard a dog howling…"
There was a flash of uncertainty in Dean's eyes before they were once again looking ahead of the Impala, his mouth twisted down into a tight frown.
"It just doesn't make any sense. It all fits with what dad said, but I know she wouldn't just trade up anyones life. Well, except maybe her own. And if she was looking for dad, why didn't she just call me? Ask where he was?"
"Maybe she's possessed?"
"Could be I guess…" Dean reluctantly agreed. "I don't even know if Slayers can be possessed. Plus, why would she kill the shape shifter but leave you alive if a demon was in the driver's seat? Nothing makes any damn sense."
Dean pounded a hand against the steering wheel in frustration. The car filled with silence as they both mulled over what could be going on. The scenery whipped by at frightening speed, but Sam didn't comment.
"What about the vampire lover bit?" He finally asked curiously. "I mean, Slayer - Vampire? That part can't be true, right?"
"Actually, she's had two," Dean said, his eyes sliding to Sam, as if daring him to say something about it, pass some kind of judgment. Sam also noted that although Dean didn't seem to want Sam saying anything negative, he himself looked and sounded less than thrilled with the fact.
"They were 'good' vampires though," Dean said, confusing Sam by giving an explanation but tinting it with sarcasm.
"Good vampires? What's that mean?"
"Didn't eat people, fought for the good guys," Dean said, sounding like he hated admitting it.
"Wow, that's… really freakin' weird," Sam said, trying to wrap his head around it. "That could be handy though - having someone with super strength and speed on your side, not to mention the fact they're so hard to kill."
"You would be laying out the pros and cons in that freaky head of yours," Dean mumbled.
"And she… and them…"
With an aggravated sigh, Dean answered tersely, "Yes, Sam. She fell in love with one of them in high school, and he proceeded to break her heart over and over. And the other one…"
Something dark flashed across Dean's face and the steering wheel actually creaked under the pressure he was putting on it. Realizing he'd wandered into dangerous territory, Sam shifted topics quickly.
"So Slayers are real then? One girl in all the world with the strength and skill to stand against the demons, the vampires and the forces of darkness? That Slayer?"
Dean blinked and looked at Sam with a raised brow, "Dude, you memorized that? Even though you didn't even think they were real? You're such a geek…"
"What? It was interesting!" Sam said, both defensive and pleased he's sidetracked his brother from his anger.
Then Dean got a thoughtful look Sam didn't like at all, a wicked smirk appearing on his face.
"Fantasy material. Am I right? Hot chicks kicking ass…" The smirk melted off his face as quick as it had appeared. "No fantasies about Buffy, man. I'll kick your ass."
The epiphany came to Sam then. He'd been operating on the assumption that this was just a friend of his, maybe some random girl he'd met on a hunt years ago. But now the pieces slid together - the obsessive searching, standing up to dad, stressing over her welfare, the aggravation when talking about her former lovers, and just now, the underlying hint of jealousy…
"Holy shit… you're in love with her…"
"No," the answer came fast - too fast. Dean was shaking his head vehemently. "It's not - We're not like that, dude. We're just really good friends. Known each other a long time."
He wasn't fooled at all, his brother was obviously trying to convince himself, not Sam. Oh, this was going to be fun, he thought, brutally fighting back a grin.
Unless she really is trying to kill dad, or is possessed, or dad kills her, a dark little voice whispered in the back of his mind, wiping away the urge to smile.
"So that's what you've really been doing this whole time?" Sam asked, both to relieve his brother of the awkwardness and to chase away his own pessimistic thoughts. "When you'd disappear? You were looking for her?"
"Yep," Dean asked, relaxing a little more in his seat and flicking the music on, but leaving the volume low.
"The time in Blackwater Ridge?"
"Former Watcher lived nearby. Disappeared."
"Wisconsin?"
"Lame psychic."
"The plane deal in Pennsylvania?"
"Someone that used to live in her hometown."
"Cleveland?"
"Hellmouth and another Slayer."
"Hellmouth? Another-"
"Long story."
"Wait, didn't you say it was 'done' this morning?" Sam wondered aloud. "Were you giving up?"
