"Do you have any idea to where your dad might be now?"

Absentmindedly, Sam looked up from his laptop to Jessica in the next room over, the kitchen. "Some," he called back. His head turned further, leaning to see into the kitchen area better through the doorway. "Is that chocolate chip cookies?"

"Yes. My grandma's recipe. The one you liked so much at the Moore family picnic this summer."

"Dude, the smell has only been taunting me for the past five minutes, yes they're cookies. And I am so going to get my hands on them."

Beside Sam at the table, Mildred grabbed from the pile of newspapers, the ones marked Monday, frowning as she flipped through the pages. Huh. She stared at The Sacramento Bee, specifically the weather section. Which mentioned an electrical storm from the day before. Sunday. That was…concerning and raising red flags right there. There'd been an electrical storm in Palo Alto Saturday, then one the next day in the Sacramento area. It was only one sign of a demon. Not all.

She flipped through The Sacramento Bee from Monday, checking for either of the other omens. Nothing. Just…weird. There were no cases of a demon showing up without all demonic omens, as far as Mildred knew. The omens were a bit difficult to spot when sometimes the cattle mutilations were chalked up to health issues or coyote attacks. Or natural electrical storms. Or crop failures going unnoticed or underreported or being a crop failure of floods or too much heat.

Lips pursed, she flipped through the stack of newspapers, searching for another of The Sacramento Bee. But for today, Tuesday. The next one Dad marked from back in 1983 after storms was crop failures. Scanning through it, Mildred plopped back in her seat. Nothing. It was November. Even if there was something, it wasn't going to be reported along with the more important pieces.

Sam might have better luck with Internet searches.

If there was anything.

She went back to the stack, dragging out all the Tuesday ones. If Dad thought he was following a demon, the first omen he was seeing, electrical storms, then that was what she had to look for too. Were there any electrical storms from Monday reported in a Tuesday paper? If so, where? Why didn't the weather sections have pictures like the news? Satellite images of clouds and the movements. Then she could see if it was expected storms or not.

Of course, Dad may be jumping and following a natural one thinking the demon was using it for cover. She jutted out her jaw. Frustrating. Demonic omens were all at once and here Dad was, following just one demonic omen. Like a child running toward the end of a rainbow. But with lightning strikes.

"Red?"

She hummed up at Dean.

"Find something?"

"Other than Dad becoming a storm chaser? No. No other omens to line up. He's following a moving line of storms."

"I picked up a possible thing," Sam announced. "Just put up too."

He flipped his laptop around for them. Dean had to crane his neck from where he sat. Rather than assist them—'this is your two's wheelhouses'—he'd been enjoying leftover Chinese takeout he'd appropriated for himself out of Sam and Jessica's refrigerator. And a real beer.

Mildred frowned, chewing the inside of her lip as she scanned the online article. It wasn't much.

"Article says it's more common to happen in fall and winter." Dean's eyes roved the loaded webpage. Jabbed his chopsticks at the screen, causing Sam to hurriedly pull his laptop away from any possible flecks of food. "And that it's an ongoing issue for that farmer."

Three dairy cows had died from an intestinal issue of some sort. Possibly due to HBS, Hemorrhagic Bowel Syndrome, or called 'bloody gut'. Not exactly a mutilation.

"Yeah. Good point. It's the only cattle or weird animal issue I've found though. Wrong place and day too."

She froze.

An intestinal issue.

"Let me have a second look."

"Uh, sure." Confused, Sam turned his laptop back around for her.

Sacramento. Just put up. Happened today, Tuesday.

"What the…"

"Red?"

She dug through and opened up The Sacramento Bee from Monday. The one that spoke of an electrical storm happening the day before. "They had a storm Sunday. No idea with any crop failures this time of year. Noticed or reported or of any real reporting concern. But that was the supposed second demonic omen from 1983 Dad had taped up. The day after a storm. The third day…"

Dawning came on both her brother's faces.

"Cattle mutilation."

Mildred nodded. "Yeah. Or, as reported, both were cases of some sort of intestinal issue. So. What the hell. Historically. The what? Four times a year or so they pop up? Which is forty cases in ten years? Quite a few to pull from in adding them all up. Historically, demons show up with all demonic omens real close to them showing up. Same day. Same hour. Not…" She gestured. "This."

She drew back in the chair, scowling at the mess of papers and open laptop before her, crossing her arms at it. "Coincidence? Likely so. Historically, wrong. It's a coincidence found due to digging and trying to make a pattern work. So of course it's found. It's not like lightning storms and this is rare. Coincidence. But." She sucked in her bottom lip, glaring. "I really don't like it."

Heavy silence fell. Dean's head turned back and forth, back and forth, bouncing between laptop and newspaper. Sam slumped back into his chair too, face pinched.

"Yeah. I don't like this. It doesn't line up to what is known, but it's close enough to look like a demon running loose with very little hunter attention to it. From here, to Sacramento to…"

Back straightening and leaning forward, Sam grabbed a hold of his laptop, ignoring Dean's shouted protest—'I was looking at that!'—and began typing frantically. Dean reached his hand out to turn the laptop so he could see too, but his hand got swatted. He raised up his wooden chopsticks threateningly, but panicked, attempting to hide them back down when Sam looked up.

