Worth Living For

by Swanseajill

Part Seven

Sam pushed aside the laptop and leaned back in his seat, folding his arms over his chest. For the past fifteen minutes, he had alternated between shoveling in mouthfuls of bagel, looking up useful addresses in Four Pines and surreptitiously studying his brother from the corner of his eye.

Dean had ordered only coffee for breakfast, physically turning a shade paler at Norma's suggestion of a full breakfast with a stack of pancakes on the side. He'd said it was because he still had a lingering headache, but Sam wasn't sure he was buying the explanation. Still, other than the loss of appetite, Dean had seemed much more his usual self since leaving the motel. He'd even engaged in a flirtatious exchange with the girl behind the reception desk, although Sam had the nagging suspicion that his heart wasn't really in it.

Dean took a mouthful of coffee, glanced up and frowned. "Quit staring at me."

"I'm not staring at you," Sam responded automatically. "I'm just…"

"Worried. I know. I'm fine, Sam."

"We don't know what that spirit might have done to you last night."

"My back's still sore and I have a headache. That's it."

"Are you sure? You don't feel… any different?"

Dean growled. "Not really, unless you count a sudden psychopathic desire to strangle my little brother."

There was enough humor in Dean's voice to reassure Sam. "Situation normal, then," he quipped, and was rewarded with a half-grin. He felt the knot in his stomach unwind a little. After all, if Dean wasn't quite his usual brash, cocky self, it was hardly surprising after what he'd been through over the past few days. He'd already had a lot on his mind before the spirit decided to bond with him last night. The best thing would be to stop showing concern and cut him some slack.

"So," Dean said, obviously deeming the subject closed, "let's go over what we're dealing with here."

Sam nodded, his mind clicking into gear. "Okay. First, we have five dead people that we know of, all of whom died inside or within the grounds of Rose Cottage."

"Second," Dean went on, "we have positive proof that there's supernatural activity in the cottage, which pretty much rules out the serial-killer theory."

"So, we need to find out whose spirit is doing this and why it's killing people. Suspect number one has to Brad Warrington, since the deaths started with him. He supposedly died after being accidentally electrocuted in the basement of the cottage. But if it is Brad, what reason did he have to start killing people?"

Dean shrugged. "Maybe he's just angry he died and he wants other people to suffer the way he did."

"Yeah, but then wouldn't everyone who set foot in the cottage die? There've only been four deaths over the past three years. Brad's brother Jamie died but his father didn't — and they both lived in that house. There must be something about those people, something that links them that we haven't spotted yet."

Dean nodded. "So we need to find out more about how Brad died and check out all the others – see if there's a connection."

"I guess it's possible that our ghost is someone else who died in that cottage before Brad.If it is, we need to know why it started killing, and why it chose those people."

Dean opened the town plan he'd picked up in the motel lobby. "Which street is the public library on?"

Sam peered at the laptop. "Maple Avenue."

"That's just off Main, about three blocks from here."

Sam looked at his notes. "The coffee shop Rhonda's friend works in is on Walnut – one block over."

"Good." Dean drained his coffee. "We can split up – I'll take the coffee shop, you do your geek-boy stuff and check out the history of the cottage at the library."

The thought of letting Dean out of his sight made Sam uneasy. He knew it was irrational, but still… "Why don't we just stick together?" he suggested casually.

"Why?"

"No reason – just that there's no real need to rush this job, is there?"

Dean narrowed his eyes and Sam knew his brother sensed the real reason for his reluctance to split up. But Dean chose not to call him on it, simply saying, "No real need to draw it out, either." He stood up. "Let's meet back here in an hour."