Dean's jaw tightened, "I wasn't finding anything new to go on. We have enough on our plate, Sammy. And seeing as you could have been killed while I was off chasing after her, I think I made the right choice. If it weren't for her being mixed up with dad somehow, I'd be sticking to it."
The fact that Dean had been ready to give up the search because of him made a knot form in Sam's stomach. But he seriously doubted that his brother's conviction would have lasted long. His brothers condition was proof of how tough that decision had been on him. Sam snickered internally that John's call to warn Dean away from Buffy had actually restarted the search.
"What about before that? Before dad went missing? You were looking for her then too?"
Dean grimaced slightly, "Yeah, then, too. It's kinda why we started splitting up. Doing separate jobs."
"Its not your fault he ran off, Dean," Sam said, hearing his brother's guilt and cursing their father again. "He would have left when he wanted to whether you were there or not."
"I know, I just wish I hadn't made it so easy on him."
"So you were actually running around the country looking for her?"
"I was doing jobs, too," Dean said defensively. "Just kinda asking questions on the side."
"The hoodoo gig in New Orleans was you looking for her wasn't it? That's why you felt so guilty about him going missing?"
Dean's subtle change in posture was all the answer Sam needed - the slight cringe, the rounding of his shoulders.
"I should have never went there…" Dean said quietly.
"Dude, I already said it - Dad would've run-"
"I know, I know. It was just so fucked up. I screwed the pooch on that job big time."
Curiosity piqued, Sam pressed, "Why? What happened?"
"This priest was making money off people, bringing back dead loved ones."
"Zombies," Sam guessed.
"Yahtzee. He was bringing back just enough of them to satisfy the customer, until, you know, they went all hell crazed and tried to eat their faces off."
"Yeah, I'd say that would call for a refund."
"Well, instead of giving them their money back, he'd charge them even more to get rid of the thing."
"A hoodoo entrepreneur. Nice."
"And, well, since no one had really gotten hurt yet, just gotten the piss scared out of them, and I was thinking… you know… maybe she was dead…"
Sam's jaw dropped, "Tell me you did not put in an order for a zombie slayer, Dean."
"No! Dude, no," Dean said, looking horrified at the idea. "I wouldn't do that to her. Pull her out of where ever she was… that's…"
His brother swallowed hard and Sam had the feeling there was a story there, but the look on his brother's face warned him away from digging,
"Since he was able to pull enough of the people out of the ether to stick in a body, I figured he could at least tell me if she was over there. So, we made an agreement, he'd stop with the Zombies R Us routine and see if he could find her in the afterlife, in exchange, I wouldn't blow him away," Dean said with a shrug, like it was perfectly reasonable to get a hoodoo priest to find out if your friend was dead.
"So, what happened?"
"There was all kinds of smoke and chanting and weird animal parts. He went into some kind of trance, then he said I had to go with him, grabbed my arm and that's all I remember."
"What?" Sam asked, alarmed.
Dean shrugged again, "Must've been something in the smoke, man. He dosed me. I had some wicked crazy dreams and woke up the next day in an alley just outside of the French Quarter."
"What kind of dreams?" Sam asked, leaning forward.
"The fucked up kind," Dean said with a shudder. "Anyway, went back and he was gone. And if you ever tell dad about any of this, I'll tell him I caught you wearing Lisa Cosgrove's underwear in 9th grade."
"What?" Sam said, outraged. "That never happened, Dean!"
"Yeah, but he'll always wonder."
Sam scowled at his brother, "I wasn't going to say anything anyway."
"You say that now, but next time I put Nair in your shampoo it'll be all whining bitchfaced Sammy 'I'm telling dad about the hoodoo screw up!'."
Sam opened his mouth to retort, but then it occurred to him what Dean was doing. The King of Deflection was at work again.
"How'd you meet her?" He said instead, not ready to let up yet.
Dean didn't reply for a moment and Sam figured he was trying to find another way around talking but finally he just sighed and gave in. "Remember when we were in L.A., you were a freshman?"
Sam nodded immediately, remembering the rough crowded high school with a slight grimace. Then he started, "That's when you met her? You really have known her for a while."
