Chapter 3

Sam sat at a red plastic booth, menu in hand. His brother had gone to the bathroom about fifteen minutes ago, and now he was worried. He knew that Dean liked to stare at the mirror forever, fixing that beautiful hairdo of his. Sometimes he was worse than a woman. Setting the menu down, he stood just as his brother emerged from the men's room. Dean's face was slightly wet.

"What, no paper towels?"

Dean sat with a huff. "No, the stupid sink decided to become a Llama for a day."

Sam snickered. Dean sneered, but had no comment.

"Did you order yet?"

"No. I was waiting for you like a good little brother should." Sam linked his fingers under his chin and batted his eyes.

"Hmm, now who's the smart ass?"

They eyed the menu for a while, then both ordered the breakfast special. Sam leaned back in the booth and sighed.

"You know it has been a while since we've had a case. I guess not all these little towns have secrets."

Dean sipped his coffee. "They're not all like Travis County, Texas you know."

The movie reference gave Sam a bit of a chill. When he was little, Dean had forced him to watch that movie, and to this day the sound of a chainsaw gets under his skin.

Sam thumbed his glass of milk. "I know, and thank God for that. Yet sometimes, and I hate to admit it, but I look forward to a little action."

Dean almost choked on his coffee. Setting it down before he spilled it, he raised an eyebrow in bewilderment.

"You WHAT? My baby brother, Mr. 4.0, never does a damn thing wrong, wants to be married before he turns thirty, white picked fence and all that crap. You look forward to this?"

Sam chuckled and shook his head. "Sometimes you need to loosen up man."

Perhaps a little to loud, because a few people stared, "Excuse, but I would like Samuel Winchester back, pronto!"

Moments later the waitress brought their food. As they ate, Sam overheard a conversation from the counter. A cop was talking to the owner about the rise in deaths in town. The owner concurred. The cop said what was strange was that there was about three to four almost every night. This was over a fortnight. Adding them up came to about forty-nine. There were many suspects, but no real leads. The M.O. was always different, so it could not have been a serial killer. The owner shook his head.

Sam tapped Dean on the arm. "Did you hear that?"

Dean, a mouth full of eggs, answered him. "Hear whash?"

"Damn it Dean, do you have to be so disgusting?"

His brother swallowed the eggs. "Only if it irks you so much."

"As I was saying, did you hear what that cop said? There have been some unexplained deaths around here. 49 in two weeks. Sounds like it's right up our alley."

Dean wiped his mouth and took a sip from his coffee cup. "49? Is Romero casting again?"

Sam stood up, throwing his napkin at Dean. "That's it. Next time we get sushi."

The man lay on the bed, his pants unbuttoned. Andie was in the bathroom getting ready, or so he thought. She had the glasses off, and was staring at her reflection in the cracked hotel mirror. She pressed a hand against it, and a sliver caught her skin. A trickle of blood ran down the glass, as black as coal. Andie watched it in awe.

"Babe, ya coming out or what? I'm getting really anxious, if ya know what I mean."

He pulled at the crotch of his pants, then sat up. Looking at his right hand made him cringe. The tan line where his wedding ring usually sat, stared back at him like a warning beacon. The ring was now in his change pocket burning into his thigh.

Andie stepped from the bathroom. The thing inside her wanted out. This body was not acceptable either. It needed someone with something special. It just had not found it. Maybe this man was it. She opened her eyes, and the man almost had a coronary.

"Oh sh . . . " He was cut off when Andie jumped him. She scratched at him, laughing and smiling the entire time. He fought back, but she was very strong. Then, all the strength left her, and the man tossed her from on top of him. She fell forward, landing on the floor. Her head hit the leg of a dresser with a sound of a hammer hitting a coconut.

The man gave her only one look, and ran for the elevator, buttoning on the way. Slamming the down button, he began to sweat. Thoughts ran through his head of his wife and son. He was ruined.

The doors opened and he got on. Punching the button for the lobby, he waited. By the time the elevator emerged on the ground floor, he was a changed man.

The search would continue.