Dean was exhausted, but his mind wouldn't let him rest. His earlier hesitation had once again almost cost Sam his life. When he'd burst through the door and seen the creature hovering above Sam, he had frozen in place, flashing back almost twenty years earlier when a shtriga tried to drain the life out of a young Sammy. When he'd gotten his composure back, he found to his horror that the rocksalt he'd fired at the being had no effect. He didn't know what had made it retreat; it clearly had the upper hand. If it hadn't left when it did, who knows what would've happened. Dean shuddered as he remembered the crimson marks on Sam's cheeks. Luckily whatever it was doing seemed to have no lasting effect on him.
For what seemed like the hundredth time Dean got up and checked on Sam, who was sleeping soundly. Content that Sam was indeed safe and sound, Dean returned to the laptop. He'd been scouring the web for any possible indication on what they might be dealing with. But every lead he came up with turned into a dead-end.
He was especially disturbed by the fact that it was apparently impervious to rocksalt, and seemed to have an eye on his little brother. Well, here's to you, bitch. You can't have him, Dean thought as he continued his search with newfound rigor.
An hour and a half later an annoying tone rang in Dean's ear. He was concentrating so heavily on his research that it took him until the third ring to recognize the ringing of his cell phone. Scrambling, he tried to answer it before the noise roused Sam. Flipping it open, he glanced over to find Sam still fast asleep.
"Hello?" he whispered.
"Dean, is that you? What the hell is going on? Where are you?" the voice on the other end of the line sounded agitated.
Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was so not in the mood to have this conversation. "Bill, hey. Um, Sam and I ran into some trouble at the mansion. We're actually over at the motel about a mile down the road."
"Trouble? What kind of trouble? Did you get whatever is haunting the place?"
"Actually, it tried to get us. Twice. Sam got attacked in the master bedroom of the mansion, and the creature showed up later at the guest house and went after us again."
Bill's
voice took on a concerned tone. "Oh God, are you two ok?"
Dean automatically looked over at Sam as he answered. "Yeah, we're fine. You, uh, you might have to replace bedroom window of the guest house, though. And you'll need a new lock for the mansion's master bedroom door."
"Fine, fine, whatever. So, what are you doing to kill this thing?"
"We're working on that right now." Dean replied vaguely.
"Thank goodness. I'm going to call the staff, tell them to report for work in the evening."
"Whoa, hold on a minute. I said we're working on it. We still don't know exactly what it is we're dealing with; let alone how to stop it. We're close, but--"
"It's a poltergeist! You said it yourself. I don't understand what the delay is!"
'Delay!' Dean thought incredulously. It hasn't even been one full day! Though he was getting angrier with each passing moment, he struggled to keep his voice composed. "Yeah, at first it did seem like it could be a poltergeist. However, the--"
"I should have known better than to entrust this to children. Call your father right now."
Dean's temper began to grow, as did the volume of his voice. "Like I told you already, my father is busy. If I had any way of getting him out here, I would've already called him. Besides, Sam and I have been doing this our entire lives. Hunting is practically all we know. If there's a way to kill this thing, we'll damn well find it."
A rustling caught his attention, and he winced as he saw Sam stirring. After muttering something unintelligible, Sam rolled onto his side and was still. Not wanting to pull Sam from his healing sleep, Dean went into the bathroom to continue the conversation.
"…Dean! Are you still there?" Dean could all but see the vein on Bill's forehead pulsating angrily.
Dean sat down on the edge of the bathtub and ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, Bill, I'm still here." he answered in a low voice. "Now, I know this situation is upsetting, but Sam and I--"
Bill broke in and cut him off. "Upsetting? This thing nearly killed my daughter! Listen here, do you have any idea how--"
"No, you listen! We're here to do you a favor. And that 'favor' almost cost my brother his life!" Dean took a breath. "Mr. Morgan…Bill. The best thing you can do right now is to keep everyone away from the property, and to take care of your daughter. Sam and I will not rest until this son of a bitch is toast. You have my word, we will finish this thing."
For a few long moments, the only sound Dean heard was the deep breathing from the other end of the line. Finally, Bill's voice came back. "Just be careful. I couldn't take it if anyone else got hurt."
Dean hung up the phone without another word. He went over to the sink and splashed some cool water onto his face. Sometimes he really hated his job. Looking into the mirror, he took in the dark circles under his eyes. Well, at least one of the Winchesters had gotten a few good hours of rest tonight. As he wiped his face with the towel, he closed his eyes and visualized his dad's face. What would he do in this situation? But the answers would not come, and his father just stared before slowly fading away, leaving Dean feeling completely abandoned.
Dean's stomach growled, reminding him that despite whatever ghoulies there were to fight in the world, doughnuts had to be conquered first. He opened the bathroom door and jumped back a step in surprise as he almost walked into his brother.
Sam's eyes were bright and alert under a mop of tousled brown hair. "Good morning, sunshine."
Dean recovered from his shock and pushed past his smiling brother and flopped down onto his own bed. Not only had he been cursed with a taller younger brother, but the damn jolly green giant was a perky morning person. "I take it you're feeling better."
Sam nodded and asked, "Who were you talking to?"
"Bill." Dean replied. "He was giving us the usual, 'Why haven't you killed the beast, and while you're at it, cured world hunger?' routine."
"Ah. I see. And from the shouting I heard, it sounds like you handled it with your usual diplomacy." Sam said sarcastically.
"Don't start with me." Dean warned. "I'm working on no sleep, thanks to you I might add…no coffee, and still no answers to our little problem."
"Gee, I'm so sorry my getting attacked ruined your evening." Sam said dryly. At his brother's glare, Sam changed his tone. "Ok, I'll grab us some breakfast while you take a shower. Then we'll hit the library and see what we can dig up on this thing."
"Good plan, except you wait here while I shower, we both grab some grub and then hit the library." Dean corrected.
Sam started to argue, but relented to his brother's orders when he saw the resolute look on his face. The look that said 'I am the older brother and you will listen to what I say, and I will kick your ass from here to Timbuktu if you mess with me.' Sullenly, he accepted his fate and grabbed the laptop, repositioning himself so he wouldn't have to see the look of triumph that crossed Dean's face.