Dean just nodded, Sam couldn't tell what it was that was making him reluctant to talk, but he wasn't ready to give up yet.
"And you've kept in touch?"
"Yeah, we talked a handful of times a year since then."
Sam blinked in astonishment. While, for most, talking to someone just a few times a year might mean you really aren't that close, for Dean this was a lot. Other than Sam and their dad there wasn't anyone Dean kept in touch with. Maybe Bobby or Caleb or Pastor Jim, but that was always about a hunt. Suddenly it hit Sam how lonely that must have been. Although it never lasted and hadn't really worked out, Sam had at least tried to make friends at the schools he'd gone to. Dean hadn't really been into that, unless they were of the female variety of course. Then, in Stanford, he'd had a ton of great friends, ones he still kept in touch with via e-mail even now. He felt a surge of gratefulness to this Buffy Summers for being the friend Dean apparently had been missing. Not a family member, not a fellow hunter, someone he could just be Dean with. No wonder he loved her…
"Oh, for fucks sake. Knock that weepy faced shit off," Dean snapped at him, bringing him back and making him realize that he'd been staring at his brother - probably with some sappy look on his face.
"What's she like?" He asked, both to distract Dean and because he was genuinely curious.
"Well… she's like a blond ball of freaking contradictions, man. Cute and girly, but kicks more ass than anyone I know. She can whine about her hair one second and in the next breath tell you ten ways to ambush a vamp nest," Dean said with fond smile. The tension leaked out of him as he went on and he leaned back, resting an arm next to the window. "She can babble like a crazy person on a good day, and it's even worse when she's nervous. She's hell on schools and gets grumpy if you pick on her for liking ice skating. She thinks red makes her look fat and has a favorite stake named Mr. Pointy. She's saved the world over and over, the people that are supposed to love her always shit on her and she lives with the fucking weight of the world on her shoulders, but she never breaks or backs down." His voice tapered off, leaving Sam speechless in its wake. A deep sadness tinted Deans features, erasing the affectionate smirk of moments before. His eyes ticked over at Sam and his mask slipped back in place - a smirk tugging up a heavily stubbled cheek. "Hey, you see that sinkhole in California that swallowed that whole town?"
Lost for a second at the topic change, Sam just nodded as the vague memory came to him. Some place called Sunny Vale or something.
"She did that, dude," Dean said. The proud parent tone made Sam want to laugh until it registered what exactly his brother had said.
"She what?"
"That was a Hellmouth, she laid out some majorly ancient evil there and took the whole town out."
"Holy shit…"
"There weren't any people there," Dean hurried to assure him
Sam fought a grin at how Dean didn't seem to want him to think badly of Buffy. After he'd had a shower, shaved and gotten some sleep, Sam was going to have fun teasing him about this. But right now he just looked too worn down and desperate for Sam to really get any enjoyment out of it. Instead, he stepped into Dean's shoes for the moment, playing the role of the confident brother that was sure everything would work out fine, even if he had to force it to himself.
"We're gonna find her, man. And we'll find out what's going on."
"Yeah, I know…"
"So tell me about the Hellmouth," Sam demanded, his researchers brain going nuts wanting to hear about the phenomenon that he'd only heard mentioned a few times in the rarest tomes.
The rest of the trip back to St. Louis was spent with Sam playing twenty questions (or more like a hundred and twenty) and Dean answering what he could while also complaining about how he didn't want to contribute to the geekiness of his little brother.
Arriving back in the city, the first thing Dean demanded to see was the lair that Sam had seen Buffy in. Sam pulled a face, the last thing he wanted to do was go back into that sewer, but seeing the determined look his brother was giving him, he gave in and rattled off the directions.
Sam didn't see the huge mammoth problem with this plan until their feet hit the slimy tunnel floor underground.
"Okay, which way," Dean asked, the tone of his voice revealing that he wasn't breathing through his nose.
Sam led the way to the right, his mind whirling on a much more important concern than the smell. He didn't know where the lair was. He'd been knocked out and dragged the rest of the way. He stopped at the last place he remembered and looked around, hoping for some kind of clue as to which way he should go.
"What's the hold up?" Dean asked coming up next to him and looking around.