Sam didn't even roll his eyes, just pointed at the screen. Mildred and Dean leaned forward.

"Carson City had a storm yesterday. That looks like a path. Palo Alto, Sacramento, Carson City. The thing is heading northwest. If we follow Dad's logic." Dean looked up from the laptop to Mildred and Sam. "Dad's heading across Nevada then."

"Nevada? You figured out where your dad went then?"

Startled, Sam turned the laptop more, away from Jessica's view at the doorway, giving her a nod. "Yeah. We think we did."

Dean slammed Sam's laptop down for him, grinning broadly up at Jessica. "But that can wait until daylight. Those cookies done?"

"Dean! Ugh, there's flicks of soy sauce everywhere."

Watching Sam swipe the back of his laptop, Dean raised an eyebrow. "There was like two drops." Deviously, he proudly added, "You drip."

Sam shot him a seething glare. "Don't even, Dean."

Dean threw Mildred a look, throwing the empty takeout box and chopsticks onto the table in disgust, gesturing wildly with a hand. "I literally pulled a Red moment! How the hell does she get away with it and I don't?"

"Do you want a version of the childish answer to go with your childish antics?" Sam snarled, leaning his body into ready position, leveling his glare across the table at Dean.

Laughter sputtered out, interrupting the glaring off between Sam and Dean. Both their riled up faces turning to blink up at Jessica. She lowered a hand from her mouth, mirth lingering with a gleaming smile.

"Now I see where the sibling arguments growing up came from. And your persnickety moments that appear when you're exhausted. It is only a couple of drops. It's fine, Sam." Jessica shifted her eyes from Sam to Dean. "And yes. The cookies are done."

A slow, shit-eating grin filled up Dean's face. Smugly, he directed that face at Sam, tilting his chair back. "Oh." His eyebrows rose up deliberately, delightedly. "I really li—"

"Oh," Jessica interrupted, pausing from heading back to the kitchen. Waves of hair cascading over her shoulder as she glanced back. "And I know the answer. Red wins. Let it be to your dread. Cookies go to people who have a key to the place."

Scrape-SLAM! Dean's shock clear on his face, the tilted chair took him tumbling backwards and out of sight. With a resounding crash. Shortly followed by silence, broken up with an unfiltered stream of swearing. Mildred and Sam cracked up into laughter with Jessica.

Delivering a wink to Sam, Jessica disappeared back into the kitchen, Sam grinning dopily at her retreating form. Hurriedly, he got up and followed her. "Let me give you a hand in there Jess."

Scrambling up from off the floor, Dean gave the doorway a dirty look, storming over to it. "He's going to eat all of them and he didn't even notice they were being made, he doesn't deserve the cook-ies."

Coming to an abrupt halt, Dean backtracked from the doorway.

Mildred shook her head at him, straightening up the mess on the table. She piled the newspapers back into one pile, quickly marking the places of note, then weighed them down by Sam's laptop. Sparing a glance for any of the aforementioned soy sauce, she checked the table as well, picking up the empty takeout box and chopsticks. Swiftly, Dean stuck out a long arm, blocking her path to the kitchen.

She ducked underneath.

"Really, Dean. I've seen them gooey plenty of times. They're not going to get hot and heavy with us here anyway, ya dingleberry."

"Ah." His face came to rapid realization. "Right. It's Sam. The prude. The prude who's overlarge hands I totally saw grabbing ass."

Reaching back at the undertoned add-on, Mildred made contact with his forearm.


Long fun fact (because I had fun asking more about it off of one tiny detail I glimpsed and then wanted to use it):

HBS, Hemorrhagic Bowel Syndrome is relatively new in discovery for cows. The 60s or 90s, depending on how you want to look at it, so reported cases weren't much then. It's more often found with dairy cows, usually older milking cows and those that produce more. As well as more common in larger herds. There is also a greater frequency of it if you feed your herd TMR.

This being common in fall and winter, true. It being an ongoing issue for that farmer is me placing the farmer as feeding them TMR, possibly not realizing it being a factor.

I'm basing this off of real life examples from family in the dairy business. There's been more HBS cases as time has gone on, but it was likely always there as an issue. Intestinal issues were and are a thing for family in the dairy business, complaints of the cows being bigger milk producers and losing them. With the marked dates being fall and winter, and being fed a TMR.

Nothing wrong with feeding a TMR (Total Mixed Rations) diet to cows, plenty of advantages to it, more so than any disadvantages. Any intestinal issues have gone down over time with feeding any family dairy cows the mix. Matter of keeping an eye on daily herd milk production, making sure it's properly mixed, and feeding times. So I'm told.

Logically, this is an entirely real thing and issue. But also. Off of a studied presentation (by a relative who's in ag science), one of the postulated causes was 'excessive ash'. Such as dirt, soil, gravel, sand, rocks, that sort of thing. But still. I saw 'excessive ash' and just had to use HBS in some way. How could I not?

Excited:
Oh boy. Getting down to these last few chapters and YES.
More thanks to all who've clicked and viewed and read this thing. Many thanks.