Chapter 7

After spending nearly eight hours searching the Eureka cemetery, the Winchesters were no closer to finding the burial site of Charles Harrington's head. It had already been warm when they had arrived that morning, but now eight hours later, the heat was stifling and they could tell the evening wasn't going to get much cooler.

"Aww man, this is ridiculous!" Dean threw his shovel to the ground and flung his hands up in the air, reminding Sam of a little kid having a tantrum. "We've been here for eight hours, we've walked around this place god knows how many times and there's no unmarked grave. Or even any sign that there's been an unmarked grave here. It's pointless!"

"Hey, we'll find it alright?" Sam picked up Dean's shovel and put them both in the trunk of the car, slamming it down a little more forcefully than needed.

"Sorry Sam, but you can cut the optimistic crap okay? The head isn't here." He shook his head, the disappointment evident in his voice.

"Alright but if it's not here, where is it? It's a human head Dean, it can't have just vanished. People tend to notice things like that." He took a last look around the cemetery, as if he was hoping the head would just jump out at them.

Both of them stood silently for a moment, each immersed in their own thoughts. Then Dean turned to look at his brother, a huge grin on his face. Looking at the overly pleased expression on Dean's face, Sam thought the only thing missing from this picture was a huge yellow light bulb lighting up over Dean's head.

"Doc." One word escaped from Dean's lips and the sound of his voice seemed to indicate that he thought Sam should know what he was talking about.

"Doc? Doctor who? You want me to go through all the doctors names I know? Heck why don't I just grab a DeLorean and go grab Doc Brown while I'm at it?" Sam snapped, clearly irritated by his brother.

Dean rolled his eyes, throwing Sam an evil look for daring to make fun of him. "Doc Hargreaves… The creepy coroner guy?" He added, after his first sentence seemed to make no impact on Sam's gormless expression.

"Oh yeah right, what's he got to do with anything?"

Dean sighed, shaking his head in despair. "He's a coroner, Sam. Now what do coroners deal with?"

"Death, Dean. Would you please get to the point?" Sam asked, trying to keep his voice civil.

"He deals with death, so don't you think he's going to be the best person to ask about where Harrington's head was buried? I mean they wouldn't just let Nadine Walsh bury it herself." Dean laughing, scoffing at the very thought of Nadine Walsh being let loose with her fiancé's head.

"Maybe." He paused, throwing Dean a cynical look "Are you sure you're not just using this as an excuse to go and laugh at the guy again?"

Dean threw Sam an unconvincing hurt look. "Sam, please. Would I do something like that?"

"Do you really want me to answer that question?" Sam leant against the car and folded his arms, his patience slowly diminishing.

"Ahh, no actually. But tell me Sam, have you got a better idea?"

"Actually I do." He sounded very pleased with himself, and Dean was sure he wasn't going to like what Sam had to say. "Don't you think an undertaker would be the best person to ask about where somebody is buried?"

An expression of distaste and loathing passed across Dean's face, knowing that Sam was right but not wanting to admit it. "Maybe. How about we bet on it?"

Sam groaned, not believing that Dean could want to make a bet over something like this. "What are the terms?" He knew better than to indulge him, but it was either that or have Dean on his case for the rest of the day.

"We split up and each go and find our chosen contributor. Then we'll meet back at that shady little restaurant in an hour, and whoever has the location of the head, gets fifty bucks. Deal?"

Sam nodded, outstretching his hand and shaking Dean's. "Deal." He turned around and opened the passenger door. "Who gets the car?"

"You even have to ask that question?" Dean walked around the front of the car and opened his door. "Dad gave me this car, so I get to drive it. Besides, you're the one who's contesting me Sammy. So you should walk." He flashed Sam a wicked grin and climbed into the car.

Sam laughed, putting his head in his hands. Sometimes Dean was just unbelievable. He shook his head, and climbed into the car.

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Dean paced up and down the corridor, hands in his pockets and head down, counting the lines on the linoleum. Every few seconds he kept checking his watch, determined not to let Sam win this bet. The good doctor was on his lunch break, and should've been back ten minutes ago. He'd already been waiting for twenty minutes, and at this rate he'd never make it back to the restaurant. In the car, he'd specifically told Sam that if he took over an hour, he'd forfeit the bet. And it wouldn't look too good if he fell foul of his own rules. Sam would never let him live it down. This thought only seemed to aggravate him, and he began to speed up his stride as he carried on pacing up and down.

Ten more minutes passed, and he was starting to look very nervous. He'd stopped pacing up and down, and was now perched on a rickety wooden chair next to the door. He was tapping his fingers on his knees and was considering giving up and breaking into the morgue, when he heard footsteps approaching.

Dean looked up, coming face to face with his own reflection in a pair of thick black glasses.

"I wondered when I might be seeing you again. Where's your partner?" Albert held out his hand in a greeting.

Dean shook it and stood up, smiling. "He had someone else to see, so I'm afraid you're stuck with me this time."

"That's no problem. What can I do for you now, officer?" He reached into his pocket, pulled out a key and unlocked the doors to the morgue, indicating for Dean to follow him.

Dean stepped into the morgue, trying not to acknowledge the smell wafting towards him. "Well sir, I was just wondering if you could tell me the location of Charles Harrington's head?"