"Well… it was dark and there were a lot of tunnels, I'm not really sure…"
"It knocked your ass out cold right here, didn't it?"
"Yeah," Sam answered, feeling all of five years old again as he dropped his gaze to the ground and shuffled his feet.
"You're never hunting alone again," Dean muttered as he walked by and smacked Sam on the back of his head. "Ever."
Sam regretted opening his mouth when they came across the first pile of discarded skin not 25 feet from where he'd stopped, if he'd just kept his mouth shut he probably could have found the lair anyway…
Going around a bend in the tunnel and past another pile of skin, they ended up in the mechanical room that had served as the shape shifters lair. Sam slid over in front of the place where he'd been tied and discreetly kicked the cut ropes into the shadows while Dean wandered around the space.
"She dropped from there," Sam said, pointing to the hole above where Dean was standing.
Moving next to his brother, they both looking up at the narrow drainage pipe. It was obvious neither of them was fitting up there.
"We need to see where that goes," Dean said, now looking down at the ground, his eyes searching like he'd see some kind of sign she'd been there.
"City planning commission should have the layout," Sam offered.
Dean nodded and stood there for a second longer, as if soaking in the fact that the object of his search had been standing in that very spot the day before.
On their way out, Sam showed Dean where he'd lost track of her and they wandered down each of the tunnels a little further, but found nothing. Back in the light of day and at the Impala, Sam changed shirts and used a nearby neighbors hose to clean off his boots while Dean watched in bemusement.
Catching his brother's look, Sam shrugged, "I'm not going in there to get those maps smelling like… well, you."
Dean rolled his eyes and Sam smirked as they climbed back into the car and headed downtown. Half an hour later found them parked in an alley with a map of the sewer laid out on the trunk lid and a corresponding map of the city pulled up on the laptop.
"Most of that pipe seems to run through residential areas. It'd be hard for her to get down there with a weapon like that unnoticed."
"Nobody noticed you climbing down there, Gigantor," Dean pointed out.
"True, I suppose it's possible. But I'm guessing she'd be more likely to take precautions against being seen carrying that thing. Here," Sam said pointing at the map. "This access point runs right behind a motel nearby. Much less chance of getting seen going in from there. Could be worth checking out."
The drive to the motel was short and they parked near the entrance to the sewer where she would have gotten in if this was her starting point. The dried blood smeared across one side suggested they'd picked the right spot.
"Should check at reception, maybe she's staying here," Sam offered, pulling Dean out of the trance the sight of the blood seemed to put him in.
Dean eyed the place skeptically and Sam couldn't blame him, it was rundown even by their standards. Peeling ancient green stucco and a few cracked windows, gutters listing heavily and roof shingles hanging in some places - it wasn't exactly the kind of place you'd think of a young pretty blond staying by herself.
"Fine. We should be Feds," Dean said reaching into the Impala and digging through the stack of ID's, tossing one to Sam.
"Dude, you're not going in there. No one's going to believe you're a Fed - you look like the freakin' Unabomber and smell like a port-a-potty distillery."
Dean plucked at his shirt and smelled it, then nodded in concession - not looking abashed in the slightest, just agreeing.
"Just don't miss anything. If she was here, make sure you ask when she checked in. And what room."
"I know, Dean," Sam said sliding an ID into his pocket and walking away. He'd only made it a few steps when a hand snagged his coat sleeve.
"And if she was driving a car, what it was," Dean added.
"Dude, I know. Chill out, I got this."
Shaking free from his brothers grip, Sam made his way toward the office. He doubted she was still here, and judging from his brother's use of the past tense, he wasn't optimistic either. He did hope they at least found something to go on, for Dean's sake. Sam, for his part, didn't mind looking for her, but because of more than just Dean's desire to find her. Even if she hadn't made a deal with the demon, it was obvious to Sam that she really was looking for their father. If they kept searching for her, she'd in turn lead them to John. And on the other side of the coin, if they found John first, it stood to reason she wouldn't be far behind. In Sam's mind, that doubled his chances of getting some answers, so he was all for it. The fact Dean would find someone he cared about was just a bonus.
