It took him an hour to get everything off the counter, using nail polish remover Amy had let him borrow. Sam hurried through the shower, grumbling the entire time about what he'd do in return to his brother. When he got to the living room again, he was surprised to find that everyone had taken his suggestion of research seriously. Amy and John sat at the kitchen table, books opened and spread out around them. Sherlock was curled up in one of the armchairs, feet hanging over one arm and a stack of books on the floor beside him.
Well, almost everyone. Dean lay sprawled on the couch, a book planted over his face. Sam could tell by his slow, even breaths that Dean had fallen asleep.
Amy looked up and saw him. "So did you get everything unglued?"
"Yeah, thanks for letting me borrow the nail polish remover." Sam placed the bottle on the counter, well away from any of the books.
Amy grinned. "No problem."
Sam started to sit down, then looked over at Dean again. He looked completely out. He walked over and gently lifted the book from Dean's face. He didn't even stir. A trickle of drool was making its way down Dean's cheek, puddling on the couch cushion he'd stuffed under his head. Sam tugged at Dean's shoelaces. No response. He pulled harder. Nothing.
He glanced over at Amy. "You wouldn't care if I borrowed some nail polish as well, would you?"
Her grin grew bigger, and she got up. Sam pulled Dean's boots and socks off. Man, his brother had really crashed hard. But then, he'd barely gotten any sleep the last few days—way less than what was normal even for Dean.
Amy came back and handed Sam a bottle of bright pink nail polish. Remembering how Jess used to do her nails, Sam shook the bottle and carefully dabbed the polish on his brother's toenails, then moved to his fingernails. One of Dean's hands was tucked under his head, but Sam was able to paint all of Dean's fingernails on his left hand. He capped the bottle and put it next to the nail polish, then grabbed a book from the stack on the table and flopped into the other armchair, propping his feet up on the coffee table.
For a while, the only sounds in the room were the rustle of turning pages and John occasionally clearing his throat. Sam was just about to nod off himself when the quiet was broken by the harsh jangling of Smoke On the Water.
Dean jerked upright and swiped one hand across his cheek while digging in his pocket. He pulled out his phone and flicked it open. "Hello?" He straightened. "Bobby, hey. No, you didn't wake me up, I'm fine."
Sam dropped his feet to the floor. Dean turned the volume up on his phone and turned it on speaker, then placed it on the coffee table.
"—are you, anyway?" Bobby demanded. "No one's heard from you for four days."
"Hey, Bobby," Sam said.
"Sam? How're you doin'?"
"I'm good. We're doing really good."
"Hey, listen," Dean said. "We're still up in Michigan, so—"
"On that wendigo case, still? You two're gettin' soft if it's takin' you four days to torch a wendigo."
"No, no, it's just—the case had a few sticky loose ends. We're workin' on it right now."
"Sounded like you were snorin' to me, Dean," Bobby chuckled.
Sam laughed.
Dean made a face.
"Well, listen, Ellen had a case in Wisconsin, but I guess if you guys are still busy up in copper country, I'll pass it on to another hunter. It was a weird 'un, though. You two ain't never heard of some kinda shadow monsters, have ya?"
Dean's eyebrows rose. "Really? Shadow monsters, huh?"
"Yeah. Beats me as to what it is." Bobby sighed. "There's been a couple of deaths so far. One eyewitness who got chewed up pretty good. Pictures make it look like some kinda acid was sprayed over his skin, which would fit with the fact that the vics' bones are stripped clean. Pretty incoherent, officials are sayin' it's because of the trauma, but he kept spouting stuff…well, here, I'll play you the audio Ellen sent me."
There came a gentle thump as Bobby set the phone down, then rustling papers and the tap-tap of computer keys. Sam glanced over at the others. They were all eyeing the phone shoulders tense.
"Go get the Doc," Dean mouthed at Amy.
She nodded.
"Here we go."
A scratchy, poor-quality audio recording came through the phone, the man's voice high-pitched and sharp with panic. I'm telling you the truth! It came at us from the shadows, man, this dark swarm kind of thing, like bees or something. I just started running, and I heard it get Derik behind me, he started screaming his head off, but by the time I turned around there was just this skeleton lying on the ground. Then it attacked me, and I ran out into the road.
Another voice murmured something the audio didn't quite catch, then the guy said Yeah, and that car almost ran me over! Then the swarm thing just stopped attacking me. I don't know what else you want, man, that's all—
The audio stopped.
"You get that?" Bobby asked.
"Yeah. Yeah, we got it." Dean pursed his lips. "Where's this at, again?"
"I thought you said you was busy in Marquette."
Dean glanced over at Sam, raised an eyebrow. Sam shrugged, then said, "To tell you the truth, Bobby, this sounds a lot like what we're chasing up here."
"I thought you said it was a wendigo!"
"I stand corrected," Dean said. "Look, we'll explain later. We're gonna have to move fast if we want to catch this thing."
"You'd better, ya idjit. Okay, looks like this attack was in Fond du Lac. Sleepy little town in the middle of dairy country, ain't far south of Green Bay. I'll let Ellen know you're on it."
Dean grabbed the phone. "Awesome. Thanks, Bobby."
"Oh, and Dean, Sam? You two better call after you're done with this job and tell me what's up. The last thing we need right now is the two of you goin' off—"
Dean took the phone off speaker and pressed it to his ear. "All right, all right, we know. Don't worry! We got this. Yeah, talk to you later. Bye."
As Dean slapped the phone shut, the Doctor stepped down into the living room. "What's happening? I finally tweaked the TARDIS's encryption program, so—"
"Change of plans, Doc. We just got a lead on a case of Vashta Nerada killings down in Wisconsin." Dean brushed past him. "Let's gear up and go find those suckers."
"Hang on!" Sherlock said. "You can't just change the plan like that. We're going after Moriarty, not some random—"
"No, he's right." The Doctor put his hand on Sherlock's shoulder. "If people are dying, we have to find these Vashta Nerada and stop them."
But even as he said it, Sam noticed that the Doctor's skin had gone pale and that his hands were shaking.
Dean paused in the doorway. "Glad to see you finally—" He stiffened, then squinted at his fingernails. "Sam!"
Sam grinned.
"Look at your feet," John said.
Dean looked down and his face turned red. He pointed a finger at Sam. "You are so, so lucky we have things to do, otherwise I'd strangle you right now."