"You mean it isn't there?" Albert asked, sitting down at his desk and pulling a sandwich out of one of the drawers.

"Isn't where?"

"Isn't in the cemetery?" He took half of his sandwich and offered it to Dean, who looked like even the thought of eating in a place like this was going to make him throw up.

"No, sir. We spent eight hours searching for that damn head, and came up with nothing." Dean replied, shaking his head politely at the sandwich offering.

Albert paused as he was about to take a bite out of his sandwich, looking curiously at Dean. "You don't know whereabouts the head is buried do you?" He smiled when Dean shook his head. "Well I could have saved you a lot of time and effort if you'd just asked me first."

Dean laughed, a bemused smile playing on his face. "So, where's the head buried?"

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Across the other side of town, Sam didn't seem to be having much luck either. After Dean dropped him off near the library, it had taken him nearly fifteen minutes to even find the undertaker's. He'd finally happened upon it by chance, after taking a wrong turn down an alley and nearly walking into a coffin that was being stored outside. Now he was sat in the foyer, waiting around for the undertaker to make an appearance. So far all he'd manage to fathom was that the undertaker's name was A. Kinsella, and that was only because it was written in huge gold letters on the window. At this rate, Sam wouldn't have been surprised if the undertaker turned out to be the coroner, Hargreaves. Creepy towns like this always had someone doing more than one job, and this town certainly lived up to the word 'creepy'.

He was flicking through a magazine entitled "Which Tombstone Is Right For You?", when the door to the back of the shop opened and a middle-aged woman approached him. He looked up into a pair of grey eyes and a kindly face.

"Hi there, my name's Alicia Kinsella, undertaker. How may I help?" She smiled, at him offering her hand as he stood up.

"Hi, my name's Agent McMurphy, FBI. I'd like to ask you a few questions about Charles Harrington, if you wouldn't mind? Sam took her hand and shook it lightly, before flashing his badge.

"You want to know where the head is, don't you?" She smiled wickedly at Sam's shocked expression. "I get a lot of people asking me where his head is, though I didn't think something like this would interest the FBI. It usually kids who want to get a kick out of an unusual death."

"Yes ma'am I do. I can't really go into too much detail over why, but this could be important for our case." Sam smiled, trying not to give too much away. "It would be much appreciated if you could provide me with any information."

Alicia smiled and picked a business card up from the table next to Sam. She reached into her pocket and fished out a silver barrelled pen. She crouched down and began writing something on the back of the card. "I can tell you where the head is, but you might need some visual guidance too."

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One minute before the hour, Dean rushed into the classily named "Grub's Up" restaurant to see Sam lounging in one of the diner seats, two beer on the table in front of him. As he approached, Sam began tapping his finger on his watch.

"Wow Dean, cutting it a bit close there aren't you?" Sam grinned, pushing one of the beers towards his brother as he sat down.

"Whatever man, I still made it." He sounded out of breath as he took a sip of his beer and slouched back against the seat.

"So did you get the location?" Sam asked, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the business card the undertaker had given him.

"Yeah, did you?"

"Course I did. But how do we know one of us isn't lying?" Sam asked, eyeing Dean suspiciously.

"You're not going to trust me?" Dean asked, making a mock hurt expression and trying to sound offended.

"And you'd trust me?" Sam threw back, grinning at him.

"No offence little brother, but hell no!"

"Alright, so how are we going to make sure neither of us is lying just to get out of paying fifty bucks?"

Dean paused for a second, taking another sip of his beer. "Aha I know! We'll each write down the location of the head on a piece of paper, and then I'll pass my piece of paper to you and vice versa. Sound good?"

"Sounds great." Sam pulled two crumpled up pieces of paper out of his pocket and handed one to Dean. They eyed each other warily for a second, before turning to their scraps of paper and scribbling down instructions.

"Alright, swap." Dean handed his paper to Sam, and Sam gave Dean his. Both of them groaned at the same time, Dean smacked his head on the table and Sam scowling disappointedly.

"God dammit! For once I've never been so disappointed to hear two corroborating stories." Dean took a long gulp of his beer and propped his head up with his hand.

Sam on the other hand, didn't seem to mind too much after his initial disappointment. He seemed too immersed in the television set opposite them near the bar. "Excuse me, do you think you could turn that up please?" He shouted, directing his question at the teenage barman, who nodded politely and reached for the volume dial. "Hey, I think you need to watch this." He nudged Dean's propped elbow, causing it to slip and Dean's head to come crashing down onto the table, also knocking his beer over just to add insult to injury.

As Dean sat nursing his sore head, Sam kept his eye on the news currently showing on the television. A man in his twenties was currently standing on Route 50, presumably about to go into details about the murder of Joe Machin.

"News just in. The Eureka police have just revealed information that there was not one, but two murders last night on Route 50. The first victim was revealed to be twenty five year old Joe Machin earlier this morning. Not long after finding the body of Mr Machin, the police found another car parked just a mile down the road. Inside was the decapitated body of Nadine Walsh, a former resident of-"

"Did he just say what I think he said?" Dean asked, rubbing his sore head and looking mournfully at his empty beer bottle.

"Yeah, that was Charles Harrington's fiancé. Why would he kill her?" Sam looked shocked, and downed what was left of his beer.

"I have no idea, but I think it's about time we went and said hello to what's left of old Charlie, before he kills someone else."