Stepping into the office, Sam saw that the interior wasn't much better than the exterior - old thin carpet and faded, peeling wallpaper decorated the room, the front desk looked like it was ready to disintegrate. A kid of about eighteen, tattooed and pierced, sat behind it with a porn mag.
The kid glanced at him over the edge of the page with a disinterested eye when Sam stepped up to the desk. Even flashing his badge didn't seem to motivate him much - he just sighed and dropped the magazine on the desk. Busty Asian Beauties, he and Dean would have gotten along well.
"I need to know if you had a certain person staying here," Sam said, making his tone serious and authoritative.
"Yeah, yeah, I know the drill," the kid answered, pulling out the log book. "What'd they look like?'
Sam blinked at the blasé tone, apparently they got a lot of Feds in here looking for people…
"Girl, early to mid twenties, blond, thin-"
"Sure I remember her, you don't forget an ass like that," he said immediately with a leer, making Sam suddenly very glad Dean was outside.
"So she's not here any more?"
Not even looking at the log book, he told Sam, "Checked in day before yesterday, late. Checked out yesterday afternoon."
"Her room already been cleaned?"
"Of course, we run a class operation here, man," the kid told him with an amazingly straight face.
"I'll need to see the room anyway," Sam told him, knowing it would be pointless but also knowing Dean wouldn't settle for anything less.
A tattooed hand plucked a key off the wall behind him and tossed it down on the desk. Sam pocketed it.
"She driving?"
"Yep, sweet ride too - fuckin' cherry 68 Camaro. Black, 'Bitchmonger' on the back window in red."
"I'm sorry," Sam said shaking his head, sure he hadn't heard that right. "What was that?"
"'Bitchmonger, man. It said 'Bitchmonger'," the clerk repeated slowly.
"Bitchmonger…"
"Want me to write it down for you?" The kid asked with a raised eyebrow.
"No, that's alright," Sam said dryly. "Anything else you can remember about her."
"Other than she was hot and had a badass car? Nope, didn't see her much. She checked in, left about an hour later. Came back yesterday, was in for about another hour and checked out again."
Sam nodded and muttered a thanks, tossing the timeline around in his head as he stepped outside.
"Whatcha find out?"
Dean's voice right next to him made him jump and he scowled over at his brother, who was leaning against the wall next to the office with his arms crossed.
"Room 19," Sam said, holding up the key, which Dean promptly snatched. Sam relayed the information the clerk had given him as they went down the walkway.
Pausing with the key in the door, Dean turned toward Sam with his head cocked, "Did you say 'Bitchmonger'?"
When Sam nodded, Dean burst out laughing, so hard that he had to double over and brace his hands on his knees. "Oh man, that's fucking classic. Buffy the Bitchmonger. Wonder who she stole that from? 68 Camaro though… that's sweet."
Turning the key in the lock, they stepped into the room and Dean's laughter died away. The place was a shithole, plain and simple. If they'd thought the outside and the office were as bad as it got, they'd been way off. The carpet was worn to the point where it was nothing but mesh in places, dark stains all over and so dingy it was impossible to tell what color it was supposed to be. Crumbling holes dotted the drywall, exposing wires and beams in random places. A thin sagging mattress sat on a bed frame that looked like it was ready to collapse at any moment. The thing that threw Sam off was the smell - from the way the room looked, he'd expected smoke or urine or mold. But it smelled warm and light, like clean sun dried laundry. Looking over at Dean, he saw his brother just standing there with his eyes closed taking deep breaths.
"Smells like her," he said, smiling when he opened his eyes. Seeing Sam looking at him, he turned away quickly and said gruffly, "Come on, lets see if she left anything."
Sam couldn't stop the grin that crossed his face at Dean's behavior, but held off from saying anything, just joined in the search. They didn't find anything of course. Not that the cleaning crew had done an exceptional job or anything, it just seemed like she was thorough in not leaving anything behind.
After dropping the key back at the office, they hit the road again, Dean turning the Impala north.
"What now?" Sam asked.
"We're going to do what everybody does when they don't know what to do next," Dean said, tossing Sam a smirk. "Go see Bobby."