Chapter 5

Like the morgue, the library was clearly in need of a good makeover. But seen as town funds were spent elsewhere, the Winchesters had to settle with the smallest library they, or rather Sam, had ever seen. Yet despite its bleak exterior, the inside of the library was surprisingly spacious and held collections of books that Sam wouldn't have even dreamt of seeing in a place like this. However the thing that shocked the Winchesters the most was the fact that the Eureka library had a fully functioning computer. An ancient and unbelievably slow computer at that, but it did have its uses.

It was at this doddery old computer that Dean had been sat for the past three hours, trying to dig out any information that could settle his and Sam's bet once and for all. Though so far, he'd had no such luck. The computer was so slow that it took around half an hour to complete one search on the internet, so the going was very slow indeed. When Dean and Sam had first stepped foot in the library, Dean had spotted the computer straight away and bagged it before his brother could get a word in argue otherwise. Now Dean thought he'd drawn the short, especially as Sam was currently flicking through new articles at an amazing pace. He typed another query into the search engine and then placed his head on the desk. Next time, I'll let Sam do all the work, he thought. God knows I've done enough for him since we were kids. Besides this was his idea, I didn't want anything to do with this yet here I am, stuck at this rusty old computer. Not exactly my idea of fun. He looked up and glanced around the library, pausing and looking appreciatively at an attractive girl who had just walked in. He winked at her, earning himself an angry look from the girl's boyfriend who was stood behind her. Scowling, he placed his head back on the desk and resigned himself to another half hour wait.

Sam wasn't having much luck with the newspapers either, though he certainly had the advantage of speed over his brother. So far he'd managed to find news articles about the other ten murders, but none of them had shed any light on whatever was doing this. The only thing he'd discovered was that every single murder was basically identical. None of the news articles mentioned anything about the numbers between the shoulder blades, like the Doc had said. Not exactly the most clued up town in the world, Sam mused, sighing and turning to the next article.

He paused for a second, frowning as he glanced over the article. He flicked back through the articles on the other murders and then looked back at the one he'd just turned over.

"Dean, I think we might have a winner."

Raising his head up off the table, Dean turned around to face Sam, looking sceptical. "What?"

"More like 'who'." Sam replied, holding up the news article he'd just found. "There has only been eleven victims, right?"

"Right." Dean nodded.

"So either the police missed a victim, or this guy started it all." Sam said, looking closely at Dean for his reaction.

"Who?"

"A guy called Charles Harrington. He died in a car accident just over five years ago. Any guesses on how he died?"

Dean raised his eyebrows. "You've got to be kidding me?"

"I'm afraid not. Old Charles here was decapitated." Sam replied, shaking his head and sounding very pleased with himself.

"What makes you so sure he wasn't the first victim?" Dean asked, determined not to lose his hundred bucks. "The police might not have picked up on it, that's all. They're not exactly very efficient."

"Because unlike the other victims, the method of Charles Harrington's decapitation isn't unknown…" He paused, relishing in Dean's shocked expression.

"So what decapitated him?"

"He was in a head on collision with another car, and something from the car worked it's way loose and cut his head clean off. It was a one in a million chance but it happened." Sam put the news article back on the table and folded his arms, a satisfied expression on his face. "Sounds to me like he had a good reason to come back as a vengeful spirit."

"Or a member of his family was so pissed off at his death that they decided to hack up whoever drove on Route 50." Dean stated, shrugging. "It's not rocket science, Sammy. Besides, that doesn't explain the numbers in between the shoulder blades."

Sam tapped his fingers on the desk, thinking. "Maybe he was just a big fan of that film, The Frighteners, and decided to add a little something extra to his victims?" He suggested, as Dean burst out laughing.

"Sam, do you realise how stupid that sounds? A vengeful spirit comes back to hack people's heads off and decides to turn it into a tribute to his favourite film? That's pretty far-fetched, even for you." He shook his head, laughing and wiping tears from his eyes. "Oh man, that was classic."

Sam scowled, clasping his hands together in an effort to stop himself from wiping that smile off his brother's face. "Have you got a better idea?"

