It took the Winchesters almost a week to get to Charleston, because although Dean would never admit it, he wasn't feeling quite like himself and grew tired after about four hours in the car. His chest was feeling better, but he couldn't seem to shake the headache he'd had ever since they got out of the asylum. Sam noticed that Dean wasn't 100 percent but he didn't push it, figuring that the slower pace would allow his brother to heal and be ready for whatever they were going to find in Charleston. If Dean offered to let Sam drive, well, then he would worry.

Charleston in November was still warm and muggy, although the breeze off the battery was cool enough. If nothing else it was a nice change from the gray and dreary Illinois autumn they had just left. The pastel homes of Rainbow Row and the preserved antebellum portions of the city gave it an atmosphere of genteel tranquility. Dean found himself actually just enjoying the scenery for once, although he didn't let himself relax for long. They had a job to do and a father to--hopefully--locate.

Sam also seemed to appreciate the balmier weather and laid back pace of the old city. Since their father's journal made no mention of a haunting in Charleston, the brothers were relying on newspapers and local legend. The local historians and librarians were extremely friendly and helpful with Sam's research, and while none of them could recall seeing anyone matching John Winchester's description within the past few months, they found the other information he was looking for in almost no time.

Three days after their arrival, the brothers met for lunch at Granny's Soul Food Restaurant, which served the best homemade cornbread Dean had ever tasted. Dean had spent the morning chatting with the curator of the Charleston Museum, while Sam had finished up at the library.

Dean washed down a bite of cornbread with a big gulp of milk and wiped his mouth. "So, you think we need to go check out the old Cashion place?"

Sam, his mouth full of black-eyed peas and porkchop, nodded. The Cashion place was an old plantation that hadn't been restored like the better known tourist attractions around Charleston. Part of the reason was that the land around the house had been prone to erosion and was turning to swamp. The other part was a particularly gruesome murder involving the plantation owner, his wife, and his scorned slave mistress. Pushed to the edge of insanity by abuse, the slave woman had murdered the owner and his family--including his two sons--in their beds with a machete. Local legend had it that when the moon was full the walls of the house dripped blood and the spirit of the murderess returned to take more lives. A spate of recent disappearances convinced the Winchesters that local legend probably had it right.

"The slave woman's name was Abigail. Thought it might come in handy in binding the spirit, since we don't know where the bones are buried," said Sam.

"Yeah, no bones makes it harder," said Dean. "We'll need to bind the spirit to the house and then purify the house. Hopefully that will take care of it. Full moon tonight--why don't we head out there early and set up? I don't want to be caught unprepared after dark."

Sam supposed he should be annoyed at his brother's suddenly overcautious approach to dealing with spirits, but a big part of him--the part that constantly compared himself to his brother and found himself wanting--was relieved. After Dr. Ellicott, Sam's confidence was still a little shaky. And he still wasn't convinced that Dean was completely recovered. His older brother looked a little paler than usual, his appetite had suffered, and he was still popping ibuprofen like candy.

Sam indicated Dean's almost empty plate. "Enjoying real food for once, I see," he said conversationally. "And actually drinking milk--I think it might be one of the seven signs of the apocalypse."

So Sam had noticed that Dean wasn't eating well. Dean rolled his eyes at Sam's pitiful attempt to mask his concern, playing it off as a joke. "Shut up, dork."

"You shut up."

"You started it. Dork."

Sam started to reply, then shook his head and smiled. "You ready to go?"

Cramming the last bite of cornbread into his mouth, Dean stood and grabbed his jacket and their dad's journal. "Yeah."

The Winchesters left the diner and headed back to their motel, mentally preparing for the job ahead. Neither brother wanted to mention the fact that John Winchester had apparently never set foot in Charleston.