"Yeah, I do actually." He cleared his throat dramatically, which earned him a warning look from the librarian. "Maybe it's just the work of some whacked out psycho killer who's seen one too many movies. Life imitating Art, and all that.."

Sam laughed in disbelief. "You're still hanging onto the old human killer theory? Dean, give it up. It's only a hundred bucks, it's-"

"Don't even try and give me any of those damn clichés, Sammy." Dean interrupted, rolling his eyes.

"I wasn't going to, I was just going to say it's not the end of the world you know?"

Dean paused for a second, mulling over what Sam had said before shaking his head, not bothering to explain the irony of his statement. "Whatever, man. Let's just try and concentrate on finding whatever this is, we can sort the finer details out later."

"Yeah Dean, there's just one problem. How are we going to find something when we can't even agree on what it is?"

Dean frowned, his eyes falling on the newspaper Sam had left on the table. "Why, go and visit Charlie's family of course. And visit his grave, just in case. Satisfied?"

Sam nodded and they headed out of the library, the Harrington article folded neatly in Sam's jacket pocket.

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A couple of hours later, while the Winchesters were tucking into a meal at the only Eureka diner, Joe was speeding along Route 50 at an alarming rate. He'd read about those murders, of course he had. It was all the residents of Eureka had gone on about for the past few years. He'd never even given them a second thought until he actually had to use Route 50.

It didn't help that he was a completely wuss, teen horror movies scared the life out of him so something like this was enough to make him want to give up driving for life. Unfortunately this was one driving trip he'd been unable to escape from, after promising he'd look after his sister's kids for the weekend. After begging her to change her mind and failing miserably, Joe had thoroughly checked his car for any axe-wielding maniacs before setting off for California.

His nerves had gotten the best of him already and he'd resorted to convincing himself that there was no way the killer would come after him so soon after killing his other victim. He felt sorry for the last victim, of course he did. But if it came down to her life or his, he'd pick his any day.

Thinking about this calmed him down a little, and he decided it was safe enough to turn the radio on. As he pressed the on switch, 'Total Eclipse of the Heart' came blasting out the speakers;

"Every now and then I get a little bit terrified and then I see the look in your eyes-"

He jumped, barely holding back a scream and switching the radio off again, his heart beating frantically. That would have been the kiss of death, he thought, giggling nervously. Playing the song that the girl in 'Urban Legend' died to at the hands of a maniac in the back seat, was he trying to kill himself? He giggled again, hand shaking a little. Pull yourself together Joe, nothing is going to happen to you. It was a statement that he often thought to himself, and he needed it now more than ever.

He drove on at a more acceptable speed, shooting nervous glances at the radio every so often as though the killer was going to jump out at him from there. He looked up and noticed a sign at the side of the road saying "7-Eleven – 1 mile". He breathed a huge sigh of relief, smiling to himself. No-one had ever been murdered past the 7-Eleven on their way out of town, so he really believed he'd be okay.

He sped up a little, desperate to get past the 7-Eleven when he spotted something in his rear view mirror. He turned around straight away but there was nothing there. Shaking his head, he turned back towards the road but tried to keep one eye on the mirror. He was visibly shaking now and had sped up even more when he caught a glimpse of movement in the back seat.

He tried to turn around but something had pinned him against his seat, paralysing his body from the waist upwards. He slammed his foot on the brake, hoping to throw whatever was in his back seat through the windscreen but only succeeding in giving himself severe whiplash.

He felt so defenceless and couldn't help it when tears begin to roll down his cheek. He sobbed silently, knowing what was coming. He felt a sharp burning pain at the base of his neck, and he would've screamed had he been able to open his mouth. Then the pain was gone, but unfortunately so was his head. It rolled off into his lap, a look of sheer terror in his eyes.

The driver's door opened and Joe's head was delicately removed from his lap and placed on the passenger seat. What remained of Joe however, was flipped over had his shirt nearly torn from his back. There was an audible click as the pen knife was opened, and the killer got to work…